The Golden Anniversary Road Trip -- part 2

Day 2 (Wed. 11/26)

Lubbock to Angel Fire

I awoke first, which is almost always the case. A peek out the window found the roof rack untouched, our faith rewarded. The others slowly rose, and I opened the drapes to let in the early sun. Val came over to have a look, and immediately spotted a huge flock of birds coming toward us. Ducks? Geese? No. As a wing passed almost directly overhead, Val cracked the window and heard their calls -- sandhill cranes, one of her favorite birds. We urged the kids to have a look as well; there were hundreds of cranes gliding above. What a sight first thing in the morning.

I accompanied Amie to the lobby, where La Quinta provided an agreeable breakfast table. I cooked a waffle for Amie and tucked into a yogurt, hard boiled egg, wheat toast, and coffee. Thus fortified, I went back to the room, while Val took Carson to breakfast, giving me a quiet window during which to shower. We packed up the car, wedging in everything without too much effort, but the Civic clearly was full. And, at 10:30, we hit the road.

At about 10:33, we stopped, having happened across a Supercuts, and Val wanted to get her hair done. Fine, better now than later. The kids and I wandered the parking lot (it was quiet) and some discount stores, getting back to the salon just as Val was paying. We re-entered a store, picked out some cheap toys and sundries (hand lotion was a must-have), and were off again... until about 10 minutes later, because I wanted to top off the car before leaving Lubbock. Regular gas: $1.549/gallon, amazing. While I was filling up, a single train engine across the street was doing some maneuvering onto a siding track, sometimes blasting its whistle, so that was entertaining for the kids. And, at last, back on the long road toward New Mexico and family.

The remaining stretch of Texas was pleasantly uneventful -- flat terrain, cotton crops (some blooming, but mostly picked, huge truck-sized bales dotting the fields), tired mill towns, a few wind turbines here and there with one huge wind farm dotting the eastern skyline. At one point, with Val and both kids napping, I pulled over to collect some cotton blooms -- the roadside was clotted with them, and I thought some raw cotton would be interesting, and something Amalie could take to school for show & tell. Aside from being cleaned of debris and washed, cotton blooms feel much like cotton balls from the drugstore. We continued on, departing Texas through the border town of Farwell. A few miles later, in Clovis, the first town in New Mexico, we pulled over for some lunch. A Love's truck stop provided a Subway shop, not my favorite sandwich provider but good enough. Carson was dozing, so Val stretched him out in the back seat while Amie and I went inside. She ordered a six-inch ham & cheese, and ate the whole thing. I brought a sandwich out to Val, we all availed ourselves of the restrooms, and finally were ready to get back underway. Carson was so deeply asleep that we let Amie ride in front, and Val sat in the back with his legs draped over her lap.

We had one turn to make in Ft. Sumner, which was easy to find, two blocks past a gas station. I figured there'd be another station soon on, but not so! I wanted to top off again, so a quick U-turn got us to the filling station. Indicative of the higher elevations we were approaching, the gas sold here was of lower octane than at home, and remembering how badly the Civic's compression gets clobbered in thin air (especially when loaded with people and luggage), I filled up with super ($1.949/gallon). We used the chance to let everyone have a 20-minute stretch, and Carson found a penny.

We kept an eye on the car clock, not that we needed to, but then a thought struck Val -- had we crossed into Mountain time? A quick check of one of the cell phones confirmed it -- they picked up the time change, meaning we had an extra hour (on paper, even if our bodies didn't feel it). So that improved our travel time, at least artificially.

The miles ticked away. In Santa Rosa, we turned on to I-40 for about 20 miles, among numerous cautionary signs about high winds and where to tune for emergency information (not in effect, thank goodness). The big road didn't carry us far when it was time to turn off, heading to Romeroville and Las Vegas.

Yes, Las Vegas, but not that Las Vegas. There was a huge sign outside the town, listing some of its many attributes, which I thought should include "zero casinos" at the bottom. Here we got to travel another interstate, I-25, for barely 15 minutes before we got off in Las Vegas. I pulled over to consult our maps and directions, and a passerby offered her help. It was dinnertime, the sun set but still a bit of light available, so we asked for a dinner recommendation. She named a steakhouse, K-Bob's, a chain which we had enjoyed in Raton during the long August road trip, so that suited us, and it was on our way as well. Minutes later, we were seated and reading our menus.

