Looking Out

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Highway 70 in Eastern Arizona

Back in early April, on our way to witness the total eclipse in Texas, we stopped for an overnight at the Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona. Looking out on the travel horizon that night, I requested our next dates to stay at the Simpson Hotel. I felt that sandwiching a weekend stay between our visit to Santa Fe and our trip to the East Coast and Canada would be a great idea. Well, here we are on that 222-mile (358-kilometer) drive toward the New Mexican state line for another couple of days with Deborah and Clayton, the proprietors of the Simpson.

Highway 70 in Eastern Arizona

Prior to leaving Phoenix, we felt a hint of reluctance to travel again so soon due to the intensity of our June and July adventures that brought us to Nevada, California, Oregon, and New Mexico. Now, with the impending long haul of our next major vacation, maybe we are squeezing too much into the small space between our journies, but having made the reservation, we were going to honor it. Plus, we wouldn’t be able to visit again before October after I’m done blogging about our September trip to the East Coast and Canada. Not only that, the draw of monsoons being more active to the east and the prospect of cooler nights and mornings were tugging at our curiosity.

Highway 70 in Eastern Arizona

With heavy clouds ahead, I stopped for a photo of the drama developing in the sky, and good thing I stopped where I did. Not five minutes later, we were in a heavy deluge that was pouring so hard, with visibility reduced to less than 125 feet, that I felt it necessary to pull over a couple of times, allowing those with no regard for the intense conditions to speed by. Fifteen minutes later, we were on the other side of the storm and pulling up to Taylor Freeze for a chocolate malted. For those who don’t know, a malted is a milkshake prepared with malt powder, typically made with malted barley and evaporated whole milk powder; it adds another element of yummy. About an hour later, the incredibly familiar town of Duncan welcomed us back with a parade and the kind of fanfare previously only shown during those heady days when Prince Charles and his wife, Princess Diana, visited. I don’t really need to tell you that this last bit was a flight of fancy, do I?

Looking Up

JWise Photo of the Day, Thoughts

Looking at the ceiling

Things start when I look down at my keyboard and accept that today is one more day of pause in the routine of writing. After more than six intense months of daily work playing the scribe, I felt that a break was in order, and that’s what I’ve been exercising. The problem with this is that nothing happens here on the blog; it’s as though I’ve ceased to exist. So, to assure my future self that I was, in fact, alive during the silence, I just looked up to see the sun and sky, but confronted with ceiling and lamps, I figured that now was a good time to pen an update. It wasn’t that the view spoke to me. Actually, it was an accidental button press on my phone that turned on my camera’s selfie mode, and I thought that the image looked appealing. Well, that was enough to start the process of searching for something or other to say in order that the photo would find its way into a blog post.

Now, here it is, and with little narrative worthy of sharing, but aware that I’m trying to coerce a few brain cells to act performantly so as to not appear uninspired, I sit here ruminating under the ceiling with a mind trying to see a brief update. Sure, there are travel plans, with the closest jaunt away from home beginning tomorrow afternoon, as a matter of fact. Then there are the amazing tutorials that have been walking me through the details of an interface connecting my DAW (Digital Audio Workstation) called Bitwig (where I record music from my synthesizer) with TouchDesigner (a node-based visual programming tool for creating complex generative art and data visualization), allowing for audio-reactive programming where I could channel visual events from my synth. With the help of generative AI-based image creation as found in Adobe’s Illustrator, Runway AI video generation, and Stable Diffusion using ComfyUI and the rapidly growing world of Diffusion Models, we are at the cusp of being able to create visual materials linguistically instead of by hand freeing us to create audio/visual symphonies as individuals.

