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Day 2 of the trip
For a change, it wasn't difficult to wake up Nacho Saturday morning. I think he was as eager to get on the road as I was. Somehow I let Grandma talk me into taking a large bin full of cookbooks home with me (we're planning a yard sale on Labor Day weekend, so not too big a stretch). After cereal and coffee for breakfast, we were on the road by eight am, heading up Hwy 71 toward Alamogordo.
Halfway between Las Cruces and Alamogordo was, of course, a Border Patrol stop. Back when I was a young adult, my friends and I used to think it was amusing as hell to put on fake foreign accents and pretend we were from another country. But that was long ago and far away, before 9-11, before the Nativist resurgence and the nearly fascist disappearance of basic human rights for the accused. So I warned Nacho to be good, and I hoped that it didn't look TOO weird that we were transporting a bin full of cookbooks. Elwood called just as we were pulling into the stop, which kept me from having a panicked look on my face (people who think that if you've done nothing wrong, you have nothing to be afraid of have no idea what they're talking about). We went through without a hitch (whew!).
I chose this route (71 to 54 and straight through to Wichita, then Interstate to KC) because of the mountain pass through Ruidoso. I always, on this trip, take a quick detour to the Inn of the Mountain Gods, straddling Ruidoso and the Mescalero Apache reservation. While I have never actually stayed there (though it is definitely a life goal), I like to get out and walk around the lake, enjoying the mountain air and watching people fish along the banks. So Nacho and I did that, and he discovered why I love the mountains in New Mexico so very much. Reluctantly, we got back in the car and kept going (it is *really hard* to leave the Inn of the Mountain Gods).
Before going on with my tale, I should point out that Darth Nacho got his nickname from a couple of different things. He picked up the nickname Nacho among his theater friends as a freshman in high school, back when I was still calling him "Head in Clouds" on the internet. I added the "Darth" shortly after seeing Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones, when the family was shopping at Costco and decided to have pizza afterward. Runs with Dragons (HIS name should be self evident) had a little bit of allowance money, and his eyes were bigger than his stomach, so Nacho encouraged him to order more than he could eat, at which point he saved money by offering to help RwD to consume the leftovers. Nacho has always been a cheapskate. At this point, we collectively decided he was a diabolically evil cheapskate, taking advantage of a small child's propensity to overestimate his appetite, so we added "Darth" to his name in honor of his inner Sith.
Anyhow, back on the road, through Ruidoso (which has grown up enormously in the years since my last trip, and become *even more* touristy), and back down the other side. On the way down, we switched drivers, with me handling the part of the road where the earth drops off on either side See, I have some anxieties, inherited from my mother, both about driving, and about heights. Nacho doesn't have those. So it's ME, and not HIM, driving down those twisty areas, some without guard rails, where the deer and the elk roam. Yes, elk. Ten minutes on the other side of Ruidoso, we were driving up and around a curve, and what should we see not fifteen feet away but a gorgeous twelve point (or more) elk in full velvet. Unfortunately, we weren't able to get the camera up and pointed before he vanished into the forest. Frankly, I'm lousy at the picture taking to document the fun we had thing. I keep forgetting to take the pictures. I only took a few on the whole trip.
Down from the mountains and driving across the high desert of eastern New Mexico, there aren't a lot of choices of places to stop for lunch. We got to Carrizozo and looked for a fast food joint, thinking that a chain restaurant would be a safe choice. Since we couldn't find one, we went to Elsie's Charbroiled Burgers, right at the crossroads. I'd link their webpage, but they don't appear have one. You'll have to make do with a picture, instead:
Elsie's is truly FABULOUS! The food and service were both great, and the atmosphere was homey, and at the same time, just a little bit different. I had a veggie quesadilla and Nacho had the Elsie burger, which he proclaimed to be as good as the ones Elwood makes... very high praise indeed. What a nifty find in the middle of nowhere. If you are driving through, please stop and give them business. I want them to still be there next time. It would be a great feature for Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives by Guy Fieri on the Food Network.
I could say that the remainder of the day was featureless, but that's not entirely true. For a short stretch Hwy 54 retraces historic Route 66, just south of Interstate 40 east of Albuquerque. On this stretch, we stopped to buy gas at a Phillips 66, but their rest rooms were closed so we went elsewhere. Afterward, Nacho took a nap while I drove through eastern New Mexico. Nacho woke up again shortly after we crossed the state line into Texas. The feature that woke him up? The smell. From the western edge of the Texas panhandle to the northern edge of the Oklahoma panhandle are dozens, if not hundreds, of feed lots and slaughter houses, of both cattle and hogs. The smell permeates everything, placing its patina on the air, the land, and the faces of the people. And shortly before crossing the state line from Oklahoma to Kansas, we saw this:
The rainbow arching from the windmills was both beautiful and peaceful. We spent the night in Liberal, Kansas, and discovered not one, but two awesome radio stations, but that's a story for another day.
