Destination – Page 2 – Veness Travel Media

Well, Hello Old Friend!

Even though we live inland, Florida’s Gulf Coast has been a presence in our lives for nearly two decades. We write about it, we watch it for hurricanes, and we’ve traveled its full length for work and for enjoyment. Little did we know how much we’d feel that old familiar friend’s presence again.

After being in the mountains and the desert for so long, the coast, the smell of water, and the humidity came as a slight shock. What also came as a surprise was the look of South Padre Island. We had to remind ourselves over and over that we weren’t in Daytona, or Clearwater, or Miami after we crossed the big causeway over the Intracoastal Waterway. Had we been blindfolded and dropped on one of the area’s three main drags, we’d have put money on being in Florida.

South Padre also stands out as having its own character. Very touristy in the heart of the strip, but when we drove to the literal end of the road, it felt like we were in Michigan’s upper peninsula, driving right along Lake Michigan’s coast, with sand dunes on both sides and not a whole lot else.

At this remote end of the island, we found lots of RVers boondocking (camping with no hookups). Several vans and a few Class Cs and Fifth-Wheels were parked right off the road, obviously hanging out for several days.

We walked along the hard-packed beachfront, took cheeky side-eye glances into other people’s rigs (from a respectable distance), and appreciated the solitude while also knowing it wouldn’t work for us. Apart from anything else, we couldn’t have turned Fati around in such limited space.

Lunch at Mahi Nic – which came as a recommendation and was right along a canal – felt exactly like being at one of hundreds of waterside dining spots we’ve been to in Florida. We both ordered hot dogs (bacon-wrapped Captain Hearty dog for Simon, with chipotle mayo and pico de gallo; Nate Dog for Susan, with mustard, ketchup, onions, and pickle relish), with a side order of fries.

This is not something either of us would usually order, and we don’t know what possessed us. We do know the dogs were superb, and the fries were as big as our heads. We also now know that Susan can’t eat hot dogs that have a lot of garlic in them.

We had a nice wander around the beach, but both of us were really tired. It had been so long since we’d broken camp and moved in Fati, and the wind had been strong enough during our drive to require extra concentration and arm muscles, we really did feel the effects. South Padre Island KOA Holiday made a pleasant waterside base for our stay, and we were quite happy to relax a bit, enjoying the sound of the breeze through the palm trees.

Dinner that evening came from Viva, and had it been warmer outside we probably would have eaten at their indoor-outdoor dining room that faced the Intracoastal Waterway. Instead, we got a carry-out and ate at home, then called it a night after watching two episodes of the Great British Baking Show, our go-to indulgence when our brains don’t want to think anymore.

*Simon went for the Gulf Shrimp and veggies*

*And a beautiful sunset made it taste even better.*

We were up and out relatively early the next day, heading for breakfast at Josephine’s Kitchen. Susan went for two feather-light crepes with fruit, Simon dove into the Avocado Benedict, and our server brought Ruthie the best “pup cup” she’s ever had in her whole wide life. It was filled with bacon and blueberries, but she decided there was no reason to eat blueberries when bacon was around.

Next we popped over to Sea Turtle, Inc. This small operation rescues and rehabilitates sea turtles, and the facility had several long-term and short-term residents, as well as interesting displays featuring the local sea life. It’s all about education, and again, we felt very much like we were back home in Florida.

*Did you know turtles yaw*n? *Us either!*

*Ruthie did not understand the assignment.*

Think whatever feels comfortable for you about SeaWorld in Orlando, but do bear in mind, the work they do rescuing and rehabilitating sea turtles, manatees, and other living beings is absolutely second to none. We know their facilities well, and it’s astonishing how much they’ve added to the welfare of the seas and sea life.

The South Padre Island Birding and Nature Center was right next door, and we could easily have spent hours there, even though we don’t consider ourselves birders and can’t identify most of what we’re seeing. What a fantastic place! When migrations are going on, it must be utterly spectacular.

*The view from the third floor of the nature center’s observation tower.*

*An egret, probably, and some duck things with beautiful faces.*

Although the facility is mostly outdoors, dogs are not allowed on the walkways. We understand this; dogs bark, and birds don’t like that. Still, our Ruthie would have loved it. So many good sniffs!

*This bird surely has a real name, but for us it was a Vulture Kingfisher.*

Even small children know this one’s name.
Bob. It’s Bob.

Directly across the main strip from the birding center was Clayton’s Beach Bar, “the biggest beach bar in Texas.” Simon cannot pass up places like this. It is simply impossible for him to do so. Two fish sandwiches and a beer each later, we were perfectly chilled and in the mood to pass judgement upon those who were dancing to the band that had begun to play.

*The bar so big it’s like being on the upper deck of a cruise ship.*

When the band showed up Simon said, “They’re going to open with something big. ZZ Top, maybe.” What they really opened with was something akin to a dirge. Very funeral-sounding, and nothing we could identify. It didn’t get a whole lot better from there, and when people started dancing to “I got friends in low places,” it looked like none of them were dancing to the same song, or to the song that was actually being played. But they were having fun, and that’s all that counts, so we bid them a silent goodbye and went back to Fati until dinnertime.

Meatball Café was our choice for the evening, partly because Simon had been craving pizza, Susan can’t have it, and the café offered eight-inch pizzas, salad, bruschetta, and calamari. Half a side salad and some bruschetta was enough for Susan, and Simon was a happy boy with his pizza. We have no photos of this meal. We don’t know why.

