Arizona
I really have quite little experience with Arizona and, like Texas and New Mexico, I assumed that south meant warm. Yet, after a few nights on the road, like Texas and New Mexico, I had learned that elevation is rather critical. Thus, last night, we bedded down in Cottonwood, just south of Flagstaff, Arizona. The partner had advocated for saving the drive from Flagstaff to Cottonwood for the next morning so that we could enjoy the scenery. Yet, I won out with the point that Cottonwood is more than half the elevation of Flagstaff. And what a sweet victory it was. For the first time on this leg of the trip, we slept where the lowest temperature was above freezing, where our winter coats were sufficient in maintaining a comfortable body temperature, and where the walk across the parking lot to the Walmart restrooms was only a minor inconvenience. To my mind, were were in heaven. It is, after all, the small things that count.