It was hard for me to get up at sunrise, knowing I was leaving Kevin and the two older dogs for most of the summer. I didn't get as much tidying up around the house as I had planned, leaving most of the work for Kevin to do, if he even does it.
I made a pot of coffee, ate a bowl of home-picked strawberries and Rice Krispies and looked around for more things to do in the last minute. Watch the end of Benjamin Button, for example, a movie I had rented a few days ago to watch with Kevin but which he didn't care for? Sit on the couch and watch the house finches attack the bird seeds from the feeder hanging from the front window? Take the two older dogs out for a quick walk around the neighborhood? I am good at procrastinating.
I knew that waiting around and chatting with Kevin was not a wise decision. I had a long drive ahead of me and it was already getting warm: 78F at 8am when I finally drove away with Sadie. That's when I noticed, to my horror, that I had forgotten to shave my legs.
And not even ten miles later I had to pee. I dropped off the rental movie at Hasting's in town, dropped off another bag of clothes (scrub suits that Ron had left behind) at the Salvation Army bin by the mall and finally took off. Gas was $1.99 a gallon. What will it cost when I return? How much road construction on Highway 92 will get done in my absence?
The Check point north of Whetstone was busy with northbound travelers. Five miles north of that I pulled over to let Sadie pee, at the usual spot across from the Kartchner Caverns State Park, a popular pick-up spot for illegals, judging from the clothes, backpacks and trash left behind there. How ironic, I thought, that the human smugglers know the shortcuts around the check-points.
Just before I was ready to stop at the Benson Gas City off I-10 for a few gifts for friends and family, Carol called. She wanted to make sure my departure was on schedule.
"Is there anything you'd like for me to get you?" I asked her. "A cactus?"
"NO! Not a cactus, the last one you gave me left me with five babies! I am running out of room for cactus!" she screamed jokingly, referring to the last little cactus I gave her from AZ a few years ago. Carol doesn't really like cactus anyway.
The rest of the drive was the usual drive on I-10: billboards to remind pet owners to spay their pets, a Kurt Russell look-alike pointing a revolver at drivers reminding them (kindly) to stop in Tombstone for some live action shoot-outs and further down a reminder to EAT BEEF. The billboards never change in this Region. Once you drive past Texas Canyon and have the Chiricahuas behind you, the scenery fades away to high desert grasslands and distant tan mountains and every hue of brown, white and grey.
It quickly got hot. By the time I made it to New Mexico it was 83F. Here is where the open San Rafael valley opens and yellow warning signs remind drivers to be cautious of high winds; every season we have fatal accidents along this stretch of road from white-outs. The wind warnings continue all the way across the state.
The pet exercise area off the NM tourist office where I stopped to post an email and grab some information warned pet walkers to be careful of rattlesnakes. Now that was a refreshing reminder! Sadie wasn't interested in walking around in the hot gravel.
I was now on a mission to find cactus candy for Carol. What is cactus candy, I asked her, as the name alone makes my tongue prickle. I found out that it's jelly candy made from the prickly pear cactus, a common thing in the Southwest.
"We always bought that whenever we went to the Southwest" said Carol. Well, I learn something every day.
I was afraid I was going to have to stop at every gift shop along I-10 looking for cactus candy, but I found some at the second stop and bought all but four boxes of that treat. That ended that mission.
"We got three more stores before you hit Las Cruces" said the long-beareded store owner, "And I'm sure we got more cactus candy there!" he added with a brown-toothed smile.
Sadie got hot fast and started panting by 10:20am. She moved from the seat next to me to the more cool and shaded cot behind me. From here on out for the rest of the day I had the A/C on to keep her comfortable. She preferred to lay in the shade behind me than to lay next to me in the passenger seat where the morning sun was brutal on her thin body. I knew, though, that she had wanted to be as close to me as possible.
There was a lot of traffic as I neared Las Cruces and I almost missed the exit for US Highway 70, the chosen route going northeast I would take until I hit Roswell. I finally saw green again after a dry windy valley; the colors were greatly appreciated.
The green that gave the Las Cruces horizon its color was from the pecan orchards along the way, and further northeast the pecans gave way to cottonwoods and other trees of the town. The green refreshed my tired mind.
I have been on this stretch of highway at least twice before, most recently last March after the 2008 Bataan Death March Marathon. I had stopped at Aguirre Springs to view the valley and stretch out my legs, admiring the white sands in the distance. Warning signs alarm driver to be careful of on-going missile tests, as the missile testing area is here and when missiles are tested US Highway 70 gets closed as a precaution.