We’d done a lot of dining at or from restaurants, as the area’s tourism was eager for us to try several restaurants, and we had enough left over to see us through the next day. We were so full afterwards that we may have skipped a meal…or two.

A Year On The Road – The 8-Month Map

Here we are at the two-thirds mark of our grand ‘A Year On The Road’ RV adventure, and we have reached deep south Texas. We are currently in Donna, TX, and we have traveled a full 928 miles in the last month from our December base in Las Cruces, New Mexico.

Our route from Las Cruces took us down through El Paso to Van Horn, and then on to Alpine (for the magnificent Big Bend National Park), before heading further south to Del Rio and then Castroville for Christmas (just outside San Antonio). The New Year then took us southwest to Donna via Kingsville.

*All safely set up at our RV resort in Donna, Texas. We could end up being here a whole month!*

Our total RV mileage since we left home is now 8,242 and Texas is our 20th state (not counting Florida). That 928 miles probably doesn’t sound like much, but it is more than the total for months 6 and 7 combined, as we had started a significant slow-down in favor of being longer in one place and exploring further by car.

*The story so far. The full track of our trip in Fati is in yellow, and our multiple side-trips in Nippy are shown in pink. We still have another 1,500 miles or so to get home!*

Our little Ford Fiesta, Nippy, has put in an additional 1,558 miles in the past month, giving her a total to date of 19,708. Combined with Fati, we have driven a grand total of 27,825 miles, or basically enough to have gone right the way round the world, plus an extra 2,924 miles!

*We had to make sure we didn’t arrive too early at our Donna campground, so we paid a call to the local Post Office (which had a nice empty parking lot!)*

In all honesty, we are not looking to break any long-distance records at this stage. We knew we had to get some miles under our belt by January as the weather becomes a major factor at this time of year, and we need to stay as far south as possible. RVs are not built to travel far during the depths of winter and, even being this far south has had its challenges, with temps dropping below freezing several times this month. Including the wind-chill, we hit 15F/-9.5C at its coldest and, living in what amounts to a glorified tin can, that gets REALLY cold, really quickly!

Our route from here will hug the Texas coast all the way to Louisiana in March, and we should just be warming up again by then!

Simon, Susan & Ruthie

Missions, Caverns, And A Whole Lotta Food

Our itinerary had been thrown into chaos compliments of Ruthie’s turbo-charged backside, but as things settled down for her, we ventured out again to pick up on the highlights. Some of our plans had to be scrapped, some fell through due to a major college football bowl game that had most of downtown San Antonio in worse chaos than Ruthie’s gut, but there was still plenty to enjoy, if our stamina allowed.

*Ruthie gets a lot of love when we venture out. She’s incredibly patient and gentle with children.*

Mission San José was known as “The Queen of Missions” for its larger-than-average size, and indeed, the church does cut an imposing figure over the huge courtyard outside. Simon and I both thought a mission was a just church; instead, it’s typically a community with living quarters, trades, agricultural work, and a church. But the mistake is an easy one to make, since the goal of forming the “community” was to convert native peoples to Catholicism, which would then generate new taxes for the King of Spain.

Conversion was the native peoples’ path to safety from the very people who were making them unsafe. Their diets would change, their spiritual lives would change, their clothing and housing would change. And the names they were given at birth? Yeah, those changed, too. The timeless dilemma: what would you do to keep your children and the people you love safe?

*We were part of a guided tour, but Ruthie was getting so much attention we backed off a bit. Even the ranger was (fondly) distracted by her.*

*This area formerly housed the missionaries and lay people who ensured the communities’ regimented schedule of toil and thrice-daily prayer were upheld.*

*This is one-third of a working family’s “apartment.” Up to 15 people lived and slept in each apartment, spaces so small they wouldn’t even qualify as a “tiny home” today.*

*Apartments from the outside. They run the full length of three sides of the compound. The structure out front is a communal oven.*

We’d been given a reservation at a downtown hot-spot’s outdoor patio (where dogs are allowed) for lunch the next day, but when we arrived, we were told they weren’t seating anyone outside. The line to get in was, in our estimation, more than an hour long, which just wasn’t going to work, especially since we had plans for the afternoon.

*This is about one-quarter of the line waiting to get in.*

Instead, we returned to the Pearl area and grabbed a quick taco lunch.

In 1960, four students from a nearby college “discovered” what is now Natural Bridge Caverns, and Simon joined a guided tour that afternoon while Susan kept an eye on Ruthie. Kennels were available, but in her still-delicate condition we didn’t want to leave her.

*The two flat slabs that form a bridge above the cavern’s entryway were the inspiration for its name.*

10,000-year-old stone tools, projectile points, and a pre-historic cooking hearth were discovered in the cavern when the entrance was being excavated. How cool is that?

*Ponds formed in the lower level of the canyon, with incredibly clear water due to filtration by the surrounding limestone, and the lack of pollution and debris.*

*You can see the smooth, dark walkway in the center of this photo, which gives you an idea of size.*

We were glad we only had a taco for lunch when we reached Backyard on Broadway that evening. Boasting the most enormous outdoor seating area we’d seen at any restaurant, anywhere, we grabbed a picnic table away from a group gathering and a load of excited children, and were rewarded with a quiet meal. It was incredible how little the sound traveled.

*This is about one-eigtth of the outdoor space.*

Simon ordered Hummus Spread with veggies to share, and the Viva Las Tejas sandwich (two beef patties, two cheeses, bell peppers, onions, jalapenos, and spicy sauce), which he devoured. Our server also recommended the Sweet Potato Fries, which we both devoured.