Of course, my progress with any of that will continue to be interrupted by my self-imposed obligation to the task of writing a novel, upcoming travels, and the general requirements of sharing a life with a great friend. The point is things are looking up, and with new distractions that require mind-melting noodling of the aging organ in my cranium, I’m able to witness these new infinities playing on the horizon. More often than not, I listen to people trapped under the low-hanging ceiling of their own makings as they accept the conventions of habit, but every so often, I decide to engage with someone who seems to be emanating something akin to the wonder found in children at play and not only do they brighten my day, I appear to have left them with a spark of inspiration that fuels my desire to learn, even further.

Just Go Home

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Tia Sophia Restaurant in Santa Fe, New Mexico

It’s been an intense six weeks, traveling to Oregon for a month, coming home for 72 hours, leaving for Santa Fe, plus the activity around those adventures required to make them happen. Now we need to go home. Enthusiasm a few days ago had big ideas for how Sunday would play out, but in the face of a reality where not quite exhaustion but a certain tiredness is swirling about, those plans, whatever they were, are being put to the side because we just want to get home and hibernate in the nest. But we’re not yet so old that we’d capitulate to the demands of sleep, so with some finessing the story, we’ll try to appear to have been busy, even though our return trip will be a pretty direct shot back to Phoenix.

Zozobra at Tia Sophia Restaurant in Santa Fe, New Mexico

In Santa Fe, we don’t only eat at the Pantry; we also try getting a meal in at Tia Sophia’s, preferably on a Sunday morning before the tourists descend into the Santa Fe Plaza and while the Monday-through-Friday crowd is sleeping in. And though we showed up early, we’d still be about a dozen behind others who lined up while we went for a short walk. In a second, we knew what we wanted: Caroline opted for the Huevos Rancheros with green chile for $12.50, and I ordered the Cheese Enchiladas with two fried eggs served Christmas style (red and green), also for $12.50, though there was an upcharge for the eggs. I’m noting these prices because Caroline recently commented on how nice it was that we used to include the cost of gas or motels in blog entries frequently and that she likes being able to compare between then and now. Regarding the wall art menus painted by younger customers, this is the Zozobra, a representation of worries and gloom. Once a year (this year is the 100th anniversary), a 50-foot tall (15-meter) effigy is burned to great fanfare. We were supposed to be on hand for this momentous event this year, but it turns out that we’ll be on vacation far from Santa Fe, New Mexico, at that time.

Santa Fe, New Mexico

The historic core of this city would surely benefit from being a pedestrian-only zone. I know it helps with our ability to take photos when the streets are still mostly empty of the hundreds of parked cars that will spoil the view later in the day.

Santa Fe, New Mexico

We are across the street and around the corner from the famous Inn of Five Graces that Caroline and I will never stay at. Not that we wouldn’t like to, but at over $1300 a night (€1,200), unless we visit in the late fall or winter when we can book a cheap room for only $875 a night, we won’t be affording a weekend here any time soon. I do wonder what it would be like to not care about the expense and book a week in one of the upgraded suites, drop $15,000 for the experience, and just hang out in the vibe to write and have no concerns about the worries that plague the frugal and poor.

San Miguel Church in Santa Fe, New Mexico

This is the San Miguel Mission, said to be the oldest church in the United States dating to between 1610-1626. This was our hoped-for destination had we been able to arrive earlier in Santa Fe on Thursday. Someday we’ll poke our heads through the doors and see the inside for ourselves.

Santa Fe, New Mexico

There’s something to be said about the visual acuity of eyes that tease out details from the shadows that our cameras perform rather poorly. I could use my phone for some horrid HDR attempts at lighting this, and at times, it does okay when viewed on my phone, but past that, they don’t survive the quality test over the long run. I could shoot HDR using my DSLR, but I’m not serious enough about this craft to travel with my tripod, so I’ll accept the poorly lit shadows while reserving the right to find yet one more thing to whine about.