But today there was little sand to be seen as the sky was overcast and the normally white gypsum sand looked dull until we got closer to the White Sands Monument.
I was now tired of driving and in need of a stop. The town of White Sands looked promising but instead offered nothing at all besides hot sidewalks for Sadie and loud trucks passing through. No one sauntered on its sidewalks. We moved on, following the line of cottonwoods now lining the road as the Lincoln National Forest grew up and over the horizon to my east. This is beautiful country and the highway slowly gained elevation as I first drove along the valley from the west and then entered the forest as I left Tularosa behind me. I went from an elevation of around 4565' and 86F to an elevation of 7591' by the time I got to Apache Pass and Ruidoso. The grey clouds here cooled the temperature down to 58F.
Ruidoso is a pretty alpine village nestled in one of New Mexico's finest ski areas. But this day we hit the town during its annual Biker and Swap weekend. The roads in all directions were full of loud Harleys and the rather large, leather-clad owners of those bikes. The engines made Sadie nervous as I kept holding her away from the road, to the point where I decided rather than find a nice place to have a bite to eat, to just head back down the valley toward Roswell, where it surely was quieter and more isolated. The sidewalks in this town are right on the edge of the street and too close for comfort for a nervous dog.
I must come back to Ruidoso. An old area belonging to the Mescalero Apache, it is now an upscale ski town for Texans (judging by the car plates around town) and almost too kitschy for me. I want to come back for the mountains and the hiking trails more than for the overpriced art galleries and bars on Main Street.
We didn't have much daylight left as we descended the mountains going East, across the Hondah Valley until the mountains gave way to low-lying grasslands on either side.
We made it to Roswell at dark. The town wasn't as bad as I had expected. The only "alien" part of town was the main street, with its many "Aliens Welcome" signs in the windows of the businesses. I didn't go inside anywhere--nothing seemed open--, as I was more concerned with finding Bottomless Lakes State Park, my destination for the night.
That park proved harder to find than expected, as with an overcast sky and a moon that hadn't risen yet, I was poking around in the darkness. This place reeked of remoteness despite being within sight of the town's lights. After driving 20 miles too far I retraced my route and found the unlighted sign leading to the park. It was shortly after 9pm as I drove into the campground, and I took the first vacant spot I could find. It wasn't until the next morning that I realized the site I had chosen was not even a site but an open space next to a rather large RV. I moved to a legal site, parked the van, and walked to the shower building while one lone tenter watched me as his coffee steamed in the thermos he gripped with his left hand.
I knew that waiting around and chatting with Kevin was not a wise decision. I had a long drive ahead of me and it was already getting warm: 78F at 8am when I finally drove away with Sadie. That's when I noticed, to my horror, that I had forgotten to shave my legs.
And not even ten miles later I had to pee. I dropped off the rental movie at Hasting's in town, dropped off another bag of clothes (scrub suits that Ron had left behind) at the Salvation Army bin by the mall and finally took off. Gas was $1.99 a gallon. What will it cost when I return? How much road construction on Highway 92 will get done in my absence?
The Check point north of Whetstone was busy with northbound travelers. Five miles north of that I pulled over to let Sadie pee, at the usual spot across from the Kartchner Caverns State Park, a popular pick-up spot for illegals, judging from the clothes, backpacks and trash left behind there. How ironic, I thought, that the human smugglers know the shortcuts around the check-points.
Just before I was ready to stop at the Benson Gas City off I-10 for a few gifts for friends and family, Carol called. She wanted to make sure my departure was on schedule.
"Is there anything you'd like for me to get you?" I asked her. "A cactus?"
"NO! Not a cactus, the last one you gave me left me with five babies! I am running out of room for cactus!" she screamed jokingly, referring to the last little cactus I gave her from AZ a few years ago. Carol doesn't really like cactus anyway.
The rest of the drive was the usual drive on I-10: billboards to remind pet owners to spay their pets, a Kurt Russell look-alike pointing a revolver at drivers reminding them (kindly) to stop in Tombstone for some live action shoot-outs and further down a reminder to EAT BEEF. The billboards never change in this Region. Once you drive past Texas Canyon and have the Chiricahuas behind you, the scenery fades away to high desert grasslands and distant tan mountains and every hue of brown, white and grey.
It quickly got hot. By the time I made it to New Mexico it was 83F. Here is where the open San Rafael valley opens and yellow warning signs remind drivers to be cautious of high winds; every season we have fatal accidents along this stretch of road from white-outs. The wind warnings continue all the way across the state.
