Leaving Gila Bend on the day’s trip to Tucson was a bit of a challenge. My intent was to travel south on highway 85 until it too a left hand bend at Why, eventually turning north onto highway 15 into Tucson. The roads, intersections and signage at Gila Bend resulted in my starting off with a few loops because of missing the correct road, turning back, missing it yet again, until finally settling down into what I hoped was highway 85 heading south toward the border. My first encounter with “Border Control” was about 40 miles north of the border when I passed an “inspection station” with a line of north heading cars being stopped and inspected by the Border Control “services.” The location of this station surprised me because it seemed to imply that everyone living closer than 40 miles from Mexico is suspect, they can’t just drive anywhere in Arizona, they have to stop and explain themselves to the police. We have created a 40 mile wide “no-mans-land” of semi-free space where you have to keep proving you are acceptable. I suppose it is a minor inconvenience to have to sit in line waiting for them to interrogate those in front of you – but it also seems oddly placed. Luckily I was traveling south so there were no restrictions for my travel (until I turn the corner heading back north in my effort to escape this zone of semi-freedom).

The trip was beautiful and uneventful for the first 30 miles or so until I came to the town of Ajo. (I wonder how this is spoken? Is it “A Ho” as my native friends say in agreement? I chose to believe it is and that makes me smile.) My car’s navigation system had a bit of a melt down in Ajo, it took me on a big loop through town, and then headed me back north toward Gila Bend. If I hadn’t been paying attention to the tiny compass on the display I would probably have driven back to the inspection station before I noticed I was going the wrong direction. I am glad my car made me loop through town, it took me on a tour of many large “Spanish” style churches and through neighborhoods of the local folks, which from what little evidence I could see appeared to be mostly of Mexican or Native descent. The town was spotless, well maintained and showed a lot of pride. It felt good to me. I would have liked to have stopped, but I pushed on to meet my scheduled arrival time in Tucson.

The N-S highway 85 interested with W-E highway 86 at Why, thereafter going almost due east for 40 miles. This part of the road goes through rugged cactus filled desert. The quantity and variety of cacti was astounding, huge, saguaro cactus dominating the lower tiered cacti of my descriptions, set in fields of bright green and yellow palo verde trees. Everything seemed to be in full bloom! Bright yellows, greens, white, reds and more filled the vistas. It felt like I was driving through a artist’s palette. I considered attempting to take a photo of the vast fields of vibrant colors but realized that it was very difficult to do because I was down in the colors, kind of like an ant walking across the colors of that artist’s palette, the colors were bright wherever I was, but an aerial view would be necessary to capture the mix and profusion, any single photograph would just capture one color, one tree or cactus bloom. I elected to just drive on by and enjoy the experience.

At one point I was passed by a group of 20 to 30 border control pickups, vans and cars heading east. The were at high speeds far in excess of the posted speed limits, but without lights or sirens. I guessed that they were closing in on yet another “kill” or perhaps that call it an intervention. The speeds, with a lack of the use of warning lights, made me feel like they probably rule the roost in this part of the world, they have special privileges and powers because “they are the man.” This part of my trip took me past many large, sparkling new border control facilities including their stations, administration offices, detention centers topped with rolling loops of cocertina wire. The entire area feels very much under siege, perhaps it feels like living in a war zone – I felt constantly under surveillance and suspicion, even though I had no direct evidence of that. It was just the constant presence of externally imposed power and police that made me feel that way. The border control forces were obviously a foreign military force imposing order on a separate country (the band of no-mans-land 40 miles north of the border). They felt like an invading force imposing control.

with a long line of small rooms with parking in front of the doors. Nice, but not what I think of as “hotel” at hotel prices of over $150 a night.

It appears to have had a period of time of distress, but recently “fixed up” with new paint, some murals on the walls, and perhaps a new layer on the parking lot. They hotel guide describes a number of special “extra” features such as “privacy in your room” (meaning nobody to change towels, make beds, empty trash or replace consumables), no provisions to hang up or lay out your cloths, no coffee maker in the room, no comfortable chairs to clutter up the space along with a free “healthy” breakfast (meaning a cup of rolled oats dispensed by the server to make sure you don’t accidentally take a cup and a half), and as Asian food truck for the restaurant. But it is clean, comfortable and is here. Actually, it is all just fine – but expensive for what you get.

At first I just chuckled at the advertisements promoting the lack of typical services and amenities as “benefits” – somehow you get something special by not getting room service because you get privacy! Really? That only works if you actually don’t need those services. As I ponder the situation I am starting to see that there are real benefits to the high prices, tiny rooms, silly little breakfasts – it serves to keep “those others” out. It works great for us well-to-do ex-hippies that like the funky digs, like the murals, and are happy with a cup of “healthy” mush for breakfast. It is totally unworkable for families with children, hence the pool has no kids and the adults can comfortable float around drinking their beers or wine and chatting. The high prices keep out the riff raff. The reason that the place feels quiet and comfortable in the face of what would normally be considered unacceptable service and amenities is that it become the exclusive playground for those that are not price driven and don’t have children or other distractions. It is an “adult” upper middle class community without having to say so. There high prices mean that they don’t fill as many rooms, so the profits are profits are probably similar to, or less than, what they would be with prices appropriate for the services, but it allows them to better select their clientele. Recently I read that many businesses do something similar. They set prices not upon their need or costs, but upon a desire to select their customers. For example, perhaps Target sets the prices a bit higher than Walmart not for cost reasons, but to keep Walmart customers out. I wonder how often this sort of logic applies to the setting of prices. Another example might be the hotels in places like Palmdale where the big hotels run with less than 1/2 occupancy by keeping the prices as high as the government will pay their contractors to bill. They could probably make more money with 80% occupancy at a far lower price, but that would allow in the riff raff – which isn’t their target market.

On a more important note for me as I ponder what I will do in Tucson for four days with nothing special to do. I realize that while my idea of staying in small hotel/motels is laudable, it also means that the folks I meet there are all travelers – obviously. So last night I hung out in the pool for a bit. I talked to a musician from Ukiah, California (a place near my home that I am very familiar with), a truck driver from Las Angeles and a couple of women from Boston. Not exactly the “locals” I am hoping for. It is clear that if I am to meet locals it will either be the workers at these hotels, or someone someplace else. The workers are working, so don’t have time to interact more than a cursory “Hi” in passing. So I need to expand my exposure. Up until today I was traveling with the goal of getting to my hotel in Tucson at the scheduled time. That left little time to expand my search for “local” lore.

As I sit here on Monday morning thinking about my plans for the day I find I am perplexed. I could do a lot of normal “tourist” things such as visit the Biosphere, go to some museums and art galleries, or perhaps visit a botanical garden or two. Maybe I could to Congress Street for dinner and entertainment. All good choices, but with the possible exception of Congress Street, filled with tourists and travelers like myself. Probably most of whom are from California. I haven’t yet found a solution, but am beginning to identify the problem. I wish myself luck with this.