Laguna Burger at 66 Pit Stop in Laguna, New Mexico

What I don’t need to lament is the allegedly awesome green chile burgers found at a gas station in Laguna, New Mexico, because the reviews are correct: they are awesome indeed. No factory-formed patties or lean meat here, just a cooked-to-order massive half-pound burger with a good portion of green chiles thrown on top, though next time, I’ll probably ask for double chile. Their milkshakes are also in a league of quality that should draw people in. Sadly, we skipped their fries because even splitting the burger was difficult, considering we’d just eaten breakfast a couple of hours earlier, all the more reason to stop in again. The hole-in-the-wall joint is found at the Route 66 Pit Stop at Laguna Pueblo.

Old Trading Posts in Lupton, Arizona

There might be five people still living here in Lupton, Arizona, on the border with New Mexico, but likely not more than that. This is nearly a ghost town here in 2024, but decades ago, in the heyday of American travel, these outposts in the middle of nowhere were magical places where many people had their first encounters with the exotic world of Native Americans and the Old West. Back then, a road trip truly meant leisure travel, with people taking their time to reach destinations, compared to today’s travel where the stuff between are inconveniences.

Fading mural in Lupton, Arizona

Indian Village Trading Post, also in Lupton, Arizona, once had a vibrant mural, but after the abandonment of the shop, just like everything else, things continue to fade under the relentless sun.

Vella fallax texana bug in Lupton, Arizona

Even the Painted Cliffs Welcome Center is now closed, although the public toilets are still maintained. Aside from encountering this antlion (Vella fallax texana) in its mating form and just learning that you can see this area in the 1940 film The Grapes of Wrath, there’s a sense of the tragic felt when stopping here by those of us who feel some nostalgia for the golden age of car travel in America. When I think about what I really experience out here at rest stops along our highways, I’m saddened by the plastic bottles of urine tossed out of windows, diapers, tons of toilet paper, cans, and fast food trash. Then there’s the hyper-aggression of the drivers bent on being anywhere other than where they are. I wonder how many are actually unhappy with themselves and are effectively trying to escape their inner turmoil as they race into impatience.

Storm clouds near Heber, Arizona

Hints of monsoon were on the horizon, and lucky us, we drove right into the maelstrom, but not only that, the storm followed us home. Once it arrived in Phoenix at night, we were treated to hail, rolling thunder, and a microburst that took out hundreds of trees between our place and Caroline’s office in Scottsdale. Now that we’re back home, we are taking a breather and are looking forward to not going anywhere for a solid two weeks.

Friends and Folk Art in Santa Fe

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Caroline Wise, Ivan and Merry, and John Wise in Santa Fe, New Mexico

I should begin this post talking about green chiles so as not to offend the gods of New Mexico. While we were starting the day at the Pantry, where we’d have breakfast that includes green chiles, we were also returning to meet with Ivan and Merry, who moved from Phoenix to Santa Fe just a week ago. We only learned of their repositioning on the map in the days after our return from Oregon. The speed of their escape was due to each of them encountering a lucky break that promised to turn out fortuitous for their lives and careers, with both finding employment opportunities that complement their aspirations and relationship. For the next three hours, we chatted, moving our conversations outside as the Pantry grew busier. From authors Thomas Pynchon and Arno Schmidt to Richard Powers, living situations, our recent travels, their 8th anniversary this past Tuesday the 9th, the burning of the Zozobra, relationships, life in Santa Fe, teaching, the Folk Market, crafting aspirations, the poem Sunday Morning by Wallace Stevens, and a hundred other things that were compressed into our abbreviated meeting, we talked about all we could coherently fit into our shared time and then with the market looming, we said goodbye until our paths cross again. This brief description of our encounter cannot do justice to the nuanced and subtle ways that a broad conversation about passionate matters can influence what was a speedy meeting. Maybe after they are settled, we might find some time in Santa Fe together, where we can meet without the pressures of schedules and other obligations over a weekend, maybe over coffee at our favorite pretentious local coffee shop called Ikonic.

