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Zoos and Aquariums Always Make Me Smile: Rural Road Trips
Few things beat a day at the zoo. Seriously. I love zoos. Animals and small children are too cute. The combination is irresistible. The Albuquerque combo ticket fee is a good value and includes the botanical garden, the zoo, and the aquarium. As a St. Louis girl I am used to the world class zoo being free, so bargain admission is great. (Free would be better.)
I love that zoos think about the health and well being of animals. I also hate it when you visit a zoo and all the animals are hiding in their enormous enclosures. The Albuquerque zoo had a nice balance. While we didn’t see all the animals, we got a good representation.
It is a relief to find the keepers working with the elephants for enrichment. The keepers give them a carrot for each lap they walk. The teenagers love the game. The oldest female isn’t having any of it. I can relate, walking a mile for a dry carrot doesn’t seem like a bargain worth making. You go girl, have a carrot strike, I will give up raw carrots in solidarity.
We actually opt to eat in town instead of having a dry, overpriced zoo cheeseburger. I am convinced there is a warehouse for zoo cafeterias where they package cardboard and label it as “food”. I have been in zoos all over the world and the food choices are never varied. The quality is never good and the prices are always high. But the profits help feed the animals so I usually eat my sawdust with a smile.
We have to drive across town to the aquarium. It is next to the botanical garden. For a small space, the aquarium is loaded with sea creatures. Otters nap and frolic in the sun. Jellyfish float in a mesmerizing ballet. Sharks circle overhead. It is easy to lose myself in the underwater world.
Because it is close to Halloween, the fish get enrichment toys of floating candles, pumpkins, and ghosts. The sea turtle is unimpressed. The eel seems relieved that he is already scary looking (no costume required).
We watch the diver clean the rocks while sharks swing by. Both the diver and the sharks seem unconcerned by the encounter. It is a lazy day in Atlantis. I love the relaxed vibe. I can’t help but smile. Zoos and aquariums have that effect.
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Albuquerque Botanical: Rural Road Trips
The Albuquerque Botanical Garden is an unexpected delight. The grounds are immaculate. It is a shady oasis in a desert landscape. As we walk among the trees by a large lake, I am refreshed. It is nice to visit the desert, but I am a hillbilly girl who loves the forest. This will have to do.
The desert gardens are impressive, but I struggle to truly appreciate cacti. They are intentionally uninviting. We walk around prickly plants without much lingering. I am heading for the trees.
Just beyond the succulents, we find a large farm garden. There are wagons and pumpkins and hay bales just like a Midwest farm festival. In the vineyard, a large t-Rex sculpture stalks its prey. It is just one of many whimsical elements in the gardens. I like quirky, so the place grows on you. I am at home in the farmland, dinosaurs and all.
The Japanese garden is large and tranquil. The manicured trees and waterfalls provide a sense of unhurried calm. Rocks serve as natural sculptures. I am pleased at the soothing natural surroundings.
I could write about the children’s garden and the giant vegetables. But as adults, we should not be overly charmed by the dragons and caves and other flights of fancy. I refrain from pushing small children out of the way. But my inner child is amused. In this garden, every new path is an adventure.
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Old Town Charm: Rural Road Trips
Sometimes a road warrior just needs a little down time. In old town Albuquerque, a quiet stroll and a leisurely meal fit the bill. The old section of town is a bit ragged around the edges. Shops have closed and the tourist traffic is light. But the streets and adobe buildings have a magic all their own.
A visit to San Felipe de Nero is absolutely on the agenda. Founded in 1706, it is one of the oldest buildings in town. It is lovely and peaceful. There is beautiful chapel, a small museum, and even a small Catholic store. The mission days don’t seem that distant from the interior of the compound.
The streets are quiet yet festive. I spend time wandering among shops. The squash blossom necklaces are thousands of dollars of crafted genius. And there are thousands of them to peruse. Sadly, they are out of my price range, but lovely to look at all the same.
I buy a peasant blouse and Christmas gifts while humming along to Mariachi music. The streets scream fiesta with colorful flags and autumn blooms. Shopping and dancing is a great way to spend the early evening.