Susan went for the Not Your Father’s BBQ (pulled pork sandwich), and managed about half of it, minus the bun. Damn you, tempting Sweet Potato Fries!

Two Bro’s BBQ Market was our lunch stop the next day, and we’re glad it came as a recommendation, because A) we never would have found it otherwise and 2) we might not have chosen it due to its rather rustic location. It turned out to be one of those “locals” spots that no one wants to reveal so that tourists don’t mob it.

*When a meat joint has a skull on their buffet table, you know they’re confident in their beef.*

*This guy is going to make sure Simon gets all the right stuff.*

“What should we try?” Simon asked the manager, and he came away carrying a tray loaded with smoked jalapeno poppers wrapped in bacon; BBQ baked beans; Texas-sized bread slices; a massive Big Bro Sandwich piled high with smoked brisket, smoked pulled pork, and an entire sausage, topped with pickles and coleslaw; and a pint of “Cheesy Chop,” made up of chopped smoked brisket and mac & cheese. Lord help us!

Drinks were an informal affair. Simply choose one and push the dispenser button on a Home Depot five-gallon jug. And yes, that most Southern of drinks, Kool-Aid, was an option.

*I may have been bundled up a bit, with a shirt, two sweaters, and Puffy Coat. Don’t judge me!*

Straight away, we knew we were beaten. After a generous sampling of the obscenely-large sandwich, Simon pulled out a half of the sausage, made it into a smaller sandwich, and we saved the rest for later.

So, that white part at the top of the sausage isn’t the sausage. It’s the graphic on Simon’s sweatshirt. Every time I see this photo I think, “What’s that…?” so I thought I’d mention it.

We ate as much as we could of the rest of it, but it was like mice had nibbled on it. That meal ended up making two more meals the next day, and our microwave still smells like a smoker, more than a week later.

*The building at the v*ery *back and the one on the left are where the goodness happens. You can smell the meat smokers even when they’re not doing their jobs.*

Stuffed to the gills, a long, slow walk around the nature retreat of Phil Hardberger Park Conservancy was in order, where, we were told, we’d find the Land Bridge and Skywalk. The park’s trails reminded us of Kensington Metropark, a favorite place for getting away from it all when we lived in Michigan.

*Ruthie engaged in her favorite activity (sniffing).*

*The Skywalk goes on for a long, long way. We only did part of it, since Ruthie really can’t do much hiking and she’d already walked a bit too far to reach it.*

We had been booked in for a meal at Breakaway Brewing Company, but we were all food-ed out. Instead, we popped by to sample some of the brewpub’s beers, and ended up having a nice chat with the bartenders. A warm, homey feeling ended the day.

*Our bartender was adorable, and knew her beers well. Great choices!*

Twice we’d made attempts to visit Historic Market Square in San Antonio (originally a gift from the King of Spain in 1730, and former home of the “Chili Queens” who served up that comforting dish in days gone by), but the chaos of Christmas week made parking impossible. Determined to give it one more try, we headed into town, and finally succeeded.

*Note the person walking into the shop, to give you an idea of size.*

What a fun place, filled with Latin sounds, bright colors, every tourist souvenir you could imagine, lots of umbrella drinks, and a general air of Christmas cheer! We were so glad we made the effort. Take a little stroll with us:

Strollin’ through the market.

Those allergy symptoms Susan had were no longer acting like allergies, and when Simon came down with them we knew we were in head cold territory; the unwitting victims of an unwanted gift. Annoying, yes, but considering all the other cr@p going around, not the worst thing in the world.

We knew we needed a mental and physical break at this point anyway, and our upcoming five weeks in the Donna, Harlingen, and South Padre Island areas of extreme southwestern Texas were arriving just at the right time.

Merry Christmas! Enjoy The Gift!

Two things inspired us to make campground reservations more than a year in advance when we were planning our Year on the Road: popularity, and the holidays. Yellowstone wins for popularity, and Christmas wins for tough-to-get holiday reservations in warm climates, so those dates were at the top of our list, more than a year in advance.

Susan was up at midnight hitting “Reserve” the moment our dates for Yellowstone opened, and she got one of the last two available sites, just minutes after the booking window opened. She did the same for our Christmas 2023 campground in Castroville, Texas, just outside San Antonio. When our schedule changed after dropping Washington and Oregon, we re-worked it around that booking, and on December 23, 2023, we arrived at Alsatian RV Resort, 16 months after the reservation was made.

But first we Wallydocked in a Walmart parking lot just outside Amistad National Recreation Area in Del Rio, Texas on the way south, to break up the long journey. Evenings at Walmart are a spectator sport. Nights are a study in tiny-home living with no conveniences; no jacks down for stabilization, no slides out for a flat bed, no water from the faucets, and no heat. It got down to 34F that night.

*Simon can sleep anywhere, so it’s the sofa for him, wrapped up like a burrito.*

*Susan gets the folded-up bed, which sounds comfy but isn’t.* *Everything that rides on it during travel stays on it at night. There’s nowhere else for stuff to go.*

We had a supercharged itinerary during our stay in Castroville, thanks to Visit San Antonio, who searched out all the best things to do and places to eat in the city, with us and Ruthie in mind. Susan’s allergies were in high gear due to all the cedar pollen, but she chose to power through and venture out amongst the people. Allergies aren’t contagious.

*Simon’s Christmas decorating masterpiece.*

Christmas Eve morning, we were off to Pearl Farmer’s Market at San Antonio’s swish Pearl lifestyle center filled with shops and restaurants, where we could pick up loads of fresh produce for dinner that night and for Christmas Day.

