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From Vegas to the Grand Canyon via Route 66
Story and photos by Tim Leffel

“One of these days we’ll pack up the station wagon and go take a tour of the national parks out west, see the Grand Canyon,” my father said. “Sounds great Dad,” one of us would reply. Our father told my sister and I this on a regular basis it seemed when we were kids, but the trip never happened. He was big on dreams—the type who plays the lottery and really thinks he’s got a chance of winning someday. We had the time to do a big road trip like that from Virginia since my parents were both public school teachers, but the money didn’t come as easily. One got in the way of the other since Dad would often end up taking a summer job to juice the finances a bit for the year.

Like a parent repeating his parent’s past mistakes, I probably brought up the idea to my own daughter too a couple of times in passing. Instead we ended up in far-flung international spots instead: Mexico, Canada, Central America, or even Asia. We never made it anywhere close to the Grand Canyon. The only way I ever saw it was from an airplane, gazing out from the window seat while on my way to somewhere else. As my thirties rolled into forties and fifties, the grand chasm never got to the top of the priority list.

The worst of the pandemic times was a cause for reflection though, a time to reconsider priorities. I made a vow to start getting to more places that had been postponed for years or even decades. When plans put me in Las Vegas for a work trip, I saw my window of opportunity. I’d cruise down Route 66 through Arizona, stop off in Flagstaff, then finally get to the place people come from all over the world to see.

Route 66 From Las Vegas

Nostalgia buffs and those who want a break from the logo-riddled, boring interstate highway will often take a trip down the historic byways of America to get a taste of the past. Thankfully, a Las Vegas to Grand Canyon road trip can include a stretch of Route 66 for several hours. It’s twice as interesting, but not twice as slow really. In between the sparsely populated towns, there are long stretches with gorgeous scenery to admire and quiet spots worth a photo stop.

It felt good to put Las Vegas in the rear-view mirror after spending days in its shiny falseness, a place where even a hotel room rate comes with an asterisk and a gotcha “resort fee”—for items that normal roadside hotels routinely include. Every new building has to be bigger, flashier, or more lit-up than the last, creating a never-ending one-upmanship. The corporate accountants for conglomerates like MGM and Wynn need to find a way to squeeze visitors more, more, and more each year. Now there’s an extra dollop of desperation post-pandemic. You see it clearly in the worsening casino odds on the strip, with travesties like lower Blackjack payouts and higher table minimums, as well as the overpriced celebrity chef restaurants replacing the cheap eats that used to pull in the punters.

Route 66, on the other hand, reflects simpler times, back when a parking space, comfortable bed, and running water were the only requirements. Some of the historic hotel signs show the progression of amenities over the years. A few have “Swimming Pool” in neon. Some state “All rooms have a TV” or even “Color TVs!” Newer ones might have HBO listed. These hotel signs feel like a work of art now. They were the main advertisement for a property back when people didn’t make advance reservations from a computer in their hand, so they had to be enticing.

Mixed in with the retro style is an unavoidable sense of decay, however, the two going hand in hand down the length of Route 66. When the interstate highway came along, offering faster trips with no need to slow down or stop, people ceased to slow down or stop. Cheaply built chain motels right off the interstate exits took business away from the family-owned ones in Arizona towns like Kingman, Seligman, and Williams, making them akin to wells that had suddenly run dry. For decades they were the tourism equivalents of mining towns left with nothing more to extract.

Now these spots are tourist attractions again and at least some visitor traffic is back, but it’s clear that the real glory days are long gone. Some of the old signs are missing letters, abandoned cars sit idle, and the putt-putt course outside of Grand Canyon Caverns displays disintegrated artificial turf guarded by dinosaur sculptures and broken golf carts. Some motels that didn’t upgrade to please modern demands are now boarded up and the only guests are ghosts.

I was happy to see the two main restaurants in Seligman were hopping when I rolled through at lunch time. I skipped the Road Kill Cafe and instead had a burger and a milkshake at Delgadillo’s Snow Cap Drive-in instead, in the same spot since 1953. I wandered the streets of Williams, Arizona down the road, a more lively place since it hosts a train that takes visitors up to the Grand Canyon. It’s also home to one of the area’s largest brewers, Grand Canyon Brewing, which also has a taproom in Flagstaff.

Flagstaff on the Mother Road

My trip from Las Vegas to Flagstaff ended up being about six hours with all the stops, so I still had time to go exploring after checking into my downtown throwback lodging. Motel Du Beau Travelers Inn opened in 1929, the dream of a Canadian transplant who was clearly ahead of his time. He wanted to cater to the high end of the travel market: those with cars who could afford the $2.50 per night rate (including meals) to get a parking spot by their room door, tiled indoor bathrooms, and bedroom carpeting.