At a restaurant called Casa del Sol, I indulged in a platter of Mexican tortillas, salsa, frijoles, and arroz. Delicious and just what I needed. I linger over my meal enjoying the atmosphere. Old town may not be the “it” destination, but it hasn’t lost its charm.
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Indian Oasis: Rural Road Trip
After a full day of driving, I was thrilled to pull off the highway to the Route 66 RV park on the Laguna Pueblo. Of course navigating two tight roundabouts in a large rv while towing a pick up truck was an unexpected surprise coming off the interstate exit. It was not a problem other than the turning process caused a gallon of distilled water to turn over and run all over the floor.
I cleaned up the mess while Glenn checked us into the rv park. Towels dry fast in the desert so it was only a mildly annoying distraction. Meanwhile, a girl on a gold cart zipped ahead of us to guide us to our site.
I loved this place. It was beautiful and immaculate. Sure it was barren, desert terrain. But the landscaping suited the environment. There were horses along the fence line and birds singing in the limited foliage.
The staff, all local members of the Kawaika tribe, were friendly and responsive. I can’t recall staying in a cleaner park. It was impressive.
After setting up our rig, we made our way over to a heated pool worthy of a luxury resort. While taking a long soak, we met a fellow traveler who swapped tales of the road. One of the best things about rv resorts is connecting with other campers and sharing stories and recommendations. A resort worker joined in as he checked the pool settings. I was interested in his tribe, as I was largely ignorant of the Kawaika. He was more than happy to tell me a bit about the Pueblo.
Our new native friend recommended that we visit the Casino next door (also run by the Pueblo) for dinner. It seemed a much better idea than cooking, so we took the advice. I had a lovely Salmon salad and my husband had the biggest calzone I have ever seen. He also won enough playing a slot machine to pay for dinner. This place just kept getting better.
Over the next two days we enjoyed the pickleball courts, the game room, and the grounds. Albuquerque was just a few miles down the road for daytime fun. The laundry facilities were adjacent to a large room with a free cappuccino machine, free soft drinks, lounge chairs and a big screen tv.
I could get used to this lifestyle, I think. No wonder several of the people we met say they come here annually. But all good things must come to an end. Tomorrow we must head back onto the open road. But tonight, we head back to the casino to try the world famous Laguna burger. If it is anything like the rest of our experience here at the Pueblo, we won’t be disappointed.
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Thor’d: Rural Road Trips
We bought a brand new Thor motor coach and I am thrilled with the lay out. No one tells you however about the problems that comes when you buy a new rig. So many moving parts that need to be tested and tightened.
Our first weekend, we noticed our WiFi booster wasn’t working. Then the technicians cut the power to the retractable bed and the oven while fixing the WiFi. We were Thor’d. After multiple trips for service, we finally got ready for our first cross country trip.
We made it almost to Oklahoma when the windshield wipers stopped working. Thor’d. We learned with the help of a friendly dealer how to tighten them in a rainstorm.
In Amarillo, we returned to the camper to find that the key entry into the rv wasn’t working. It looked like the metal plate that covered the latch had come loose and stuck inside. The key wouldn’t go in. The door is the only way in or out of the rv. It was late. No one would answer the phone. Thor’d and ignored.
We finally got a guy who came and was going to drill out the lock. Luckily when he popped the thin metal cover, we could still use the exposed lock. We now had a whole trip to make with a door we were unsure would open. Good times.
In Albuquerque, we got the rig settled and turned on the hot water. Despite usually having hot water quickly, none appeared. A quick check of our propane tank was surprising. We lost gallons of propane on the drive from Amarillo to Albuquerque. Leaking gas is not good. After performing a “soap test” to look for the propane leak, we found a faulty valve. Thor’d!
Thank God, a dealer in Albuquerque fixed the issue and got us back on the road. We met the nicest people who helped us along the way.
There was a loose shelf, and a dozen other small issues along the way. I can’t remember, even with all the RVs we have owned, having this many issues. But, I know when you own an rv, it is always something. I just don’t like having all the somethings at once. I am weary of being Thor’d.
