In the ten and a half years I’ve lived in Arizona, I had never laid eyes on either Apache Lake or Roosevelt Lake. Hard to believe, right? But my dear Ken decided that was about to change.

So yesterday… we went.

We started out on the familiar stretch of the Apache Trail, a road I’ve traveled more times than I can count. Along the way are some of my favorite spots—our Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks Lodge in Apache Junction, the rustic Hideaway restaurant, the Superstition Mountain Museum, and charming Goldfield Ghost Town, where you can almost hear echoes of the old gold rush days.

And of course, there’s Canyon Lake, always a beauty.

After winding our way up and down those familiar switchbacks, we passed through Tortilla Flat—blink and you’ll miss it! A tiny town with a big personality: one great restaurant, a couple of general stores, a small museum, and yes… even a post office.

We had heard whispers that the road now continues on—paved in parts—leading all the way to Apache Lake and beyond, eventually connecting to Roosevelt Lake through Fish Hill Creek. No need to detour toward Payson anymore.

So naturally… we went for it.

At first, it felt like any other drive along the trail—curvy, scenic, a little thrilling. But then the switchbacks tightened. The turns got sharper. And suddenly, you couldn’t see what was coming around the bend.

Treacherous? Just a little.

But Ken? He handled it like a pro.

Then came the moment.

The pavement ended.

Just like that.

I thought, Well… that’s our cue to turn around.

Ken thought, Let’s keep going.

And just like that, we were on a rugged dirt road that looked like it hadn’t seen a maintenance crew in decades.

Rocks scattered everywhere. The road dipped and rose like a rollercoaster. The car bounced, rattled, and shook in ways I didn’t know were possible. I grabbed onto that door handle like it was my lifeline.

And oh—did I mention?

We were hugging the edge of a mountain.

YIKES.

There were narrow, one-lane bridges—four of them, if I remember correctly—where you just had to hope no one else was coming your way.

The strangest part?

There was no one else out there.

Well… except for a few campers tucked between saguaros and desert brush. I honestly thought they were out of their minds. Ken, of course, thought it looked like a great place to camp.

Nope. Not this city girl.

Somewhere along that bumpy, dusty stretch, my thoughts drifted.

I couldn’t help but think about the men and women who once traveled these very mountains in wagons. Facing the unknown. Facing danger. Living day to day with uncertainty.

And there I was… complaining about a rough road.

It gave me pause.

They were brave in ways we can barely imagine.

After what felt like forever—but was probably about ten miles—we finally hit pavement again.

Sweet, beautiful pavement.

We pulled over at an overlook, and there it was—Apache Lake.

Long. Narrow. Winding like the road we had just conquered.

Absolutely breathtaking.

As we continued on, the road hugged the lake, and everything suddenly felt calm. Peaceful. Serene. The kind of quiet that settles into your bones.

I didn’t want that part to end.

Soon enough, we reached the Theodore Roosevelt Dam. Not quite the size of the Hoover Dam, but still impressive in its own right.

And just beyond it?

The grand reveal.

Theodore Roosevelt Lake—the largest lake in the state.

Boats dotted the water. You could almost feel the energy of weekend crowds, even though it was quiet when we passed through. Sun, water, and open space—it’s easy to see why people flock there.

From there, we made our way onto Arizona State Route 188, officially heading home.

But not before one important stop…

Jake’s Corner Bar and Grill.

It looked like something straight out of an old western movie—dusty, rugged, full of character. And let me tell you… the food did not disappoint.

Once we hit Arizona State Route 87, I finally relaxed. I knew exactly where we were. No more cliffs. No more dirt roads. No more gripping the door handle for dear life.

Just smooth sailing.

As I sat in the passenger seat on the way home, I thought about the day.

Yes, I moaned. Yes, I groaned.

But wow… what an experience.

The beauty. The fear. The history. The quiet moments.

And let’s be honest—I’ll never forget those darn dirt roads.

But if we hadn’t taken that drive?

I wouldn’t have this story to tell.

We ended the day at the Elks Lodge, ran into friends, had a couple of drinks, and gave our weary bones a well-deserved rest.

We left the house at 10:41 that morning and didn’t get home until around 5:30.

Damn…

We could’ve gone to Las Vegas.

But honestly?

I wouldn’t trade this adventure for anything.

Have you ever taken a trip you didn’t expect?
The kind that turns into something unforgettable?

I’d love to hear about it.

Eydie 💛