But wait. This being Christmas Eve, the farmers were all home getting ready for friends and family, and didn’t show up. No market today. Still, we had a reservation for brunch at Southerleigh, with patio seating for maximum pre-holiday people watching.

Simon opted for a craft beer and the Southern Fried Chicken, featuring what looked like half a chicken nestled on the most pillowy, fluffy, feather-light biscuit you could imagine, and served with crispy potatoes. In our house, it would feed two. In San Antonio it fed one, with a few sad potatoes left straggling on the plate.

Susan went for a mimosa and the Heirloom Tomato Salad with fresh ricotta, basil oil, and sweet balsamic mustard seeds, which doesn’t sound like much but was pure magic when you’re craving vegetables.

The Alamo (yes, that Alamo) was on our schedule for later in the week, but with time to spare today, we headed a few blocks over for a visit. Now, if you’re like us, you picture the Alamo out in the boonies somewhere, far away from anyone who might have been able to come to the rescue of those poor Texas soldiers and save them from a thirteen-day siege and inevitable death at the hands of the Mexican army.

But boonies grow into towns, and towns grow into cities, and the former Spanish mission is now in the very heart of San Antonio. The Alamo is, obviously, on Texan land, having been surrendered by Mexico after further battles, bloodshed, and loss of lives. A courtyard remembers characters from that awful time, some of whom became legends in U.S. history.

*John William Smith, San Antonio’s first mayor, who fought in the Texas war for independence.*

*Emily West, a free woman of color who was kidnapped by the Mexican cavalry and later inspired the song, “The Yellow Rose of Texas.”*

*James Bowie, pioneer, land and slave speculator, best known for his distinctive “Bowie knife,” and not known enough for his “ownership” of human beings.*

*David “Davy” Crockett, legendary frontiersman and congressman who, as the song goes, “killed him a bar when he was only three.” He and Bowie both died at the Alamo.*

Christmas Day! A day to distract ourselves from being away from loved ones by having a movie marathon, opening our gifts to each other, and enjoying a lovely meal.

Christmas Eve dinner had been a snacky affair due to all that fried chicken Simon had for lunch, but today we were in for a treat.

Simon requested Beef Bourguignon, Texas has good steak, and we had that bottle of Lemon Olive Oil from our visit to Queen Creek Olive Mill in Mesa that would make a nice dressing for arugula salad with shaved parmesan. Score!

We gave each other new reusable thermal mugs to keep our coffee and tea hot on moving days, wrapped up so we felt special. Simon chose a box of Lindt chocolates while we were out shopping; Susan picked up a Whitman’s Sampler in memory of her childhood, when that was the “fancy candy;” and we threw in a candy cane we’d been given at a previous campground, all of which made us felt as right as we could about the day, given our unusual circumstances.

Ruthie’s digestive tract still wasn’t cooperating, and after several nights of very broken sleep for her and for us, it was time to get her in with a vet. We’d had no luck on Christmas Eve, Christmas day, or December 26, but the wonderful Alamo Area Veterinary Clinic had an opening on December 27, so we rescheduled our touring and got her sorted out. Three medications and 24 hours later, she made a miraculous recovery, so we considered her vet bill a Christmas gift.

*A little light reading while waiting for the vet.*

Dr. Baker-Arguelles spent a long time with us and Ruthie, listening to our concerns and explaining the process we’re now in with our pup. And while we expect her to have many more happy months of travel, we know our girl has beat the Labrador life-expectancy odds. Every day is a gift.

Welcome To Don’t Mess With Texas!

With its hidden state-border crossing sign and slightly aggressive motto, Texas loomed large in our front windshield as we left New Mexico behind for what will be nearly two months in the Lone Star State, waiting out winter.

*You have to be right up on this sign before you can make out what it is.*

*It quickly got a bit less peevish, and this would be an ongoing theme that took us by surprise. We experienced so much kindness and generosity in our first week in Texas.*

Everything is bigger in Texas, and that includes distances. We try to limit our driving in Fati to 200 miles or less per day, and it was 271 miles to our next campground, so we boondocked at a handy pull-out off I-10 in Van Horn, just a few yards off the highway. There is a long strip of road running parallel to the interstate where trucks and RVs can rest overnight. This was our view:

*Simon and Ruthie having a discussion about where she was going to take a comfort break that evening, with no dog park in sight.*

We pushed on to Alpine the next day, and while the name of this little town should have been a hint, we somehow didn’t expect to be surrounded by mountain ranges. Texas is flat, right?

Well, right, but not Northwestern Texas. Alpine is flanked by the Davis and Glass Mountains, and sits at 4,462 feet above sea level. Not exactly the Rockies, but pretty impressive for cattle country.

We saw roadkill not far from this sign that had us wondering if our theory that javelina are a lie was wrong. But it was practically the size of a bus, which (fake) javelina are not. We later found out it was a feral pig.

*We didn’t expect so many mule deer just wandering around town.*

The reason for our four-day stop in Alpine’s peaceful Lost Alaskan RV Park was Big Bend National Park, located in the Chisos Mountains 72 miles to the south. Our base kept us on track for easy access to US-90, without putting extra miles on Fati.

On our way in to the park we stopped at the entry sign, where a biker was taking a photo of another couple. He offered to take our picture, too, and then some genius happened. Ruthie looks away when anyone points a camera in her direction, but this guy stamped his feet over and over, prompting several little woof-etts from her, and produced photos that look like she’s smiling. Brilliant!