The dealers we worked with were responsive. Thor customer service was friendly (except for their emergency assistance line….that guy was not helpful and a little rude). I had a little issue getting to the right person to get refunded for our repairs we had to pay for out of pocket while on the road away from our regular dealer. But the warranty works. Once we found the right customer service person, it went smoothly.
Let’s hope this camping season brings zero issues. Happy trails with no repairs is my new motto. I don’t like being Thor’d.
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Amarillo By Sunset: Rural Road Trips
Amarillo, Texas is usually a drive through city. We spend the night, eat a meal and head for points further down the interstate. This trip we decide to stay a few nights. We select Fort Amarillo RV resort solely for its location. The roads in Amarillo are confusing with one way corridors that run parallel to the interstate and side roads that lose lanes and veer apart with little warning. So we think this easy to navigate location with just two turns (also in close proximity to fuel) makes sense.
The resort staff are friendly and check in is easy. But the sites are very tight. By the time we park and get set up, I understand what a sardine must feel like. Still, it feels good to be out of the rv and not driving. Our picnic table pushed against the privacy fence seems like a fine place to rest. It doesn’t last long.
Like a caged bird, I long to fly. So I wander around the campground. I find pickleball courts, a gift shop, a laundry, a pool, and a small garden area. At least it is a garden of sorts. There is a small water feature, rocks, and cacti. Where even the cacti won’t grow there are metal plants.
Since we are in Texas, I also see a fiberglass horse, 100s of American flags, and 1000’s of Texas flags. Just in case we forget where we are, every truck seems to be labeled with a Texas logo. I muse about why this happens so often in Texas compared to other states. I am so deep in thought that I almost step on a snake. It is dead, so I don’t have a heart attack.
My husband joins me to sit by the water feature and unwind from the long drive. Birds hop in and out of trees, singing their even songs. The sky slowly turns from a bright blue to a soft pink. I hum “Amarillo by sunset”. I hope George Straight is okay with the adjustment. It seems somehow appropriate as the sun goes down in the panhandle.
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Birthday Special: Rural Road Trip
My mother in law (who is likely reading this) just had a birthday. This year she insisted on taking all of her children and spouses out for fried chicken. In her world (and mine) family is everything.
On her ninetieth birthday, all she wanted was a trip to a beautiful nearby state park with her children. But it was winter and she was battling cancer….again. So the trip was deferred until summer. Just months after successful surgery, we piled in the car and headed to the woods.
Our first stop was a pie shop where I have had a lovely lunch in the past. On this day we encountered a man who told us he didn’t have lunch available(even though it was clearly on the menu), only pie.
He answered the phone in the middle of our order and berated the caller while we stood awkwardly trying to figure out what to do. I decided to buy pie to go (my love for pie overcame my distaste of the owner’s surly demeanor). Surprisingly, the grouchy shop keeper gave the birthday girl a free slice of pie, so the stop wasn’t a total waste of time. The second stop at McDonald’s wasn’t the quality lunch I was hoping for, but their ice cream went pretty well with a slice of pie.
The roads in rural Missouri are often winding, hilly, and narrow. I grew up in this country so “roller coaster roads” are nothing new. They can be a bit jarring for those who aren’t used to them. After a few hours, arrival at Echo Bluff State Park was a relief. However, even the park roads are steep and winding.
The park is home to a herd of wild horses that roam the river banks. They greeted us along the road in a birthday surprise welcome. It was a rare treat, to see them so close to the road, especially in the middle of an afternoon.
Getting in to our cabin was an adventure. We had the top floors of a duplex condo. Navigating two long flights of stairs with suitcases and coolers of food in tow was a bit of a challenge. Nine people brought food and gear that took multiple trips up and down the stairs and the had to be distributed among three bedrooms and a small kitchen.
After a fun shuffle, three families landed upstairs and two down. We laughed because the only bathroom upstairs was inside our bedroom. A bed was on the landing outside our door, and we set up an airbed in the tiny square of unoccupied space near the stairs. I felt like I was participating in a middle school sleep over …in all the best ways. Shenanigans were definitely on the horizon.
