Day 19 - Meet me in St Louis!

 

Little did we know when we fell asleep last night that we were two doors down from where Elvis stayed in 1956. He was probably on his way to Las Vegas where he wouldn't have to stay in Best Westerns. Still, Bob Dylan one day, Elvis the next - something has to pass to us, by osmosis if nothing else.   

The drive crossed most of the state of Missouri. It was long in time if not in distance. The Department of Transportation, bless their hearts, have done a fine job of marking out Route 66 relative to the other states, so we were able to stay on it for most of the day, poking along at 25 mph through the towns and sometimes getting to 55 in between. As we've worked our way eastward across Texas, Oklahoma and now Missouri, there is more tree cover and the hills are more rolling - we even saw some rock outcrops today, the first since the Palo Duro in east Texas. Lots of country roads through small towns, most with a historical gas station or museum or cafe or a roadside attraction. 

Speaking of which, we passed through Cuba, MO, to see the world's second largest rocking chair. It was No. 1 from 2008, when a 42-ft-high beauty was built to beat out the previous honoree in Franklin, Indiana, until 2015 when some no-accounts in Illinois took over the title with a 56.5-ft-high behemoth. Ah well, it's still the largest on Route 66, the place where dreams don't die, they just find a place on the side of the road.

Some roadside stops also appear to have aged. We were interested in the Trail of Tears Memorial, a site to commemorate the forced displacement of the 'five civilized tribes', the Cherokee, Muscogee, Seminole, Chickasaw and the Choctaw, from their ancestral homes. Sadly, this odd site has been left to decay. It was eerie walking through the rocky trail, that was once a path used by the tribes to travel to 'Indian Country'. 

After 7 hours on the road, we finally got to our hotel - the Union Station St. Louis. It used to be the main train station and in 1894 when it opened, it was the largest in the world. Now, thankfully for hotel residents, the trains no longer run through it, and it has been refurbished into a glorious facility. The lobby, shown in the picture, is a huge, vaulted area with murals, stained glass and statues all around. It's a bit like being an ant inside a Wurlitzer jukebox. The rooms are modern, though; comfy and quiet.

While we were having a bite in the lobby, a thunder and rain storm ripped through the city, cracking and hammering on the building. People nearby asked the server if the building was safe; the server laconically replied, "It's been here for a while. I think we'll be ok." And we were.

Today's mileage: 234.4.

License plate count - Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arizona Navajo Nation, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, Nevada, North Carolina, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oklahoma Caddo Nation, Oklahoma Cherokee Nation, Oklahoma Chocktaw Nation, Oklahoma Osage Nation, Oklahoma Peoria Nation, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee. Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, Wyoming, and the US Government. And from Oh Canada - British Columbia, Ontario, Saskatchewan, and Quebec. And from Mexico - Ciudad de Mexico, Sonora.

No new plates today.

St. Louis is the land of the blues and we are hoping to catch some music in the next few days. To set the mood, here is a 1925 recording of Bessie Smith singing St. Louis Blues. 

Bessie Smith - St. Louis Blues, 1925 - Bing video

Day 18 - Three States in One Day

 

Today we were lazy and had breakfast at the hotel. Note to self - ALWAYS try to find a coffee shop or make your own. We found the Route 66 signs almost right away. Some days this is not so easy. The guidebooks described lots of small towns, but we had little temptation to stop, not even at the cookie-cutter museum. However, there was one highlight that simply captures the imagination. In Catoosa we had to stop and see the Blue Whale. Yup, that is right, just on the eastern edge of Oklahoma. It was a husband's gift to his wife, who loved whale trinkets. He must have been a civil engineer.

Some thoughts about Route 66. When you stay at hotels that are described as Rte 66 venues, you begin to meet people doing the same trip. We have yet to meet anyone going the 'wrong' way - that is, from L.A. to Chicago. Some of them just get on the road closest to their home, and most of the trips have been planned by men. They want to stop at car museums, and they love all the old paraphernalia you see in the small-town museums. We compared notes one evening with a couple from South Carolina and I had to laugh when the wife said to her husband, 'You can't remember the name of that gas station?' As though we had only passed one or two on the way. 

