Notes from the Road - Day 29

2/27/04 10:50pm Mountainair, NM

I got a good night’s sleep last night, and didn’t even wake up when Michael and Jason went to school and Diane went to work. By the time I got out of bed it was 8:30am, and when I walked into the dining room, John was reading the paper with a pot of coffee brewing. After drinking a cup I got my shower, killing my second daddy-long-legs before getting in. I killed the first one last night, and there was a third in the ceiling corner I couldn’t reach. John said it’s just the time of year for them to come out.

First we headed to IHOP for a New Mexico breakfast. I told him I’d try some authentic New Mexican food while I was here, and ultimately chose breakfast over lunch. This was apparently a good thing, because John said the food was even hotter at the place he would’ve taken me for lunch, and the huevos rancheros I had at IHOP were already too hot for me to eat much. I ordered the red chili only, but John had the red and the green, “Christmas” the waitress called it. I drank a couple glasses of ice water and sweated under my baseball cap, but he didn’t bat an eye finishing the whole plate. He said it’s something you get used to, and eventually everyone here buys their own peppers, peels and seeds them, and keeps them in the freezer for use throughout the year.

We came back to the house to check messages, then picked the Crest as our first destination. From Albuquerque you can see a dozen huge radio towers on the top of the enormous mountain range towering over the city like a sentinel. That point is more than 10,600 feet above sea level, and more than a mile above the desert floor and the city. As we ascended, I caught glimpses of the view through breaks in the tree line, but we didn’t stop for any pictures. We were seeing snow as soon as we got on the road leading up, and by the time we reached the top, it was several feet deep, covering stairs and paths, but the road was almost entirely clear except for a few patches near the top. A trickle of snowmelt running down the center line shimmered and sparkled in the sunlight, but undoubtedly hardened into solid ice at night, when the temperature dropped. At the top of the mountain, it was 34 degrees, whereas it was 58 degrees at the bottom.

We parked in the lower of the two lots because the top was full, and this necessitated a climb up the uncleared steps or a longer walk by the road. I followed John’s lead up the steps, or tried to. Several people before us had packed the snow in places, and I tried to follow the footprints that were at least six inches deep, but where they ran together, it was so slick my tennis shoes couldn’t find a purchase and I figured I must look like a cartoon character with my feet spinning in place. Luckily, I didn’t get any snow in my shoes. When I finally made it to the top, I found I was having a hard time catching my breath because of the altitude. I pictured myself having to sit down to avoid fainting, but luckily the feeling passed.

There are some amazing views from up there, as far as Santa Fe on a clear day, but you wouldn’t want to linger this time of year. The snow was so deep in places that only the top few inches of the hand railings were visible. There is a path along the ridge of the mountains that runs to the other side that John said he’s taken, in addition to other hiking in the area which leads to an old stone house where he and his friends spent some nights when they were younger. He said they’d met some strange people up there in the night. As we came down, we passed two hitchhikers carrying snowboards, looking for a ride to avoid buying a lift ticket. There was also an area halfway up designated exclusively for sledding.

Our next stop was downtown to continue my streak of photographing city skylines, although in Albuquerque’s case, there’s precious little to see. Still, we had a hard time finding a good shot because of the flatness of the area, the many trees, and the relative shortness of the buildings. I could’ve gotten a great shot from the I-25/I-40 interchange, but it was on the driver’s side and John was driving. The interchange is a characteristic (for out here) pink color that is nonetheless unusual for highway design, with a blue stripe.

After we had some Arby’s for lunch, we headed to the west side of town to check out the Petroglyph National Monument. Only a small part of the park is open to the public, but we saw at least a hundred of the 20,000 petroglyphs carved in the basalt rocks lining the hills in the area. The black coloring is actually caused by exposure to the elements, and people as long ago as 1000 B.C. found that chipping lightly at the surface revealed a much lighter coloring underneath that made for strong contrast, so they started creating all kinds of pictures and designs on the rocks found at these places that were sacred to them. We saw drawings of people, demons, insects, animals, spirals, and some markings no one knows the significance of. Most of these were done between the 1300’s and 1700’s, but some are much older, and some are recent graffiti.

There has apparently been some controversy in the area over a proposal to connect two roads through part of the site. John said he could see both sides of the issue, since the rocks with petroglyphs could be moved, but I pointed out some of the meaning in these archaeological findings is derived from their context. Still, this is a debate being played out in many areas all over the west, mainly because so much has been found out here preserved in a state that’s possible to study. North of Flagstaff, the stretch of 89A I was on yesterday was expanded some time ago, and that project proceeded only on the condition that the study and recovery of ruins in the area would be conducted at the same time. There are things to be learned from these sites, but that has to be balanced against the needs of those living today.

When we got back to the house, Diane and the boys were there, but there were things going on, as I’m sure there always are, so I decided to come on out to Mountainair for supper and to stay the night. I have one more day before making the trip back to Bedford. Ruth, Carl, and I went to a restaurant in town that’s apparently been having trouble, but was likely the only place open at 7:00pm in this small town. The server informed us it was only her third day, never a good sign, but we all got the correct orders, which is something. The building dates back to 1923, and was renovated recently. It has high ceilings, and many framed pencil drawings by a local artist line the walls. It looks like a fine place for a restaurant, if only the food were better. My cousin Steve is in Albuquerque tonight getting fitted for a tux. He is getting married in three weeks, which I plan to be back for. I’ll get to see him tomorrow, and maybe play some golf. Mary’s husband Scott and one of her sons, Eric, work with him in his auto shop in town, so we’ll likely get together for supper, too.