Blow me down!

Monday, March 7, 2011

TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES, NM — Yes, that’s the name of this small town in south central New Mexico. It used to be called Hot Springs – and it still has those, where tourists and residents can soak their aches and pains away, but in the late 1940s the town wasn’t doing very well financially.

That’s when they heard that the immensely popular radio show, Truth or Consequences, was looking for a community willing to change its name to their show’s name, and Hot Springs hopped to it. The NBC host, crew and actors all flew out to New Mexico in 1950 to produce the tenth anniversary show from this brave town and put its name on the map. The free advertising helped out the town and the show broadcast its first live show, coast to coast, from the town that has borne its name ever since.

We had a good drive today from Santa Fe, almost in a straight north-to-south line across a wide expanse of gravelly prairie, spotted with low shrubs, scraggly grasses, and, as we got further south, paddle-shaped cactus plants. The land was not entirely flat the whole time; sometimes it rose into hills or flat-topped buttes, and off in the distance were blue mountains, dusted on top with snow, at least closer to Santa Fe.

Wind was our constant companion today, and several times we passed warning signs about strong gusts. They even set up orange windsocks in the highway median from time to time so drivers could gauge the speed and direction of the wind. We saw what looked like plumes of smoke in the distance every now and then, but they were actually clouds of dust.

When we pulled over at a rest stop for lunch, the wind grabbed the truck doors as we opened them, and our hair flapped in all directions. The kitchen window, as I sat eating my sandwich inside the trailer, framed a beautiful landscape of tan foreground, brownish-red foothills, purple mountains and grey peaks behind them on the horizon, with a canopy of blue sky and shredded clouds above. What a view.

Val didn’t notice the sign when we went over to the building by the rest stop to see what the view was like behind it. It said “beware” in English and Spanish, and had a picture of a coiled rattlesnake with its mouth wide open, revealing its poisonous fangs! We might not have lingered for quite so long if he had seen it.

Val spotted another, more friendly, critter shortly after lunch -- a real, live roadrunner, pelting across the oncoming lane, then the median, and full speed ahead in front of the truck and into the brush by the roadside! He checked to see if Wiley Coyote was behind him, but must have missed seeing him.

Interstate 25 took us through Albuquerque (finally learned how to spell that!), a spread-out city that looks fairly industrial but which boasts a robust arts community, according to the guide book. We also passed the Trinity Site, in the White Sands Missile Range, where the atomic bomb was first detonated on July 16, 1945. We actually saw a film clip of that explosion at one of the displays in the Museum of History in Santa Fe when we were there. It was a chilling sight.

It was a balmy 70 degrees when we reached the Cielo Vista RV park in “T or C” as this town is called for short, but the wind had not let up. Our hosts here said there were warnings of high winds overnight tonight, and as we sit here, the trailer is being rocked by another gust. From our windows there is a great view of the town, but when we decided to walk down the hill to look about, we changed our minds; the air is full of dust, almost obliterating the mountains south of the town. Our countertops and floor are already gritty with sand that has sifted in through the windows and vents. It will be major house-cleaning time when we get to Arizona tomorrow.

Silver and turquoise

Sunday, March 6, 2011

SANTA FE, NM — Since today was Sunday, I did an internet search to find an Episcopal church and came up with St. Bede’s on South St. Francis Drive. We were warmly welcomed at the front door and pinned with a blue ribbon so people would know we were visitors. We enjoyed chatting with various people at coffee hour afterward, and even found one person who had been to Ottawa a couple of times.

It had warmed up a little by the time we got outside again, but as some of our new friends were saying, you have to expect cool weather in early March when you’re at 7,000 feet of elevation!

We decided to go back to the Plaza where we had been yesterday and have a closer look at the wares being sold by native artisans. They were all lined up along the wall of the Palace of the Governors, facing the square, with colourful blankets spread in front of them on which they displayed the fruits of their labours. They greeted us as we strolled along, looking at the beautiful pieces of silver and turquoise jewelry, beadwork, clay pots and figurines.