Caroline Wise with Suvanese weaver Ice Sarlince Tede Dara, Caroline Wise, and Maria Cristina Guerrero at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

It was already noon when we stepped back into the Railyard Park for our last hours of visiting the International Folk Art Market (IFAM), and while I thought we were done shopping, there were still a couple of surprises for us. First, though, we needed to visit the Meet The Makers Indonesia booth to take a photo of Maria Cristina (Crissy) Guerrero, fiber artist Ice Sarlince Tede Dara from Savu (as I pointed out in yesterday’s post) with Caroline, who wore the sarong, also known as an Ei Raja, that she bought the day before. The provenance of Caroline’s Ei Raja (sarong) is as follows: the pattern is called Kobe Morena and is a design originating from the people of Savu, specifically with Dule Mudji of the Ae moiety and the female lineage of Ga. The fabric is naturally ikat dyed using indigo (blue to black) and the roots of the morinda tree (red). While anthropologist and author Dr. Genevieve Duggan shared many details of the origins of the piece, we’ll have to buy her book titled Savu: History and Oral Tradition on an Island of Indonesia if we really want to bring into our minds those details.

Australian print at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Apparently influenced by Aboriginal Dreamtime painting, these Australian prints were available at the market, though they are not something we are necessarily interested in bringing into our lives, not because they lack beauty, but because we already have so much complexity in our lives and so many interests to interpret that we are close to being overwhelmed.

Also overwhelming is the extraordinary amount of pretension found here at the International Folk Art Market, possibly due to the abundance of privilege from many of those also able to spend such amounts of money at such an event. Fortunately, albeit rare among attendees but more common with the craftspeople, there is an integrity, passion, and enthusiasm that separates the simply wealthy from those who have an authentic joy for life and what great fortune really means, how it’s measured, and how to share what has been bestowed upon and within them. For the preening, look-at-me class of empty vessels that haughtily stride through, they befoul the environment with an ugly, selfish sense of perfection that feels fake and disrespectful, but that’s often the nature of America’s affluence at this juncture in our history.

Caroline Wise with skirt from Nagaland, India at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

What is the value of owning something made of an extraordinarily uncommon material, such as stinging nettle? Well, if it looks and wears nicely, it could be a brilliant acquisition, and that’s what I think of the skirt Caroline is holding in her hands. The fiber artists who made this piece are from Nagaland, a relatively controversial state in India. Not only are most people from Nagaland Christian and not Hindu or Muslim, but there has been a movement seeking sovereignty as an independent country, which doesn’t play well when a country such as India has been flying the nationalist flag for decades and now, with the current movement against religions others than Hinduism (Hindutva), they must be even more unpopular. The implications regarding Nagaland’s issues seem to be an underlying factor about why goods from that corner of India are difficult to find in the worlds outside their borders, sadly.

So, here’s my German-American wife wearing a sarong from Indonesia, a shirt from Mali, one bag from Bolivia, another from Chiapas, Mexico, along with a bracelet of Peruvian good luck Huayruro seeds, while carrying her new skirt of stinging nettle, possibly from the Chakesang Naga tribe in the Phek district of Nagaland. Now, if only more people could embrace the diversity of options, expand their horizons, and pull back from the cultural conformity afflicting modernity.

La Choza Restaurant in Santa Fe, New Mexico

We thought that by returning to La Choza for a repeat visit at 4:30, right when they open for dinner, we’d get a table pretty quickly, but still, it took about 20 minutes as so many others had signed up before us. Caroline mixed things up when she deviated from the tried and true green chile and opted for Christmas style, with half the plate covered with red chile and the other with green chile, and to both of our surprise, the red chile here is likely the best we’ve ever had and is probably the spiciest.

After visiting IFAM here in Santa Fe, New Mexico, for three years running, we might take a break from next year’s festivities to allow the anticipation to build up again. Prior to our first visit in 2022, Caroline had wanted to attend for years, but for one reason or another, we were just not getting it together. And while our resolve here on our last full day in Santa Fe is to skip 2025, Caroline has been talking for a couple of years about being a volunteer at the event, so maybe our resolve is not set in stone.