A little more on weather - driving down the west coast we dealt with temperature changes due to elevation and the marine layer. We got into the desert, and we had hot temperatures during the day, but cold clear nights. Arizona and New Mexico had winds that could knock you off your feet and the humidity at 10%. By the time we reached Oklahoma, we began to think of the possibility of tornados. Having a drink before dinner in Oklahoma City, we met up with a young woman who seemed a nervous Nellie. She told us that there were tornado warnings for that night and so rather than drive 30 minutes to her home east of the city, she booked into the hotel. She ordered a glass of wine, and it was gone in about three sips. She told us she was 'stressed'. We then listened to a conversation among the locals about what to do when you were driving, and a tornado hit. Lots of disagreement there, but fun to listen to. We have had a few thunderclaps and some rain, and we are beginning to feel humidity. As I write this in Springfield, we just had a downpour and a clap of thunder that made us both jump. 

We drove along more quiet roads and drove through three states today. We left Oklahoma, had a quick jaunt through the southeast corner of Kansas before getting into Missouri.  We made it to Springfield in the late afternoon. We know little about the area and just discovered that Springfield's nickname is 'Queen City of the Ozarks'.  Steak dinner in a nice restaurant downtown (Flame), a glass of wine and we were grateful for an early evening.

Today's mileage: 204.6 miles.

License plate count - Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arizona Navajo Nation, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, Nevada, North Carolina, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oklahoma Caddo Nation, Oklahoma Cherokee Nation, Oklahoma Chocktaw Nation, Oklahoma Osage Nation, Oklahoma Peoria Nation, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee. Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, Wyoming, and the US Government. And from Oh Canada - British Columbia, Ontario, Saskatchewan, and Quebec. And from Mexico - Ciudad de Mexico, Sonora.

I am not familiar with a lot of the writers from Missouri, although we all know the most famous one, Mark Twain. This time I found a book that celebrates artists from Missouri. American Art Colony: The Art and Artists of Ste. Genevieve, Missouri, 1930-1940. This is one of those lovely books with gorgeous illustrations. A collectible copy is only $2,470, so I suggest a trip to the library if you want to take a gander.

Although we spent some time with Bob Dylan and Woody Guthrie, we have already featured their songs in the blog. So tonight, we are going to go back in time to a favorite to honor the Catoosa Whale. Burl Ives - The Whale - YouTube.

Day 17 - Oklahoma City, OK to Tulsa, OK

Some days are just different than you expect. I'm not quite sure what we expected, but we got way more. We left the Bradford House Inn after a great coffee and pastry - a kouign amann, which is a Breton pastry. In the Breton language, the words mean cake and butter. It's sort of like a croissant but sweet. Yum! 

On our way out of town we went to the Oklahoma City National Memorial, which commemorates the 1995 bombing, thinking it would be a quick stop. It is beautiful, but so somber and moving. We spent twice as long there as we expected, and we didn't even get into the museum. Every writer who tries to generate anger or outrage about our political system, and every person who feels that anger and outrage, should spend some time there and ponder what can happen.

The country along Route 66 from OKC to Tulsa gets gentler and gentler, at least this May. The grass was lush, and the Indian Blanket, Bluebonnets, Queen Anne's Lace, and Purple Prairie Clover flowers in the fields offset the patches of red soil. The little towns were also gentler - they didn't have that starved horse look. Yards full of drilling and well service equipment hinted at the money brought in by the oil and gas industry. Still, you wouldn't have to look too hard for shop space. As you can see from this picture, traffic along The Road wasn't too stressful. If you are not in a hurry, poking along at 55 mph with only a few other cars is much more pleasant that hammering along the interstates with truck traffic. We drove through Arcadia, which boasts of a big soda pop bottle, and Stroud, where Mamie Mayfield ran the Rock Cafe for ages. Perhaps a long-lost cousin.

Our Tulsa hotel was in the middle of downtown, within an easy walk of our target. While planning the trip, we highlighted the Woody Guthrie Museum, but our hostess in Amarillo mentioned that the Bob Dylan Museum had opened just a few months ago and was getting great reviews. It was a tough choice, but we went for Bob over Woody. The 50th anniversary arts festival was in full swing in the area with a street full of pianos than anyone could play. Little kids are so great - they couldn't play at all but were hammering away and grinning like they were masters. Local bands were playing on a bandstand, and street performers were working through the crowds.

 

The Bob Dylan Center was great. The music, the writing and the videos walked us through the late 50s and early 60s when Bobby Zimmerman was reading beat writing and listening to late night radio to find a voice, then through the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, 00s, 10s and 20s as Dylan is still exploring what makes songs work. We were both humming and bopping along to the music as we browsed through the archives listening along to songs and interviews through our headsets. When accepting the Nobel Prize for Literature he quoted the ancient Greek poet, Homer: "Sing in me, oh muse, and through me tell the story".