The pet exercise area off the NM tourist office where I stopped to post an email and grab some information warned pet walkers to be careful of rattlesnakes. Now that was a refreshing reminder! Sadie wasn't interested in walking around in the hot gravel.
I was now on a mission to find cactus candy for Carol. What is cactus candy, I asked her, as the name alone makes my tongue prickle. I found out that it's jelly candy made from the prickly pear cactus, a common thing in the Southwest.
"We always bought that whenever we went to the Southwest" said Carol. Well, I learn something every day.
I was afraid I was going to have to stop at every gift shop along I-10 looking for cactus candy, but I found some at the second stop and bought all but four boxes of that treat. That ended that mission.
"We got three more stores before you hit Las Cruces" said the long-beareded store owner, "And I'm sure we got more cactus candy there!" he added with a brown-toothed smile.
Sadie got hot fast and started panting by 10:20am. She moved from the seat next to me to the more cool and shaded cot behind me. From here on out for the rest of the day I had the A/C on to keep her comfortable. She preferred to lay in the shade behind me than to lay next to me in the passenger seat where the morning sun was brutal on her thin body. I knew, though, that she had wanted to be as close to me as possible.
There was a lot of traffic as I neared Las Cruces and I almost missed the exit for US Highway 70, the chosen route going northeast I would take until I hit Roswell. I finally saw green again after a dry windy valley; the colors were greatly appreciated.
The green that gave the Las Cruces horizon its color was from the pecan orchards along the way, and further northeast the pecans gave way to cottonwoods and other trees of the town. The green refreshed my tired mind.
I have been on this stretch of highway at least twice before, most recently last March after the 2008 Bataan Death March Marathon. I had stopped at Aguirre Springs to view the valley and stretch out my legs, admiring the white sands in the distance. Warning signs alarm driver to be careful of on-going missile tests, as the missile testing area is here and when missiles are tested US Highway 70 gets closed as a precaution.
But today there was little sand to be seen as the sky was overcast and the normally white gypsum sand looked dull until we got closer to the White Sands Monument.
I was now tired of driving and in need of a stop. The town of White Sands looked promising but instead offered nothing at all besides hot sidewalks for Sadie and loud trucks passing through. No one sauntered on its sidewalks. We moved on, following the line of cottonwoods now lining the road as the Lincoln National Forest grew up and over the horizon to my east. This is beautiful country and the highway slowly gained elevation as I first drove along the valley from the west and then entered the forest as I left Tularosa behind me. I went from an elevation of around 4565' and 86F to an elevation of 7591' by the time I got to Apache Pass and Ruidoso. The grey clouds here cooled the temperature down to 58F.
Ruidoso is a pretty alpine village nestled in one of New Mexico's finest ski areas. But this day we hit the town during its annual Biker and Swap weekend. The roads in all directions were full of loud Harleys and the rather large, leather-clad owners of those bikes. The engines made Sadie nervous as I kept holding her away from the road, to the point where I decided rather than find a nice place to have a bite to eat, to just head back down the valley toward Roswell, where it surely was quieter and more isolated. The sidewalks in this town are right on the edge of the street and too close for comfort for a nervous dog.
I must come back to Ruidoso. An old area belonging to the Mescalero Apache, it is now an upscale ski town for Texans (judging by the car plates around town) and almost too kitschy for me. I want to come back for the mountains and the hiking trails more than for the overpriced art galleries and bars on Main Street.
We didn't have much daylight left as we descended the mountains going East, across the Hondah Valley until the mountains gave way to low-lying grasslands on either side.
We made it to Roswell at dark. The town wasn't as bad as I had expected. The only "alien" part of town was the main street, with its many "Aliens Welcome" signs in the windows of the businesses. I didn't go inside anywhere--nothing seemed open--, as I was more concerned with finding Bottomless Lakes State Park, my destination for the night.
That park proved harder to find than expected, as with an overcast sky and a moon that hadn't risen yet, I was poking around in the darkness. This place reeked of remoteness despite being within sight of the town's lights. After driving 20 miles too far I retraced my route and found the unlighted sign leading to the park. It was shortly after 9pm as I drove into the campground, and I took the first vacant spot I could find. It wasn't until the next morning that I realized the site I had chosen was not even a site but an open space next to a rather large RV. I moved to a legal site, parked the van, and walked to the shower building while one lone tenter watched me as his coffee steamed in the thermos he gripped with his left hand.
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