Reflections and Anticipation

Ted. When I retired six years ago to hit the road with Judy, I wrote a blog post listing eight goals for retirement: 

1. Drink more water

2. Eat more healthy food

3. Exercise more

4. Learn more about my electronic devices

5. Learn more Spanish

6. See more live music and theatre

7. Volunteer more

8. Listen more

To date, I'd grade myself about a “B-." Interestingly, my goals haven’t really changed. 

In some ways (war, pandemic, loud politics) the world has changed, but in many ways it has remained the same for eons. During the past six years, Judy and I have traveled over 200,000 miles, visiting lots of countries, and parts of our own for the very first time (and, no, we are not ready to settle down). As we've tried to illustrate in 370 blog posts, this is truly an amazing planet filled with fascinating people. 

Here's a bit from a post in January of 2017:

“And what is my greatest expectation? Making the acquaintance of wonderful people all over the world and enjoying unexpected rendezvous with friends and family!”

That dream has certainly come true! 

What’s in store for 2023? We will be traveling a bit slower and learning more about places we know and love; first New Zealand and Australia and then Europe in the fall. Lots of rendezvous are being scheduled for which I will permit myself to temporarily replace my water consumption with wine. And, as always, we will find time to hang out with grandsons! 

Judy and I wish you joy and good health in the coming year.

Home for the holidays

Ted. It’s been about three weeks since Judy and I drove from Las Cruces, New Mexico back to Athens, Georgia in our good old reliable truck, Raymond. We will settle in here for three months to enjoy my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving as well as Christmas and New Years Day. We also have a couple of birthdays to celebrate. 

Folks have asked us if it is good to be home and that has caused me to think hard about what home means to me now. As nomads, we typically think that home is wherever we hang our hats. 

Is home just a place where we feel, safe, secure and relaxed? That usually happens to us after just a week or two. If we know our neighborhood and how to get around, we’re good. We have figured out ways to get to know local folks pretty quickly and enjoy making new acquaintances. 

So does that mean we are “home?” I searched the internet for a good definition of home and found one at the website for Habitat for Humanity, a non-profit organization for which Judy and I have volunteered for many years. When first time homeowners are asked what a home means to them, the responses are wonderful. Here’s my favorite: 

    “I think that home is simply wherever you’re surrounded by people who         love you.”             - Mary Kate

The Organ Mountains

Ted. Many towns in the American West rest hard up against an iconic mountain range. In Las Cruces, that would be the Organs.

Las Cruces backed by the Organ Mountains

Lying 10 miles to the east of Las Cruces, this range is only about 12 miles long and the tallest peak is just 8,900 feet high. Yet, their distinctive pipe organ like appearance dominates the surrounding area. Much of the range was protected in 2014 as the Organ Mountains – Desert Peaks National Monument. 

The Organs run north to south and divide the Rio Grande Valley from the Tullarosa Basin. Most of the moisture in the area comes from the late summer monsoon, which rolls in from the east. Thus the eastern slope is a bit greener. This has been an unusual year with lots of fall rain so the modest little waterfalls, even on the western slope, are still flowing. 

We have enjoyed several hikes into these mountains and they will hold an outsized chunk of our memory of Las Cruces. I’ll share a few snapshots.

Judy with our buddy Jeff

Sunset over Tullarosa Basin

White Sands National Park

Ted. One morning, Judy and I drove 40 miles east of Las Cruces, over San Augustin Pass into Tularosa Basin to see the famous white sands. 

Most of the basin is controlled by the military. The national park is surrounded by Holloman Air Force Base and White Sands Missile Range. About 40% of the sand dunes were protected as a national monument in 1933, and those 228 square miles became a national park in 2019. 

Formed about 1,000 years ago, the dunes are not your typical silica sand. The intense white crystals are actually gypsum which is a soft mineral known to most of us as the main ingredient in plaster and sheetrock. Interestingly, we learned that the dunes are actually expanding.

 Entering the dune area one experiences something akin to snow blindness. Leaving our truck to walk a trail through the dunes did not get any easier on the eyes.

