Route 85

Route 85

At mile 87, a cholla, at 86, red rocks. 85 – a long view of distant mountains, 84 – a crow atop a saguaro. 83 is a wash and palo verde trees. 82 is a signpost and 81 a broken bottle. 80 is a single jagged peak, also distant. At 79 we pass a red pick-up truck and a man on a bicycle. From 78 to 61 I fall asleep. 60 is a yellow school bus, 59 the shadows grow long and the sun falls from the sky, 58 is the border patrol. 54 is WHY and junction 86, gas, food and lodging, a Texaco garage and 53 is the Coyote Howls West RV Park. At 52 a notice states that to litter the highway is unlawful. There are birds at 51 and telegraph poles at 50 through to 45, and cinder cones, a huge copper mine, tin cans, a flash flood area. It’s a long straight road – no clouds, the sky a pale washed blue gold dry grass on the broken verge. At 45 it might be skiddy and the walls of the mine tailings are dark and high. At 44 bumps and a speed limit. At 43 Belly Acres, truck crossing, a view of the white church, the low sun dazzling our eyes. At 42 we reach Ajo. A destination.

 

The home of writer Bronwen Griffiths