Halfway between Las Cruces and Alamogordo was, of course, a Border Patrol stop. Back when I was a young adult, my friends and I used to think it was amusing as hell to put on fake foreign accents and pretend we were from another country. But that was long ago and far away, before 9-11, before the Nativist resurgence and the nearly fascist disappearance of basic human rights for the accused. So I warned Nacho to be good, and I hoped that it didn't look TOO weird that we were transporting a bin full of cookbooks. Elwood called just as we were pulling into the stop, which kept me from having a panicked look on my face (people who think that if you've done nothing wrong, you have nothing to be afraid of have no idea what they're talking about). We went through without a hitch (whew!).
I chose this route (71 to 54 and straight through to Wichita, then Interstate to KC) because of the mountain pass through Ruidoso. I always, on this trip, take a quick detour to the Inn of the Mountain Gods, straddling Ruidoso and the Mescalero Apache reservation. While I have never actually stayed there (though it is definitely a life goal), I like to get out and walk around the lake, enjoying the mountain air and watching people fish along the banks. So Nacho and I did that, and he discovered why I love the mountains in New Mexico so very much. Reluctantly, we got back in the car and kept going (it is *really hard* to leave the Inn of the Mountain Gods).
Before going on with my tale, I should point out that Darth Nacho got his nickname from a couple of different things. He picked up the nickname Nacho among his theater friends as a freshman in high school, back when I was still calling him "Head in Clouds" on the internet. I added the "Darth" shortly after seeing Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones, when the family was shopping at Costco and decided to have pizza afterward. Runs with Dragons (HIS name should be self evident) had a little bit of allowance money, and his eyes were bigger than his stomach, so Nacho encouraged him to order more than he could eat, at which point he saved money by offering to help RwD to consume the leftovers. Nacho has always been a cheapskate. At this point, we collectively decided he was a diabolically evil cheapskate, taking advantage of a small child's propensity to overestimate his appetite, so we added "Darth" to his name in honor of his inner Sith.
Anyhow, back on the road, through Ruidoso (which has grown up enormously in the years since my last trip, and become *even more* touristy), and back down the other side. On the way down, we switched drivers, with me handling the part of the road where the earth drops off on either side See, I have some anxieties, inherited from my mother, both about driving, and about heights. Nacho doesn't have those. So it's ME, and not HIM, driving down those twisty areas, some without guard rails, where the deer and the elk roam. Yes, elk. Ten minutes on the other side of Ruidoso, we were driving up and around a curve, and what should we see not fifteen feet away but a gorgeous twelve point (or more) elk in full velvet. Unfortunately, we weren't able to get the camera up and pointed before he vanished into the forest. Frankly, I'm lousy at the picture taking to document the fun we had thing. I keep forgetting to take the pictures. I only took a few on the whole trip.
Down from the mountains and driving across the high desert of eastern New Mexico, there aren't a lot of choices of places to stop for lunch. We got to Carrizozo and looked for a fast food joint, thinking that a chain restaurant would be a safe choice. Since we couldn't find one, we went to Elsie's Charbroiled Burgers, right at the crossroads. I'd link their webpage, but they don't appear have one. You'll have to make do with a picture, instead:
Elsie's is truly FABULOUS! The food and service were both great, and the atmosphere was homey, and at the same time, just a little bit different. I had a veggie quesadilla and Nacho had the Elsie burger, which he proclaimed to be as good as the ones Elwood makes... very high praise indeed. What a nifty find in the middle of nowhere. If you are driving through, please stop and give them business. I want them to still be there next time. It would be a great feature for Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives by Guy Fieri on the Food Network.
I could say that the remainder of the day was featureless, but that's not entirely true. For a short stretch Hwy 54 retraces historic Route 66, just south of Interstate 40 east of Albuquerque. On this stretch, we stopped to buy gas at a Phillips 66, but their rest rooms were closed so we went elsewhere. Afterward, Nacho took a nap while I drove through eastern New Mexico. Nacho woke up again shortly after we crossed the state line into Texas. The feature that woke him up? The smell. From the western edge of the Texas panhandle to the northern edge of the Oklahoma panhandle are dozens, if not hundreds, of feed lots and slaughter houses, of both cattle and hogs. The smell permeates everything, placing its patina on the air, the land, and the faces of the people. And shortly before crossing the state line from Oklahoma to Kansas, we saw this:
The rainbow arching from the windmills was both beautiful and peaceful. We spent the night in Liberal, Kansas, and discovered not one, but two awesome radio stations, but that's a story for another day.