The road through the dunes

What we experienced was much like cross-country skiing; a world of white with a stark blue sky. We sometimes walked along the tops of dunes but occasionally dipped down into the valleys, which is where the plants and animals cling to life. Unfortunately, the only wildlife we saw on our visit was children sledding down the dunes.

We have visited Great Sand Dunes NP in Colorado and Erg Chebbi in Morocco. Those dunes are formed from normal sand which may explain why they are much taller - up to 750' tall versus 60' maximum in White Sands. Still, these white, white sands are unlike anything we have ever seen before and we were very happy that we took the opportunity.

Climbing a dune

Trail markers are important

Life finds a way!

Time to head south

Ted. Santa Fe lies 7,200 feet above sea level so the temperature drops noticeably when the sun goes down. Judy and I knew that by the middle of October it would get just a tad cool for us so we had made plans to spend the last three weeks of October about 300 miles south in the town of Las Cruces. 

Before we left the northern part of New Mexico we had a few more things to see. 

Entrance of Museum of Indian Arts & Culture

Courtyard of New Mexico Museum of Art

Segesser hide painting in NM History Museum

Don Pedro de Peralta, founder of Santa Fe

Santuario de Guadalupe

New Mexico state capitol

Aspen hillside

Santuario de Chimayo

Ruined church in Salinas Missions Nat'l Monument

Kiva wall painting Kuaua Pueblo

Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta

Texas Brown Tarantula

Las Cruces lies in the Rio Grande Valley, about 50 miles from where the states of New Mexico, Texas meet the country of Mexico. The elevation is 3,900 feet and the town is surrounded by the Chihuahuan Desert – the largest desert in North America. Sitting right along the old Camino Real Trail from Santa Fe to Mexico City, we knew there would be a lot more history to learn. We also looked forward to spotting more creatures on our hikes in the desert.

Big skies and Georgia O'Keeffe

Judy. In the early ‘70’s, I moved from Alabama to Denver, Colorado, to start graduate school. Coming from an area of the country that’s filled with trees, I was overwhelmed by the vastness of the sky. One could see for such long distances! By the time we moved to Arizona, I was completely comfortable with it, and when, some years later, we returned to the South, all the trees, which I loved as I grew up, gave me claustrophobia. 

Over the years I’ve learned to love both—to appreciate the beauty of the forests in the South and embrace the wideness of the sky in the West. Montana, which we love, is, of course, known as Big Sky Country, and most of the west follows suit.

Big Sky over White Sands National Park, New Mexico

And then we came to New Mexico. Wow. It’s also Big Sky Country, and the desert below just emphasizes it. 

Elsewhere the sky is the roof of the world; but here the earth was the floor of the sky. The landscape one longed for when one was far away, the thing all about one, the world one actually lived in was the sky—the sky!

 --Willa Cather, Death Comes for the Archbishop 

Willa Cather wrote about early days in Santa Fe, and the Bishop's love for the land and sky. Boy, that sentence nailed it. I guess Georgia O’Keeffe thought so, too, because so many of her desert paintings evoke that sense of the massive sky, with the earth as the floor. 

Her early works reflected her frustration with the art world. As we learned when we saw O’KEEFFE!, the one-woman show written and performed by my friend, Lucinda McDermott Piro, she felt her early training only tried to pigeonhole her. When she was teaching in Texas, she began experimenting with abstraction: 

“I had to create an equivalent for what I felt about what I was looking at, not merely copy it.” 

Her lover, then husband, photographer Alfred Stieglitz, seemed to agree, and encouraged her work. By 1929, she felt the need to come to New Mexico to work. 

Sky within sky

In the Art Museum of New Mexico, there’s a marvelous exhibit of paintings by artists when they lived in the East next to their paintings after coming to New Mexico. I find O’Keeffe’s to be quite telling. While my photo of her Lake George painting didn't come out, it was dark and hard to make out the lake and mountains. Arriving in New Mexico, she painted an adobe wall and window, with, of course, the sky above it:

Eventually, after Stieglitz’s death, she moved there. She bought a ranch, where she lived till she died, and collected bones and other “earth objects” which fed her imagination, as they connected with the sky. I guess she will always be “The New Mexico Artist” to me.

