It was hard to leave the Chiricahuas on Monday morning, and they didn’t make it any easier.
Love you too!
But we knew we were headed to a sweet spot on Road Trip XII: Albuquerque, home of my Adventure Buddy Beth (a former Lopezian & very gifted musician). It, and she, did not disappoint…and I’ll get to that in a moment.
Before that, though, social media has reminded me that this month marks the 10-year anniversary of my publication of The Flying Burgowski. Social media also reminds me (like a pushy theater mom) to make a little something of this fact. So here goes.
Who hasn’t yearned to fly?
Need a good, edgy, but heartwarming story to distract you from the headlines? Have a young person in your life (age 11 & up) who loves both fantasy AND real life? Click here to get your copy now…or, even better, ask your local bookstore to order it for you!
Shameless self-promotion: check. Now, back to Albuquerque.
The Mate and I love the place. Twenty years ago we spent 5 months in Santa Fe as part of his sabbatical, but realized later that its big, gritty cousin down I-25 was a better fit for us: less touristy, less expensive, and much better for athletic endeavors. Plus, ABQ has plenty of artsiness of its own.
Like this installation near Beth’s house, set up after the 2011 tsunami in Japan: it’s a “phone booth” for “calling” and connecting with faraway and/or lost loved ones around the world.…or this bridge over one of the old local irrigation ditches (not yet open, but still in use)
Though not as ancient as Santa Fe, ABQ still oozes that wonderfully understated adobe style:
It’s not just a wall. It’s a culture.
Most houses, modest or not, fall in with the local groove (though it’s not mandated, as in SF):
just some random house on my walk–but notice the basic materials.
Then there are the local flora and fauna, like this cottonwood…
My buddy Beth’s not a large person, but this tree makes her look like a Hobbit!
…and these Sandhill Cranes, stopping on their northerly migration to glean a field in the middle of the neighborhood:
Come here often?
Probably my favorite piece of Albu-quirkiness on this trip, though, was this vending machine installed outside a 50 year-old bakery…
Bakery’s closed? No worries, we got your treats right here!
…whose 86 year-old owner was still hard at work inside making empanadas, and New Mexico’s “state cookie”, the biscochito:
Not pictured: 86 year-old baker!
Despite greeting us with two days of HORRIBLE wind and blowing dust, Albuquerque redeemed itself today with perfect, still sunshine. It’s going to be hard to leave this place too.
Especially since the Texas Panhandle, and a good portion of Oklahoma, seem to be on fire. Not sure Vanna wants to go there! See you along the way…wherever that turns out to be.
What with COVID and nearly 200,000 miles, Ol’ Red started her retirement this year, as a hand-me-down to Son One. But I thought she deserved top billing today, seeing as 2013 was her debut. (Also the debut of the Subaru Cross-trek. Who knew what trend-setters we were?)
Good girl, Red.
The only theme I can piece together from RT III is my own forgetfulness. Looking through the folder, all I notice is
a) I mistook, last post, in saying we’d explored the Everglades & the Keys in 2012. Nope–that was this trip, as you’ll see.
b) if I took any photos of our week in NC, they all seem to have disappeared
c) my memory gaps of that trip seem to equal the gaps in the photo history: go figure
But no point dwelling on my aging brain–let’s focus on what definitely DID happen, ok? Like kicking off the trip by meeting Adventure Buddies Tom & Kate in Sedona, AZ.
It snowed. But that just made everything more beautiful.
Sedona’s a bit “precious” from our point of view–too many art galleries, not enough federal park space. But what land is protected there is drop-dead gorgeous, and very (too?) accessible.
We’ll take it!
Further in the file, photos of friends in the Phoenix area prove we went through there, but next comes…Florida?! So maybe 2013 was another one of those years where we fled winter storms across the country as fast as possible, avoiding the temptations of scenery and recreation.
Not pictured: making mileage across (I’m guessing) I-20.
But in Florida we continued our exploration of its many, varied state parks, including this one boasting “Florida’s highest waterfall.”
Psych! Turns out the waterfall goes down into a sinkhole. So yes, technically, it’s 75 feet “high.”
Well played, Florida.
We did then visit the Everglades, biking a really cool, bird-and-gator-filled loop…
This picture was supposed to show Gretchen and the gator. Guess Ken was more interested in the gator.
