The trip from Des Moines to Las Cruces involved multiple stops to buy gas...but I'll get to that. We pulled Bigfoot out of Des Moines on October 18 at 11:30 am, much later than we had anticipated, but we managed to leave the condo spotless without a single dirty dish, wet towel, or dust bunny to be found. Cray hurt her left knee loading the camper the day before and winced with every step. She was quiet. Ruby was under our feet as we gathered up our final belongings, probably fearing she would get left behind. Once we got on the road Ruby immediately relaxed in the back seat, her harness attached to a short leash, and buckled in for safety. As I looking around the condo for one final inspection, the clock flashed 11:11. I instantly felt reassured. The Universe was saying, "We got you."
The camper gently swayed behind us. Pulling Bigfoot required us to equip our new Ford Ranger with a towing package, sway bars, and a back-up camera. Cray is the designated driver, but we both know I need to get behind the wheel at some point. Surely, if my 84 year old mother can drive a truck and trailer, I can do it, right? The gas light came on near Walnut, Iowa. We silently panicked - gas already? The gas light flashed 35 miles to empty. This would quickly become the central theme of our road trip. Cray being Cray had filled up a two gallon gas can and strapped it in the truck bed. This gas would save our butts in New Mexico where gas stations are far and in between. We rolled into Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, the last town and gas station before Las Cruces, running on Cray's two gallons of gas with little to spare!
We crossed the Iowa/Nebraska border at 1:30 pm. Sunny, skies, but oh so windy! I had joked with friends about sleeping in a WalMart parking lot, and that's exactly what we ended up doing in Lexington, Nebraska. Our camp spot was free, flat, and located between between a cornfield and the interstate, with security cameras pointed at us for extra peace of mind. Sleeping was fitful. Between the persistent interstate traffic noise and the hum of the semi's parked nearby, sleep eluded us. As I was attempting to shut off my head, Cray asked if I thought our new mattress was too firm. Well, I hadn't thought about it at all until she asked me and then I couldn't STOP thinking about it! Suddenly, all I could feel was the pressure of the mattress on my right hip. Cray told me to move around a little and it would feel softer to which I replied, "I can't move around! The bed is too small and I am crammed up against the front of the camper with Ruby weighing down the blankets at my feet - I'm in a coffin!" This made us laugh and laugh, once again reminding me that Cray and I are really good together.
The worst part of sleeping in the camper is having to pee at night. I try and ignore the urge, because in order to get to the bathroom, I have to crawl over Cray and Ruby. If I scoot my bottom on the bed, I pull all the covers off Cray and my pants pull down. This is when my yoga training comes in handy. In order to get out of bed I have to twist my body into a high plank, lift over Cray, and carefully flow to the floor from the bed, which is elevated on a high platform with cupboards for a ceiling (thus the coffin reference), or I have to ask Cray to get up and let me out. Either way it's a pain.
The "sunrise over the corn" photo above was from our first morning traveling through Nebraska. We continued pulling Bigfoot on interstate 80 until we hit a highway that lead us south to Kansas. This highway was a two lane road through the bottom of the middle-of-nowhere-land Nebraska to the Kansas border. We passed miles of newly harvested fields of corn that glistened in the sun like illuminated blankets of gold. The weary gray road immediately turned black with freshly painted lines when we crossed into Kansas. We set our GPS for Colorado Springs, Colorado. Our plan was to drive across the Colorado mountain foothills to New Mexico. About this time, I realized that everything on my lap ends up under my butt. My ink pen. My cell phone. My toothpick. My kleenex. My pack of gum. It's a good thing I wasn't holding Ruby.
We turned in Colby, Kansas onto Interstate 70 heading west towards Colorado. When my cell phone switched to mountain time I said, "We aren't in Kansas anymore!" Of course we needed gas, so we drove into Burlington, Colorado and were greeted by a dismal 1960's trailer park and boarded-up businesses. Burlington was the kind of town you wanted to keep on driving through. The speed limit was 75 on the interstate. We flew into Stratton, Colorado for a rest and to eat lunch next to a small RV Park surrounded by a gas station, motel, laundry mat, and a diner across the street called "Handi's." I walked Ruby around the RV Park and a little hairy weiner dog ran over to greet us. His owner was close behind and apologized for his dog being loose. The dog's name was Moose. Moose on the Loose sounded like the title of a children's novel I should write. The man said he was camping there because it was cheap and all the big RV Parks were full. He had a Wounded Warrior hat on and I thanked him for his service. He told me the man camping next to him was a retired US Marshall. I was grateful I wasn't running from the law.
