On this amazing day we traveled over 450 miles and through many amazing types of terrain. We are pretty bone-weary and happy, since we ended our day with the Grand Canyon. That story is for Part 2.
This morning we left ABQ after fueling up at Starbucks and heading out old 66 for a bit. The empty desert stretched out forever before us, powdery sand and shriveled sage baking in the sun. As bleak as it was, soon there were bluffs and mesas, and we passed by Acoma Sky City as I read the amazing tale of their civilization (on Wikipedia, natch).
Later we were sweeping through big curving red rock landscapes, passing impoverished Indian settlements and eccentric tourist traps as we ate up the miles. We got gas at Gallup, near the once-famous Hotel El Rancho, favoured by movie stars in the days of the big Western pictures: John Wayne and the like.
We crossed the Continental Divide and then the Arizona border. Somewhere our phones decided we had crossed into Pacific time as well, so the day became even longer.
Arizona brought less arid landscape: some breath of green to the range, and cattle appeared, grazing upon it. Lunchtime was a wonderful picnic at the Petrified Forest NP. Our shaded picnic table looked out over colorful hills dotted with petrified logs.The wind literally wuthered: around the rocks, the shelter, the scrub pine and sage.
There were lizards skittering, and birds. A few wildflowers were blooming including a cactus with orange blossoms.
After lunch, once again we were climbing. We were approaching the San Francisco Mountains and Flagstaff, gateway to the canyon lands beyond. But that’s tomorrow’s story. Stay tuned!
Meanwhile, here is today’s
Josephine Report: Desert Thoughts
Patrise and I have an ongoing conversation about how we feel about being in the desert. Both of us have lived our lives in various parts of the country surrounded by water, woods, and green growing things. Today we spent a good five hours traversing the New Mexico and Arizona desert, so that gave us time to think about being in it. I find it forbidding, inhospitable, bringing up survival fears. No leafy cover, no humidity, the sun so aggressive. I know I will never choose to live in such an environment. For Patrise, her body responds with a big “yes”! But let her speak for herself.
And yet, it’s not as simple as that for me. I’ve now participated in three retreats over the past several years in the high desert near Abiquiu with White Eagle on her sacred land, Star Dance. Although the environment of the desert there did keep me on edge, it also sharpened my senses and mental faculties. I gained an enormous respect for the living creatures there who manage to thrive in such adversity; the sparseness of the landscape did not have the same emptiness I experienced crossing the desert at 70 miles an hour.
I’m waiting for the Desert Elders to join the conversation and share their wisdom.
My two cents on the desert is that I feel a tremendous joy when in New Mexico, that seems in conflict with the lack of water. I’ve been a water person my whole life. But something literally enchants me in the Land of Enchantment. More on this later.
For now, zzzzz.
4 thoughts on “Day 9, part 1: Across the Desert”
I’m still following, until we become airbound for the UK. I am so glad you continue to share your journey. Ours will be without the tech knowhow, but I hope to post some photos, encouraged by you, Patrise, and you, Josephine. Sending joyous energy, as I feel it from you!
Somehow I thought you’d be there already — time is slippery! I love the thoughts about the desert; it is a difficult, passionate and lovely place — fierce with a kind of love of space and spirit. Sending joyful energy as you move towards the greener, sweeter breezes from the western oceans.
I have a family of good friends who are from the Acoma. They are gifted potters in the Acoma style.
A sobering, enlightening space, the SW. Reminds us that water trumps oil. Ran out of both when I once toured yonder Santa Fe stretch. First time I could see for dozens of miles and a score more beyond that. A respect runs deep for flora and fauna that survives and even celebrates the stark, free-of-fluff, lifestyle thereabouts. It nourishes to hear new tales of the sandy, light-blessed reaches.