By this time we were ready for lunch, so we stopped in again at Pasqual’s, the restaurant we had visited yesterday. It was much busier this time, so we left our names and promised to come back in 25 minutes, when a table would be ready for us. This gave us a chance to walk around the block and do some window shopping. What a feast for the eyes! Belts and hats, serapes and embroidered jackets, sculptures and paintings, sparkling jewelry, dried red pepper ristras (the bunches we saw decorating many homes yesterday), furs, snakeskin boots... there was no end to the wonderful handiwork.

Back at Pasqual’s, we were seated again at the communal table, this time next to Grant and Liz and family. The couple were from New Orleans and had escaped to New Mexico, since they said their home town is overrun by people during Mardi Gras week! We also chatted with Julian and Antonia, from Bristol, England, on our other side, and heard their take about the upcoming wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton.

Our meal was another feast for eye and tongue; a ranchero omelette for me, smothered in tomatillo sauce, and for Val, poached eggs on top of black beans and green peas, with tomatillo sauce, a tortilla and a fried banana. Both dishes were scrumptious!

After lunch we went back to the Plaza vendors so I could pick out a souvenir of Santa Fe; it’s a lovely turquoise pendant, veined with brown and set in sterling silver on a silver chain. It was made by Sheila Vandever, a Navajo native, who was seated with her auntie, who sat wrapped in a patterned blanket against the cold.

We went back to the truck and headed up Canyon Road, the strip where all the various galleries are clustered. Outside the front of these adobe buildings are sculptures, banners, paintings and more sculptures of every style and description. It would be easy to spend several hours strolling up and down the street to visit each gallery.

However, we had to find a grocery store for supplies before our last 500 miles to Arizona, so we queried the GPS for a store nearby and picked a likely one. Wouldn’t you know, after several streets and avenues, stoplights and turns, the GPS proudly announced our arrival at a store that was no more! I saw the sign, but it was painted over and no groceries were in sight. Never mind; we got to see more of Santa Fe and eventually did find what we needed.

A town like no other

Saturday, March 5, 2011

SANTA FE, NM — A yellow neon stripe of highlighter drawn by our KOA host on our map of Santa Fe showed us the way into town, nine miles from our campground. When we climbed into the truck, both our water bottles were frozen solid! It had been a very cold night, to the point that our water hose was also frozen and nothing flowed from our taps in the trailer. Good thing we’d filled our water jug last night, so Val could have his morning java.

Fortunately, Santa Fe delivered one of its 300 annual days of sunshine, though it never got so warm that we doffed our jackets. The points of interest in the town are clustered around the Plaza, a large city square with an obelisk in the centre and buildings and shops all around it. We walked through the narrow streets, which were flanked with brown adobe buildings that looked like they came straight out of a movie set in Mexico. Some had clusters of dried red peppers hanging in front, or fences made of sticks lashed together.

Our first visit was to the Basilica of St. Francis, which welcomed us with two magnificent wooden doors decorated with bronze bas-reliefs of the history of the church from the 1600s to 1986. Inside, the cathedral was painted cream with colourful embellishments at the top of the pillars, and beautiful stained glass windows. A wedding was about to take place, so we got to see a New Mexican family dressed in their finery bustling about, and the musical team, dressed in bright purple with embroidered black vests and silver-studded pants that filed in with their trumpets and guitars.

A short way up the street from the Basilica was the Loretto Chapel, now a private museum, but formerly belonging to the Sisters of Loretto. When it was built, there was no room for a staircase to reach the choir loft at the back of the chapel, so the sisters prayed to St. Joseph, the patron saint of carpenters, to find a solution. Nine days later, a man came to their door and began to build a spiral staircase that made two 360 degree turns in its ascent, with no nails or screws, only wooden pegs, and without any exterior support through the centre or on the sides. Then he disappeared, without payment and without leaving his name. The staircase bears the name “miraculous” and remains an architectural marvel to this day.

We strolled a little further and stepped in to a small coffee shop for a bite and were seated at a communal table with several other patrons. The fare was organic food with a New Mexican flair; I had hot chocolate laced with cinnamon and a big bowl of nutty granola and yogurt, while Val enjoyed a burrito and sampled the three levels of hot sauce - tomatillo, green chilies and red chilies - on top. He didn’t dive for my yogurt to quench the hottest spice, which I’m sure I would have done if I had tried it! Our eating companion was John, a friendly businessman from California, whose serving had red chili sauce and fried bananas.