Big Bend launched straight into its prehistoric past, being a location where a great deal of fossilized diversity was discovered. A little exhibit and walking trail tell its 130-million-year story, from the time it was a sea to the time when volcanos shaped the land before woodlands took over; from the monstrous sea creature uncovered here to gigantic dinosaurs, Native peoples, spats with Mexico, and the eventual creation of a National Park.

“Simon, NO! Don’t jump!”
This former mudflat was the site of some important fossil discoveries. Rhinos and camels once roamed the land. So did T-Rex.

One of its claims to fame was the 35-foot-wing-spanned Quetzalcoatlus northropi, the largest flying creature discovered so far, among other dinosaurs that have not yet been found elsewhere.

*The pale bones flying just below the ceiling are so long it’s hard to get them into one shot. The near end is its head.*

Coming from Florida, we were impressed by the park’s other reptilian claim to fame, clocking in at nearly 50-feet. Deinosuchus riograndens is a dinosaur-munching alligator big enough to take down giant herbivores that waded too close to its massive maw.

*We had our picnic near a life-sized metal cutout of the gator.*

*Just to give a little perspective of the gator’s size. No dogs were harmed in the shooting of this photo.*

Geologically, Big Bend is partially the result of the mother of all ka-blooeys. Visitors can drive into and hike all around the Chisos Basin, with an overlook smack in the remnants from an ancient volcano.

*If you’ve been geology-ing along with us, you’ll know this is a volcanic plug.*

*Looking back at the volcanic bowl from a road outside the basin.*

Breaking free from a larger continent, subsequent land-mass collisions that raised the land upward, the formation of Cretaceous Sea, and other complicated science-y stuff also contributed to the area’s geological face, and we did feel as if we were in some sort of strange jumble of landscapes; as if the planet had grabbed handfuls of topography from around the country and flung them willy-nilly into Big Bend and the surrounding area.

*The wedge between the two mountains behind us is known as “The Window,” and it looks beyond the park into Mexico.*

On the way back to Fati we detoured into Terlingua, a mining town turned ghost town. Very little is left here of the original structures, beyond a few crumbling buildings and a cemetery with a few old graves mixed in with the new.

The big draw for tourists is the Starlight Theatre bar. We were going to pop in and be like the cool kids, but it wasn’t open yet. Simon was unceremoniously ordered to back out the door when he stuck his head in to find out when the pleasure of swilling one of their tourist-priced ales could begin.

Fair enough, we’re happy to comply, but also…really? Politeness is free, we’d been looking forward to visiting, and we had a little bit of cash burning a hole in our pockets. We decided not to be cool kids that day.

*You can keep your fancy Day-Glo trucks and $14 Margaritas. Don’t Mess With Venesses.*

To confirm how right we were with our unreasonably bad attitudes, the Universe rewarded us with mule deer in the campground, not far from Fati, when we returned that evening. A day or so later karma rewarded us with a very sick dog. The two aren’t connected, but maybe we’ll be a bit more patient with our beer money next time.

The Ultimate U.S. Road Trip – Part 5

The latest instalment of our excusive series for The Independent featuring our “Year On The Road” RV adventure is now online, highlighting Month 5 as we reached Idaho and Utah, and the incredible scenery of places like Craters of the Moon National Monument and Bryce Canyon State Park.

You can see the whole story on this link:

https://www.independent.co.uk/travel/north-america/usa/american-road-trip-usa-idaho-utah-b2467275.html#

*The glory of Arches National Park, one of 12 national parks, monuments and historic sites we visited in stunning Utah*

Heading North Into The Great Southwest

Simon wanted a trip up to Sante Fe for its Western and cowboy-movie history, rich cultural reputation, and the chance to see northern New Mexico, which we’d heard was spectacular. Reusable canvas grocery bags packed (because we both thought we brought a carry-on bag for the occasional hotel stay, but didn’t), we locked up Fati and hit the road in Nippy for two days visiting Santa Fe, Taos Pueblo, and Albuquerque.

What we found when we got to Santa Fe was even more compelling than we expected. Adobe buildings, a billion restaurants, and art right out there on the street where anyone could swipe it, if they had a crane and a big truck.

What is it about adobe houses? They’re so cute and different and Southwestern, and we were immediately smitten.

*San Miguel Chapel, Santa Fe’s oldest church, dating to 1610 A.D.*

*The oldest house in the U.S.A., dating back to 1646 A.D.*

We’d been given several recommendations for great dining in the Old Town area. What we didn’t know was that New Mexico closes at 3:30pm. We arrived at our first choice at 3:29pm and got a hard “No” when we asked if they could at least do soup as a carry-out after our 4-plus hour journey.

The franchise-sounding Burrito and Co. was open, though, and we’re here to tell you their homemade Tortilla Soup with fresh tortillas and wedges of lime on the side was so warming and delicious, we were almost glad we didn’t have another choice. Oh, the heavenly lusciousness of it all!

Old Town’s plaza was dressed up for Christmas, and a group of Native American guys were performing traditional chants that evening. They may have been doing it for weekend beer money, as young people are wont to do, but it set a tone so evocative we were spellbound for quite some time. It was the sort of cultural experience we’d been hoping for when we planned this trip, and put a human face on our upcoming visit to Taos Pueblo.

Restaurants reopened for dinner, so we got a carry-out from La Choza. We shared an order of tamales (one vegetarian, one shredded pork,) but Susan can’t do spicy food anymore, and these were up there a bit, so Simon ate most of it and Susan had a few little Biscochito, New Mexico’s official cookie.