When we talked about traveling south, we made an agreement not to drive when we were too hungry, tired, or in the dark. I was in charge of finding us a campground for the night. Not a parking lot this time. We needed a place to dump the black and gray water tanks and fill up with fresh water. The first place I called was full, but the nice man recommended a newer RV Park that usually had openings. This RV Park was farther than we really wanted to travel that day, but we pushed on. I forgot to mention a monumental event that occurred shortly after we arrived in Colorado. Our first tumbleweed rolled across the road in front of us. We shouted in unison, "It's a tumbleweed!" We're such dorks.
Colorado is the land of cowboy hats, cowboy boots, and big trucks. It made me think of my dad. We passed by Colorado Springs and headed south on Interstate 25 past Pueblo. Gears RV Park was located on an exit just before Trinidad. We turned off on exit 30 (between Walsenburg and Trinidad). I mean right off the exit. The RV Park(ing lot) towered next to the interstate at the foot of the Spanish Mountains. The RV sites were separated by rows of large hazardous rocks. Cray managed not to scrape the truck or trailer on them. Ruby and I walked to the office/cafe to pay the owner the $27.50 plus tax for the night. Some locals arrived when we did and ask if they were serving onion rings tonight and the woman behind the counter answered you bet we are! The man seemed extremely happy about onion rings. They sounded good, but we ate dinner in the camper. The best part of the evening was watching the sun go down across the interstate, which was land as far as you could see with nothing but bushes and rocks. The horizon was endless, with glowing lines of orange, yellow, and red. It would not be the last time I'd marvel at the sunsets and sunrises on this trip. The RV Park was much quieter and we both slept well. In the morning it was 36 degrees and we were thankful the camper had a heater! Even Ruby was curled up at my feet in a tight little ball.
By 7:45 am we were crossing the border into New Mexico. Here is where I have to be honest. I am a plains girl. Roads up and down mountains freak me out, especially curvy ones with signs that say watch out for fallen rocks. Mountain passes may freak me out, but not Cray. She is flying (that's how it felt anyway) around corners and passing trucks. I just closed my eyes or I looked out the window and tried to focus on how colorful the turning trees were. The mountain pass spilled us into that place where the yellow plains meet the mountains and it was breathtaking. Cray said, "Little dog if I threw you out there we couldn't see you because you match the surroundings." I saw an exit for Eagles Nest, Red River, and Angel Fire. New Mexico already had me intrigued.
The lonely road stretched out before us. We saw small herds of antelope. A lone fox traveling in the median. Sheep. Cattle. Dozens of abandoned houses and ranches with collapsed roofs, graffiti covered walls, and broken down wooden rail fences. I tried to imagine being in a wagon train on this path known as the Santa Fe trail. No rivers or bodies of water in sight. Just miles and miles of land stretching out as far as the eye could see. We gassed up in Las Vegas and arrived in Santa Fe before 11:00 am where we met up with a friend for lunch. Chas and her wife, Missy, just purchased a very private Santa Fe acreage. Missy had recently returned to Iowa to settle their Iowa estate and Chas stayed in Santa Fe to unpack boxes and care for their fur family; four corgis and one pug. I think Chas was as happy to see as as we were to see her! Lunch was delicious and Chas gave us a tour of their new place, which I have affectionately just named, "Casa de Muchos Perritos." Their new casa was beyond amazing and we are very happy for them. We plan to see them both before returning to Iowa next year.
We had been warned about the traffic around Albuquerque and planned to arrive there before three. We breezed right through town and continued south to Las Cruces. The GPS said we would arrive by 5 pm. I already told you about almost running out of gas before Truth and Consequences. That was cutting it way too close for my comfort. A white truck passed us with the words Vermeersouthwest.com written on the side and I thought to myself that the Universe is letting me know that no matter where I roam...I'm never far from home. Bonnie was waiting in the street and waving at us when we turned down her street. Cray backed Bigfoot into half of Bonnie's driveway, we unhitched the truck, unloaded our things, and started the next leg of our Big Adventure. Ruby was glad to get out of the truck.
Stay tuned for more posts!
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