I have kind of a thing for manatees, so we had to rent some kayaks and go find the big ol’ “sea cows.” Unfortunately the spot we chose was jammed with tour boats and snorkelers doing the same thing we were doing, while the poor manatees huddled in a roped-off area. I felt yucky about the whole thing.
Those dark blobs? Manatees. (Take my word for it. This ain’t NatGeo.)
After that, we visited friends on Key Largo. My favorite pic from that visit involved fish–stuffed with shrimp and baked en croute. One of our friends is an icthyologist, so he was in charge of making sure my dough depiction was accurate for grouper.
The “before” picture. After baking, it was less detailed but more delicious.
Another friend, in Northeast Florida, treated us to some wetland hikes that somewhat made up for degradation of the Everglades.
Gator AND turtle! Score!
Now comes the big gap: our week in NC. Maybe the Tarheels lost in the first round of the ACC that year and I was too bummed to take pictures?
But clearly it was another year of cold northern weather, ’cause we headed home at the fairly low latitude of I-40. First stop, the Blue Ridge, for some hikes in what my east-coast soul thinks of as a beautiful winter forest, and my west-coast Mate thinks of as “dead.”
Eastern mountains: Iiiiiiii….will always love yooooooo…
Remember Palo Duro from the last Road Trip? Crossing north Texas, we defaulted back there for a day hike.
Seriously, this place is way too pretty. I owe Texas all kinds of apologies.
Hints of spring.
One more stop along I-40, this time in Santa Rosa, NM: the Blue Hole. I was a bit skeptical, given the way it was pimped by billboards, but, well…
I mean…it’s an 80-foot deep jewel in the middle of the desert. But letting folks scuba dive in there kinda wrecks the magic.
Cutting up past Las Vegas, we totally skipped the city for the region’s best feature (for people like us): Red Rocks State Park.
Red. Rocks.
I’d say it’s one of America’s better-named parks.
Must. Climb!
We must have then headed north on the east side of the Sierras, ’cause this can’t be anywhere but Mono Lake.
Tufa: so weird, so wonderful.
Another recreational stop in CA–Burney Falls, near Mt. Lassen–yielded this wonderful waterfall. I love the way the water seems to sprout right out of the ferns.
Mesmerizing.
Finally, end of March: home to western Washington! The Skagit bulb fields make the perfect welcome-home bouquet.
Thanks, y’all. Good job, Red Rover.
Thanks for riding along. Here’s hoping that Road Trip IV doesn’t demonstrate further erosion of my memory channels!
If you appreciate rodents of usual size, cute cabins, and veggies of Hispanic cuisine, this post is for you.
Fourteen years ago our little family of four spent five months in Santa Fe as part of the Mate’s last sabbatical. We love our wet, green northwest home, but we never got that red desert out of our system. We LOVE coming back to New Mexico.
Albuquerque is actually a better fit for us than artsy Santa Fe, with its twisty old streets too narrow for biking and its running trails all headed straight up mountains. And since we have a dear friend in Albuquerque it’s become a regular stop for us.
Of course we have to get our fix of the best green chiles in the country. These are from The Range in Bernalillo:
Encrusted with blue corn, served with arroz verde!
Then a hike along the flank of the gorgeous Sandia mountains.
Thanks to Desert Buddy Beth for taking this!
Usually we head into the heart of Texas after leaving the Land of Enchantment, but this year we let a ferocious tailwind zoom us across the Panhandle and right into northwestern Oklahoma.
On past trips OK has been a mess of blizzard or tornado, but this year it’s been downright lamblike. We spent a night each at two different state parks, Boiling Springs in the west and Greenleaf in the east, with a bike ride in Tulsa along the Arkansas River in between. We now have a much cosier relationship with the Sooner state.
Boiling Springs is an oasis on the prairie, featuring enormous cottonwoods. The joys of off-season: we had the whole place to ourselves, and the cabin cost less than a nice motel room.
But the highlight was this porcupine, asleep in the high, sunlit branches with only a tubby half-moon for company.
Wait a minute…that’s not a bird’s nest!
By the end of the following day, no more coyotes howling at night, and cottonwoods had switched to oaks as we entered Ozark country in eastern OK: Greenleaf State Park. The hiking was only ok (appropriately), but oh, those CCC cabins!