The next morning, Ruthie helped Simon get a coffee from the hotel…

…then we set off for nearby Taos Pueblo. We knew it was a 1000-year-old “living village” with adobe buildings dating back to around 1400 A.D. and shops offering authentic Native American arts. There was a cost to get into the public areas and a code of conduct while visiting (basically, don’t be a jerk, and don’t take photos of residents without their permission).

Only a couple of shops were open, but we were primarily there to see the buildings, which have neither water nor electricity. Residents live in modern homes within the Restricted areas, and use their traditional homes during gatherings and events, and as a source of income from selling arts and crafts.

It was a fascinating window into a world that was chipped away so profoundly that what’s left of it in this country qualifies as a National Historical Landmark. That weird mix of awe and of despair for a lost way of life remained with us for some time afterwards.

With a few hours of daylight left (it was getting dark around 5:30pm) we pointed Nippy to the Enchanted Circle Scenic Byway for some mountainous sight-seeing that would take us back to Santa Fe.

*The cute little town of Eagle’s Nest. We stopped at a cafe here for hot drinks, which, I kid you not, took about half an hour to make.*

That night we grabbed another carry-out for dinner, but this time we won’t mention the restaurant’s name, because it went pretty badly wrong. Susan worked in restaurants in her younger years and knows things happen, but it’s still disturbing when you get a whomping great shard of broken metal in your El Salvadoran Plate’s tamale.

*The photo we sent the restaurant so they knew what to look for. Penny was for size.*

It was good while it lasted, but it was back to the biscochito for her. Simon was able to finish his Chili Relleno (just; Susan’s metal was off-putting), but he did place a call to the restaurant, who comped Susan’s meal and went out of their way to figure out where the metal came from (it was the tip of a knife, they later told us). They also threw out all their tamales that night, to save anyone else from a potential E.R. visit while they figured out what had gone wrong.

Before leaving town for Albuquerque on our return trip to Fati the next day, we popped into Loretto Chapel to see the “miraculous staircase” built in 1878 by an “unknown carpenter” using wood that is “not of this world.”

As legend has it, the chapel’s 22-foot-high choir loft was not accessible to the nuns running the place, who (presumably because they were wearing habits that anyone could look up) could not use a ladder. They made a novena to St. Joseph, the patron saint of carpenters, and soon a carpenter arrived on a burro with a toolbox and a solution.

He worked for months, then disappeared without saying goodbye or asking for payment, leaving behind a magnificent circular staircase with no nails to hold it together and no visible central support to hold it up. And what the heck kind of wood was it? It certainly wasn’t wood that was available in Santa Fe. There were questions.

The work of Saint Joseph himself, some say. The wood is spruce, scientists insist. Nail-less construction was far from unknown. But it’s a great tale, and a gorgeous example of craftsmanship, wonky structural safety notwithstanding.

The railing wasn’t part of the original build. It was added later, for obvious safety reasons. Those nuns would have been bouncing precariously due to the double helix design (meaning: springy!), with nothing to hold on to.

We gabbed about theories and doubts and storytelling on the way to Albuquerque, but by the time we arrived a serious exhaustion had begun to creep in, and our hearts weren’t in it. It was time to return to Fati and let our brains cool down for 24 hours before making the two-day drive into Texas via an overnight at a Rest Area before reaching our Alpine campground retreat.

A Year On The Road – The 7-Month Map

Charting our “Year On The Road” RV adventure across America after Month 7

As another milestone rolls around, it’s time to update our ongoing Map of the whole trip and tot up our latest mileage chart.

*The 259-mile route from Tucson, Arizona, to Las Cruces, New Mexico*

On face value, this has been our least-traveled month, at least in RV terms. We have driven a scant 259 miles in our Winnebago Indefatigable (or Fati for short), starting a month ago in Tucson, Arizona, and reaching Las Cruces in New Mexico, a simple journey almost entirely on Interstate 10. Not the stuff of traveling legend, especially compared to our hectic first two months, when we covered fully 3,849 miles from Florida to Wyoming.

*How our Road Atlas looks after seven months of our RV adventure. Our overall route in Fati is shown in yellow, with all our various side-trips in Nippy show in pink*

*The larger view of the past month’s travels, showing our steady 259-mile easterly progress from Arizona into New Mexico*

Even by the standards of the last 3 months (869, 579 and 545 miles respectively), it is a slim return. But the fact is we are now spending longer in specific places (like Tucson and Las Cruces) and doing more of our actual journeying by car (our faithful Ford Fiesta, Nippy). We learned our lesson several months ago, after Fati suffered several mechanical issues with our hectic pace, that it was better to reach a destination from which we could explore by car in all directions, and this last month has been the perfect example of that.

Because, while our RV mileage is WAY down, our travel in Nippy has increased substantially. In month 6, she chalked up a whopping 1,927 miles, and in month 7 we have added an even-more-whopping 2,884, which included long-distance trips to Silver City, White Sands and, especially, Santa Fe. But, with Nippy getting a good 45 miles to the gallon on longer drives, and gas prices in New Mexico the cheapest since we left home ($2.25/gallon on our most recent fill-up), it is an economical and strategic success.

*The wide, open and inviting mountain roads of New Mexico, as seen from Nippy’s front window!*

What all this means is that we have now traveled 7,312 miles in Fati and a humongous 18,150 in Nippy, for a total of 25,462 miles since we left home.