After the OCK Memorial, a few hours of driving, then the Bob Dylan Center, we were worn out, so we stopped at the Valkyrie Bar for refreshment. They are artists. They could mix up pretty much anything anyone asked, but they really shone when someone would say, "I like this kind of drink; what can you do?" Betty asked for a green drink, which gave them pause for a bit, but then a cucumber got peeled and some Chinese five spice was shaken into some other crazy stuff to make a surprisingly refreshing apéritif.

Dinner was at outside at a Basque restaurant. Several small plates if tapas, a guitar player who was picking and singing next to us, soft and warm evening air, and we were thinking kind thoughts of Tulsa - could it be the next Austin? We spoke with a couple of young professionals who said the last 10 to 15 years had brought some great changes to the downtown. New apartments brought people in from the suburbs, which brought in new restaurants and bars and an art scene. Now the streets are busy in the evenings instead of dead.

A few days ago (Day 8), we were at the End of the World in the Mojave Desert. Sometime after then, we must have transited a worm hole because on the way back to our hotel from the Basque restaurant, we passed the Center of the Universe. We're not sure if all our friends and family will be dead or in diapers. Let us know, ok?

By the time we walked back to the hotel, we were done for the day - too tired to blog.

Today's mileage: only about 125 miles. (We forgot to check until we'd started for Springfield, MO, on Day 18.)

License plate count - Alaska, Arizona, Arizona Navajo Nation, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, Nevada, North Carolina, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oklahoma Caddo Nation, Oklahoma Cherokee Nation, Oklahoma Chocktaw Nation, Oklahoma Osage Nation, Oklahoma Peoria Nation, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee. Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, Wyoming, and the US Government. And from Oh Canada - British Columbia, Ontario, Saskatchewan, and Quebec. And from Mexico - Ciudad de Mexico, Sonora.

After driving through all that Indian country, I was reminded of another book a friend recommended. One Thousand White Women was written by Jim Fergus who lives in Tubac, AZ. Based on a historical fact, it is a series of fictional diaries of May Dodd who travels out west in 1875 to marry the chief of the Cheyenne Nation.

Our music selection today is dedicated to Tulsa, another new favorite city. 

Eric Clapton & Sheryl Crow perform " Tulsa Time " (HD Version) - Bing video

Day 16 - Amarillo, TX to Oklahoma City, OK

Although Texas is the largest of the lower 48 states, the panhandle is only a small part - 178 miles from east to west - so it was an easy trip today to get through it and on to Oklahoma City. We found a great (really great) coffee shop before we left - the Palace Coffee Company - that served up the best cappuccinos of the trip so far. 

Stimulated but not wired, we took Route 66 through old downtown Amarillo and on into the great wide open. My worries about flat, boring country were for naught. East of Amarillo, the grass was lush and green on the rolling hills and groves of trees (oaks?) further gentled an already gentle scenery. There was lots of hay - the first crop was mowed, rolled and being loaded out - some grazing cattle, some grain, some cotton, and some windmills. For the Canadian reader, the country looks a lot like the Red Deer, Alberta area in the summer. For the American reader, it looks a lot like, um, western Oklahoma. 

One of the poignant sides of driving Route 66 instead of the interstates is going through the little towns. Few are thriving. Before the interstate highways, all the traffic came through the towns and kept alive the coffee shops, gas stations, bars and motels. Now, many of these are run down and dying. In some cases, the whole town is dying. All the hopes and dreams that must have disappeared with the progress. But, you can buy a house in Erick,TX, for $95k. 

One business in the little towns that seems to be booming is Route 66 museums - each one is trying to lure in visitors to look at old cars, old trucks, old gas stations, old cafes, old road signs and most any other old stuff. 

McLean, TX, has the Devil's Rope Museum which is supported by the Antique Barbed Wire Society (I am not making this up). Fencing was a big part of settling the west, and it seems that everyone had their own idea about what would work best. One common, theme, though, setting posts and stretching wire was backbreaking work, especially when there was no wood and the posts were cut from stone. The museum is in an old bra factory. Apparently, a California company moved their manufacturing to Texas in the 20s looking for cheap labor. Not long after, they moved the plant to Mexico for even cheaper labor. Globalization is not new. Besides the barbed wire (they had a barbed wire bra - yikes!), there was heart-breaking section on the dust bowl and some Route 66 historiana. But we were getting about done with museums and gas stations for the day so we scooted along into Oklahoma.