After everyone settled, I packed a snackle box full of fruit and nuts and candy and we headed to sinking creek. Lawn chairs and floating chairs circled up in the cool clear water. At 90, my mother in law was introduced to the “Ozark afternoon”. A beautiful and lazy day of doing nothing but sitting in a river. It was lovely and relaxing.
Afterwards, I made Italian style pizza. The small kitchen turned into a pizza factory as I tossed dough and slathered olive oil and toppings on every available surface.
Relaxed and stuffed. We settled in for a cozy evening.
As an early riser, I got out for an early morning walk and managed to find the horses roaming along the riverbank near the cabin. They were beautiful and almost ghostly in the morning mist.
By the time I returned, the kitchen was buzzing with bacon and biscuits. In preparation for the trip, we bought thick slab bacon in a variety of flavors from Swiss meats (a mid Missouri treasure). I love it when my husband makes bacon breakfast. Hot biscuits make me smile.
Afterwards, the birthday girl wanted to visit Alley Spring. It is home to a grist mill, a mill pond with some of the greenest water you can imagine and a natural spring pumping thousands of gallons of water into the streams.
It was hot. So hot, that I really didn’t want to explore the 1800’s era mill (I have been here many times). So I left the group and took a brief hike around the mill pond. It is about a half mile loop. When I got back, my amazing mother in law had started the loop.
She wanted to hike on her birthday. At 90, she fought the heat, navigated the rocks, and enjoyed the beauty of nature. Her reward was standing in a swarm of butterflies attracted to the milkweed along the side of the trail. I will remember the power of the moment. Hundreds of beautiful butterflies. Purple flowers (purple is her favorite color). And a community of family holding hands as we navigated the rough terrain. What a powerful metaphor of the sweetness of life.
Life moments are not always convenient, Things don’t always happen at the time you wanted. Sometimes life seems unbearably hot or cold…or just generally uncomfortable. It can feel inconvenient to have to pack and plan; perhaps easier to avoid the effort. Sometime the path comes with hills and valleys and boulders. But with family, a little rest, good food, and laughter… life is magical….and in those rare moments it takes your breath away.
So as I sit here, thinking about a simple chicken dinner and family adventures in the Missouri woods…I am grateful. Thank you birthday girl for still making magic. 90’s look good on you.
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The Canyon Remembered: Rural Road Trip
We are standing in Palo Duro Canyon. A roadrunner follows us around the parking lot. He assumes an assertive stance on the red dirt hill just off the sidewalk and challenges us to follow along the trail to the river. Of course I tag along. He is cute and I love to hike. It is only logical choice.
As we were driving here, I couldn’t comprehend how there could be a canyon ahead. The land is completely flat on approach. Nothing in sight. We literally didn’t see the canyon until we pulled into the parking lot of the visitor center. It looked as if we were just going down a small ramp and then wow! The view opened up and we were standing on the edge of a massive gorge. Such is the magic of Palo Duro canyon system, second only to the Grand Canyon. It is big, hidden, and has a rich history that captures imaginations.
I am reminded of this fact by an 85 year old man we meet as he drives his rv through the gorge. He asks if I will take his picture because he travels the canyon alone. He says he loves Westerns. Since reading about the canyon in Lonesome Dove, he felt he needed to come for himself. His wife wouldn’t come, but he is taking her back jewelry. I suggest turquoise or silver. We chat for a while as fellow travelers do as we looked deep into the canyon.
I am glad we are in our truck and not the rv as we make the steep descent into the canyon. I can’t help but wonder how our friend is doing in his old rv. But now that we are parked, the road runner calls. The visitor center looks far, far away. Our friend is on his own and I am here to hike.
I watch for snakes as we walk the dirt trail toward the river. There are a variety of birds, but the scenery is not appealing. We drive on. All hikes are good, but not all are inspiring.
Not too far down the road is a park store. Souvenirs, hats, sunscreen, and life saving water are readily available. They also sell a great burger and ice cream. So we have a relaxing lunch, buy a gallon of water (because signs everywhere warn to have a gallon with you), and talk with other tourists.