Next up, we turn south for Texas and a long tour down the western half of the state as far as the Gulf Coast. Probably more miles for Fati than Nippy, but you never know…!

New Mexico In Bits And Pieces

A new day, a new state! We made our way into New Mexico just as the temperature began to plummet, but we had a lot of touring planned, so we added a third layer to our clothing and a fifth layer to our bedding, and made Deming our base for visiting Gila National Forest and a drive to the Mexico/U.S. border.

With a late start to our first full day, we chose San Lorenzo as our afternoon destination. We knew nothing about it except that it was a ghost town, but that was enough for us, and up the Whitehorse Mountain we went.

*Deer and another deer. Such excitement!*

While the drive along the mountain was filled with trees gloriously changing color, grazing deer, and little glimpses of actual water in an actual river, the town itself was not exactly dynamic.

The area was originally home to the Apache Nation. Fewer than 100 people live there now, an adobe church whose original construction dates to 1899 sits at its heart, and an enormous horse ranch that looks like the only money in town takes up most of the land.

Miners from Silver City and Pino Altos founded the tiny town, and their hand-made brick structures still stand. Most of the buildings in town are abandoned, hence its “ghost town” fame, while the locals prefer (and achieved) the designation “Historic District.”

*The hand-made bricks tell such a story. Fascinating to see bits of straw and little rocks in their construction.*

We crossed the valley into the next small town because Simon was eager to find a Starbucks, or at least a decent coffee shop, but you already know the outcome of that forlorn hope.

Our next excursion was Rockhound State Park in the Little Florida Mountains (here pronounced Flow-REED-uh from its Spanish influence) just south of Deming, and the park’s information center lady showed us the various rocks that visitors are allowed to collect, from obsidian and quartz to sparkly geodes and the wonderfully named “thunder eggs,” which, of course, Susan was determined to find.

*For perspective, that boulder in the semi-foreground, on the right, is about as high as Ruthie would be if she stood on her hind legs on Simon’s shoulders.*

Once we were in the dry wash where geodes and thunder eggs are typically found, we immediately realized all rocks look like rocks and we hadn’t a hope in hell of finding anything interesting without cracking them all open.

After a short wander, we drove over to next-door neighbor Spring Canyon Recreation Area, where we were told we might find gigantic-horned Persian Ibex, which were brought to the area from Iran way back when, and had recently been spotted. We didn’t see any (of course we didn’t!), but we did marvel at the 17% grade into and out of the park, which was like a roller coaster hill in Nippy, but would have been a horror in Fati.

*The 17% grade doesn’t look nearly as daunting in a photo as it does in real life. It’s a LONG way down!*

Minor attractions done, our next journey took us to Gila National Forest, the reason we were staying in Deming in the first place. It was a 236-mile round-trip drive, via Silver City, and the Visitor Center lady in Silver City told us we should not miss Catwalk Recreation Area on our way to the Gila Cliff Dwellings. Just head up U.S.-180 to the western side of Gila, and be ready for a short delay due to construction.

*Silver City is a mining town, and that dump truck is gigantic. Its tires are 6 feet tall, maybe a bit taller.*

We had already noted a sign in town that indicated the Cliff Dwellings were just 44 miles away, and our good lady mentioned Catwalk Recreation Area would come up first, so off we went.

*New Mexico has to be the artsiest state we’ve been in so far. Even their license plates are pretty.*

Sixty-five beautiful but confused miles later we saw the first sign for Catwalk, along with an extensive construction area that required us to follow a Pilot car along a couple of miles of torn-up road. Half an hour later we were walking through crunchy leaves along a fall-scented trail in Gila National Forest toward the metal catwalks that are the modern-day descendants of the original wooden planks over Whitewater Canyon creek, which gave the area its name.

*But it would be worth it in a few minutes.*

Silver and gold were discovered above the canyon, and mined for ten years, starting in the late 1890s. A pipe transporting water up to the processing plant ran through the canyon, and that’s the area visitors are now allowed to explore via catwalks.

*Catwalk starts with a trail along the river, and it was nice to see water, which is scarce around here.*

*Part of the walkway wound through rocky areas above the river.*

We spent more than an hour walking through the canyon and having a picnic lunch amid a scent that reminded us of Michigan in autumn. What an incredible surprise the experience had been, and how grateful we were for the recommendation. We absolutely would not have wanted to miss it.

As we picnicked, we programmed Gila Cliff Dwellings into our GPS. It couldn’t be far away, since we’d already gone 21 miles further than that sign back in town indicated we would.

But wait. GPS showed another 111 miles to the dwellings. What the….?!

We were on the wrong road. U.S.-180 did indeed lead to Catwalk, but the cliff dwellings were up highway 15, on the eastern side of Gila National Park. We’ll say no more about the matter, other than that we consoled ourselves with the fact that dogs are not allowed on the trail to the dwellings, so we wouldn’t have to leave Ruthie in the car, and that we found superb dessert-flavored coffees at Javalina Coffee Shop back in Silver City to take the edge off our misery on the way back to Deming.

We were definitely on the right road when we made the trip south to Pancho Villa State Park, a little nod to America’s first (and only) armed invasion, compliments of General Francisco “Pancho” Villa, who ordered his soldiers to wreak havoc way back in 1916. General Pershing (of WWI fame) unleashed a massive can of whoop-ass, leading 3.000 soldiers 5,000 miles into Mexico in pursuit of Pancho Villa, only to fail miserably. Villa got his comeuppance a few years later, assassinated in an ambush in Chihuahua.

