Adventure 38: Tucumcari, NM

Just a Little Rest Stop

About four hours straight east of Albuquerque is the little town of Tucumcari. Once, a vital part of Route 66, it's replete with fifties style motels and restaurants-most of which are rundown or forgotten. There are still a few struggling to draw overnight travelers from I-40, which runs along the South side of town. We are part of a surprisingly large overnight crowd, all of whom are tucked closely together in a dusty, slanted gravel patch known as Mountain Road RV Park. There are two large truck stops just beyond the park, a Loves and a Flying J, and the big rig traffic seems endless. On a ride along the frontage road, a stretch of hard pavement left over from Route 66, we counted 500 trucks in one hour. I know we hear stories of hard times economically (according to Wikipedia, the median income around here is about $25,000); nonetheless, the truck traffic along the interstate would suggest that commerce is vibrant in the Southwest. By the way, that truck total is both ways. I was counting those traveling West and Judy was counting those traveling East. My count was larger than hers by about fifty. I don't know what would keep a person here in Tucumcari, but nearly 8,000 souls live here. I do know that it's a common resting point for the trucks. We took a little walk this evening; the sky was deep blue. a sliver of crescent moon hung above Venus, and a soft orange warmed the Western sky. Maybe it's the truly beautiful sunsets that keep people here. The truck stop was a bees nest of rigs coming and going. Some truckers tucked in for the night; some stopped for food, to gas up, or to pee; quite a few were man/woman teams. No one seemed to acknowledge each other. They especially didn't acknowledge two geriatric starry-eyed goofballs walking around wearing orange CROCS and Gonzaga University sweatshirts. Regardless, it seems a solitary ethos or maybe pathos. I can't remember my greekoths right now. Tomorrow, we plan to ride around town a little bit before we head to PaloDuro State Park, which is a little south of Amarillo, and which is probably out of cell phone range. They call it the Grand Canyon of Texas. We're feeling the need to get away from these big cities, and besides the fact that we won't have our pacifying electronics, we'll be happily self-contained. We will be back in communication on Monday, November 11. Tucumcari Mountain: A legendary "Romeo/Juliet" like story starring native Apache Indians. The old chief was dying. He promised his daughter to one of two braves. They fought to the death atop the mountain. However, when the victor was about to plunge his knife into the heart of the vanquished, the chief's daughter, who was hiding nearby, plunged her knife into the victor's heart. (Wrong guy!). Then she plunged her knife into her own heart. Her elderly father discovered the scene, and he, too, plunged his knife into his own chest while yelling Tocom-kari. Tocum was the name of the vanquished brave. Kari was the name of the chief's daughter. The Europeans (Spaniards, I'd guess) named the mountain Tucumcari. The moral of the story, I assume, is that Love hurts. Needless to say, I won't be making any cracks about red heads tonight, and because of that life will be good, especially today.

Lots of company, resting for the night.

 Tucumcari Mountain (i.e. The Tourist Attraction here).

 Love's truck stop, a bee-hive of fast food, junk food, diesel, stuffed animals, and assorted other trinkets just begging to be freed from Tucumcari.

 Flying J truck stop, a repeat of Love's, but across the highway.

 Trucks lined up for the night in the main parking lot.

 Frac shining in the setting sun.

 A crescent moon atop Venus is beautiful anywhere. It amazes me that this same scene can be witnessed just above Eight Mile Island on Priest Lake.

Adventure 37: Enchanted Trails RV/Albuquerque, NM/Post D

The Secret to Being a Good Coach: Good Players

Our last day in Albuquerque was memorable on many levels. For the most part it centered around Angela Hartill, who was the main force on the Riverside Rams run to a third place finish in the AA state basketball championships in 2003-4. Angela had a standout career at The University of New Mexico, and now five years after graduating, one year playing professionally in Germany, she works as a loan officer or US Bank and continues in her love of basketball by coaching the varsity girls team at Sandia Prepatory in Northeast Albuquerque. We met for lunch, caught up a little bit, and then I got to go to practice. What fun! She has a couple of pretty good young players, although she's hampered a bit right now because the fall teams are playing in their post season. When the volleyball, soccer, and cross country players return, she'll have her full team together. They could be pretty good, and improve on their first appearance at state in many years. From practice, Judy and I rushed to Popejoy Hall on the campus of UNM to listen to Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt perform this wonderful two man acoustic show where they took turns playing songs, jibber-jabbered in between, and made us laugh more than once. They managed to work in some of their most popular songs, a few fresh songs from new albums, and a few seldom played songs to fit the mood, which went from hope all the way to hopeless and back.The whole thing was fresh, funny, real, and the acoustics of Popejoy Hall made it amazing. On a tournament note, I'm currently ahead in the Albuquerque Open 7-5. We haven't yet played this morning, but if the Bunny doesn't perform her usual come from behind miracles, I'm taking the shiny black plaque of Route 66 as a trophy, which will tie the overall series up. He shouldn't have counted his chickens because he's out there now spray painting a third six on the devilish route 66 sign because I've just skunked him back to back to not only win the Albuquerque Open, but also to  remain in the overall series lead. He should have known no lead is safe! Despite this sad turn of events, life is
good, especially today. 


