Albuquerque

Hot dog, jumping frog, Albuquerque ! 

Last weekend I went there on a whim to look at a canoe. Denver to Abq may be the easiest drive in the West, still it's six hours of freeway each way. Upon getting onto I-25 in Denver Miz Google said in her dulcet tones, "stay on I-25 for 439 miles". Luckily I always travel with a copy of From Langley Park to Memphis in some form and had the right soundtrack. 

I remembered that the first time in Abq we'd driven across from NC on I-40 for several days. The elderly Ford Econoline that was to be our home for the next year had started buzzing in the gearbox. We'd saved $15 000 for a year of not working. Rolling into Abq with visions of that becoming $12 000 and a couple months less after a new transmission, was a little sad. I went to AAA, this was before cell phones or internet, to ask about a reliable transmission shop. They had one look at the Econoline and our fresh faces then sent us across to the cheap side of town. The nice young man made us coffee and said he'd have a look. We sat and researched campsites from the papers in our New Mexico folder. He came out after an hour or so and said, that was really weird. Someone put automatic transmission fluid into the manual gearbox. It's astonishing it had not blown up crossing the Appalachians. After a change to the appropriate 80w-90 gear oil the buzzing quieted and everything worked - for another 100 000 miles as it happened. So I have fond memories of Abq. 

I-40 was the road to everywhere from the tobacco fields of central NC, to the mountains and the sea. In Denver it's 25 or 70. Crossing 40 on the 25 in Abq was a kind of sentimental journey.  Off to the hotel, picked at random from the cheaper options online. It is right next to the Marriot, how bad could it be ?  Turns out this is where they send the homeless with vouchers for short term stays. The check-in required a $200 deposit and signing a form that said I understood I wasn't getting a lease. Outside the oilfield roughnecks sat in their giant trucks generating clouds of weed smoke. Hm. Helen knew about this chain as she'd sent people to the one in Denver as part of church work. That's the last time I book a hotel without consulting my wife. Whole Foods provided a evening snack, bottle of nice Pinot Grigio and some excellent cheese and crackers, turn down the lights and pretend everything is fine. 

In the morning a quick trail run to clear the head and get the legs working again after being a truck-driving blob for six hours yesterday. The Embudito trailhead was easy to find, the trail not so much.

Lost the trail at some point in a creek bed, ended up crawling up the side of the canyon through the cactus to a recognizable trail. Emerged bleeding slightly, to the alarm of the old folks hiking on the trail. Nearly made it up to snowline, after the bushwhacking there wasn't enough time to climb all the way. Another day perhaps of the few left. 

The previous owner of the canoe is a nice old retired guy whose shoulders are blown out so he can't paddle. They had recently fled Florida just ahead of the new Americans flooding in to join DeSantis and Trump in their dream of a white police state. Oddly that's just what we'd fled from in South Africa all those years ago. His dream was to take it up to the Minnesota Boundary Waters. My retirement fantasy is to do just that, I promised to send him a trip report should we live so long. 

Canoe strapped down for the 40mph winds ahead and back home again. Ain't she a beauty ? 

Stopped briefly in Lathrop State Park, to get out of the car, finish the cheese and wine, and try the boat out. It handles beautifully in a howling gale. 

Upon leaving I'd observed it was a bit unreal for me to be doing this, a most uncharacteristic riding off madly in all directions. Helen said on the contrary, that is exactly what I'm like. All these years of marriage and I still don't know what my wife thinks of me: or perhaps still don't know myself.