O'Keeffe at 90 on her Ghost Ranch

Flexible and Patient

Ted. The last time Judy and I were in New Mexico was in March of 2020. As you recall, that was a crazy time. Covid had just arrived in the US (though we were calling it Coronavirus). The world was in a panic and everything was shut down. We decided to cut that visit short when we were finally able to find a flight back to Atlanta. 

That was when the travel world became more complicated and Judy and I adopted a new mantra - “Flexible and patient.” 

We still use the phrase. Last Saturday, we got up at 3:30 am to watch the mass ascension of balloons at the 50th annual Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta. Hoping to see 640 hot air balloons rising into the air in one spot was going to be a highlight of our visit to New Mexico. Alas, after sitting in the cold with a steady drizzle for 2-1/2 hours, the event was cancelled. It doesn’t typically rain here in October but 2022 has proven to be an exceptional year. 

Were we disappointed? You bet! Did it ruin our trip? No way! We spent a great two days in town and still managed to see a lot of balloons. Jeff and I took a cool hike in the Ojito Wilderness Area while Judy explored the National Hispanic Cultural Center. 

You see, we have been through a lot of ups and downs over the past 2-1/2 years. Two trips to Europe were cancelled as was my father’s 90th birthday celebration. Our floatplane flight to Denali was cancelled three times. Commercial flights have been delayed and cancelled. Luggage has been lost. Christmas gatherings and reunions with friends and family have been postponed. I got Covid. 

It would have been easy to become angry or settle into a depression, so we had to make a choice. We now understand that the truly important relationships in our lives are strong enough to survive these challenges. As the scientist, Malcomb famously put it in Jurassic Park, “Life finds a way.” 

More often than not, when something was cancelled or postponed, it has caused us to ask ourselves, “What will this make possible?” If it weren’t for the pandemic closing most international borders, we would never have considered spending last April in Costa Rica, where we had an incredible time. 

So, as we loaded our soggy chairs into Raymond the truck at Balloon Fiesta Park on Saturday morning, Judy and I just looked at each other, smiled and said ; “Flexible and patient!”

Ojito Wilderness Area

La Cieneguilla Petroglyph Site

Ted. For at least 1,000 years, and probably much longer, a wide array of goods were traded between Mesoamerica and the area now know as the Southwestern US. When the Spaniards arrived, they continued to travel these well-known routes. One of which, connecting Mexico City with Santa Fe came to be called El Camino Real de Tierra Adentro (the Royal Road of The Interior Land). Following this ancient trail about 12 miles south of Santa Fe, one comes to some basalt cliffs in an area known as La Cieneguilla. Protected as BLM land (Bureau of Land Management), the rocks are covered with hundreds of petroglyphs dating back at least 800 years. 

Judy and I walked about a mile along the cliff base clambering over the boulders and studying the incredible array of figures drawn there. Birds are very common as are many depictions of Kokopelli, the legendary humpbacked flutist.

 

We only saw four other folks at the site, possibly because the trail is very rough and there was precious little shade. The effort was definitely worth it though, as this was by far the largest collection of pre-Columbian North American art that we had ever seen.

Santa Fe

Judy. For as long as they’ve been towns, St. Augustine, Florida, and Santa Fe, New Mexico, have vied for the title of “Oldest European City in the US.” Is the oldest church in Santa Fe or St. Augustine? What about the oldest house? The Spaniards settled both. Frankly, I don’t care. Both are charming in their own way, and completely different. But I have to say, I prefer Santa Fe. 

Santa Fe has a mystical air about it. Almost everyone I know has been here, and those who haven’t want to come. And one should. The deep red and green mountains surrounding it seem to wrap the city, and within a few miles on one side mesas, arroyos, and canyons dot the landscape, while on the other side, the mountains and ski area boast aspens and lodgepole pines. It’s inexplicable, the feeling one gets in the countryside here. 