 Bolstered by the energy of Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt, I took a final look and the memorabilia at the Enchanted Trails RV Prk

 I can just imagine people in the old days huddled around the radio tapping their feet to som Texas Swing.

 Maybe even a one man band would waltz through town.

 And who could forget the 45s and bubblegum.

 And on a more somber note, what music does this guy hear?

 Coach Hartill and me.

Since it is the second day, much conditioning is happening. I was impressed that the girls just dug in and got to work, much like their coach during her playing days. 

Who knows what adventures lie before us. Heading east today after an unexpected, but joyous week in Albuquerque.

Adventure 36: Enchanted Trails RV/Albuquerque, NM/Post C

Day Trip to Taos

To celebrate our first month on the road and to experience Dinah Coble's most favorite place on earth, we took a three hundred-fifty mile road trip to Taos. The weather man predicted clouds and rain, so we didn't take our bike. Mistake. Taos gave us beautiful blue sky and temperatures similar to what we've been riding in. Had we taken our bike, the ride out to the Taos Pueblo would have been pleasant, as would the ride up to Arroyo Seco, where Judy bought some yarn in a shop she wasn't going to go into, etc. Taos, as Dinah would suggest, is amazing. There are art galleries in nearly every adobe structure. The air is fresh, and the spirits are high. We stayed in a bed and breakfast in a room about three times the size of Frac. We ate three rich and wonderful meals, walked about fifteen thousand steps, and slept beside the fire like babies in toy land. After a nice breakfast, we enjoyed the guided tour of the Taos Pueblo, which was given by Antonio (Blue Lake) Gomez, an eighteen year old Pueblo Indian boy whose pride and presence was as refreshing as the sky. He pointed to the structure he lived in growing up, which has no running water and no electricity. His job was to carry the water from Red Willow Creek each day, which was used for cooking, bathing, and other essentials. He went to school on the reservation up to middle school, and graduated from Taos High School. He plans to enter the Navy in the fall. He was also happy to report that his Spanish name came from the Spanish invaders, even though he is Indian, that Teddy Roosevelt claimed their sacred blue lake in 1906 for the National Parks, and that Richard Nixon gave it back in the 70s. He proudly pointed out thousand year old structures, and said he hoped to teach his future children the language of his people (Tiwa).  From the Pueblo we drove a few miles to this funky little town, Arroyo Seco, which is just a few shops nestled right under the Sangre De Cristo Mountains, and appears to support one of the many artist communities in the area. The lady at the weaving shop told us about the back roads back to Albuquerque. We took her advice and wound our way through the mountains, avoiding the interstate for all but the last twenty miles. We had lunch in an even more funky art community called Madrid, an old mining town on Route 14, which runs through the mountains east of Albuquerque. When we got "home", we were glad to see Frac and the bikes waiting for us like two friendly puppies. Life is good, especially today.

We stopped in Sante Fe to eat breakfast at Cafe Pasquale. We had eaten here a decade ago with Jim and Karen Cramer. It was good, but over priced. This is an art shot through the window as we waited in line to get in. We sat at the round table, and the placed filled right at opening. I guess the price isn't too high.

 One of the murals on the walls. The ambience of the place can't be overstated.

Those of you who know us, know that food is close to our hearts (and bellies). This is lunch at the LaCueva in Taos. Yummy and entertaining: the music continues for days.

Yelp has been a very reliable guide so far. We asked for the best cheap taco and were guided to the Cave.

The  Hunny Bunny checking out the four post bed.

 Just about every structure within two hundred miles is a version of this.

 The night sky outside our B and B.