I dropped my bags and then popped in earbuds to get a history lesson on Route 66 and Flagstaff. After dialing a number on my phone, Ted Danson’s voice greeted me and I got updates about how the original Route 66 route moved across the tracks and how the road was just dirt and gravel then. I learned as I walked that there can be 100 freight trains a day passing by the 1926 train station that anchors the city, carrying goods from western ports and returning with mostly empty containers. (There are two Amtrak passenger trains daily too, one in each direction.)

I passed the unique Lady of Guadalupe church from 1926, got lucky and caught the local E-Town Sound Band at a free outdoor music show, and then met with a staffer at Mother Road Brewery a few blocks from where I was staying. The brewery, housed in a former laundromat, is on the original Route 66 “Mother Road” route but it certainly has modern sensibilities. Food and beer production waste products go to nearby farmers and the grass-fed beef sliders on the menu come from local ranchers. The “Conserve and Protect Golden Ale” helps local conservation efforts in conjunction with the Arizona Game and Fish Department, with more than $40,000 raised at the time I visited. The point person I met with had a title of “Director of People and Culture.”

Flagstaff is a university town, which gives it plenty of life. It’s also one of the highest cities in the USA at nearly 7,000 feet, giving it very different weather than the desert city I left behind. I had booked a trip up the scenic gondola at Arizona Snowbowl to get a view of the region but it was not my day. I was pelted by rain getting in for the ride, then as I got out at the top there were snow flurries. In September.

Rolling with the harsh weather, I parked at the Museum of Northern Arizona on the way back to town. This place has a Ted Danson connection too: the actor’s father was once the museum director here. The reason to explore it though is the wealth of artifacts that give context to the past. While the white man’s history in Arizona is relatively short, people have been raising families, building towns, and living off the land of this region for thousands of years.

The museum's explanations and well-organized displays provide a strong argument that the people who spent a lot of time in this area had strong traditions and a heightened sense of aesthetics. The indigenous tribes of northern Arizona produced gorgeous pottery, jewelry, and baskets, skills that continue now in some areas, though with a more modern twist. It was interesting to see how the art has evolved, some of it taking on elements from modern media hits like Star Wars (itself heavily influenced by indigenous costumes and design) and superhero movies.

Sections of the museum go back further, to when there really was “oceanfront property in Arizona” as the old George Strait country song goes. One area has the most complete sickle-claw therizinosaur skeleton ever found, with 93-million-year-old bones.

The Place That Found Pluto

My last night in Flagstaff I visited the Lowell Observatory for a tour with Dr. Danielle Adams. The observatory, dating back to 1894, is unusual for being so close to a city, but since Flagstaff was the first Dark Sky location, designated in 1958, it’s surprisingly dark up on the mountain. I got to peer through a telescope and see Saturn, with rings clearly circling it. This observatory also helped NASA with lunar mapping before the Apollo missions to the moon.

The Lowell Observatory has a real claim to fame though: the discovery of the planet Pluto back in 1930. It wasn’t easy to find a speck in the distance back then. The telescope needed to rotate at the same speed as the Earth’s rotation, it took two hours to get enough light for a photograph, and those were stored on glass plates. Only by meticulous study in a field of 200,000 to 300,000 stars was it possible to discover the furthest planet circling our sun.

As we toured through rooms with different types of telescopes, the message came through that it took a serious amount of dedication to be an astronomer then. The rooms were cold, the work was daunting, and the technical challenges were myriad. Founder Percival Lowell wanted to find signs of life on Mars, however, which is a big motivator. Instead he and his team found evidence of an expanding universe and the ninth planet in our solar system. Whether the distant speck is a planet at all is up for debate now, but who wants to go back to eight after having nine? Team Pluto all the way.

Scenic Detours From Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon

While Flagstaff has plenty to do and see within its borders, the big draw is really the access to incredible nature opportunities all around. Besides having a ski resort and mountain hiking trails on its doorstep, this city is two hours or less away from eight national parks and monuments, on top of the seven state parks in easy striking distance. Some of them would be the main draw in a city that didn’t have the Grand Canyon nearby as well. I set out to visit two of the major ones on my way up north.

Walnut Canyon National Monument is striking in two ways. The steep canyon itself is dramatic and picturesque, but there were times when there were hundreds of people living within its walls, using the overhangs as shelter and building fronts to their houses that would contain multiple rooms. It couldn’t have been an easy life trying to grow and hunt in this environment and hauling water up from the river below during the dry season. I hiked the loop trail and got caught in the rain, however, a reminder that capturing rainwater was easier part of the year than making a half-day trip down a trail and back with clay pots strapped on.

Sometimes even seasoned travelers are completely surprised by what they find in an area and I had no idea I would find jagged lava fields in Arizona. At Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument, the aftermath of a violent volcanic eruption from 900 years ago is on display, just a few plants and pine trees now poking through here and there. They are pushing through sharp pumice that looks like it could shred a pair of hiking books in an instant. The view in front of the cone is mostly haphazard rocks pointing in every direction, without much sign of erosion over the centuries.