On we went to the Plaza, where vendors had laid out their wares of silver and turquoise, serapes and pottery, and sat huddled with blankets around them, waiting for customers. We had been told they were only allowed to sell there if their wares were their own handmade items, so buyers could be sure they were getting authentic artifacts.

North of the Plaza was the New Mexico History Museum, just opened in 2009, depicting 400 years of history of the region. It was fascinating and beautifully laid out, but it told tales of endless conflict and bloodshed between the Spanish and native peoples, Mexicans and settlers. Famous names like Billy the Kid, Kit Carson, Pancho Villa and others were somewhat familiar, while tales of massacres, heroism and hardship in this large sector of the United States were previously unknown to me.

The Palace of the Governors, just next door, is known as the oldest government building in the US, and we could see some of the original foundations and hand-hewn beams over doorways from 400 years ago.

Our last stop was the New Mexico Museum of Art, where classic paintings of early regional history shared space with strange new works such as tiny houses made from butterfly wings and sculptures made from disposable plastic wineglasses and platters.

It was clear, from these displays as well as what we passed in shop windows in the streets, that Santa Fe is a thriving artistic community where innovation and creativity have full reign. It is truly a place unlike any other we’ve ever visited, and we’ve decided to stay another night to see more.

Of cacti and bluebirds

Friday, March 4, 2011

SANTA FE, NM — We’re in a new state and a new time zone – Mountain Time – which gained us an extra hour today. We made an early start since we had a bit further to go this time to reach this fabled city of New Mexico, “the enchanting state”.

It was a breathtaking drive today. The Texan landscape continued with its prairie grasses, grain silos and grazing cattle. At one point, on our left we saw hundreds and hundreds of black-and-white cattle, coralled into scores of pens. When we passed the building at the end of this stretch of highway, emblazoned with the words “beef cattle”, we realized where these creatures were headed; restaurants and supermarkets everywhere!

Several times we passed signs warning of severe winds, and Val really felt it pushing from the south against the side of our trailer. Most of the trees by the highway were twisted sideways, indicating that this type of wind blows from that direction pretty well all the time.

Shortly before lunch we crossed into New Mexico, under a yellow archway with stylized Adobe-type suns that decorate the NM flag. The welcome centre there provided a wealth of literature which we eagerly scooped up.

Almost immediately the landscape began to change. There were still huge expanses of grassy land, but they were peppered with low evergreens and twisted, spiky plants with pale yellow flowers at the tips of each fleshy branch. We even caught sight of some real cactus; the kind that looks like round paddles tufted with sharp spines, though there weren’t too many of these. Some of the fences had snagged tumbleweed in them as well.

The land was fairly flat, but it often dropped away into gulches or was pushed upward into flat-topped hills. I think these are what they call mesas. The shape was fascinating, but what captivated me even more were the colours, especially of the soil, which ranged from rust colour to almost purple in places. Then, far off in the distance, we saw blue mountains, some of them high enough to be capped with snow! The truck climbed steadily as the elevation increased. The city of Santa Fe is known as the highest city in the US, at 7,000 feet above sea level — and we read in the brochure that newcomers may even sense the thinner air, requiring a couple of days to become accustomed to it.

Our KOA campground is outside the city of Santa Fe, so we haven’t yet seen what the town looks like, but the houses we passed to get here were quite different; almost all of them had flat rooves, and they were low and nestled on the hillsides, many the colour of sand or brick.

Our arrival here was fairly early, due both to our early start and the extra hour we gained crossing the time zone. It gave us time to set up and relax, and I was able to do a couple of loads of laundry. Next to the laundry room, in a little garden area surrounded by an adobe wall, I saw some little birds fluttering around a feeder, hung from a small tree. On closer examination, I realized they were a lovely blue! The woman in the office said they are Mountain Bluebirds. I was enchanted.

Back at the trailer, awaiting the completion of the wash cycle, I heard a pattering sound on the roof and looked out. The air was filled with billows of snow pellets that bounced on the red soil and piled up in the grass! I could hardly believe my eyes! It certainly was chilly when we got here, but I didn’t sign up for snow! At least it melted fairly quickly.

