Alpine to Deming

I’ve just seen two adverts on TV. One, for GoPro, ripped off from a video I saw on reddit months ago (man attaches GoPro to a stick and throws it for his dog. I actually think it’s the same video so I guess there’s some kind of deal in there). The second was for the French Fry Burger at Burger King, which means people outside of the UK are finally cottoning on to the idea of chip butties. You’re welcome, rest of the world.

So, aside from that, I’m in Deming, New Mexico. I’ve never been here, and it’s a bit of an odd place. Judging from the leaflets and brochures I picked up in the lobby, it’s a real old west kind of place. Lots to do with Billy the Kid and all kinds of other stuff. On my way back tomorrow I will visit Shakespeare, a ghost town close to here.

I slept very well last night. Total peace. I realised I never took a photo of Tal-Wi-Wi so I did this morning.

The saloon

I had a bagel for breakfast which I regretted once I hit Bear Wallow Café, but it was good, nonetheless. I ate, Skyped with the missus, always nice, then hit the road. It was still raining, but still quite beautiful. My aim was to hit the Bear Wallow Café, which Arizona Highways says has amazing pie, then head down the Coronado Trail, named after Spanish explorer Francisco Vasquez de Coronado who explored this area in 1540 on a quest to find the Seven Cities of Cíbola. I’ve no idea if he found them, but apparently this road is one of the least travelled highways. So little travelled that lo – car drivers waved at each other! Well, gave a nod or a flash of the hand. I was most pleased. Bikers didn’t acknowledge me. God only knows what they do when they see each other on this road.

But first off I stopped at the café. I had, as said, already had breakfast which was most annoying as it was fantastically cosy. I ordered some pie to go, and had to choose between about 8 varieties. Eek. I went for blueberry. I never have blueberry pie. I put it safely on the seat and thought I’d save it for later. I hit the road.

Evil and tempting

I saw an abundance of wildlife. I saw a dead skunk, a dead racoon, 3 big, fat, black caterpillars crossing the road, and – amazingly – a tarantula crossing the road! Unfortunately I couldn’t stop to record proof. I could smell the pie. 

A new episode of Breaking Bad is on right now so it’s taking me a long time to write this. I can’t follow it as I’ve missed a couple of episodes but it’s very, very exciting.

Anyway, the Coronado Trail was beautiful. Hardly any cars and as green as an English garden, at least, after the miles of burnt trees. Burnt trees seem to be fairly typical. A reminder of how hot the summers can be.

Unfortunately I was preoccupied with something else to fully enjoy the ride. Extremely foolishly I thought I had enough petrol to get the whole way. I was absolutely sure I did, but somewhere along the way, I realised that I probably didn’t. This meant, frustratingly, that I kept thinking about the petrol instead of admiring the view. But I did get to enjoy it to some extent. I was also enjoying the pie smell. 

I knew I had to make it to Morenci, a town that had sprung up thanks to the copper mine nearby, before I could get petrol. I knew I’d be OK if I did run dry, it’d just be annoying. Soon enough I saw the mine, and knew I’d be OK, and anyway, I had pie. This mine is one of the largest in the US and is absolutely huge. The wheels of the trucks that you can barely seen are around 9 feet tall. That’s pretty big.

Soon after, I found a petrol station. After filling up the car and emptying me, I bought a coffee and found the next place to pull over. I changed from jeans and t-shirt into shorts and vest (it was back up to some serious heat) and sat outside to eat my deserved pie and drink my coffee. The pie was heavenly. Thank you, Arizona Highways, and thank you, pie-woman at Bear Wallow Café. 

Filled up with much joy and pie, I set the GPS for Deming and headed out. Unfortunately, I had to take an interstate route. The downside was ploughing through countryside, but the upside was speed.

Shortly after I thought I saw crabs crawling across the road. The tarmac was covered with squashed something and I couldn’t figure out what they were so took advantage of the fact that I seemed to be the only person in America and pulled over on the highway. They were giant grasshoppers. I tried to get a photo of one but it kept crawling away from me. Eventually it hopped and seemed to have some kind of fit mid-air. I guess they’re not good jumpers, hence the crawling. There were thousands of them. Stunning colours. The only photo I got is pretty crap and doesn’t give a sense of scale (they were about 2 inches/5cm long).