This trip has been nothing if not educational. Just after leaving Texas, we passed the Roger Miller Museum in Erick, OK. Dang me! And who knew that Garth Brooks was from Yukon (Oklahoma, not northern Canada)?

Oklahoma City has about the same population as Tucson, but as we rolled into town in the middle of rush hour, it seemed bigger and busier. We reached our goal with only a couple of sudden lane changes and no evidence of armed or irate drivers. The Bradford House is a gracious old (1912) house that has been nicely upgraded to provide modern hotel rooms and a fine restaurant without losing the easy style of the time. The nicest stay so far.

Today's mileage: 270.9.

License plate count - Alaska, Arizona, Arizona Navajo Nation, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, Nevada, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oklahoma Cherokee Nation, Oklahoma Chocktaw Nation, Oklahoma Osage Nation, Oklahoma Peoria Nation, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee. Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, Wyoming, and the US Government. And from Oh Canada - British Columbia, Ontario, Saskatchewan, and Quebec. And from Mexico - Ciudad de Mexico, Sonora.

For those of you who know I worked for the Allen family, Faye and I prepared a booklist we called 'Faye's Best Books for Paul'. As we were driving into Oklahoma City we passed Cimarron Road - and I thought, that was one of Faye's favorite books, and of course, on the Paul list. So here it is, a story about the Oklahoma land rush that was made into a film in 1931 and then a remake in 1960. That is right, 63 years ago! Cimarron by Edna Ferber, published in 1930.

Today, driving into Oklahoma, a new state for both of us, we listened to Woody Guthrie and Roger Miller. We couldn't decide which to pick, and so you get both. Woody Guthrie, who wrote This Land is Your Land, is a singer storyteller. Born in 1912 he became one of the most significant figures in American folk music. 

Turns out that Roger Miller, who is from Oklahoma, had girls screaming for him like he was one of the Beatles. At some point we had to include King of the Road on this trip. Enjoy them both!

Woody Guthrie singing Dust Bowl Blues - Woody Guthrie - Dust Bowl Blues - Bing video

Roger Miller - King of the Road - Roger Miller - King Of The Road - YouTube

Day 15 - Texas Panhandle

 

We made it to Texas and the mid-point of Route 66 on this Day 15. After a small breakfast and coffee, we packed up the car, got our AAA TripTik book out, and headed east to the Lone Star State. 

Glenrio is smack on the border, Exit 0 just past a sign warning, 'you are leaving New Mexico'. It is a ghost town on a tag end of Route 66. Aside from a U.S. Post Office and a cafe - both deserted - there is nothing here but prairie grass and, on the horizon, you begin to see miles and miles of modern wind turbines. This shot of the road shows that not all of Route 66 is smooth, asphalt. Not a mile after this photo east of Glenrio, the asphalt turned to dirt, and we headed for the service roads that border on I-40.  

Adrian was up next, and it marks the midpoit of 'The Road' - 1139 miles from Chicago and 1139 miles from Los Angeles. The wind, as usual, was howling, so we snapped a quick photo and jumped back in the car. You can see the wind turbine in the background. They stretched pretty much the whole way from the border to Amarillo. Tomorrow we'll see if they continue. With the day's wind, they should have been churning out the megawatts.

The next stop is one of the most unusual, arty, crazy places on the trip so far. Just west of Amarillo, off the road, is an open field with a public art display coordinated by the Ant Farm Collective. Out of the depths of the earth sprout 10 Cadillacs, models ranging from 1948 to 1964. They burst out of the ground like rocket ships, bound for some unknown land. Up close, they are dripping with the paint from thousands of spray cans from tourists keen to add their personal touch - so much paint that the model of car is indistinguishable. I tried to add a glorious sun, but the wind was blowing 25 miles an hour (40 km), so I got inside a car and made sure I was pointing downwind. (Guys learn this life skill earlier than girls.) We picked up some paint chips on the ground that I might use in a mosaic some time.

Cadillacs - the symbol of the American dream!

Later we heard that there is a similar installation of VW bugs and another of farm tractors in the area. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.  

About twenty miles south of Amarillo is the impressive Palo Duro Canyon National Park. At 120 miles long and as deep as 1000 feet, only the Grand Canyon is larger in the US. It was downcut by the Prairie Dog Town Fork Red River during the Pleistocene when the whole region was uplifted. Most of the strata visible in the canyon were deposited during the Permian and Triassic periods. (Palo Duro Canyon - Wikipedia). A paved road winds about 10 miles down the canyon, which saved a hot (92 degrees) dusty trek.