I am determined to hike the lighthouse trail. The parking lot is filled with signs talking about dangerous conditions, snakes, heat stroke, and trail hazards. Not exactly a glowing welcome, but I suppose forewarning is a good thing. A quarter mile in and the signs tell us how many people die annually on the trail. We are warned emergency services may not be available. There is a first aid station visible at the far end of the parking lot. It is closed.
The trail is not rugged or scary in any way. It is a beautiful fall day in beautiful country. I see none of the hazards that we were warned of and none of the hazards I navigate on a forest hike. But it is late fall. The temperature is warm, not hot. Even so the sun beats down unrelentingly. There is little to no shade. In summer, it must be brutal. Today it is pleasantly warm.
I feel like I am in a movie as the canyon opens itself to us. There are not many other people on the trail and we walk alone for long stretches. I can’t help feel like I am ancient and moving through unspoiled earth. Each cave and crevice reminds me of the natives who made this home.
I think about the fact that for 10,000 years the canyon was inhabited by natives. In the 1870’s the U.S. military chased and killed the Indians who lived here as part of the “Indian Wars”. Within two years, wealthy men (cattle baron Charles Good Night and the infamous Black Jack Adair) had turned this land into a cattle ranch. Men who made fortunes upon the misfortunes others (in Ireland, England, and the U.S.), unsurprisingly made even more money by supplying the army (who helped them make this venture possible) with beef.
But the day is too beautiful to dwell on the deeds of ruthless men. Instead we walk on and enjoy the sunshine and the breeze. There is magic in the canyon. Texas did well to protect this land. And we are privileged to be in this moment drinking it in.
After our hike, we drive the remaining park road past rocks, streams, and canyon walls. The past seems close. Beauty and struggle. Heat that kills and also that gives life. Strangers who share food, hospitality and interests. Mistakes and malice cost lives. Signs point to some of the dangers past and present, much is unspoken. Mistakes and malice cost lives. T-shirts and mugs celebrate a culture destroyed. Mistakes and malice cost lives. It is a big, wonderful, beautiful, dangerous land. I’m glad we came. It is good to experience and remember.
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Iconic Texas: Rural Road Trips
Rolling down highway 40, our big rig pulls into Amarillo Texas in late afternoon. After miles of rough road and cross winds, the rv park is a welcome relief. We quickly set camp and take a walk around the park. Like most RV parks along the interstates, this on is tightly packed and full of people just passing through.
We sit by a small fountain in the park for a brief rest from the road and to check email. Five hours on the interstate is long enough, especially when we are towing. So sitting outside, even in this crowded park, is a welcome respite. But soon I am restless. I haven’t been feeling that well and I am still a little keyed up from the road.
I noticed that we are just a few miles from the Cadillac Ranch. We have driven by on other trips West, but have never stopped. I have never thought looking at spray painted cars that are stuck in the dirt was a great detour. But we have a few hours to kill and we need to go get dinner. Why not see what it is all about? I will likely never be any closer.
We park on the shoulder of what was probably the original stretch of Route 66. There is a small gate with a passable path. We walk down a dirt road and see a trailer selling spray paint and souvenirs. There is a steady stream of people walking to and from the cars in the distance and several in line making purchases. Must be big business if there is merch.
As we approach, a man hands me a can of spray paint and tells me to have fun. I look confused so he says with a smile, “I have two teenagers and they aren’t allowed to take it home.” I smile back (one knowing parent to another) and thank him for his thoughtfulness.
Armed with lime green paint, we spray away. First our initials make it onto a fender. Then we move on to messages written for photographic purposes. Then my husband writes a few secretly coded thoughts, and on it goes until we are out of paint.
The wind is unrelenting and the sun is setting. But we are laughing and taking selfies like a pair of unruly teenagers. I get the appeal suddenly. It is cathartic and fun to paint on cars. Who knew I would take up tagging as a retirement hobby? (Okay, this the first and likely last time). But you are never too old to try new things.
