Angel Fire to Lubbock
Busy packing-up morning. I was up early, like usual, and used the time to remount the roof rack, which I had taken off and stashed in the garage so it wouldn't get soaked by the snow. Most of the cleaning-up was done, but there was breakfast to serve, so we weren't quite done yet. After I had eaten, I went down to our room, and walked in with a "time to get up, sleepyheads!" Val roused first, and the kids slowly surfaced as well. Val had wanted to have a quick walkabout with me, so we bundled up and headed out, over the walkway, down the slope, through the gate and into the lane. At the drive, I noticed the last of Jenny's signs, taped to a rock and almost completely covered in snow, so I collected that. Val wanted to show me the fish hole in the pond ice that she and the kids had observed the day before, but it had frozen over completely. The morning was sunny, the snow bright on the trees, a good time to take some fresh air. Back to the lodge, and Val stopped by the kitchen for coffee while I went down to get more packing done.
Looking down into Angel Fire.It was time to leave and head for home. We have one distinct disadvantage -- all the other cousins are older. Tell 'em to pack up, and they do. Not so with young'uns, they have to be packed for, so it takes us a good bit longer to be ready to leave. But, in bits and pieces, Val and I got items packed and zipped, and I got most everything out into the garage in one convenient pile. Some things went up in the roof rack, other items into the trunk, fitting together like a puzzle. Some stuff gets parked in the back seat, mostly blankets and pillows and toys and games, and a few things go by Val's feet in the passenger well, including a supply of leftover-turkey sandwiches, courtesy of Jenny, who made several dozen for everyone. After the biggest things were stowed, Val took over, and assorted family members helped haul everything out to the car to expedite our final departure. Just before 11:00 am, I pulled out of the drive and began poking down the snowy mountain road.
We are outta here!Driving wasn't slick, the snow crunchy, but with only front-wheel drive and the kids aboard, I took it exceptionally easy, pulling over to let the last three vehicles of our caravan pull ahead. About halfway down, we regained the paved road, and the driving was all the clearer, the snow more melted here. Before we reached the town proper, both kids found the Christmas cards Uncle John had secretly stashed, each loaded with two $20 bills. Arriving at the mountain bottom and town, we caught up the others, who were placing the last loads of our trash into a municipal dumpster (we were told this was standard practice in Angel Fire, no collection up the mountains); even burning paper trash in the fireplace, we had many bags of rubbish, but we responsibly did our part and left the lodge clean. We pulled to, and the kids cried out a "Thank you!" to John.
Val wanted to see a bit of the actual town, maybe get some souvenirs, so I turned north on the main road toward a store I had seen while riding to Taos. Unfortunately, being a Sunday, the store was closed, drat. Just as we were about to turn south, the others drove by, Mike giving a two-handed wave (despite being the driver), so that was our final farewell to the extended family.
We headed out of Angel Fire, admiring the snow-covered ski slopes along the way, beautiful tall pine country.
About ten, fifteen miles along, I realized I had completely forgotten something. I told Val what it was, and after discussing it for a few minutes, she sagely advised that, if I was still dithering about whether or not to turn back, it was important enough to turn back. So we did.
Through Angel Fire once again, we turned onto Route 64 toward Taos, and a mile further along, reached my special destination -- a classic National Forest Service sign for, yes, really, Carson National Forest. We took pictures. It was cold and windy, but Carson was a great sport about it, even when I perched him high atop the sign (Val stood behind, helping steady him, though he was at little risk of falling).
Everyone needs a place in the world.Back through Angel Fire one last time, my mental miscue had cost us not quite an hour; not painful, but not very efficient either. Ah well, onward. The weather delivered us some snow flurries as we motored through the valley, but nothing challenging. Finally 434 twisted back into the tight canyon, but this time we got to see it in fully lit splendor, and it is a gorgeous drive. We started out high on the western side but were soon, without it being at all obvious, down near the canyon bottom, a rocky creek alongside or under us. A bank of very rude huts -- basically shacks with a door and a window -- must be, we reasoned, a fishing camp, because they were the most basic and utilitarian design, for people who are there to sleep and fish. We spotted a beaver dam hard by the road, backing up the creek so much that it swelled and overflowed almost onto the pavement. The canyon eventually gave way to wider valley and tiny towns, but along that stretch, was simply stunning, a driving delight.
Pastoral, frosty canyon creek (Coyote Creek, apparently).
"It's the second week of deer camp, and all the guys are here,We drink, play cards, and shoot the bull, but never shoot no deer,
The only time we leave the camp is when we go for beer,
The second week of deer camp is da greatest time of year!"
If this is not a beaver dam, it's one huge clump of debris.Note water foreground, almost flowing on to the road.
The day stayed cold through Mora and Las Vegas, with scattered flurries, and the wind picking up as we left the higher lands and got back to prairie driving. On I-40 we stopped at the lone Stuckey's along our way. I remember this roadside chain mainly from the east coast, where they popped up frequently along I-95 between Connecticut and Florida, during my childhood. My mom loved the coconut patties, but alas, none were to be found here. Carson spent some (too much, in my opinion) of Uncle John's gift on a toy car, because this is what he does at his age, and it is his money. We passed around the turkey sandwiches, which were a treat compared to standard road food, and were back on the road.
Reaching Ft. Sumner, the Valero we had fueled at during the drive up was closed, their computers down (according to the signs), so the gas station across the street was having a boom night. As I fueled up, I listened to fellow drivers; one was complaining that he had enjoyed tee-shirt weather in Albuquerque (we were in jacket-class cold and wind) but was heading east. The other mentioned that there was snow in Clovis, the last town in New Mexico heading east, and she was glad to be heading the other way. This wasn't the happiest news to me, as that was our route for the night (it was almost sunset), but there was nothing for it. Gassed up, and with road snacks to sustain us, we resolved to push on, Lubbock our night's goal.
Carson soon drifted off, assuring we would follow our plan of not stopping for an evening meal.
Approaching Cannon AFB and Clovis, we did run into snow -- flurries again. Heavier at times, but not sticking or accumulating at all. We crossed into Texas, and our road, Route 84, promptly turned to the southeast. The flurries were soon behind us; they were only a nuisance, but one I didn't miss.
We pushed on through the Texas landscape, the cold and wind unabated. Little towns -- Muleshoe, Sudan, Littlefield, Shallowater, mostly cotton country. And then, Lubbock. We took our custom to the La Quinta again (much easier to find this time, just one exit down the loop). We checked in at a robust 9:00 pm (rather than midnight, as on the way up), and I went out to forage for late dinner, which a burger joint provided. At rest for the balance of the evening, appetites satisfied, we one by one fell over, one day still to home.
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