International Folk Art Market – Santa Fe

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

The International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Shop, eat, nap, repeat – not necessarily in that order. New Mexico state law says that visitors must eat as much green chile as possible, and we try our best to meet that obligation by visiting the Pantry down the road from our Motel 6 (paid $85.95 a night). Green chiles are the state food, flower, plant, symbol, mascot, decoration, main export, and the mandated color of wedding attire. There are old adobes that have been found to have been made of green chiles, gas stations sell a green chile blend of fuel, and the local chickens taste like green chile. If you’ve never tried green chile apple pie, you don’t know what you’ve been missing. After paying homage to this New Mexican staple, a nap was in order, but also because we had more than 90 minutes before our timed entries would allow us to begin our third visit to the International Folk Art Market here in Santa Fe.

Caroline Wise at Ecuadorian booth at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Shop with frantic madness to separate ourselves from whatever money we had before our visit in order to leave with some rare items that Caroline will wear and use into the future with a solid knowledge of their exquisite nature and significant history. In comparison to certain designer fashions, these things might be considered inexpensive, but compared to what is spent by the majority of humanity, a dress dyed with caracol snails for a shade of purple is likely an article of clothing that many on earth would have to work months to afford. I should add that nothing Caroline takes home with her is disposable or fast fashion. All of it certainly falls into the category of slow fashion and will likely be used and cherished by her until the end of her life.

I mention fast fashion because Caroline recently pointed out that the average American disposes of 81.5 pounds of clothing per year. I find this impossible to believe, considering I throw away six pairs of boxer briefs per year (I checked against my Amazon orders), which weigh 15 ounces for the entire package, while my short-sleeve XXL shirts that weigh about 11 ounces each are worn until Caroline can no longer reasonably repair them, between three and four years each (as evidenced from photographic proof seen here on my blog). My convertible quick-dry shorts weigh 14 ounces; my handmade socks are never thrown away, and a pair of Levi’s are one pound each. Approximately every three years, I’ll have tossed about 12 pounds of clothing or four pounds per year. Caroline, on the other hand, only throws away underwear and factory-made socks, which weigh far less than anything I send to a landfill. Anything else she rids herself of (which is incredibly rare) goes to Goodwill for recycling into other people’s hands. As a couple, we shed approximately six pounds of clothes per year compared to others who are apparently tossing 163 pounds of clothing. [In fairness, we should probably add the weight of the items that I have donated, but even those would only be a couple of pounds at most – Caroline]

Caroline Wise visiting Papua New Guinea booth at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Caroline’s first purchase was the bag from Ecuador, seen in the photo above this one, while these two bags were made by handcrafters in Papua New Guinea. There was a time when my wife would use the same bag until its functionality would no longer be serving that purpose. Now, she’s a bag fetishist. [I prefer bag enthusiast – Caroline]

Caroline Wise at Ethiopian booth at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Hand-woven, knitted, embroidered? Yes to all of those, and she has an extra soft spot if they are shades of blue. The shawl we just bought came to the U.S. with this young man representing an Ethiopian cooperative.

Backstrap weaver at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

This young boy has the opportunity to become a bit of a celebrity in the world of backstrap weaving if he keeps up his practice and turns his attention to the mastery and art of the craft, as this is typically women’s work. While women reach those heights, too, as they are the heart and soul of this ancient process, somehow, the peculiarity of men performing this work remains an anomaly.

Caroline Wise at Mexican Dreamweavers booth at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

It’s not every day one can go buy a dress made with thread that’s been dyed this particular shade of purple. It is extremely rare. The color is from the caracol púrpura (Spanish name) or, as it is known in Oaxaca from the Mixtec word, Tixinda. The purple snails that are responsible for this shade are not easily found, as they must be collected and “milked” at low tide when licensed Mixtec dyers are allowed to utilize them. Unlike murex mollusks, which are known for their imperial purple dye and have to be killed in order to harvest their dye, these Oaxacan snails can remain alive at the shore to help dye yarn or fabric by the collectors on the spot and then put back into crevices they are found in. Due to the labor-intensive work, garments made using yarn dyed from Tixinda are not cheap. Only the embroidery thread on the color and the purple on the main body of this huipil dress is from the snail. Yes, this came home with us.

