New Mexico.
We always have plans. We’re going to stay. We long for the New Mexican sunsets when we’re not in New Mexico. We always think of it so fondly. Then we settle down for a day or two. It lulls us with nice enough temperatures, not too hot, not too cold. Then, every time, the winds come howling in, the cold moves in, the rain and humidity stop by to visit. We had our two days of nice. Then we had a few days of windy, drizzle, never got passed forty for a high temperature. We set the diesel heater up in the tent. We made a little sitting space with a table inside the tent. We ate our dinner in the warm tent. And it was as though we were living like queens, eating hot food that didn’t instantly go cold. We passed the rainy cold day reading and writing. But we don’t like to be cold and we don’t like to be wet and we don’t like to be inside. So we let New Mexico expel us the way she always does, just blow us all the way over to Arizona.
Sandhill cranes.
On our way west, we stopped in town and did our laundry. We filled up our water jugs. We filled our diesel can. It’s a two gallon can and this is the third time we’ve bought fuel in three and a half years. We headed for a remote rock hounding area in Arizona that, as far as I can tell, can only be accessed from New Mexico. It was a long drive down some washboard gravel roads. The road became narrower and rougher the farther we drove in. It was a pretty ugly, barren area. We drove a wild loop through the hills. We saw one other camper in the area. At most of the established camp spots someone had made large, elaborate sculptures out of bones; large spines and rib cages bleached by the sun, making art. I think they were cow bones, but I am not sure. Anyway, the place gave us a bad vibe so I drove us and Henry right back out the long washboard miles back to pavement. Once again back in New Mexico, it was getting late, we consulted our maps for BLM land close by, found a dirt road and drove it to a crossroad with a little pull off. We decided to spend the night there, sleeping in the front seats. We were treated to one of the most glorious sunsets I have ever witnessed. Hundreds of flocks of Sandhill Cranes flew over head, migrating to their winter grounds. I recognized their voices as they flew high against the riot of colors from the sunset. We made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, there, at the crossroads. We ate our supper watching the cranes, the mountains and the colors. It was one of the best sandwiches of my life. I didn’t sleep well. I never do when we sleep in the front seats. I was up and waiting for sunrise. It was beautiful in the cold morning. I waited, impatiently for Megan to awaken. My soul was ready for the moving on.
Megan was too tired to drive so I again took command of Henry’s wheel. I found my best playlist, put on my shades, put the pedal down as we ate up miles of pavement. We drove through the nothing, no man made thing in view except the road. Megan snuggled under her truck blanket. I sang along to all the songs as they played, turning up: “Cajun Born” by Emmylou Harris, “Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos),” a song by Woody Guthrie but I like the Highwaymen version, “Smalltown Boy” by Bronski Beat, “Brass in Pockets” by Pretenders, “A Prayer in Open D” by Emmylou-- Megan roused herself and we both sang along, loud “And the rock of ages I have known is a weariness down in my bone. I used to ride it like a rolling stone, now I just carry it alone. There’s a highway rising from my dreams, deep in the heart I know it gleams, for I have seen it stretching wide, clear on across to the other side. Beyond the river and the flood and the valley where for so long I’ve stood, with the rock of ages in my bones. Someday soon I know it’ll lead me home”. Next up “Living in the Promiseland” by Willie Nelson, then “New York” by St. Vincent-- we thought about Nema while we sang along, we’d do it all again, for Nema. Next up “Give me a Moment” by Ondara, then “Jesus From Texas” by Semler. I took a swig from my water bottle. I wished it was coffee. I looked over at my beautiful wife. I looked at the road, stretching on and on, disappearing into purple-blue mountains which faded into mountains beyond mountains. Deep in my soul, I felt as content, as good, as I have ever felt. The early morning sun lighting up the world behind us. I turned down the radio. I told Megan “I don’t know if I’ll ever feel this alive again. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel again how much I belong in this moment. I know the world is burning down around us, but life doesn’t get any better than this moment, this music, the hum of Henry’s tires, you, so wonderful in the passenger seat, the day spreading out before us. This is my moment.” I tried to tuck that feeling down somewhere deep so I could pull it out and treasure it at some later point. But I don’t know if it slips away, never to be known again.
We crossed over into Arizona again. I saw a dirt road and turned around a few miles down the road so we could go explore it. We might find an epic spot to camp. We meandered down the main dirt road, exploring two tracks as they came up. We did not find any epic spots so I turned us around eventually. I looked at my maps and saw a two track that would lead us out, meeting up with the paved road somewhere. We took it. It was a pipeline road. And holy shit, it got a little rough, winding its way up over the low mountains, though deep sandy washes and up over loose gravel, sometimes loose boulders. On our way down the back side of the mountain, Megan did have to get out a few times and direct my lines. There were a few places where I prayed. Some spots where I knew I didn’t want to have to go back up what I had come down so I prayed there wouldn’t be any obstacle between us in the road that I didn’t have the skills to navigate. This truly tested my limits for off-roading skills. I apologized to Megan for taking us down this road. I should have consulted my maps and apps better so I knew better what we were getting into. Of course we had no service out there and so many things could have went sideways. Megan said it was fine and we live and learn...but I have the sneaking suspicion that I am learning a different lesson. A lesson such as me and Henry got us through that sketchy thing, so we probably could get us through something else (now I have no doubt in Henry being able to do anything with the right driver, just I am not the most skilled). Here’s to living dangerously, I guess. We did make it out to the paved road, none the worse for wear, just a little on the tense side. Anyway, our tires are excellent and Henry’s brakes work well. He came down those almost vertical, ledgy, bound in tight with brush and cacti roads, over large loose boulders with precision and no slippage of the tires. In one particular section, I had Megan get out and walk really far down, for fear Henry and I would send scree and boulders thundering down the hill. She looked at me with great admiration and love in her eyes once we got out. She thinks my driving skills are sexy. She’s rewarding my bad behavior, no good for my lessons learned.
We drove on into a place with which we are familiar. We found a spectacular spot way off the beaten path. There are mountain views in all directions. Scruffy little Black-throated Sparrows visit us daily.
A gaggle of Gambel’s Quail hurry through the wash beside us at dusk. Coyotes howl in the distance. We see nobody for a week. Yesterday, as we were preparing for a shower a ranger came driving down. He hopped out and we chatted with him for a bit. He said he always makes contact with people who are off the beaten path...I guess that makes us seem suspect? He asked where we are from, when we said New Hampshire, he quite proudly proclaimed he had no idea where that is. You know, I can see if you didn’t know if NH was VT or something of that nature, but to have no idea where a state is located in your own country is just terrifying to me. I judge people, perhaps too harshly, but, yikes, man, don’t be proud of your ignorance. What a world.
It’s been warm, and suspiciously, not windy. My face is as dry as a dead yucca flower. We’ve made plans on where we’ll hop to next and I’m already feeling a little restless. I’ve been reading like I’m possessed. One book engrossed me so, that when I would stop reading, I would be surprised I was in the arid desert and not the humid jungles of Vietnam. I stayed up late, watching the Geminid meteor shower. Despite the full moon, it was still quite spectacular. It is so bright out here at night, I don’t need a light. The moon casts shadows across the land. I am living my best life.
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