Note to faithful readers: We’ve finally been able to upload a few photos, so you can scroll back to some earlier entries and see them now!

Cowboy country

Thursday, March 3, 2011

AMARILLO, TX — The Texas Panhandle is what they call this squared-off northernmost portion of the Lone Star State, which we have crossed to its mid point today. Although Oklahoma had already displayed a wide, flat prairie geography before we left that state, Texas seems to really feel like the wild west.

The colours of the prairie are so varied, with rust-coloured grasses, sage brush, soil that is almost pink in the sunken gulches, and brush that is as yellow as ripe wheat. Every now and then, an irrigated section of farmland gives a burst of bright green against this palette, and dotting the plains on either side of the road are black cows, grazing contentedly, and characteristic round windmills with a rectangular rudder spinning in the stiff breeze.

Three-armed windmills of a newer vintage, by the scores, rotated their huge arms in western Oklahoma. The structures are gigantic! Val figured each arm must be about fifty feet long. I tried to count them as we drove past, but the rolling hills obscured some of them and I lost track. There must have been over a hundred clustered in one area. To paraphrase the song from the musical, ‘the wind was so busy it didn’t miss a windmill’. It swept against the trailer too, and shredded the clouds into horsetails in the huge blue sky ahead.

Our travels took us along the old Route 66, which gained fame through a popular TV show in the sixties. There’s even a Route 66 museum in western Oklahoma. There are plenty of other museums too; one about aeronautics and space travel in Weatherford, the home town of astronaut Tom Stafford, which boasts a moon rock in its collection, and one dedicated to native son Roger Miller, who sings “King of the Road” and “Dang Me” and other country songs. Even singer Carrie Underwood comes from these parts and merits her own billboard by the roadside!

We stopped for fuel near Clinton, OK and bought a Dairy Queen ice cream cone – it actually felt summery today at 70 degrees! The lady who served us agreed that the weather today was “real nahs” and much better than last Sunday when grass fires had raged across the region. The Amarillo Globe-News paper said there was nearly $13 million in damage from two major fires, one of which covered more than 24,000 acres. The lady told us she had been visiting her daughter in Fritch, and when it was time to go home there was only one road out; all the rest were blocked by fires. Glad we missed that one.

Our campground tonight is sandy and flat, with stunted gnarly trees here and there, and cutout figures of cowboys lounging against fenceposts. Most of the places we have camped at so far are sparsely populated, since it’s not really the season yet. Today our neighbours happen to come from Sarnia, ON – they’re on their way back home after visiting their daughter who’s working at a mission in Mexico.

Just before our turnoff to the campground, we passed a huge billboard that said “Jesus Christ is not a swear word”, and behind it was a great big truck stop with fuel pumps and a convenience store. The name of the truck stop, emblazoned across the shelter over the pumps, was Jesus Christ Is Lord Travel Plaza. Good Food. Clean Restrooms. Isn’t this a neat country?

Hogs, hills and howdy!

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

OKLAHOMA CITY, OK — New day, new state! We had another good day, with sunshine and blue sky – and plenty of that in Oklahoma’s wide plains. It got up to 70 degrees today by the time we got to our KOA campsite, so we celebrated by cooking burgers on the barbeque for supper.

Before heading out from Russellville, Val found the lyrics of the musical “Oklahoma!” on the internet so I could do a proper rendition of the title song as we crossed the state line. I got to perform a couple of bars for the ladies at the Oklahoma Welcome Center when we stopped for maps and literature. I think Val was pleased that there weren’t too many people in the office at the time.

Our trip today took us past rolling hills and wooded sections near the Arkansas state line, as well as several rivers, including the Arkansas River and another called the North Canadian River, and lakes. But the main impression of Oklahoma so far has been one of wide prairies with yellow grass, farm buildings, grazing cows and a big, big sky.

There were several large concrete teepees decorating the Oklahoma Welcome Center’s front lawn, and inside was a huge painting of Indians and covered wagons trekking across the plains. Indians, as the Americans call their native peoples, appeared to have an important place in Oklahoma’s history and culture, and after our visit to the center, we found out why.

