Raven's Ridge B&B in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Do you know the way to Santa Fe?

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 ...

The day's drive ended in Lubbock ... inspiration for the Sons of Fathers song Flatland (with good reason).

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.