Backstrap weaver at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

This woman from the artist group Mexican Dreamweavers is helping keep alive the practice of sustainably dying with the sacred hues of the purple snail. They are the cooperative that made the dress Caroline purchased.

Backstrap loom at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

I tend to believe that the artists who travel to America for this market, who are able to demonstrate their craft, find greater interest from the attendees, but I also understand that the added expense of bringing not only enough product to satisfy the demands of those who might want to buy something over the three days of the International Folk Art Market but having someone on hand to speak about their work and handle transactions can become a cost-prohibitive venture.

Suvanese weaver at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Last year, Caroline purchased a garment from Meet The Makers Indonesia, a collective promoting Indonesia’s craft traditions. At this booth, we once again met Maria Cristina Guerrero, who recognized us. This year, the collective found sponsorship for this lady from the island of Suva. Her name is Ice Sarlince Tede Dara, and she’s been weaving since she was six years old. Having the funds to adequately represent craftspeople from Indonesia, they were also able to bring anthropologist and author Dr. Genevieve Duggan, who’s an expert in all things Suva fiber arts-related. Caroline did, in fact, buy a sarong from these ladies, but more about that tomorrow when she’ll be wearing it.

Pin from Peru at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Not much in the way of jewelry was interesting for Caroline after buying a dozen or more bracelets the previous year, but this pin from Peru caught her imagination, and so it came home with us.

La Dame Blanche performing at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

It was still early afternoon when we left Railyard Park, where IFAM is hosted, stopping at the Chicago Dog Express near our motel for what was supposed to be the best hot dog in Santa Fe. We’d have tried it last year, but whenever we left the market they were already closed. Had we eaten one of their dogs last year, we would have skipped it this year. While the idea of a green chile hot dog sounds great, it wasn’t, and their Frito Pie was lacking too. Maybe if we’d been stoned our opinion would have been different. Back at the motel, I was once again in the prone position and napping.

What does one do after their second nap? One eats again, but not before going back to the market for a nice relaxed stroll through the vendors as the heavy crowds have dissipated. It was probably about 6:00 when we walked over to La Choza for; you might have guessed it, more green chile. We knew quite well what we were getting ourselves into and were resigned to the knowledge that we’d be waiting a good long time before being seated. Sure enough, it was close to an hour before our name was called, but it was worth every minute of waiting. After dinner, we were walking along the train tracks when a live performance up ahead motivated us to take a gander at who was playing, that and a great groovy beat. The band features a Cuban singer and flutist called La Dame Blanche, which is also the name of the group. This woman rocks and with her band gave us the perfect end to the day.

Holbrook, Arizona to Santa Fe, New Mexico

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Interstate 40 exit for Thoreau, New Mexico

We had a sound plan for the day, which started in Holbrook, Arizona: Find breakfast, get on Interstate 40 to Albuquerque, transition to Interstate 25 north, arrive in Santa Fe, New Mexico, around noon. Breakfast was the first thing that took a left turn. Switching things up, we drove to the 66 Restaurant and walked in to find an empty, somewhat stenchous, liminal space that was creeping out both of us. Without anyone up front, there was no shame or awkwardness in turning around and walking out. Just across the street is the Camaleon Cafe, a Mexican-influenced joint we’ve eaten at before. Pulling up, we saw two cars with people waiting for the place to open at 7:00. As the “open” sign was turned on, we paused, waiting for the others who arrived before us to make their way towards the door. The guy we parked next to stepped out of his 30 or 40-year-old pickup wearing blue jeans that were held together over the knee with bright yellow gaffer tape. His belt was adorned with about 25 rounds of .45 caliber bullets for the Colt 45 revolver on his hip. The man’s accent was thick with a drawl, which triggered Caroline to lean in towards me once we’d sat down to suggest that this must have been the man Pixar modeled the character Mater after in their film Cars.

