Carefree, Arizona
There’s perhaps nothing more relaxing than staying at a resort in a town called Carefree. This blissful little place sits just forty-five minutes north of Phoenix, situated at the western edge of Tonto National Forest.
On a long weekend in September, when Arizona temperatures were climbing past 100 degrees, we flew into Phoenix and rented a car to take us to our resort, The Boulders at Carefree, Arizona.
The Boulders is a resort and spa that straddles nearby Scottsdale. The campus sits on 1,300 acres and boasts 160 casitas and 60 villas tucked into the terrain. It takes its name from the nearby granite boulders rock formations rising as tall and imperious rock formations, the base of which is peppered with saguaro cacti and the occasional rattlesnake. The boulders themselves are rumored to be over 12 million years old.
We had booked a casita (“little house,” in Spanish) for our three-night stay. Upon approaching the resort’s gatehouse in our rental car, security ushered us inside and directed us to drive the mile-long pathway to the main lobby. The driveway twisted and turned through rugged desert and blooming cacti, and we spotted a few jackrabbits and roadrunners rustle into the brush as we meandered by.
After checking in, one of the staff members loaded up a golf cart with our belongings and we settled in for a quick ride back through the desert to our casita. Our casita was situated in a cluster of four or five other white stucco houses, each of which boasted a wide, spacious balcony or private patio overlooking the Sonoran Desert around us.
It was an immediately charming place. Imagine a cool, dark floor cut from slabs of desert rock, warmed by thick rugs outfitted with classic southwestern patterns; whitewashed stucco walls cloaked with intricate tapestries and wood panels in bold colors; a colorfully-tiled mini bar; dark wooden beams fanning out across the ceiling above a luxurious king-sized bed; and a set of leather chairs huddled around a huge wood-burning fireplace. The bathroom was just as spacious and inviting, with a big soaking tub and frosted glass windows set against white marble—the picture of coziness.
As much as we wanted to stay inside and enjoy the luxuries of our casita, we knew that the resort had a few more amenities to check out.
Rather than calling for one of the many golf carts that sat ready nearby, we popped on some sunglasses and went for a ramble through the desert in search of the pool.
And on this walk to the pool, everywhere we looked, the boulders dominated the view. They give the place an ancient, surreal ambiance.
Matt had never seen (nor heard of) the saguaro cacti that populate this type of desert terrain, and we stared up at their cactus arms raised high and tall, totally in awe at these militant green giants.
We popped into the main pool and ordered lunch and drinks before dipping into the perfectly cool saltwater as the sun beat down across the desert. A few days later, we had a golf chart whisk us away to the more private spa pool, where we basked in the sun as servers brought us chilled drinks and breakfast sandwiches against a musical backdrop of wind chimes and soft, meditative chanting.
At night, when the restaurants and shops in nearby Cave Creek grow rowdier, the resort itself dips into an unimaginable silence: the desert at night. After the fiery pinks and yellows of a late summer sunset fade, a blanket of blackness settles across the sky, bringing welcome coolness after a hot day. Under this sky, stars begin to appear, first softly, then brightly. In hushed tones as we take our nightly walk, we point out Jupiter and Venus, or stop and still at the rustling in the bushes beside us—just a quail, thank goodness. We gaze silently at the saguaro that have grown ferocious-looking in the inky cover of night. Even in the blackness, we can still make out the shadow of the boulders against the starry skies.
The desert at night, I whisper to Matt, and in that moment, I can’t help but feel a rush of fear and respect. The feeling of being alone in the remote vastness of the desert, under a sky streaked with a million million galaxies, with an ancient mountain sitting stony and impenetrable behind you, when all that’s around are stars and saguaros, you feel your essential self come alive. On our last day at The Boulders, I went for a morning walk alone, hoping to replicate the feeling I got during our nighttime wanderings. Even in the early morning, the sun was exhausting, and I rested at the top of the highest trail, where I could look down on the resort and the desert blossoming out from it.
It’s a meditation in itself. The wide-open space is devoid of clutter and soothing to the eye, and has a way of shutting out chatter and calming any interior noise. I stretch up towards the sky and soak in the sun, pretending my arms are as long as a saguaro’s. I take a deep breath, inhaling the heat and the earth and the prickly pear scent. The desert in the early morning, I think with a smile.
The desert always, it answers.
