MONUMENT VALLEY TO LAS CRUCES

The next couple of days were somewhat haphazard. I goofed off and moseyed through the desert without any real direction or concrete plan. I wandered through the forests of eastern Arizona for awhile courtesy of a couple of motorcyclists who said it had been a pretty ride. I had decided to take that route based solely on their unsolicited recommendation. Alpine, Arizona--a quaint town nestled in the mountain air was a real departure from my mental image of that part of the world. In my past journeys through Arizona, I'd only seen it's desert face. I was pleasantly surprised to see this cool, green environment. The experience was not without a price however; it was a seemingly endless journey on mountain switchbacks. 25 to 30 miles an hour was the norm, and the miles crept by slowly. I stayed in some out-of-the-way campgrounds in the mountains for a couple of days; taking my time and generally goofing off. It amazed me how deserted some parts of this country are. Maybe it was because I was traveling in the "off" season, but there were just no human beings around for disturbingly long periods of time. I got lonely out there.

I continued south, through more high mountains, plains, valleys, and forests. That world ended abruptly, and I literally rounded a corner and came upon this hurking huge copper mine in Morenci, Arizona. (I've never known it's origin, but "hurking" was a word a friend of mine used when she didn't want to use the "F" word. I've always felt it was a wonderfully appropriate substitute.) There's all these huge pipes running down the side of the road (they use a lot of water for something there). I looked out over the operation from a vista point, and was blown away by the sheer magnitude of the mining operation. It was enormous! There's a whole bunch of copper being dug up there. I'd heard once that $140,000 worth of pennies are lost every day; discarded from the American economy. I guess the folks at this mine have a big job to do trying to make up for that.

After roaming in and around the Continental Divide, I ended up getting squirted out into the rolling farmlands of western New Mexico. There were areas that were quite beautiful, and weren't what I expected to see. I don’t think the residents were used to strange looking guys from Washington stopping in for a burger and a soda pop at the local Diner though. No one seemed particularly interested in conversation; at least not with this out-of-town boy. I quit trying after awhile, and just made a point of being polite, tipping well, and getting out of town as quickly as possible.

I marveled at the timeless nature of their existence; those easy-going, peaceful dwellers in random towns. I envied their lifestyle, and coveted their days. There were benches in front of the local drug stores unchanged since "Dubya-dubya-two". The oldsters occupying said benches were exactly where they were meant to be, doing exactly what they were meant to do. I'd watch them from my temporary post courtesy of the town stoplight; there usually were two or three, four at the most. They were weathered shapes; talking, laughing, and gesturing to each other in slow, octogenarian hand motions. They were silent beings from my vantage point in the growling Jeep, but I knew what they were saying. Not an exact transcript, but I could sense the nature of their words, the intent of their thoughts. I couldn't help but think that these settlements were fundamentally good, right, and just.

Every town, every home--every human life has its drama, its tales, and its soap operas. I'm sure that's true for every person in every speed zone I ventured through. I have no appetite to ponder those things. I wish to preserve the images of these people as they sat perched innocently in those little pieces of American Pie. That's the dessert I wish to savor.

I spent some more time on mountain switchbacks in the Gila National Forest. Much like the mountains of Arizona, my long-held geographical stereotypes regarding that part of the world were laid to rest in the cool mountain air and rich, green forest. It was quiet, peaceful, and lacked any sign of the human race except for the highway, an occasional sign, and the rare dirt road branching off into oblivion. I liked it there.

Descending out of the mountains into the hot New Mexico desert, I rejoined the real world. Merging onto the Interstate, I matched speed with the other traffic rocketing southbound. I came to the conclusion that 75 mph in a Jeep with the top down isn't the greatest thrill in the world. I remember cruising highways on a motorcycle as a kid, but the buffeting nature of the wind wasn't nearly as bad then. I think it has something to do with the vortices spinning off of the windshield and roll bars. Whatever it was, it felt like I was driving in a hurricane. A pretty healthy crosswind blowing right-to-left along the way didn't help. I ate a bug the size of a Buick that flew into my mouth during a poorly timed yawn. I just did't need another protein source that bad.

The internal combustion induced windstorm did have a positive side however; many days of road grime were magically swept away, and I could actually see the floorboards again. I knew it was there, it just had disappeared under a rainbow of multicolored sand and dust from a bunch of western states. On the negative side, I found out that changing CD's with the top down can be a bummer. I punched the eject button on the CD player and grabbed the disk as it spit out of the machine. A 75 mph gust caught the disk, and it sailed out of my hand like a little silver Frisbee. It disappeared in an instant out and back over the highway. I had this image of that thing sailing through the air and decapitating an unsuspecting motorcyclist, much like that guy "Odd Job" did with his hat in the old "James Bond" movies.

I ended up in Las Cruces in the early evening and headed to Aguirre Springs campground. Unfortunately, the wind was blowing about 40 mph, and the campground was locked up. I didn’t really mind though. The thought of wrestling with a backpack tent in those winds didn’t thrill me, so I spent the night at some motel on the outskirts of town. It had an indoor pool, so I used it as a bathtub. I had a pretty good layer of grime on me by then, and I probably left a visible oil slick as I slipped into the cool water. I'll bet they're still trying to get the pool filters scrubbed out.

Feeling worlds cleaner, I set out to sample southern New Mexico cuisine. For some reason, I was directionally challenged in that town. I drove around in circles for a very long time, getting more annoyed--and hungrier--by the minute. Before long I was looking for some place; any place serving food. After what seemed like hours, I spotted signs of fast food; the pole-mounted neon sign that--regardless of the logo--draws the eyes and calls out to a western palate. Peacocks attract their mates with brightly colored feathers. The animal kingdom abounds with countless examples of colorful advertising displays. It's such a universal thing, the "color for survival" ploy. My primordial instincts latched onto the brightly lit beacon and like the proverbial moth to a flame,  I made a bee-line toward the glowing fast food advertising tractor beam.

Las Cruces seemed to be where the "Whataburger" fast food joints started popping up. "OK, I'll bite" I thought as I coasted up to the drive thru. It's pretty much of a...well...burger place. Unlike some other purveyors of the mass-produced meal, one does not "Super-size" things here. One "Whata-sizes" them. I couldn't bring myself to say the "Whata-size" part, so I stammered out something like "I'll have the large option, please". Apparently I'm not the only one who's stumbled with this; the gal at the microphone knew exactly what I was talking about.

Loaded up with a bag full of carbohydrates, I set out to return to my lair and devour the spoils of my evening hunt. As I pulled out of the Whataburger drive thru, I looked to my right. About 200 feet away was the sliding glass door of my motel room. I was right back where I'd started that evening. "Oh man" I thought; like I hadn't been driving around aimlessly enough these last few days...

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