Caroline Wise in Thoreau, New Mexico

After breakfast, we weren’t on the freeway long before I started bristling at being on one of America’s Most Ugly Highway Ever. With two options, one that detoured way up north to Shiprock and Farmington, New Mexico, and the other that would swing us through Crownpoint, New Mexico, we opted for the latter choice as it promised to add only one hour to our journey, and we could still reach Santa Fe early enough to visit what some call the oldest church in the United States. So, just past the Continental Divide, at the Thoreau exit, following the sign with the shotgun blast and four bullet holes, we began our detour. Gas is cheap in New Mexico, but it comes with a price. While pumping gas, Caroline was attacked by a rat that burrowed into her neck and turned her into a zombie. Right, like Caroline knows how to pump gas, she can’t even drive a vacuum or adequately operate a broom. Anyway, you can see from her weak grip on the rat that she wasn’t going to dislodge this rodent who was neck deep in her neck, so I had to stop taking photos, grab the rat, resulting in the breaking off its head, and like a tick’s disembodied head holding fast to a body part, it had to be removed. Obviously, I had to apply suction, except Caroline shrieked at me, “No HICKEY,” leaving me no choice but to splash her with gasoline, ignite it, and cauterize the wound while inadvertently sealing the rat head into her neck. We’ve decided not to seek medical attention at this time, hoping we can pop it out later like an overloaded zit ripe for plucking.

Near Smith Lake, New Mexico

I’m sure that had the weather not been so idyllic, we might have still arrived in Santa Fe before 1:00, but then we would have also needed to take into account that we had entered the Mountain Daylight Savings timezone and had lost an hour leaving Arizona. I’ll just cut to the chase: this one-hour addition to our drive time ended up eating an extra six hours of distraction. There, it’s in the open: we are idiots, and that bottle of Smart Water I inadvertently bought instead of the Dasani I thought I’d grabbed did nothing to contribute to our intelligence. However, I’d argue that getting off a major interstate is seriously smart because when do you see these kinds of sights from a freeway?

Near Crown Point, New Mexico

As I drive along, I’m listening to Caroline’s instructions, who, when she has signal, is busy studying maps and zooming in, trying to determine the viability of routes that may or may not be paved. It wasn’t only the contrast in colors that drew my attention to these cliff faces. I was on the lookout for petroglyphs but didn’t see one.

Horse in White Horse, New Mexico

Hello, pinto stallion, hanging out in the desert near White Horse. We were surprised that he approached Caroline, gave her a sniff, and decided he wasn’t interested. Most times, these horses move away from us the moment we step out of our car.

Approaching Pueblo Pintado, New Mexico

We’re on Indian Service Route 9, approaching Pueblo Pintado, somewhere out there.

Ruin off Indian Service Route 9 approaching Torreon, New Mexico

While economic opportunities are rather grim on the majority of western Indian reservations, there is no denying that, even in ruin, these places are profoundly beautiful. But visual aesthetics on gorgeous days do not feed families, pay to maintain homes, repair cars, or bring the inhabitants into contact with healthcare or advanced education. I know that I tend to over-romanticize what could be made of these lands, but the reality is that tourists, and even the majority of travelers, want convenience, luxury, and iconic locations that serve egos and not unique experiences. There’s a reason why financially successful Native Americans who are on the Rez are most frequently connected to a casino and not a location where we can stay a few nights in an indigenous dwelling, wake up to learn how to make the local bread and explore the flora and fauna of significance in the community.

NM Route 279 near San Luis, New Mexico

Just look at all this intense landscape and dramatic clouds. Not another vehicle for as far as the eye can see, and never a semi truck drifting in and out of the lane. It’s just the occasional bird, animal, or tumbleweed too close to the road.

