December 11-12
We checked into a Comfort Inn on Cerillos Road in Santa Fe on Sunday. We’ll take a break from the endless highway and stay till Wednesday morning.
The winds have slackened a bit. We get an occasional gust, but things have become less strenuous.
The strong winds of the previous few days are apparently very unusual. We asked our waitress at the Pow Wow Restaurant in Tucumcari about them. She said she had never seen anything like this before and called it “terrifying.”
The street signs in Amarillo were rattling so hard we expected them to tear loose and go flying.
This isn’t even supposed to be the windy season. That’s in March or April.
The winds are connected to the tornadoes that tore through the Midwest at about the same time. According to the National Weather Service, the storm system in the Rockies “ingested a couple” of other, smaller storms. That system ran into moisture in the Mississippi Valley, The resulting thunderstorms spawned the tornadoes.
At least, that’s what I understand them to say.
Some of the tornadoes crossed the route we had traveled a few days earlier. But we were in New Mexico, well away from the tornadoes by that time.
We stopped for gasoline shortly after we entered New Mexico. It was a Phillips 66 station, and since we are celebrating all things related to the Mother Road this trip, we had to stop there.
Gas prices are higher in New Mexico than they were even in New Jersey when we left.
I started pumping regular at somewhere around $3.70 a gallon. Then I saw that regular out here is rated at 86 octane. My car owner’s manual says the car needs at least 87.
I took a few gallons and then moved on.
The brought us to a place that seemed to be taking a page from Wall Drug’s playbook.
The Flying C Ranch gas station and arts and crafts store starts is at exit 234 in Encino, New Mexico. Its billboards start way far out, maybe 40 or 50 miles.
Every mile or two there is a Flying C billboard touting something at the store: fireworks, knives, man stuff, girl stuff, kid stuff, snake products, hats, boots. They become more frequent as you come closer to the exit.
That builds to a crescendo. There must be more than a dozen billboards. Lined up like Cadillacs at the ranch on both sides of I-40.
Even before I saw that, I was planning to go to the Flying C. By now, though, I was expecting a theme park, like Wall Drug.
I pulled up to a pump first. The gas prices were like those at the Phillips station. I had to opt for middle grade gasoline at $4.10 a gallon. It is rated at 88 octane. OK, that should make up for the 86 octane that I bought 20 miles back.
Flying C isn’t quite Wall Drug. No animatronic T. rex, no arcade full of Western lore, no kiddie rides, but it was still worth the stop. All the pocket knives are made in Red China. Indeed most of everything was made there, so it was off our shopping list.
There is a collection of knives hand-made by a local artisan. They are beautiful, but they are not something that I’d carry. They are the kinds of artifacts that collectors put into display cases.
I might be very upset if I forgot to take a $400 sheath knife off my belt at an airport and had to surrender it to the TSA.
Joanna bought a lap blanket made In Mexico. The colors are similar to one she has in her TV room.
Fireworks ran from the familiar small paper parcels of three-quarter inchers for a couple of bucks to a box taller than I am with an arsenal of ordinance for about one thousand dollars.
As I say, no dinosaurs, but off in one corner is the star of the show, a full-grown stuffed bull buffalo, maybe preserved by Anthony Perkins at the Bates Motel. A sign says you can give it a home for $19,999.99.
We came to the Comfort Inn on Cerrillos Road around three in the afternoon. Much of the way had been through gentle hills dotted with junipers.
As we came north toward Santa Fe, there were snow-capped mountains on the horizon.
We went to an Italian restaurant called Rustica for dinner. It’s practically across the street, but location is not why we went. The menu included bucatini all’ Amatriciana, made with guanciale That’s the bacon made from pig cheek, and it’s made that way in Rome, where I first ate it.
The only other place in the States where I’ve found it so far is Woodstack, a pizza bar in Pine Brook, New Jersey.
The Amatriciana is a spicy dish, laced with red pepper flakes. So Joanna opted for cavatelli with sausage and broccolini.
I downed my fiery pasta dish with something new to me, and apparently to the restaurant, Frescobaldi Remole Rosso. It was Tuscan and had much of the flavor of Chianti, but less of a tannic bite.
I followed that with a Banfi Chianti, Also good but very sharp by contrast with the Frescobaldi.
Sunday was busy, and in a great way.
We had a 10:30 brunch date with Jack and Sunny at their house in a development built on land leased from the Cochiti Reservation. Or at least, I think that’s what Jack once told me some time ago.
The table was beautiful. There was a casserole made with vegetables and eggs; sausage links; red, green, and orange fruit like Mexican tiles, and a champagne-style sparkling wine made by a local vintner, Gruet
I sipped the champagne with brunch, but started with a Bloody Mary. My last one of those was in New Orleans seven years ago. Very nice.
We talked about many things, including the weather, because it was so out of the ordinary. Sunny said she was out in it and the flying grit actually broke her skin. She didn’t know it until a friend asked what had happened to her.
Now that the wind has died down, the weather is bright in the mid-30s. Jack said that’s a typical winter day for the area.
Somehow we veered off into rattlesnake stories. Like the baby rattler that Sunny found one day under the dining room table.
It’s 25 or 30 miles to downtown Santa Fe from their house, and the country is mostly undeveloped in between. Big cats have been seen in the area. Also a bear, which was hanging around for a while. Hikers, it turns out, were feeding the bear.
We got to talking about why I always wear a jacket, with a vest if weather permits. It’s for the pockets. As a homeless person, I have to carry my day’s essentials with me.
I used to use a book bag, when I rode the train to the office.
Now I travel lighter: cash wallet, notebook wallet, a couple of handkerchiefs, passport, car keys, door keys, loose change, money clip, pocket watch, switchblade. Everything needs a place.
So Jack and Sunny gave me a photographer’s jacket designed to carry all kinds of cargo securely. I’ll be switching to that in a few days.
We met Karl and Jeanie at their house in town later in the afternoon. They used to live next door to my old house.
They had been talking for a while—maybe a year or two—about making a move once their son and daughter had both finished high school.
Karl told me how they settled on Santa Fe. They had read about the climate and other attractions.
Karl phoned an acquaintance and asked him about any unpleasant sides of living there. Nothing came to mind right away. He said would think about it.
A short while later, he called back. One of the downsides: No world-class Chinese food.
They asked about how we are managing the trip. We said we’re not booking far in advance because it gives us more flexibility.
It’s how we avoided two nights in Amarillo, and stayed in Shamrock and Tucumcari instead.
Karl said he understood that one. During the transition from New Jersey, he had crossed the country on the ground a few times. He stayed in Amarillo on one of those trips—but only once, during a trip between Santa Fe and New Jersey. He agreed it wasn’t the best place to stay.
We met at Karl and Jeanie’s house and then followed them to a restaurant called Pranzo, which they knew by reputation.
Another very good Italian kitchen. Joanna had linguine with clam sauce. I had a pizza. As a rule, I don’t usually eat pizza outside the New York-Philadelphia corridor. This was worth breaking the rule.
We followed them back to St. Francis Blvd., which connects with Cerrillos Road.
I’m writing right now on the 16th. Yesterday and today have been easy-going and not too adventurous. I’ll recap them in the next installment. This one has gone on long enough.
Be well, everyone, and don’t take any bull, especially stuffed ones. They cost too damned much.
Love,
Harry and Joanna
No comments:
Post a Comment