NM Signs
I’ve already had one run-in with the NM State road police [\\c.f.\\, Cloudcroft> this year. I didn’t want another, but I kept passing these huge piles of road construction [paving> material. With a {{popup nmsignage.jpg}}curious note stuck in each one. So the question is, besides myself, crawling up to get a good picture, who would want to disturb these piles of dirt?
Music of the road
I had been dreadfully worried that I was going to repeat my mistake from previous cross-country sojourns by not having enough canned music for my road trip. Late nights in Austin, I spent some time collating, and trying to put together tracks for the trek. Imagine some YES, backed to back with ELP, then topped off with Chemical Brothers live [Muisc: Response>. Sort of strange as it’s tunes that are separated by close to three decades.
I slipped that one CD in, as I turned off the Interstate in NE NM, just south of the Raton Pass, still skirting the edge of the {{popup elkcross1.jpg elkcross1}}mountains, with the dusk light flowing down over the mountains, giving a light blue and purple tint to the mountains behind me.
I try to live my life so I have no regrets. I did have one, just east of some little town out there, I saw some sort of a walker, making time – on foot – grey hair, ponytail, stout walking shoes, a pair of trekking poles, a small backpack, and that guy was making serious time. In the middle of nowhere, along the edge of the highway. I should’ve stopped and chatted with him. But at that point, I was headed east, south, some direction, and I wasn’t sure my noisome interruption would’ve been welcome. But I was curious, and in my mind, I made up stories. I figured he was one of the world famous backpacker guys, and he was doing some sort of a cross-country trek. I don’t know, maybe something will show up in the news later.
It was much farther down that road, I just figured I was at the edge of the prairies, the beginning of the Great Plains, when the highway dropped out from underneath me. The highway dropped into a canyon, a ravine, a gully, a wash – an arroyo. A big one. I’m not sure, but it felt like it dropped a hefty amount of elevation, maybe a 800-1,000 feet? Steep grade, dangerous curves, the late summer’s evening light wan and the growing dusk scattering purple edges to the rocks.
When I finally came out the other end of the canyon, I realized I had been in the majesty, myth, and magic of “the staked plains” the “Llano Estacado” [or whatever it’s called>.
I pulled over again, the dirt by the side of the road was ocher, red, purple, even faintly blue in places, or teal. The alternating musical tracks were perfect. A full moon was shrouded by a smattering of cloud cover but glowing brightly, right over the road I was supposed to follow.