There’s a trail cleared and covered in pumice gravel, however, so it’s possible to walk on the Lava Flow Trail and get a sense of how the molten stone moved across the landscape. I tried to imagine what it must have felt like to the people living in this area at the time, thinking they did something to really make the gods unhappy this time around. Those who survived left the old home behind and moved on. Some of those pueblos further out are still relatively intact, grouped together as the Wupatki National Monument on a 34-mile road loop.

I didn’t linger long, however. After all these years of never making it, the object of my quest was calling. I headed north to the greatest canyon of them all, a mile deep and 277 miles long.

Views From the South Rim and Above the Grand Canyon

As the sun was easing toward its western end to the day, I finally arrived at the place that kept eluding me. I took the first pull-off available coming from the Cameron side after some smaller canyon teasers and stood in awe at the edge of the Grand Canyon.

There are spots on the globe that make you gasp, even after you’ve seen them a hundred times in photos, and this is certainly one of them. The vista is more immense, more endless, more, well, grand than any photo can convey. Each viewpoint is but a small piece of the total puzzle. After I chucked my bags in my hotel room I came back close to sunset and did a short hike on the South Kaibab Trail. Each bend presented another stunning view as I had to remember to pay attention to where I was stepping as much as I was to the scenery.

As I got to Yaki Point, a serious storm was on the horizon, illuminated by the setting sun. The urge to get a good photo outweighed my fear of getting wet—until the storm cloud was filled with lightning and I could see a wall of water dropping into the canyon in front of me. I ran to the shuttle stop, hopped on the bus, and rode out to the main road parking lot where I’d left the rental car. As soon as I pulled out, the rain came down so hard that it was hard to see the road in front of me for the return.

That night I had a hearty meal at Big E Steakhouse and Saloon, watching incredible footage of the canyon displayed on a big screen and eating a steak so large it made me turn vegetarian for a week after to compensate. The next day it was pissing rain still—a good reminder of why it’s wise to spend more than a day in an important destination. So I wandered over to the IMAX theater at the Grand Canyon Visitors Center in Tusayan to get some more eye candy footage of the natural wonder.

The IMAX movie turned out to have far more depth than I expected, going into the story of indigenous settlers who managed to tough it out in this environment, as well as early explorers who were lucky to get out alive. The Spaniards abandoned any plans to attempt a way through this intimidating landscape when they got to the rim and it took another 235 years before another foreigner tried. The centerpiece is the story of John Wesley Powell, the first person to navigate the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon, in 1869. The journey took three months and the crew members either died, deserted (and were never found), or made it to the end about to die from starvation. The movie puts you in the action, with some intense river rafting reenactment scenes that feel very real.

My last Grand Canyon adventure kept taunting me with postponements, to the point where I felt like it was just not meant to be. I was supposed to fly over the canyon in a helicopter, a real bucket list dream trip, but the weather kept having other ideas. Storms, rain, fog, and high winds were conspiring to keep me on the ground.

Finally, the morning I was going to leave the town of Tusayan, I got the confirmation call from Papillon Helicopters and headed to the airport. I boarded with a few other travelers and we lifted off into the skies. The wait was worth it as we glided over the forest, then the South Rim of the canyon, then went right down the middle, seeing the Colorado River that carved all of this below us. We went over the north rim to look back with a different view, then circled around to see the great feat of geology from various angles. All fear vanished and it was pure enjoyment, seeing something I had waited for all this time from the best viewpoint of all.

The reverse drive from Flagstaff AZ to Las Vegas I did like a modern American, cruising down the interstate and stopping only for gas. Some of the distant mountain scenery was the same, but the modern road trip experience is light on visual stimulation. Instead we listen to podcasts or audiobooks these days to pass the time, losing touch even with the local radio stations that people tuned in when barreling down the old Route 66. We get there faster now, but the journey is not nearly as memorable.

I arrived back in Las Vegas for one last night before a flight out the next day. I traded the wonders of nature for the artificial distractions of dinging slot machine bells and blinking electric displays that never go off. Now it all seemed even more like an empty attempt to amaze, so I pulled the blackout curtain, turned off the lights, and dreamed of places in simpler times where people used the sun as their alarm clock. I didn’t need the man-made stimulation anymore. I’d finally made it to the edge of the abyss.

IF YOU GO:

Follow the links in the story for specific spots, but the websites for Discover Flagstaff and Visit Arizona are great starting points for any trip ideas. For ideas on where to stop when driving from Las Vegas to the Grand Canyon, see the Historic Route 66 Association of Arizona website. For where to eat in Flagstaff Arizona, check out that list of restaurants vetted by local foodies.

Editor Tim Leffel is an award-winning travel writer and blogger who is based in Mexico. He is author of several books, including The World's Cheapest Destinations, Travel Writing 2.0, and A Better Life for Half the Price. See his long-running budget travel blog for regular updates.

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See other USA travel stories in the archives