January 11, 2015

Got Charlotte Taylor Wilson out on the highway today. Drove almost due east and ran across a town called Fairbank (no ā€œsā€). Two or three different railroads ran through here back in about 1880-1910 and some of the buildings are still left. Most anybody going to Tombstone w/o a horse came here by rail and took a stagecoach to T’stone.

From this non-place we went a bit further east then turned south to Tombstone. It has a nice city building but the rest seems to be re-created stuff made to look like you would expect it to; it appears to be sort of a poorly-done Knott’s Berry Farm.

Almost without stopping, we goosed Charlotte down the road to a gorgeous little town called Bisbee. Actually, half of the town (the NE half) is like a little fairyland of houses but they all seem to be built on top of the former layer of fairy tale houses. Skinny, mostly one-way streets run up and down and across the steep canyon walls passing neat little cottages on postage stamp size lots. A couple of houses appear to have been built directly over the creek with some of the foundation on one side of the creek and the rest of the foundation across the creek. I imagine it would be noisy when it is raining. Peggy and I went into a tiny museum on the skinny portion of the main drag and wouldn’t you know it, we spotted another two-headed cow (stuffed) but this one seems to have two faces on one head while the two-header in John Day, OR has two separate heads sort of merging into one set of shoulders. Of course we took pictures.

We drove out of what we thought was all of Bisbee going SW when we came across what seems to be a different town but it also claims to be Bisbee. This Bisbee is quite ugly unless you are one of those folks who reveres shacks and deserted dwellings.

We continued westbound until we passed Coronado Monument again. You can see the border fence running through the adjacent river valley and it is hideous but impractical. What a pork project. It would seem that the decision makers in Washington did not recognize that Mexicans are thoroughly versed in the use of ladders and capable, therefore, of easily scaling the fence almost without delay to their northward passage. We drove back up 92 and 90 to Quail Run.