Tucson In July

 I was settling into the van with Rusty for a couple of hours of air conditioned relaxation in the parking lot, when Layne showed up at the side door and slid it open. The 105 degree afternoon heat swirled into my darkened sanctum of cool air.

"Are you done already?" It was hardly gracious but the question was heartfelt.

"Ready to go," she said. I was thinking the physicians assistant had postponed her appointment.

I took down the black out curtain I had just put up behind the front seats to make it easier to cool the back of the van, the living space. Then I started putting my shoes back on. Time to go back to the hotel across the desert.

Layne had a bump on her leg which had to be burned off, all taken care of in 15 minutes and thanks to Medicare, no bills no copays and no insurance company approvals of the doctor's medical decision. Easy peasy. However van life is interrupted for a couple of days in a fully air conditioned Hilton hotel, thanks to American Express credit card points. No travel for a couple of days but this weekend we want to be on the road to the Central California Coast. A few photos to pass the time as I update my files and enjoy strong WiFi.

Even early morning walks with Rusty fry under the Arizona sun. He loves to walk the RV park and I take advantage to enjoy the strange desert plants and residents' sense of humor.

New Mexico

I have mixed feelings about New Mexico a state that forces me to face my feelings every time I visit. The poverty of New Mexico is visible and is one side of the two faces presented here. The other side is the history, the food and the sheer physical beauty. New Mexico is intriguing and beautiful but like that long sought after date she eats with her mouth open and makes you want to run out of the restaurant never to see her again.

I have to get over my irritation because there is a long list of great artists who have found in New Mexico an endless source of inspiration. Ansel Adams climbed on his station wagon in 1941 and saw a potentially excellent picture which, with some judicious editing became Moonrise, Hernandez and is one of the iconic photos of the 20th century. 

We drove right past Hernandez 2022 in mid morning light and greatness as usual passed us by. But we were enjoying the day because New Mexico is a great place to drive through and look at. Or to run through and sniff at, if you're Rusty.

New Mexico refuses to submit to US Anglo culture in its entirety. But this isn't Old Mexico, this is the land of Spanish descent, ruled by people descended from Spain transferred to the New World. Architecture is adobe, real or fake, road signs point to towns and geographical features with Spanish names. 

I could spend a summer wandering this state, and I will one day driving the mountains and the villages seeking out the light that makes this state shine.

I would love to immerse myself in the culture of red and green sauces, of gas station food made to order and discovering the perfect sopapilla. We stopped on the outskirts of Santa Fe to wash clothes at a five star laundry in a strip mall and Valentina's was across the way offering New Mexican food for breakfast. I had hue's rancheros with green sauce and Layne had micas (tortilla strips cooked in a sauce) with a sopapilla each, a tortilla fried puffy and pillowy soft. 

Santa Fe, more properly known as the Royal City of the Holy Faith of St Francis of Assisi appeals to me not just because it's named for an Umbrian like myself (n one is likely to name a town after me especially as St Francis has taken most of them already). Joking aside Santa Fe takes the adobe theme all the way, a mixture of modern and ancient, a plaza downtown with Native Americans selling handcrafts, and narrow streets and no damned parking. This is where New Mexico drives you nuts. The meters require an app and a monthly subscription. We should have risked a ticket and gone for a walk but we goody two shoes were not wanting a fine so we kept driving. Grr. The city I wanted to enjoy put me in a bad mood.

We drove out on the Turquoise Trail into the Sandia Mountains east of Albuquerque. The range has no single peak but tops out over 10,000 feet and the idea was to camp someplace cooler than the desert floor.

Highway 14 joins New Mexico's two biggest cities over fifty miles of winding desert hills. It was lovely to be away from the freeway.

I don't know how they pronounce the name of the town but I do know its a former coal mining center transformed into an artist's town to attract tourists in the 21st century. When we drove through there looked to be many more visitors clogging the place than the 149 residents the town boasts. 