With the setting sun, we head to Amarillo’s famous landmark, the Big Texan. Along the way, we pass the 2nd amendment cowboy tipping his hat to the passersby. I wish I knew why Texans have to put the name of their state on virtually everything. It is not likely that we will forget we are in Texas. If it doesn’t say Texas, it likely has the Texas flag pasted on it.
The Big Texan Steakhouse is crawling with people. The sprawling complex has a restaurant, a gift shop, a candy shop, and any number of side rooms. We get a table in the main room where we can see the stage. For $99.00 you get the privilege of trying to eat a 64oz steak and all the fixings. After they seat you on the stage, they start a timer. If you can eat it all in one hour, your meal is free. If not you have had an experience.
A man is doing his best to win his free steak. Meanwhile a strolling Texas swing band is roaming the restaurant and filling the chaos with lovely music. I see a child get his meal served in a cowboy hat and think about the last time we were here. Our adult son was four. I smile as I remember his smiling face and how he wore that hat all over the southwest with a sheriff’s badge pinned to his shirt.
I am content. At least I think I am until the food comes, and suddenly I feel incredibly anxious. I can’t eat. I just want to be away from the crowds. This travel day is confusing. On the road, I can’t wait to stop. Parked at the rv, I want to go explore. I visit a tourist trap I don’t really want to visit, but with spray paint in hand I want to stay longer. I find a fun restaurant with live music which I normally love, and I can’t wait to leave.
Oh well, feelings come and go. My chauffeur and travel partner, thankfully is with me for the long haul and is used to my shenanigans. He calmly eats his steak and asks what I want to do next. After a day of iconic Texas, I am ready for a hot shower and then bed.
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Claremore At Last: Rural Road Trip Oklahoma
Our first day on the road in our new rv has come to an end, and I should be excited. But, it has been a stressful day as we were getting used to driving our “big rig”. We have lots of little issues that have cropped up in the rv (hopeful all minor and under warranty). There are a lot of parts to test out in a house on wheels. I understand this is normal, but I really don’t have the mental energy to deal with them tonight. I also am not feeling well.
So I try to enjoy the setting sun and make the best of it. We find a fun restaurant (the Main Street tavern) where I order a lovely plate of fish and chips. They are quite tasty, but I don’t have much of an appetite.
Full disclosure, I have high functioning anxiety. Normally I am simply a bundle of energy and manage it with a smile. Tonight I am depleted. So after my husband finishes his food, we don’t linger.
I ask to drive by the Will Rogers museum. I was there as a small child with my parents and grandparents. It is closed, but we are able to park and walk to the gravesite. I am overwhelmed with the memory of being here before. It looks the same, but weirdly smaller. Why are all things are somehow bigger in a child’s memory? As I reminisce, I can feel the love of my family and almost hear my grandparents’ laughter.
It has rained and the air is fresh and clean. This is the right place to be at the end of a long day. I take deep breathes to reset my nervous system and remind myself that I am a prisoner of hope. The feelings of anxiety are just surges of cortisol and adrenaline. I am more. I am loved. I am blessed. Besides, my handsome husband is waiting just down the sidewalk for me. I am content, despite my jagged nervous system.
Back at the rv, the birds are singing. We take a walk. Everything is working properly inside the rig. Through the kindness of strangers and the grace of God our minor first day mishaps are behind us. We find our recliners and log on to Netflix. I love our life of adventure…..even if new things are sometimes overwhelming.
Sometimes friends comment they could never travel because they would be too afraid. I hope they read this post. I think it is important to acknowledge that we all feel overwhelmed sometimes. We all can be uncomfortable when we are pushed outside our comfort zone. Occasionally we don’t feel well and we are irritable without knowing why. And sometimes our body responds in powerful ways to imagery threats.
Travel days are almost always anxiety inducing for me. I know that I will have reactions that increase in intensity based on the level of novelty and perceived control. Environments that are extremely new and different and/or environments where I feel like I don’t know what to do or have no ability to affect the outcome are sure fire anxiety time bombs. I refuse to be crippled by it. Don’t let that stop you either. Life is too short. Feel all the feels….and then get out there and live your dreams. I can assure, it is worth it.
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Prisoner of Hopes 