Doesn’t it look like it’s melting? I guess those CCC boys found a way to build quickly on a slope.
Because the weather gods were being so sweet, we decided to take advantage and visit another state that’s usually “under the weather” in February: Missouri. (Also, we just couldn’t resist staying off I-40 one more day! No offense, I-40…we’re just a tad sick of you.)
And in the Missouri section of the Ozarks is where we met not only this beaver
Hey, what are you doing awake in the middle of the day?
but also a spring which makes Oklahoma’s “Boiling Spring” seem like a joke. Notice I didn’t take a picture of Boiling Spring? Now check out Missouri’s Big Spring:
288 MILLION gallons per day bursts out from the base of this cliff!
The Show Me State is right! Here are a couple more views:
The limestone cliff wall, leading to the spring
Closeup of that incredible upwelling of water:
I have Spring Fever!
Oh, and lest you’re wondering about those Traveling Avocados of ours…#4 topped a delicious plate of pasta containing capers and sun-dried tomatoes and Parmesan and greens, but we snarfed it before I remembered to take a picture. And #s 5 and 6 are apparently holding off ripening till we arrive in North Carolina. I feel ya, avocados!
Wait–Day 1 is Los Angeles? Gretchen, did you move?
No, I cheated. Starting from my home in Washington State, I flew down to San Diego for a first-ever reunion with my sisters, while the Mate followed, at the wheel of our faithful Red Rover. We met in LA and started Road Trip VII from there.
beautiful anemone in tidepool at Point Loma in San Diego
The theme of the trip so far? It’s the raison d’etre of our road trips: the joy of moving through beauty.
Our favorite way is to feel the air on our skin. So Day 1, we hiked in the steep canyons of Hollywood, startlingly green from all that recent rain, ignoring the Oscars-related bustle going on just below.
Ah, air. Even LA air. If it’s sunny in February, my skin’s not picky about pollution.
Day 2, we rode our bikes through the cactus gardens of Saguaro National Park in Tucson, marveling at the variety of the plant forms.
Make your own caption for this one
Can we not find a better word than “desert” to describe such arid Edens?Â
But sometimes the air-on-skin model is too rough for our tender epidermes. Day 3, approaching Albuquerque from the south, we were looking forward to biking through the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge, glorying in the thousands of sandhill cranes and snow geese and other migratory fowl who vacation there. But the wind had other ideas–or rather, the wind-blown dust did.
Scenery? What scenery?
With poor little Red Rover getting sandblasted along I-25, we decided we wouldn’t fare too well. Boo. Sadness.
When tumbleweed meets bike. Seriously, the size of some of those things!
So we pushed on to Albuquerque, where, thanks to our buddy Beth, I was able to take two long power-walks through the wonderful neighborhoods of Northwest (backyard chickens, horses, goats–even an emu!) as the wind gradually relaxed to less-than-lethal levels.
Plus Beth took us to this REALLY COOL restaurant! This is the ceiling.
Mmm…and chiles rellenos with fresh, deeply-green New Mexican chiles….whoops, sorry. Not today’s theme.
On Day 4, we finally got to experience air-on-skin, moving-through-beauty in the blessed slo-mo that is camping. In Palo Duro Canyon State Park, this red, rocky wonderland astonishing close to Amarillo–really!–we rode our bikes around in the last of the afternoon sun.
Only safe way to take a bike-selfie
Then in the morning we went for a hike.
Dawn’s early light from our campsite
This was very welcome as a warmer-upper, as the blessedly still air pushed the temp down to 20 overnight. And we weren’t allowed to use our stove because of extreme fire danger. Brrr.
C’mon, Texas sun, do your thing!
Did I mention this place is right outside of Amarillo?!
Lest you think The Mate and I are too precipitous in our appreciation of nature’s gifts, just let me add: I could easily have written a post about the joys of being outdoors while holding still. But with a whole continent to cross, basketball games to watch and a bakery waiting for me to come back and work at…my skin and I choose to celebrate our happy reality: moving air.
Almost…warm! (Sometimes air on skin is more of a concept than a reality…)
“Red or green?” That’s it. That’s the New Mexico State Question. Simple as it is, it tells volumes about the culture of this mini-nation-within-a-nation. It’s different.
