A Week in Arizona - Red Rocks, Route 66 & Desert Adventures
From bustling Phoenix to the quiet awe of the Grand Canyon, here’s how to soak up the very best of Arizona in seven days.
Something is soul-shaking about open landscapes and rusty red cliffs. Arizona doesn’t just whisper stories—it sings them.
The Adventure
Day 1: Arrive in Phoenix
Welcome to the desert! We landed in Phoenix and checked into our hotel—something stylish and central.
I was incredibly grateful for how I packed for this trip. I stuck to the basics, and a few non-negotiables I always toss in the bag
First stop? Barrio Café by Chef Silvana Salcido Esparza. This is an amazing restaurant with authentic Mexican cuisine. We enjoy the Cochinita Pibil dish. Delicious.
Later, I craved something more laid-back, so we went to Windsor. This is the type of place that radiates coziness and style.
We claimed a spot outside, beneath a canopy of twinkly lights that transformed the atmosphere into something almost magical.
The food? Incredible. The vibe? Perfectly chilled yet alive with the type of energy that makes Windsor the ideal spot to unwind after a day of adventure.
We were officially on vacation.
Day 2: Head to Gold King Mine & Ghost Town
We drove east to Jerome, that wonderfully odd hillside mining town turned artist haven. It clings to the mountainside like defying gravity, with sweeping views and the right amount of ghost-town mystique.
My husband and I wandered through antique shops stuffed with strange treasures. We couldn’t resist checking out the old jail that literally slid downhill.
For lunch, we grabbed burgers at the Haunted Hamburger—equal parts kitschy and delicious. That night, we stayed in Cottonwood, which turned out to be way more charming (and affordable) than we expected. But if we’d been in a hurry, we could’ve gone straight to Sedona.
Day 3: Sedona’s Red Rock Magic
On our way to Sedona, we did long drives through highways, which led to some unexpected conversations. We laughed about old stories, debated beard vs. bare (yes, again), and even talked about trying something completely new.
Sedona was visual poetry. My husband and I hiked Cathedral Rock at sunrise, but worth every breath. On a slower morning, we took the gentler Bell Rock Trail and soaked in the red rock magic.
We browsed Tlaquepaque Arts Village, lingered over pottery and turquoise jewelry, and I treated myself to a massage and aura reading. We ended the day at The Hudson, sipping cocktails with canyon views that didn’t feel real.
Day 4: The Grand Canyon
We left early and headed north to Grand Canyon National Park. Luckily, we beat the crowds and the noise. The Grand Canyon isn’t a place to just arrive, snap a selfie, and leave. If you give it time, it gives something back.
We walked the Rim Trail, each turn unveiling a new wonder. A goat stood on a lone rock, gazing across the canyon like a silent guardian. Eagles circled above. Strangers whispered, wide-eyed, like we’d entered a sacred place. I loved every moment.
Somewhere along that rim, I cried. Yes, I did. Faced with that vast, impossible beauty, I felt how small we truly were, and how long my journey had been to stand in that spot.
It wasn’t just a canyon. It was a mirror, a memory, a monument to every risk and leap of faith that led me there. I thought about my ancestors, my parents, my migrant journey, and how far, how hard, how unlikely it all was.
Then I saw it: a narrow cliff, just beyond the safety barriers. People were out there, posing, laughing, taking selfies. I knew it was dangerous. There are fatalities every year from places like that one. Yet, something quiet stirred inside me. ‘I have to do it for my family, my ancestors, and myself.’
My husband couldn’t join me because of a knee injury. My decision to go to the cliff alone astonished him. He was aware of my lifelong fear of heights.
With a heartfelt apology, I embarked on a slow, deliberate, and exciting walk.
I’ve known no one with a more intense fear of heights than mine. Despite everything, I pushed on that day. I pictured my father by my side, whispering, ‘Just do it.’ I’m with you.’
Reaching the cliff’s edge made my head spin. The wind wrapped around me like it might carry me off. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, or so alive. It was terrifying and sacred. Moments later, my husband joined me, laughing and taking photos together.
Disclaimer: What we did was not safe. Every year, people lose their lives by venturing too close to unprotected edges. I don’t say this lightly: I do not recommend it. I will not do it again. We can feel the Grand Canyon’s power from safer paths. Stay behind the railings, respect the land, and stay alive to tell your own story.
Day 5: Route 66 + Horseshoe Bend
By late afternoon, we rolled into Page, Arizona. That golden-hour light was calling, so we made our way to Horseshoe Bend. That iconic river curve you’ve seen a thousand times online? In person, it’s something else entirely. No screen can capture the scale, the depth, the silence, the way the Colorado River carves its impossible path through stone. I just stood there, breathless, feeling tiny and completely alive.
Day 6: Lake Powell Adventure
We spent half a day at Lake Powell. Honestly, I wished we’d carved out more time. The place looked like another planet: massive red rock formations jutting out of turquoise water as if the desert had cracked open to reveal some hidden sea.
We rented a boat, and hubby jumped into captain mode with a grin. He steered us through winding canyons and open stretches of water, the sun bouncing off the surface in glittering streaks. I perched at the front, wind in my face, feeling like we were slicing through a dream.
Eventually, we found a quiet cove nestled between two cliffs. The water shimmered, deep and impossible to resist. I kicked off my sandals, counted to three, and leaped. The cold hit me like a jolt—but it felt amazing. I surfaced with a laugh and floated there, staring up at walls of ancient stone that felt like they’d been waiting for this moment longer than I’d been alive.
We unpacked our picnic and ate barefoot on the boat deck, letting the sun dry our skin and the quiet settle over us. No phones. No pings. Just us, the sky, and that water as clear and wild as a fresh start.
Later, we cruised past more sculpted canyons, and I promised myself I’d come back to explore Antelope Canyon next time—a slot canyon that plays with light and shadow like a desert cathedral. Whether you stay in Page or book a room at a lakeside resort, don’t rush through this place. Lake Powell doesn’t just impress, it changes you.
Route 66
Route 66 felt like stepping into a time capsule, and my husband was in absolute heaven.
He’s a car guy through and through, addicted, really, so watching him light up at the sight of antique Fords and rusted-out Chevys was half the joy for me.
We pulled over more than once to snap photos, the type of cheesy but perfect shots you only take when you’re fully immersed in the magic of Americana.
At one stop, we wandered into a little roadside diner that hadn’t changed since the 1950s. Red vinyl booths, milkshakes, fun decor, burgers, and fries. Around the corner? A lot packed with vintage cars and Route 66 memorabilia that sent hubby into full kid-at-a-car-show mode.
That stretch of highway was like a love letter to the golden age of road trips, and we soaked up every quirky, chrome-laced second of it.
Day 7: Scenic Drive Back to Phoenix
The drive back south was long and absolutely beautiful. We cut through Flagstaff and stopped for coffee and brunch at Tourist Home, a cozy spot with food that makes you want to linger.
On the way to Phoenix, we made a quick detour to Montezuma Castle, and the Cliffside ruins from the 1100s blew me away. It felt like a whispered reminder of how long people have wandered and wondered in this land.
We ended our trip with sunset drinks at Skyline Rooftop downtown, toasting to red rocks, ghost towns, canyons, and a road trip we’ll talk about for years.
Tips
Best Time to Go: March–May or September–November (mild temps, sunny skies).
Rent a Car: You’ll need one, and the drives are part of the magic.
Pack Layers: Deserts swing from hot to cold, especially up north.
Buy a Park Pass: It covers Grand Canyon, Lake Powell, and more. Worth it.
Coming home, I felt different. Not changed, but clearer—like I’d shaken off a layer of “me.”