What was left of our soup at a restaurant called Byzantium in Taos. Our third meal of the day: Spinach and Pear Salad (warm); Vegetable Soup; Fresh Bread with plum marmalade; and Organic Herb Crusted Chicken Breast with Garlic Mashed Potatoes and Red Cabbage Sour Kraut. We had Belgian Truffles with Cinnamon Ice Cream for dessert. AND ALL THIS WITH NO BIKE RIDING. YIKES!

 A fire to keep us warm: a hot night in Taos. 

 The church at the Taos Pueblo, freshly plastered with mud.

 Absolutely no pictures (I didn't see the sign) in the sanctuary! Christ's coffin off to the side.

This structure is over a thousand years old and originally had no doors. Inhabitants entered from roof top.

Many individual structures like this are in the Pueblo, which still houses more than 50 people who live in the traditional manner.

 Dogs keeping each other warm.

 The most famous church in Taos: St. Francis of Asis

 Georgia O'Keefe (and others) have painted this church.

 Lunch a the Old Hollar in Madrid.

Peter, Peter Pumpkin eater, had a wife and couldn't keep her. This pumpkin isn't even close to the way cool pumpkin Emily and Sarah raced during Halloween. We love you, girls!

Adventure 35: Enchanted Trails RV/ Albuquerque, NM/Post B

Goat Heads! Arrgh

First, let me say that so far the Cribbage gods have flipped over to my side. I took the lead (3-2) this morning in the Enchanted Trails Open. Life is good for me so far, but no lead is safe against the Bunny. Yesterday, we road the River Trail, which was somewhat problematic because I ignored my premonition and declined buying new tires. I thought, "Heck, I can squeeze another thirty out of these Gatorskins. After all, they only have 2800 miles on them. Yea, they've flattened out a little bit, and the sidewalls are starting to fray. I'm not sure I want Bontrager tires anyway. I'll just take the map. Thanks." We got nine miles in when the first goat head flattened us. No problem. I can change a flat. On the second flat, we turned around because that's all the spare tubes we had. With about three miles left, we had to push the bike back to the trail head. It was a good stretch of the legs. We totaled fifteen miles riding and three miles walking. Today, with "Papa" newly shod with shiny gray Bontragers and puncture resistant tubes, we rode the Tramway Trail which is a nine mile trail tucked up against the Manzano mountains on the east side of Albuquerque. We stretched the ride up through a few high rent neighborhoods, and we ended the day with twenty-five. No walking. Tomorrow morning we'll ride the trail that bisects the city north to south for about another twenty-five. For lunch, I took my Hunny Bunny to the way cool Satellite Cafe. Located on Central Avenue, it's right in the midst of several gentrified shops along old Route 66. Just around the corner, Judy found some nice yarn for Libby's ear warmers. Should be a fun, quick project. I needed a break from knitting socks anyway. The highlight of the day, though, was a visit to the Ranch Market for groceries. It was the first of the month; the place was packed; we were the only people in the place dressed in spandex. In fact, we were the only non-Hispanics in the place. I didn't take photos, but if  bins full of every kind of chili pepper, slabs of lard, and pre-mixed masa don't fry your tortilla, nothing about the culture will. The Carniceria was amazing. The fifty foot counter case had everything from Tripe to Pigs feet. I muttered to myself in my Rosetta Stone Spanish, "Ya, no esta in Spokaloo, Dewie!" Which loosely translates as "Life is good, especially today."

 Forty-five degrees and sunny. Let's go Bunny!

 Herons were everywhere along the river. These two were munching lunch. 

 Who would think stickers lay in wait?

 Judy was bird talking.

 The Tramway Trail is urban cycling along the high rent district.

 Up ahead the trail ends, but the riding would be good along the highway.

 The lower garden garden of one of the haciendas.

 Map girl!

 In the lowlands, the concrete arroyos are decorated in spray paint; up here the steel silhouettes extoll an active life above the concrete runoffs.

 Downtown Albuquerque as seen from Elena Gallegos Picnic Area, which is an extension of the city's 400 miles of riding trails. It is mountain bike heaven behind us in the Pinion Trail section.

 Cool steel sculpture at the gate of the High Desert Estates. What is that--a cat burglar?

 Goatheads! They don't look so bad, but they're evil.

 We bought a pound of Satellite's Night Sky blend: May this coffee accompany you on your next adventure. Gotta love that blue sky!

 Chain up your bike and come on in for a cup of Joe.