November 1-2, 2025
We had several national monuments on our must do list, so we headed down the other side of the mountain to Tuzigoot National Monument. The road was narrow and curvy, and just when we rounded a tight bend, an entire town suddenly appeared, clinging to the mountainside like a lizard on a wall. Jerome, Arizona.
Jerome started as a booming mining town of 15,000 people, then became a ghost town, then was resurrected as a tourist destination. Some of the houses had approximately one gazillion stairs to reach them. Naturally, we had to stop and wander through the tourist shops, mixed in with historic buildings and some town history.
Eventually, we continued on to Tuzigoot… only to discover that the government shutdown had finally caught up with us. Not only was it closed, it was barricaded with an occupied police car stationed out front, sitting in silent judgment of those of us who dared drive past the original closure sign a mile back. We thought maybe Montezuma’s Castle or Montezuma’s Well would save the day. Nope. Same outcome. Same barricades.
I guess it's reasonable—these are ancient ruins. The last thing they need is unsupervised tourists poking around. But still. Our big cultural day turned into “looking at pictures online.” At least we weren’t relying on SNAP benefits or something actually life-altering.
So we cut our losses and drove to Sedona to scout future boondocking spots for after our stay at Mingus Mountain. While we were there, we visited the Chapel of the Holy Cross, a Catholic chapel built into the red rocks.
Sunday arrived, and with it: chores. I gave George a haircut, we packed up camp, and we made the scenic rollercoaster drive down the mountain, through adorable Jerome (again), and into Cottonwood for church.
I now have a tiny bit more empathy for people who drive an hour to church every week. Our commute felt like a pilgrimage. Also, I went with hairy legs because I ran out of time. That’s my spiritual sacrifice for the day.
Conveniently, there was a free dump station near the church. When you're on the road, you take a free dump when it comes. While there, we met a young woman in a truck camper who told us she was officially traveling solo because she “couldn’t stand living with her boyfriend in such a small space for the last five months.”
George and I exchanged the longest slow blink. We’re only a little over one month into our tiny-living adventure. I’m hoping 5 months is not the RV version of the seven-year itch. We’re aiming to make it past five months without wanting to drop-kick each other into a canyon.
We eventually reached our new campsite between Sedona and Flagstaff, Arizona, where someone had left us a heart-shaped arrangement made of pinecones, dried flowers, rock cairns, and a little message of love. It was honestly one of my favorite surprises of the day…
…until I texted it to our family chat and one of my children immediately preyed on my known anxiety and said, “That’s how they lure you into a false sense of safety before murdering you in the night.”
Parenthood: where your heartfelt wilderness moment is instantly turned into a true-crime special.
Every story has a soundtrack. Enjoy this song about not getting what we wanted (our failed attempts to visit three national monuments), but eventually getting what we needed (a free dump):
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