Kris and Nicole - Prescott, AZ to the top of Mount Mingus





















I had reason to be discouraged after watching a thousand cars go by in Wickenburg, AZ, but the magic began when John and his two beautiful children (Tessa, 2, and Scottie, 1) rescued me from the buzz cuts, brass belt buckles and ten gallon hats and drove me up into the counter culture country of the Arizona Mountains. It was here, in Prescott, that hang glider Kris and his beautiful wife Nicole picked me up on their way up to the launch site on top of Mingus Mountain.

I was going to camp up there with the hang gliding crew, but somewhere along the road that day, I lost my BlackBerry and decided it was best that I hitch down into civilization to try to get a new one (and call my mom so she wouldn't worry.) I caught a ride with Kathleen, the Jerome town librarian, and Klayton, an arctic researcher. The ride down Mingus Mountain through the red rocks and pine forests to Jerome, sitting in the open air in the back of their pick-up truck, was one of the most beautiful, peaceful and inspiring rides of the trip.

And Jerome is now one my favorite towns in the whole world: an old copper mining town built on the side of a mountain with narrow streets that zig-zag down through classic turn of the century square stone and brick buildings. These were the hotels, brothels, bars and jails at the heart of this boomtown and they've remained pretty much the same (if you substitute a boutique here for a brothel there) except now they're inhabited by a high energy mix of hippies, artists, bikers and tourists.

On the Sunday afternoon I arrived, Harleys lined the streets and impossibly huge dudes with anvils for arms played pool and pounded Budweisers in the bars along main street. Rock music pulsed out of the open doorways. I spent an hour or so poking around town and then hiked down the long curling road towards the valley. After the straightaway that runs along the ridge by the old high school where you can look back up and see the entirety of Jerome perched on the mountainside, I got picked up by the drummer from one of the bands that had been jamming in town. Rich was on his way home to Sedona to grab a quick bite to eat and change drum sets for another gig that night. 

When I told him about my journey and how I was planning to play the Sedona Golf Resort the next morning he said, "I live right down the road from the Golf Resort. My girlfriends' out of town and you're welcome to stay at my house, if you don't mind hanging out with my dog Otis." 

Otis turned out to be a lovable, slobbering chocolate lab... hardly an imposition. And Rich's home was located on a quiet street directly beneath the glowing red butte of Bell Rock in the Oak Creek neighborhood of Sedona. 

I didn't have time to buy a new phone that night, but when I signed in to email my mom, I found this note waiting for me from the hang gliding couple:

This is to backup you checking your phone messages without your phone. WE have it and are holding it ransom for nothing! Just call and give us a hint where to reunite you and your blackbuddy. I will try to fly to Sedona in my hang glider tomorrow and land on the correct golf course on precisely the hole you are playing. The universe will conspire to make this happen. 

- Kris and Nicole

That night Kris and Nicole had driven back to the very spot where they picked me up on the outskirts of Prescott and searched the ground in the glow of their headlights for my BlackBerry. Not only did they find it and contact me, but Kris flew it to me in his hang glider the next day. He landed five miles from the Sedona Golf Resort where Nicole picked him up in the "chase vehicle" and together they drove over to meet me. It was Father's Day and we watched Tiger Woods battle through a knee injury and drain a dramatic fifteen footer on the seventy-second hole of the US Open to tie Rocco Mediate for the lead. 

I knew the trip was going to be magical... or I wouldn't have done it. But this day surpassed all of my expectations.... and there were many more to come.

As Kris put it in a follow up email that night:


Great day on Earth! Once you've seen one golf course from 12, 000 ft. you've seen them all. An hour and forty-five minutes in the air, seventeen miles, landed way out in the rough. a five mile putt in the Millenium White Cloud (my rusty truck) and down the rabbit hole....par infinity. 

-Kris and Nicole 



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