*Tanks have evolved a bit since Pancho’s day.*

*The last remaining homestead at the park. It’s pretty much the only thing here, besides the museum and the tank. And cactus. And rocks.*

Deming claims the park as its own, but it’s really located in Columbus, smack on the border with Mexico. While we were there, why not take a look at the crossing? We’d seen it in Douglas, Arizona, while we were staying in Willcox, and in that instance we drove along the wall until we saw the crossing area, where a big gap was open in the wall to allow those working in the U.S. but living in Mexico to move between countries.

Here, the only road for 33 miles led directly to the crossing, which we obviously could not do, especially with a dog. We had no options other than turning around and heading back to Fati, and common sense told us not to take photos.

Instead, here are a few rather unusual sites in Douglas.

*Hands up anyone who would order a burrito from a bus in the middle of nowhere!*

Strings of red chili peppers are such a wonderful constant in the places we’ve been. Susan’s parents brought one back from their travels to New Mexico and had it hanging next to the kitchen, so emotions were felt when we saw them.

Deming had one more gift in store. Along with a string of multi-colored lights we bought at Walmart to decorate our fireplace in Fati, we got into the holiday spirit by attended the city’s Christmas Market in the afternoon (a short experience, with only a small handful of vendors and even fewer visitors) and attending the Christmas parade and Tree Lighting that evening.

*Ruthie did some low-grade “wooooooo”-ing when the police car and fire engine sirens passed by, kicking off the parade.*

*The Grinch featured heavily. He was in the parade five or six times.*

*Santa was on hand to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas!*

The parade was so charming and homespun and nostalgic, it may have been our favorite surprise of the whole week. We attended the Christmas Tree Lighting afterwards, and departed Deming the next day feeling very much in the holiday spirit.

Farewell, Arizona

Willcox, Arizona offered a chance to catch our breath, keep our touring low-key, and end our time in the state on a relaxed note. We expected to spend most of our time “at home,” with a few afternoon jaunts before dinner and a movie each night in Fati. And while that was partially true, we all know what they say about the best-laid plans.

We started our five-day stay at the fabulous Willcox-Cochise AZ, KOA Holiday campground with dinner from the onsite Roadrunner Kafé, where the pizza we ordered was delivered right to our door, hot and delicious. We’d been excited to have a patio with a real table and chairs, an outdoor grill (oh, happy day!), and a fire pit. The unexpectedly cold weather had other ideas, but if we return to this area, we’ll make sure we do it when it’s sunny and pleasant so we can make full use of those fabulous amenities.

We didn’t really have plans for touring the area, but we did want to visit the “sky islands” of Chiricahua National Monument, where enormous rock formations tower high above Bonita Canyon. Apache – who at one time did not use that pejorative term (from the Spanish interpretation of the Zuni word meaning “enemy”) in reference to themselves, but instead use the name “Nde,” meaning “the people” – lived here while it was still a part of Mexico, prior to settlement by emigrant families from Canada, Ireland, and Sweden.

*Looking down into the canyon from the top of the mountain, we wondered if this is what Bryce Canyon may have looked like at one point.*

A band of coatimundi had been spotted that morning, so we should watch for them, said the woman at the Visitor Center. Black bear, rattlesnakes, whitetail deer, mountain lions, and other large mammals live here, too, but the only wildlife we saw was a lone deer.

Driving around Willcox the next day, we braved a rough road that led to a derelict cemetery just outside town, where Warren Earp was buried.

*The desert is definitely taking back the cemetery grounds.*

Warren was the youngest of the Earp brothers and, having avoided the shootout at the O.K. Corral in Tombstone, he jumped right in to help his brother Wyatt and their buddy Doc Holliday take revenge for the later killing of his brother Morgan before fleeing Arizona, only to land in Willcox years later, get stupid drunk, and take a bullet through the heart compliments of a patron of the saloon where Earp was over-imbibing. The shooter was acquitted on grounds of self-defense.

The nearly-forgotten cemetery told the story of Willcox’s early days, when people died too young; some far too young.

Also just outside town is the Willcox Playa Wildlife Area where, we’d heard, we might spot Sandhill Cranes arriving at their winter migration grounds. Understatement of the decade. There were thousands and thousands, with more arriving every minute. We spent two evenings at the wildlife area watching them flying in over the mountains in great, long lines.

Many of you have probably seen Simon’s videos of their arrival. If not, here are a couple of videos from our YouTube channel.

Then, because we can’t help ourselves when there is touring to be done, we paid a visit to Bisbee, on the border with Mexico, the day before leaving Willcox.

Bisbee was a mining town, and Simon spent a long time looking at the open mine while Susan mainly waited in the car.

*That’s a small lake at the bottom, which gives you an idea of how huge the pit is.*

The semi-abandoned but totally adorable Lowell was just a couple of blocks away. It’s a tiny throwback to a kinder, gentler time, from the storefronts down to the old-timey cars parked along the curbs.

It was here that we also got our first look at the border wall between the U.S. and Mexico, just a few miles south of Bisbee, in Douglas.

On the way back to Willcox we stopped at Whitewater Draw, where some of the Sandhill Cranes spend the day before flying over the mountain range to Willcox. Here, we watched them take off and make that journey.

*The marshy area is chock-full of Sandhill Cranes.*

*Ruthie seemed content to watch the birds prepare for their nightly migration.*

We were ready to move on when morning came. We’d spent 49 days in Arizona – the most in any state so far – and we headed toward New Mexico feeling we’d learned so much about this part of the southwest, which had surprised and delighted us so often.