After just under two hours, I hit Deming. I crept along the street until I saw a motel with a pool, and found Grand Motor Inn. I asked the receptionist if it was an old building, and she said yes, it was from the 60s. Gosh. It’s a lovely motel. A pool, wifi, big rooms, a great Mexican/south western restaurant, and nice people.

I hit the pool for an hour then had some great fajitas. Now I’m in my room.

A bit of an odd day as I’ve been in the car for most of it, but I knew the destination today was the journey, and what a journey it was.

I’ve got a two hour drive to White Sands tomorrow, and then I head back the way I came. I wasn’t going to go to White Sands, but realised that I had some time to spare, and have always wanted to go back. Besides, this way I also get to revisit Steins, a ghost town, see Shakespeare, and revisit a small place called Portal, that I last saw in 1999. To be honest, the only thing I remember from Portal in 1999 was that it was the first place we came across after getting caught in a flash-flood that was big enough to cover trucks and wedge tree roots under our van. Here are a couple of pictures. It was very exciting and really, truly came out of absolutely nowhere. One minute it started to rain, then water started coming down the street. And more water. And then bits of trees and some rocks. Then we pulled over. Then the water started coming in the van - you can see how high it is - and then we abandoned the van and took shelter in someone's house. They were very nice. It was over quite quickly but was easy to see how people could get swept away. 

There's a road somewhere under that

The café in Portal also used deer feet as coat hooks. I hope they're still there. 

I’m looking forward to tomorrow. It’s going to be white, and hot. 

Canyon De Chelly to Alpine

I can’t really believe I’m still in Arizona right now but I’ll get to that.

I wake up at 7am on the dot. I’ve slept well and I can just peek the blue sky outside. It’s a bit of a luxurious morning – I don’t really have to leave until midday so I loll about in bed for a bit with Ellen (not the talk show, the original Ellen) on the TV. I’m surprised when it makes me laugh out loud. It was a really good show.

I roll out of bed, shower and hit breakfast for some eggs and toast, then have a look at the gift shop. I really want to get a book about the Navajo but they’re very, very expensive, as gift shops often are. I’ll have to check on Amazon. I head back, change and check out the pool for an hour or so. I read my book about the Glen Dam, have a dip, then get itchy feet and leave at 11.10.

It’s a lovely day, but there are clouds in the distance. I’ve only got two hours until I reach the Petrified Forest, something I’m not quite sure about, but it’s en route and I’ve heard it’s good so what the heck. I’m driving on the highways today. I must admit it’s a relief. I know where I’m going (the GPS is over our dispute and is telling me the truth), and it’s smooth. The highways around here are just two lanes – one in either direction. I’m glad it’s no bigger. I learn to appreciate roads on this trip. After an hour I reach the Hubble Trading Post, established in 1870 as a trading post and all-round gossip sted for Navajo, Hopi, Auni, Acoma, Pima, Tohono O’odham and Apache Indians. If you’re wondering, John Hubble of the trading post is a relation of Edwin Powell Hubble, of Hubble Telescope. It’s a fantastic group of buildings. I wander around and look at old stuff. I love it. I buy an ice-cream.

Then it’s back to the road. It doesn’t take long to hit the Petrified Forest, but first I decide to go the back route instead of via the highway but regret it the moment I turn off. It’s dusty and bumpy and God only knows where I’ll end up. Turns out I end up on a railway line, the Santa Fe railway line (the same one that rides through Flagstaff). On the other side, the road turns private so I have to turn back. Oh well.

First off, I ride through the Painted Desert. I’m literally the only person here. I put it down to holidays being over and the fact that the weather is grey and windy. But it’s still beautiful and most odd.

Only me

Turning back on myself, I stop on Route 66. Alongside the highway, old telegraph poles mark the original route of 66. There is a beautiful rusted car to commemorate it. I stare down the telegraph poles (you can just see them to the left of the car) and try to imagine it. I wish I could go back in time, ride that route and get my kicks.