After a warm and blowy day, it was nice to get to the Courtyard Hotel in Amarillo's old Fisk building, built in 1927. After the tiny room at the Blue Swallow, we are able to stretch out in comfort and look out of the window to the skyline. We had dinner at an upbeat restaurant, the Crush Wine & Bar Grill. The focus on seafood (local cod - in Amarillo?!?) gave us pause, but it was quite nice. There were several other bars to choose from, Chesney's Whiskey Saloon, Bubba's 33, the Craft Cocktail Lounge, the Voodoo Cocktail lounge, all within a block or two. Liquor is easy to find in these western states! 

With a Cadillac Ranch and a baseball team called the Sod Poodles, how could you not like Amarillo?

173.8 miles today; 2730.8 miles so far.

License plate count - Alaska, Arizona, Arizona Navajo Nation, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, New Hampshire, New Jersey, Nebraska, New Mexico, New York, Nevada, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee. Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, Wyoming, and the US Government. And from Oh Canada - British Columbia, Ontario, Saskatchewan, and Quebec. And from Mexico - Sonora.

We have arrived in Texas and so it is time to pick a book from Larry McMurtry, of Lonesome Dove fame. As a boy growing up in landlocked Texas, he thought of the highways as his 'river'. In this slim volume Roads: Driving America's Great Highways, he drives some of the main interstates across the country; the road was his destination. It seems the perfect book for anyone who is in love with road trips. 

So many musicians from Texas, so many to choose from. We land with Lyle Lovett, the cowboy from Houston who has lit up the music charts for decades. This one seemed appropriate to us - Lyle Lovett - That's Right (You're Not From Texas) - Bing video

Day 14 - Santa Fe, NM to Tucumcari, NM

Leaving Santa Fe feels like another transition. Through accident more than planning, the trip is in segments about a week long. The first was Seattle to Santa Monica, then Santa Monica to Santa Fe, and now Santa Fe to Saint Louis. (The sainted cities are also unplanned.) The first two have been somewhat familiar, although we haven't traveled the exact route or stopped at all the same places. But Santa Fe east is a new driving experience.

Just across from the Old Santa Fe Inn where we stayed is the Saveur Bistro. It isn't open evenings or weekends, so we hadn't been able to try it out. Dee and Bernie Rousenouwski served up croissants that Dee made that morning (she's 85), an omelet with eggs from organic chickens (R - what's an organic chicken; D - they get to run around and scratch in the yard) and steaming hot cappuccinos. They moved to Santa Fe in the early 70's from California and found they couldn't get a decent donut in the area. Dee started making them by hand in her kitchen a few dozen at a time, them bought a Mixmaster, then a bigger one, then a shoulder-high model. Bernie was starting the process at 11 PM to have fresh donuts in the morning. They also served breakfast sandwiches, but noticed that the locals like tortillas and chiles, so Dee came up with the idea of the breakfast burrito and the idea took off. Asked if she thought of patenting the idea, she shrugged and said it didn't seem like such a big deal at the time. At 70 they retired but grew bored so set up a bistro with short hours and a menu that suits their interest. At 85 she still rolls out the croissants by hand and they are as fine as we've had anywhere.

But the road beckons. Just south of Santa Fe is the Glorieta Pass through the southern end of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains where two significant battles took place. The first was in 1846 when the American Army routed the Mexican Army and led to a declaration of New Mexico as an American Territory. The second was in 1862 as part of the Civil War, when the Union Army, primarily Coloradans, halted the westward advance of the Confederates, primarily Texans, who were intending to take New Mexico as the first step in expanding the Confederacy to the Pacific.

On the advice of a local in Winslow, we extended the first leg along I-25 past the Santa Rosa turnoff to Las Vegas, New Mexico style. The community have kept the old part of town old, with early 1900 storefronts and gracious old buildings, some of which are unfortunately empty. A worthwhile work in progress. 

South from Las Vegas, we passed through some more big, beautiful country - gentle rolling hills spotted with low bushy pines against a backdrop of red bluffs and snowy mountains. A few cattle were grazing but the name of the spread, Starvation Peak Ranch, chilled a bit of the romantic air. 