In the years around 1830, as the Europeans began to settle the eastern states of the US, they expelled Indian nations and forced them to relocate westward to an area designated as Indian Territory. The territory was parceled out to each nation, including Pawnee, Choctaw, Cherokee, and dozens of others, who had to walk from their homelands in the east with whatever possessions they could carry to this new land and build a new life. One Indian chief called this trek a “trail of tears”.

Indian Territory became Oklahoma. Today there are more than 39 tribal nations here, and some 250,000 descendants of the original 67 nations still call Oklahoma home. The Indian heritage of Oklahoma is now celebrated and honoured in museums and visitor centres in several parts of the state. All this history was quite new to both of us; we had never heard these accounts before today.

Several times along the way we passed road crews working on the highway. The road bed is made of thick slabs of concrete, reinforced with rebar, so it provides a really solid base, but over time, small gaps develop between the slabs. As a result, in many places along the way, our truck and trailer endured a rough ride, going ga-dunk, ga-dunk, ga-dunk over the gaps. I could just picture our plates and glasses in the trailer cupboards jumping up and down with each ga-dunk. But, fortunately, we found no damage when we reached our destination.

Large billboards were peppered along the roadsides, enticing travelers to turn off for juicy steaks, to seek salvation, to hit the jackpot at casinos, or to fill up with low-priced fuel. A theme that we had encountered both in Arkansas and Oklahoma was the pig. The razorback hog appears to be a symbol for Arkansas, and barbequed pork is a popular dish. At the filling station where we stopped to fuel up after lunch, there were three large pigs out front made from oil cans, in front of the Pig Out Palace. When we are in a location that allows us to post the photos I took, you'll be able to have a look!

Toad Suck State Park

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

RUSSELLVILLE, AR – The names of some places we pass on the highway are too quirky to ignore. Hence the title of today’s entry, which is an honest-to-goodness attraction in the state of Arkansas! It reminded me of one in Pennsylvania that was called Hungry Mother State Park. Where do they get these names?

Shortly after we left the RV park this morning, we turned in to the Arkansas welcome centre for maps and information. I asked the attendant why the last syllable of her state is pronounced “ah” when it reads “as”, and she said that in the 1890s the state passed a bill establishing the correct pronunciation, and that’s what it has been ever since.

We had a perfectly beautiful day for traveling today, with clear skies and bright sunshine. We hit a high of about 58, so it was really quite pleasant. Signs of spring are everywhere – more and more emerald green fields spread out on either side of the highway, and we caught glimpses of flowering fruit trees and even wild daffodils as we drove.

Today we saw more evidence of wildlife than any other so far. Unfortunately, a lot of it was squished on the side of the highway, including a deer, a racoon, and a coyote. I saw a couple of slender white cranes wading through some roadside ponds, and we saw a couple of hawks close up as well. At our campground this evening we could hear cardinals trilling away nearby. For us, March has definitely come in like a lamb.

We passed through Little Rock this morning, and I read in one of the pamphlets we picked up about the Little Rock Nine – the nine African-American teenagers who, in 1957, tested the notion of equal rights for all by trying to attend an all-white high school in that city. They were turned away at first by the Arkansas National Guard, but some days later, on orders of President Eisenhower, were escorted by the US Army to class. It sparked news stories everywhere. Val says he remembers that event very well, but I can’t say I do; I was under 10 years of age when it happened. Now there is a civil rights museum across the street from Little Rock Central High School, which has also been declared a National Historic Site, and 2,400 students still attend the fully-integrated school.

We stopped for lunch and fuel at a truck stop just off the highway. It was a bustling place, and in the parking area there were dozens of tractor-trailers parked, still running, while their drivers paused for food, a shower, or just a break from their trek on the Interstate. There were literally hundreds of the huge trucks on the road, heading in both directions. I tried to look through the cab windows of oncoming tractor-trailers to see if any of them had companions in the passenger seats, but I didn’t see any. It must be a lonely life, but some drivers must prefer it that way.

Once we were settled at our RV park, we headed to the local Walmart for food and supplies. It was rather fitting for us to choose that particular store, as the chain had its beginnings in this state when Sam and Helen Walton opened their variety store in 1945 in Bentonville, AR. The first Walmart was launched in Rogers, AR, in July of 1962. If we were headed for the northwest corner of this state, we could visit the Walmart Visitors’ Center that provides a full account of this American retailing success story.