Instead, I head to the Petrified Forest. I’ve no idea what to expect, but am pretty much instantly impressed. Again, I’m just about the only person there so get to stand alone on the viewpoints and jump over stuff when I want to.

It’s beautiful.

Back in the late 1800s and the early 1900s, people came here, from Route 66, and took what they wanted. There wasn’t all that much left when it was established as a national park in 1962.

The short of the long is that around 200 million years ago, there was a forest here. Trees fell, and were covered in all kinds of stuff. Decay was slowed and stopped, and silica-laden water seeped through the wood and replaced the original wood tissues with silica, thereby petrifying the wood. As the ground was eroded many, many moons later, the trees were uncovered, and would fall and break into log-sized lumps. And here we are.

First off I visit Newspaper Rock, so called as the rocks are covered with petroglyphs, just like the ones at Glen Canyon. There are a few other people peering over the edge, and an elderly park ranger who is all too willing to lend me his binoculars. They’re incredible to see up close, as it were. There are all kinds of carvings, animals, hoof prints, people, and so much more. We all talk about them and what they mean. Park Ranger says that various Indian tribes would travel along the once big river that was here, and would leave messages in the stone, probably along the lines of how good the hunting was, or who had been past here and when, that kind of thing. It’s fascinating. Zoomed in here so you can see them more clearly.

I work my way through Blue Mesa and petrified wood. It’s quite remarkable. 

The chippings and some of the petrified wood look as if you could just pick them up and lob them on the fire, but to the touch, they are nothing but rock. It’s fascinating and I’m surprised at just how fascinating I find it. I’m tempted to nick a bit but don’t. I must have grown up.

It takes about 2 hours to do the park, and I’m very happy with it.

This sign catches my eye on the way out and I buy a big lump. They only had Bud so I didn’t buy beer.

I discover that it’s just under 2 hours to Alpine which is good news. I thought it would be much longer. I’m in a great mood and head out.

US highway 180 is the longest straight road I've ever been on. It just goes on and on and on.

For over an hour and a half, I don’t see a single car. No joke. It’s just me. I actually start to wonder if there’s something I don’t know about, when I finally see someone else. The last time I was on a road so deserted was in 1999, in Texas. Back then, you’d flash your lights or wave whenever you passed a car. It was like being in a club. I think of the bazillion bikers I’ve seen on this trip and how they always acknowledge each other. I’m a bit jealous whenever I see this. I try to wave at the first car I pass, knowing that they can’t have seen a car for a pretty long time either, but I’m not sure if they wave back.

The rain clouds in the distance look threatening, and it’s not too long before I reach them and they break. It’s pretty nice. It rains and rains and I wind my way up to 9000 feet. With every minute I’m leaving the heat behind and seeing more and more pine trees. Suddenly I’m high up, and surrounded by trees and green stuff. The air is cool and smells of pine. I’m not entirely sure where I’m going, but I know the name and I should pass a sign at some point. There are hardly any cars on the road.

Every building I pass is made of logs. It’s how I imagine Canada, not Arizona. I roll into Tal-Wi-Wi lodge just before 6. Perfect. They have a room, log, of course, and I am so excited about it. It’s very, very quiet and there are deer in the field opposite me.

I sit outside on my balcony, and look at the view. It’s pretty chilly so I put on jeans and head to the saloon for some dinner. I meet one of the owners who is Welsh, of all things. We talk about Alpine and how she thinks it’s the most beautiful place in Arizona. It’s probably one of them.

I eat my dinner and read a paper that has stories about the history of Phoenix and an Oglala Sioux warrior called Red Cloud. On the way back to my room I use the paper as shelter from the rain that has started again.

Back in my room I’m already looking forward to seeing the outside in the daylight – hopefully without rain but I won’t be too bothered if it is wet. It’s a change.

No AC tonight. Nothing but peace and quiet. Tomorrow I head towards White Sands, New Mexico. Last time I was there I saw a Stealth Bomber fly over. I’m crossing my fingers I’ll see the same thing again.