Forget the Republic of Texas, which prides itself on being the only state with the right to fly its flag at the same height as the US flag. Forget “Don’t Tread On Me” California. Both those states are as quintessentially American as you can get. Even if you’ve never been to either, you know them–from movies, TV, ads. They’re what foreigners think of when they think of us.
New Mexico? Here, an American from any other state feels like the foreigner, but in a good way. New Mexico is different. Although The Mate and I only spent two nights here on this trip, our family lived in Santa Fe for five months in 2004, and all those memories of first impressions now jump to the fore.
Think you know multicultural society? How about a state where the dominant culture is not only “minority” (Hispanic), but also older than the rest of the US? (Santa Fe is, arguably, the longest continually-inhabited town in the US, competing only with St. Augustine, Florida for this honor.) I remember seeing campaign signs for some local election in 2004; every single name was Spanish. That’s who runs the place, and they are NOT immigrants.
Think you understand the relationship of Indian reservations with surrounding towns and states? New Mexico’s pueblos are more numerous, vibrant, and front-and-center than anything I’ve seen from Arizona to South Dakota to Washington. This is NOT to say they don’t struggle with dire poverty and all its issues; they certainly do. But in New Mexico the pueblos are right there, not tucked away. It’s no accident that the annual Gathering of Nations, the largest powwow in the US, is held in Albuquerque.
Fancy-dancing at UNM’s Pit (courtesy Nic McPhee, Flikr Creative Commons)
Architecture is New Mexico’s most striking feature. Between Pueblo Style, with its adobe (or, today, stucco) in the brown spectrum from beige to rust, its gorgeous curved lines, its ladders and vegas and juniper-post fences, its ristras of red chiles hanging at every porch, and Territorial Style, with its Spanish colonial Zorro-esque balconies, New Mexican towns can feel like movie sets. (In Santa Fe, where this look is coded into city rules, even Burger Kings are humbly brown and curvy.)
The Loretta Hotel in Santa Fe (courtesy Wikimedia)
Now that I think about it, the curve is a fitting symbol for New Mexico. The adobe walls, the higgledy-piggledy streets, the mountains and dormant volcanoes; the white sand dunes and cottonwoods and piñons and chiles. Ah, the chiles…
Ristras for sake (courtesy wikimedia)
…which brings me me back to the State Question: Red or Green? It refers to your choice of chile sauce on your dinner. Can’t decide? There’s a third choice: “Christmas,” which means–duh–both!
Mmmmm…Christmas! (Courtesy Wikimedia)
If my current home state had a State Question, I think it might be, “Salmon or apples?” or perhaps, “REI or Cabela’s?” (Washinfton’s pretty polarized, east-west, but we’re all outdoorsy!) My native state, North Carolina, would probably ask, “Biscuits or cornbread?” Most states in the Lower 48 aren’t distinctive enough, in my opinion, to have a State Question. But if they did–what would they be? Use your imaginations, and let us hear! I’ll feature the most creative in my next post.
Foodies, sorry–that’s “desert” with one “s.” You’ll have to try someone else’s blog for the caloric kind. I’m writing about dirt today.
We just spent a day and a night in Death Valley, where the dirt looks like this:
(Courtesy Wikipedia)
and this:
(Courtesy Wikipedia)
We were hoping for wildflowers, but a heat wave a couple of weeks ago seems to have sped them through their cycle too fast. We enjoyed a few glimpses of yellow and purple, but most of the color came from…dirt.
The cool thing about America’s deserts, though, is that they come in infinite variety. You may be familiar with the red-rock areas like Arches and Grand Canyon; we are, which is one reason we didn’t route ourselves that way this year.
Sorry, Zion, not this year!
Instead we found ourselves discovering little patches of Amazing, like the tiny tip of Nevada where we saw Joshua Trees and wild burros,
(Courtesy Wikimedia)
or the western edge of New Mexico, where the earth seems to have neglected to clean up the results of a brief spell of vomit:
(Courtesy Wikimedia)
Of course, this being the weirdest US weather year in recent history, everything we saw while pulling into Albuquerque was covered in snow, and I was too chilled to stop and take pictures. But I think I’ve made my point for now, which is that we Americans are SO lucky!! We don’t have our just deserts–we have a whole glorious smorgasbord of sand and dirt and rock to choose from.
So the next time you feel deserted? Think about it–is that really such a bad thing to be?
Wing's World 