Fall is coming to the mountains

The city itself has grown out since we were last here forty years ago, but the city fathers have made sure that the old part of the town has retained its charm. For blocks around the square, buildings are low and made of adobe-like materials or are in the “territorial style.” The Basilica of St. Francis (built by Archbishop Lamy in 1886) still overlooks Santa Fe, although Loretto Chapel (which he had built for the Sisters who came to teach) with its “miraculous staircase”, and the oldest church, San Miguel, originally built in 1610, are close by. 

Basilica of St. Francis

         

Loretto Chapel

"Miraculous" stairway in Loretto Chapel

San Miguel, originally built in 1610.  Original base and stairs can be seen.

The La Fonda Hotel blends right in. Privately owned, its history can be traced back 400 years, according to the website, but the present building was opened in 1922. It is filled with hundreds of pieces of art, many of which were recently added. 

Historic La Fonda

Tourists shop for Native American jewelry at Palace of the Govs.

 

The main square is full of tourists and artists. I think the Native Americans have sold their jewelry on the porch of the Palace of the Governors since the town was established. Art galleries and museums are everywhere, and music is ever present. 

Colorful wolf outside a gallery

Forty years ago Ted and I were here during the annual Music Festival. Wandering down a hall, we stopped by an open door to hear a lecture. When it was over, out walked the speaker. Aaron Copeland. Stravinsky conducted in the Basilica, and the Santa Fe Opera is known world-wide. Numerous artists have come to paint in the light and open air, most notably, I suppose, Georgia O’Keeffe. Yet somehow it feels homey and accepting. 

Green Plaza in the middle of the Old Town

Rich tourists fill the expensive clothing shops and turquoise jewelry stores, while we peons look in the windows. Honestly, though, I’ve never been treated rudely when I walked in any of them. On any given weekend, there are artists markets everywhere, and the Tuesday and Saturday markets at the Rail Yard are filled with fresh produce and artistic endeavors. 

Yes, there are the overpriced t-shirt shops. And, as much as I love turquoise, there’s just too much—too many squash blossom necklaces and wrist cuffs. Many shops just carry vintage jewelry, since the turquoise mines here have been cleaned out, leaving only chalky bits. I see Mexican clothing I purchased in Oaxaca at reasonable cost selling at outrageous prices here. Ristras, strings of red chili peppers, are everywhere, almost ad nauseum, and the unhoused are on streets and in parks. There seem to be hundreds of art galleries in the city and along Canyon Road, and after awhile, wonderful as they are, my eyes begin to cross. And, to be frank, the roads are wretched. Someone needs to do some serious repaving.

But this insanity and plethora of tourists somehow fade into the background when exploring art and history museums, or driving out of town to look at petroglyphs or cliff dwellings, or even just wandering the square to buy a coffee. 

Our patio

Our condo is two blocks from the main square. The complex almost resembles a pueblo, with apartments slammed up against each other, but with private patios and winding sidewalks. The bells of St. Francis are just far enough away to be pleasant. We walk to the Presbyterian Church for the TGIF classical concerts, and to the Episcopal Church of the Holy Faith for Sunday services. Good restaurants are close by, and the green chili salsa is killer in all of them. 

Our next-door neighbors, Patrick and James, are full of “must experience” places, although I think they assume we have more money than we do. Our old friend Jeff from Albuquerque comes up on the weekends and takes us to do more of the things we enjoy and can afford. Our Airbnb hosts, Amanda and Orlando, met us at the Homecoming football game at the New Mexico School for the Deaf, where Orlando works as an interpreter, so we find lots to do. 

Cheerleaders at NMSD do their stuff

It’s not perfect. It’s a tourist town and proud of it. But there is also art, and music. Standing on our patio and seeing the golden aspen pouring down the green mountains, or turning the opposite way and seeing the deep red of the desert is welcoming. And somewhat comforting.

Hills near the city

And I see why Georgia O’Keeffe stayed.