Near Santa Rosa we rejoined I-40 and found a jewel of a spot - the Blue Hole. Literally a hole in the rock, it is 60 feet in diameter, 80 feet deep and filled with tropical blue-green water. It is fed by an underground spring at 3000 gallons per minute that is a chilly 61 degrees. It was near 90 degrees and the dip felt wonderful.

And then to Tucumcari.  We dropped down about 3000 feet from Santa Fe but were still at elevation 4100 feet. There were still a few bluffs and mesas, which is what drew the film crews to Tucumcari in the late 50s for a few episodes of the TV show, Rawhide. But mostly it is flat around here, which is a stark change from our trip so far. Even crossing the Mojave Desert, there were shapes in the land to capture our imaginations. What sights will Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas and Missouri bring?

The Blue Swallow Motel put us up for the night in Tucumcari. On the side of Route 66, the owners (and past owners) have kept the 40's and 50's theme - the longest continuous operating auto court in the country. There are good reasons why auto court motels have died out, but one night here is a kick. Working rotary phones on a party line, original Kelvinator refrigerators, chenille bedspreads, an advertised feature, and a funky neon sign make this place wonderfully over the top.

License plate count - Alaska, Arizona, Arizona Navajo Nation, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, New Hampshire, New Jersey, Nebraska, New Mexico, New York, Nevada, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee. Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, Wyoming, and the US Government. And from Oh Canada - British Columbia, Saskatchewan, and Quebec. And from Mexico - Sonora.

No new states today - first time!

On our way to Tucumcari, we drove through the Guadalupe country. It seems like a good opportunity to introduce you to one of the great New Mexico writers, Rudolfo Anaya. His book Bless Me, Ultima is the story of a young boy growing up in New Mexico in the 1940's. 

How could the song of the day not be R A W H I D E Opening Theme - YouTube!

Day 13 - Laundry

May 8th, a Monday, and our last day in Santa Fe. We are both feeling overstimulated from nearly two weeks on the road. All the different landscapes, towns, and people - lots to think about. So, a quiet day of laundry, washing the bugs off the car and stocking up the cooler was a welcome pause before we head east again.

A low-key day is a good time for reflection, for digesting the sensory overload. We wake up in the night with our minds racing with images of the road and the people we have met there. We are also both struck by how the landscape has become a partner on this trip.

Ivan Doig talks about the essence of the west and how it became character in his books. Here are a few words from his seminal book, This House of Sky: 

I glance higher for some hint of the weather, and the square of air broadens and broadens to become the blue expanse over Montana rangeland, so vast and vaulting that it rears, from the foundation-line of the plains horizon, to form the walls and roof of all of life’s experience that my younger self could imagine, a single great house of sky.

Montana is still to come on this trip, but we have seen more than a few scenes that brought Ivan's words to mind.

Having been born in the west, this landscape is a part of us. However, living in the city does not truly expose you to the land out there. Driving through the Mojave Desert, the Painted Desert, and Navajo country while still in the car was visually stunning. Getting out of the car was another thing altogether. When we opened the door to get gas in Seligman, the wind nearly ripped the door off of the car. Wind became an action, a verb. The many descriptors we use for wind – buffeting, pounding, beating, ripping, pummeling – all seem thin and pale in the face of the real thing.

I think of our parents and grandparents on the farm or ranch working out in that environment and I am staggered by their achievements, although financially they barely scraped by. I think of my little Grandma Hemstock working the garden, feeding animals, and accomplishing a variety of household chores, during the 1930’s no less, in that climate. Once more, I am humbled by their feats. We now head on to the unknown country. Spaces that we have never seen, and we wonder about how the landscape will affect us.

... and did we mention the stars? Is it possible they can be so clear and so numerous. The landscapes we've been through give us the same sense of awe as gazing a the stars on a clear night. At lunch today we heard Louis Armstrong singing Wonderful World, and indeed it is.

License plate count - Alaska, Arizona, Arizona Navajo Nation, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, New Hampshire, New Jersey, Nebraska, New Mexico, New York, Nevada, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee. Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, Wyoming, and the US Government. And from Oh Canada - British Columbia, Saskatchewan, and Quebec. And from Mexico - Sonora.

Expanding on the landscape theme, I was reminded of a book I read a few years ago, called Bold Spirit. It is the story of a woman, a mother of eight, who walks from Spokane, WA to New York city to win a $10,000 wager and stave off foreclosure of the family farm. I suspect she saw a lot of landscape!

Today's little ditty, 22 The Eagles Farewell Tour 1 Dirty Laundry - YouTube