Phoenix

The first thing Phoenix teaches you is respect for the sun. We landed in June, which locals told us afterward was foolish, and stepping off the plane felt like opening an oven to check the bread. But then the evening came, and the whole valley turned the colour of a peach, the mountains going violet and the saguaros standing black against it like sentinels, and I understood why people love this improbable city. Lia and I sat on a rooftop with cold horchata and watched the heat lift off the streets in visible waves, and the desert did what deserts do at dusk — it forgave everything.

Camelback and the Mountain Preserves

Phoenix is one of the few big cities that keeps mountains inside it. Camelback rises straight out of the suburbs, its red hump visible from half the valley, and we climbed it at dawn to beat the heat, joining a quiet procession of locals who treat this brutal little scramble as a daily rite. The Echo Canyon trail is short and mean — hand-over-hand in places — but the top gives you the whole sprawl at once, grid upon grid dissolving into haze. Afterward we drove to the Desert Botanical Garden in Papago Park and walked among cacti I didn’t know had names, the saguaros a century old and taller than houses.

Old Town Scottsdale and the Art of Shade

When the sun is at its worst, Phoenix retreats indoors and into old Scottsdale, where the sidewalks have awnings and misters and the galleries keep their doors open and their air conditioning high. We drifted through the arts district, ate elotes from a cart, and I bought a small Navajo silver piece from a man who told me where the stone came from. In the evening the patios fill and the city exhales — margaritas and Sonoran hot dogs wrapped in bacon, a genuinely local invention that I ordered against my better judgment and then again the next night.

Taliesin West and the Desert’s Architect

The finest afternoon we spent was at Taliesin West, Frank Lloyd Wright’s winter home and studio, built low into the desert out of the very rock it sits on. Wright understood this landscape better than the city that grew up around it — the angles of his roofs echo the mountains, the terraces open to the horizon, and everything is scaled to the enormous sky. Our guide pointed out how the desert masonry catches the afternoon light, and Lia, who is harder to impress than I am, went quiet in the way she does only when something is truly good.

Getting There

Phoenix Sky Harbor is one of the busiest airports in the country and sits just minutes from downtown, with a light-rail line running straight in. This is a city built for the car, though, and you will want one — the valley is vast and the mountain preserves, Sedona, and the Grand Canyon all lie within reach for a day trip or an overnight. Come in the mild months if you can, roughly November through April, when the days are warm and the nights want a jacket. If you must come in summer, do as we did: rise before the sun, hide through the middle of the day, and give yourself back to the desert only once it has cooled.