Dinner was good and filling, and after washing hands and faces and making sure everyone had used the restrooms, we were back on our road, about 70 miles to go. The route, 518, got quickly dark as soon as Las Vegas was behind us -- no street lights. Thirty dark and twisty miles took us to an even smaller town, Mora, where we spotted, missed, and returned to our last major road change, onto 434.

As dark and twisty as 518 had been, 434 was all the moreso. At least it was paved! This was tall pine country, and they grew right up to the roadside. We crossed several small bridges -- probably a switchbacking mountain brook -- which inspired me, each time, to croon a few bars of "...over the river and through the woods..." (as a joke, it wears thin quickly, but I didn't have a critical audience). Except for one house and two cars heading the other way, there were no lights at all. At one point, to let the kids really appreciate the primeval conditions, I slowed to a crawl and momentarily doused the lights, and we were in The Dark.

Well, enough of that. A five-mile stretch along 434, with advisory signs, didn't even have a center stripe -- high cattle country, as we passed over several cow catchers. It was hilly, twisty, hazardous driving; daylight would have helped only a little. Even when the stripe returned, the driving was a challenge -- not nerve-wracking, just the sort you want to be over and get to where you're going.

At last, 434 joined up and turned onto a better road, and soon took us in to Angel Fire. I made a mistake in prepping my driving materials -- I didn't make my own detailed maps of Angel Fire, and relied upon the lower-resolution information provided by the lodge managers. While not confusing, and Angel Fire isn't a big enough town in which to get lost for more than a minute, our necessary turnoff wasn't apparent. But find it we did, and quickly, and at the next turn, while consulting to ensure that we were in the right place, Val noticed a cardboard sign that her sister Jenny had posted. We continued finding these at necessary junctures as we wound up mountain paths that were not merely twisty but actually knotted. Halfway up -- and this lodge is up a mountain -- the pavement ended and we were on graded dirt road. Jenny's signs were joined by third sister Mary's balloons, as well as crusty remains of snow on the north-facing slopes.

Just before the road ran out -- dead-ending against a ski slope -- there, well-lit and a bit back from the road, was the lodge. We pulled in, and various relations came out onto the deck to wave greetings (before ducking back inside against the sub-freezing cold). We made it -- and, amazingly, were not the last to arrive.

We trundled out of the Civic and headed in. I carried Carson, shoeless, and practically first thing introduced him to his Uncles John and Matt, who had never met him. Val was about six months pregnant when we last encountered both of them, at Jenny's wedding, so he was literally a new face. That done, he was off to charm everyone else, the youngest of the clan. Thanks to both naps and attention, he was superenergized and ready to go for hours, which he did. (Later, I told him he could sleep in our room, or get curled up anywhere in the lodge, figuring that some cousin or other would want to cuddle down with him. But, as it turned out, he crashed with us, though it was well after I had bedded down.)

Third brother/uncle Mike, who had made the lodge rental arrangements, helped me offload the car, first into the garage and out of the cold, and then into our bedroom. That done, I was just about to search for hot tea -- this is a coffee-drinking bunch, so I brought two boxes of teabags -- when the dear mother-in-law (and co-guest of honor) Nan brought me a mug of hot water. I quickly deployed a teabag into it, and then by pre-arranged request, showed her the raw cotton. I then got the story on how she broke her hand (it was, as these things usually are, rather a mundane accident, though she had a much more entertaining, made-up version she used first; I recommended she stick with the better story). Arrived, unpacked, kids sent off among the relatives, and hot tea at the ready, I headed upstairs. A roaring fire, general salutations, and fresh potato soup rounded out the evening, and there was much catching-up to do (not so much us, as we had made the grand tour in August to about half the family). Amalie was the first to drop off, but eventually we were all tucked in under thick comforters, snuggled warmly against the cold outside.

A quick family recap, because a scorecard helps:
First generation, (grand)parents (2) -- Jack and Nancy, married 50 years.
Second generation, in chronological order (7) -- Michael, Mary, Laura, John, Valerie, Jenny, Matthew.
Spouses (4) -- Rose (m. Michael), chronicler Thomas (m. Valerie), Dickie Joe (m. Jenny). The rest are unhitched, though Mary has been with a fellow named Bill for many moons, and he's here.
Third generation (11) -- Lindy, Ashley, Kyle & Karissa (twins; all Mike & Rose's), Katrina (Mary's), Kylene (Mary & Bill's), Jessica, Jake, Nathan (all Laura's), Amalie, Carson (both, Val's & mine).

Plus there's a couple of boyfriends/girlfriends accompanying some of the older grandkids. Quite a crowd, 26 in all, 24 staying in the lodge.