We headed out early Wednesday for the Santa Fe B&B birthday gift
cooked up by Meliss and Meg ... thoughtfully timed to coincide with the
40th anniversary of our first date.
The terrain changed as we headed out of the Hill Country. Don was the
first to notice the wind turbines ... which rapidly increased in number
as we drove through Nolan County. They're hard to photograph from a
moving vehicle, but trust me, there were hundreds of them on the horizon
...
I convinced Don that we needed to go to Prairie Dog Town ...
where we found out the little critters liked popcorn just as much as I do.
Dinner at the Funky Door capped the evening and we were up before dawn
to hit the road ... which was easy enough since the sun didn't rise
until 7:50-something.
Heading steadily west and north, the cell phone signals faded, the land
got flatter (as if that was possible), with the exception of the massive
grain elevators towering over the railroad tracks and the towns got
fewer and farther between ... most strewn with abandoned businesses.
Reader alert: this is going to get political for a moment. It is my
considered opinion that Washington DC politicos would make far different
choices if they knew they had to actually live in Levelland.
We began to notice sand along the roadsides ... reminding us of the long
open stretch of road on Pea Island ... minus the ocean. The grasses got
tawnier and as we drove over the state line into New Mexico, the sun
polished them to gold in the distance, while the clouds overhead cast
purple shadows over the ground.
Already several thousand feet above sea level, the van began to shift
down into lower gears as we steadily climbed through the true colors of
the desert Southwest. Dusty blue greens and faded golds, rust and rose,
and a sky so blue that even the camera couldn't quite believe it.
Slightly lightheaded (more so than usual) I realized it was the altitude
... and began drinking water, which helped. We patted ourselves on the
back for having the foresight to print out directions, a good thing
since the GPS faded in and out ... the signals blocked somehow ...
This was the last stretch of straight road that we saw ... within a few
miles the van was zigging and zagging into the hills ... ummm, make that
mountains. At which point I said something to the effect of "I knew
there would be mountains, but holy &#%$ !!!"
This particular stretch, which doesn't show the downhill grade nearly
well enough, was graced with a guard rail ... which means it was worse
than many of the other stretches which didn't ... although roadside
crosses were in great abundance. But what made me laugh out loud (when I
wasn't begging Don to go slower) were the cow crossing signs (look
carefully, there's one below the sharp curve sign). I mean, really?
Happily, we lived to tell the tale ... with many more to follow.
Stay tuned.
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