NM Route 279 east of San Luis, New Mexico

Out of sight in the distance at the foot of those mountains is New Mexico Route 550, two lanes in each direction. While it’s not a freeway, it’s too damn big, and as quickly as possible, we’ll be aiming for another of these smaller roads.

NM-550 on the Jemez Pueblo, New Mexico

Okay, so NM Route 550’s views aren’t all bad. Regardless, a few minutes later we turned east on Route 4.

Frybread for sale on NM-4 in San Isidro, New Mexico

Here in San Ysidro, sandwiched between the Zia and Jemez Pueblos, we found a couple selling red posole, green chili stew, and frybread, so we bought one of each, pulled up a couple of chairs and enjoyed a most awesome lunch.

NM-4 south of Jemez Springs, New Mexico

As the weather is apt to do during monsoon season in the southwest, a blustery storm can just show up out of nowhere. A bit farther up NM Route 4, we drove right into that storm, and ten minutes later, were already on the other side of it.

Valles Caldera National Preserve in Jemez Springs, New Mexico

While we didn’t realize it initially, we’d driven this road before. It dawned on us when we saw the ruins of the Jemez National Historic Landmark. We drove by under the foul weather but decided to keep going. What we really couldn’t remember was this vast open area that turned out to be the Valles Caldera National Preserve. It only became a part of the national park system back in 2015, well after we last passed through in 2003. Back then, this was a ranch. It may be difficult to see, but there are about 30 elk in the foreground. That was until a motorcyclist with a stupidly loud engine scared them, and they bolted for the forest.

Valles Caldera National Preserve in Jemez Springs, New Mexico

We turned into the preserve, believing we’d only be here momentarily to see what was what.

Valles Caldera National Preserve in Jemez Springs, New Mexico

Well, it sure is pretty out here.

Caroline Wise at Valles Caldera National Preserve in Jemez Springs, New Mexico

Had a great conversation with the ranger, bought the illustrated version of The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben, and learned that they have a Junior Ranger program here, which Caroline is being sworn in for. There’s far more to see and visit here at Valles Caldera, but learning about it all firsthand will have to wait for a future visit.

Apricots from Robert Oppenheimer's home in Los Alamos, New Mexico

Look, we found these apricots just hanging around on a local tree, and instead of letting them fall to the ground and go to waste, we collected a bunch after sampling them, finding them worthy, and hoping we weren’t violating any rules.

Robert Oppenheimer's home in Los Alamos, New Mexico

Okay, the truth is more like there’s this apricot tree on the left of Robert Oppenheimer’s old house in Los Alamos, and seeing neither he nor his family is here to enjoy them anymore, we took it upon ourselves to taste the sweet fruit found at the Father of the Atomic Bomb’s former abode.

Replica of front gate at Los Alamos, New Mexico

Thought we were going to visit more history here, where the first nuclear bombs were first built, but this was insulting. What you are looking at is a plywood facade in front of a couple of public toilets; maybe the real guard shack is still a national secret and is kept in a secure location, away from prying eyes.

Last minute addition: on our way through town, Caroline’s eagle eye (actually a snail feeler) caught sight of Close-Knit Yarn Cooperative, which somehow was opened well past 6:00, an anomaly for a town of this size. It turned out that there were about seven women in the shop knitting, which was the real reason they were still open. Why were they all masked up like it was the summer of 2020? We weren’t inquisitive enough to ask, nor was Caroline impertinent enough to correct the owner that the knitting pattern designer Stephanie van der Linden is not, in fact, Dutch but certainly German.

Leaving Los Alamos, New Mexico

We were still nearly an hour away from Santa Fe, but this was to be our last photograph as we were descending the Pajarito Plateau, home of the Manhattan Project seventy-eight years ago, and were finished being entertained for the day. After checking into our room, we headed to the Pantry (the OG location on Cerillos Road), knowing full well that we would be eating breakfast there in less than 12 hours, but we’d never visited for dinner, and one can never have too much green chili when visiting New Mexico.