On to New Mexico, a day of rest! by Shelley Hopkins

New Mexico, Part 4 of Trip out West.

This is the third part of a series that describes a trip we took several years ago.  If you have not read the first part, click here.

Albuquerque, the old town

We woke in the morning to more of the strong winds.  I peeked out of my sleeping bag to see three pairs of legs sticking out from under the tent fold. The wind stopped and the tent sat back up.  I was relieved to see living, giggling children.  I had fallen asleep at some point during the night while holding back the wind, and woke up curled up in a ball in the very middle of the floor.  Even in my sleep I am claustrophobic.

Climbing out of the tent we found everything to be wet.  The picnic table, the grounds, the tent, all was wet.   We had to pack up and keep moving, but I knew we would need to let our things dry at the end of the day.  No one wanted to cook or eat breakfast in the damp, Joseph had a cold, and I was feeling like a bad mother, dragging everyone across the country exposed to the weather.  We packed up and drove over to a local Denny’s.  Sitting at tables and booths all around us were other campers from the KOA.  We all seemed to want to dry out with warm food and coffee.  After breakfast we were laughing and joking at the wind and rain.  Damp and moldy as we were, we were survivors. 
We hopped back into the car and began the drive towards Albuquerque, New Mexico.   The drive was easy, but I struggled to stay awake.  At the New Mexico welcome center we saw signs warning about snakes.  I bought coffee and we walked around in the tiny museum that the rest area offered.  The kids and I voted NM the windiest state.  The picnic tables had wind shelters built around them.  I pulled out the bread and peanut butter jar, and the plates blew away.  I grabbed the plates, and the utensils blew away.  The peanut butter jar blew over.   The wind was so hard and dry and hot that the bread turned to toast before the sandwiches were made.  We struggled to keep everything from blowing away while we ate, and found ourselves sitting on the ground with our backs against the wind shelter wall just to get lunch taken care of. 

Wind shelter around picnic table

The landscape was wide and flat, perfect for the wind to gather up the speed needed to carry off small children, unattended coolers and any lunch item not held down.  The rest stop included a cattle pen, something we never see at rest stops back east.  It was too bad we couldn’t stay here; all our wet gear would be dry in a few minutes.

Laura demonstrating wind strength 

After driving a little while longer the scenery changed, and wide red and brown buttes rose up around the highway.  This was nothing like the moist green of Georgia.  The colors were so rich and earthy, red, brown and orange all against a deep turquoise blue sky.  We were driving on the famous route 66, and with the dry landscape, the older buildings, and the fun billboards, we really felt the diversity of our country.

We drove, and the elevation changed.  I struggled to keep my car at speed.  The traffic increased, trucks rushed by, but my car felt heavy and slow.  We stopped at a hotel at the edge of town.  The manager was friendly, and excited to hear we had driven all the way from Georgia.  He wanted to tell us the history of the area, and the names of the beautiful mountains we could see. He explained they were the Sandia Mountains, the name was Spanish for watermelon. He told us we were in a mile high city.  I was so tired I could not even hold a conversation, like my car I was sluggish and moving slowly.  I barely remembered falling into bed, but I woke to the TV playing and showers running.  It was a Sunday, and we had planned on attending a local church for evening worship.  The bed was so soft, and I was so tired, and the idea of facing a group of strangers overwhelming.  I looked at my kids freshly scrubbed faces, realized they had simply gotten ready while I slept, and in a few minutes we were following a local map through town.  At a stoplight Anna pointed at a neighborhood.  “I love those mud houses.”

“Adobe,” I said, and we laughed.  Adobe neighborhoods were another unfamiliar site.  Yards were landscaped to survive the lack of water.  Instead of grass, yards had dry heat tolerant plants, dessert wildflowers, and sand or rocks.  It was lovely, and the few bright green overly watered yards looked unnatural, like radioactive mold growing in front of the homes.

The church building was designed with a glass front entrance, taking advantage of the view of the tall Sandia Mountains.  We were already falling in love with this town.   The church was friendly, and I remembered that wherever we go, we have family.

Back at the hotel we ordered pizza and went to bed.  Albuquerque was a nice town and a good break.  We rested, did laundry and shopped, swam in the pool and explored the Old Town like typical tourists.  At the end of the day, back in the hotel I felt confined, and missed the campgrounds.  The air-conditioning felt unnatural, the TV too loud. I drug my chair out onto the porch and read, enjoying the mountain view .  Walls do not a relaxing vacation make.