It was our last day before returning to the southern deserts so we set out to drive the national forest and find a place to spend the night.

It was an odd spot, an abandoned parking lot at the entrance to the forest but for one night we didn't feel like climbing up into the woods to park deeper in. 

The evening turned dark and thundery but only a few drops of rain actually fell and we tucked ourselves up with Layne's not yet famous eggplant and chorizo  stack. The chorizo is made from soy and it was good enough I extracted a promise to make some more in the future. Rusty had his kibbles and chicken al fresco as he prefers it.

A 6:30 start the next morning saw us in Benson, Southern Arizona at 2:30 pm after a day of freeway driving into the desert summer.  The circuit of high altitude public land boondocking was over. What a pity.

Creede To Chama

I once saw a Netflix series called “Godless” a brutal Western filled with interesting characters and strange twists on traditional simplistic cowboy plots. The opening scenes were set in Creede where a ghastly massacre took place.  Today the Hollywood star is a former mining town (aren’t they all around here?) and a bustling tourist trap (ditto). 

The rock towers over Creede but at street level…

…the town peters out into a mining museum. The road shows a dead end on Google maps. We turned around and left. 

No leaving before we had lined up with the off-road crowd to buy gas at the cute little gas station (which also sells diesel). Nowhere around here are you in real desolation or isolation. Not in summer. 

Colorado Highway 149 enters Creede down the Rio Grande Valley and leaves on the banks of the Blue River which heads toward, broadly speaking New Mexico, coincidentally our destination for the day. 

It was a pretty drive, which is clearly  the norm around here.

More high passes, curves and staggering views. 

This is also an obvious summer destination. 

A long sweeping drive through the mountains and it was a series of panoramas that kept me interested behind the wheel. The road was full of cautions: 

You don’t see this in Florida: a snow chain installation spot used in summer as a truck stop. Pretty useful. 

We stopped for lunch in what is becoming a pattern by taking a break in a state park with a lake. It was moderately busy it being Sunday but we found our own spot.

Layne had slept badly so she took to her bed and I sat up front with Rusty for company. Before we knew it a sign popped up announcing we had switched states and the fresh pavement meant we were in New Mexico. 

New Mexico is not a wealthy state and the difference with Colorado shows. 

We came across a roadside stop. The facilities were run down but the natural beauty was quite stunning. 

I got to see it all in 92 degree heat. Rusty was feeling unaccountably active. The signboards said this piece of land was close to the equator when the land was a single continent, Pangaea and as the seas receded they left behind layers of colored sediment. 

The Echo amphitheater was a pleasant surprise. 

We had no idea where to sleep so we checked an Army Corps of  Engineers campsite on a lake but even for $12 the sites looked rather bleak and crowded. We moved on. Then we came across another possibility. A little Forest Service parking lot flashed by but was spotted by Layne, nothing much escapes her. We pulled a U- turn and there we were for the night. 

It was over 90 degrees so Layne turned on the roof air conditioning and Rusty, still highly energized took off on the trail.

I was pleased to see the photos of Edward Curtis were used in the signboard. He was an extraordinary photographer traveling the West for thirty years starting in 1900 looking for Native Americans. He published twenty volumes of pictures of “The North American Indian” but died unrecognized. 

I really enjoyed this unexpected pleasure. Yes it was hot but Rusty scampered up ahead sticking closely to the trail and I followed. 

Like so many other of this Pueblo stories we’ve seen on this trip. It was a god spot for a village on a hill overlooking the Chama River in a beautiful spot.

They stored grain in adobe buildings whose foundations are still visible.  

You can just about trace the outline in the grass. Around 1500 here as in similar communities something changed and everyone left. No one knows why. 

Layne called. It was time for dinner, barbecued pork sandwiches for us and roast chicken and kibbles for him. 

Not a lovely wilderness but a nice free spot for the night along the road to Santa Fe.