Tucumcari and Route 66

 Perhaps this photo exemplifies the lure of Tucumcari, Route 66, and RV travel for me.  I want to be Betty Boop....tee hee!  And this little RV is about the size for me and the canines.  Speaking of canines, here they are in the Sun and Sand Restaurant  (https://www.facebook.com/SunSandRestaurant), just down Rte. 66 from Betty's abode.

One per carrying case, otherwise they fight, really, really fight.  I didn't try to conceal the cases as I entered the Sun and Sand, not that I could have, but neither staff nor customers cared that I was probably violating health codes....unlike another place east of the Mississippi which had evicted me because some customer had complained.  The staff was sympathetic; they'd rather have evicted the complainer and let me stay.   New Mexico seems to be a bit more mellow than Mississippi......just saying.

While I would occasionally catch a glimpse of Marty Milner and George Maharis driving insouciantly in their dashing Corvette, it was just out of the corner of my eye, and I never did catch up with them.  I did see a number of places they might have stayed, including

this wonderful, now delapidated, closed old motel. I'd much rather stay here than in a cookie cooker Days Inn or Ramada.  Of course, I do stay in KOAs..... 

And as with folks everywhere, Tucumcarians are not reluctant to provide evidence of their political proclivities.

Not mine of course, but clever nonetheless.  Now I'm off to Albuquerque!

A Nail, not a golf tee

No, it isn't a weird golf tee.  It's a handmade nail.

Sorry I don't have a better photo, but just think of this as "art."

The New Mexico Farm and Heritage Museum in Las Cruces looked like an interesting place and the day was sufficiently cool that I could incarcerate the canines in the car while I ambled through this indoor/outdoor museum. 

I like living history, perhaps as a residual memory of going to Williamsburg as a kidlet and seeing glassblowers and horse shoers.  This codger was making nails, mostly in a traditional fashion, though with the aid of modern tubing running to his fire pit.

Here he's cutting off a piece of hot metal, the length of the four-sided nail he'll be crafting.

Nail head.

Finished product.

 

 

I've given much thought to this simple nail, which took him about 5 minutes to make, though part of that time was talking with me and holding up his work for me to photograph.  I go to a big box store where I'm forced to buy a bag of 50 nails, or an assortment of 10 types of nails, when all I really want is two.  If I were forced to make my own nails -- or buy them from the person making them -- I would use the carefully, rather than wantonly, as I'm apt to do.  Don't get me wrong.  I don't wish to return to the days of handmade nails, but I do with we could learn the lesson of carefully shepherding our resources a bit better.

The Land of Enchantment

Six weeks since I last posted.  My goodness, I'm way behind.  Partly laziness and partly lack of access to Wifi, forcing me to use what some call a dongle, I call a gizmo, and Verizon calls VZAccess.  Even though I'm completely out of (chronological) order at this point, come with me as I drift through New Mexico, truly the Land of Enchantment. 

I'd prefer to keep left, but will definitely keep an eye out for rattlesnakes.

Abbey almost stepped on a baby rattler in a Virginia campground; I jerked her leash so hard, it's a wonder I didn't decapitate her.  On a birding trip in Arizona a few weeks after I took this photo, someone told me that the bite of baby rattlers is actually worse than that of their more mature mommas and poppas, because the baby doesn't ration its venom.  It just sinks in those fangs and lets loose the juice.  Regardless of whether this is true, I have no plans to play with baby snakes, big snakes, any snakes.   My first stop was Leasburg Dam State Park, near Las Cruces, the office of the Visitor Center pictured below.

No, she isn't hiding just because I walked in; she's resisting my request for a photo.  She did finally acquiesce.  She's actually a campground host, and does some work in the Visitor Center.  Public campgrounds could not exist with the wonderful people who volunteer to live there during the season.  These hosts live in their own RVs, in the campground.  They are a combination of desk clerk, smiling security, sellers of wood....  Usually, they are a married couple, but Matilda is unusual....

Matilda's big smile reflects her inner beauty.   Most campers are white/anglo/caucasian.  People of color are rare in either public or private campgrounds.  Moreover, a single woman as a campground host is unusual, although many single women volunteer as cultural, historical, and scientific interpreters.  When Matilda first came over to my site to check me in, I was surprised to see a person of color.  The next day, I had a question so knocked on the door of her RV, and when she invited me in, I sensed that she and her little canine lived alone...OK, without a man.  As ya'll know, I'm curious, and as we got to talking, she told me a bit of her story.  She and her husband had been camphosts at two different parks, Leasburg in the winter and somewhere cooler in the summer, for many, many years.  As with a surprising number of RVers, their RV was their home.  Several years ago, he died.  Being comfortable in Leasburg, with friends in Las Cruces and family in California, she arranged to stay on year round as campground host.  She was coming to the end of her RV living, though, as a dear friend had given her a double-wide in Las Cruces, and she was going to make the move to town.  She's an amazing woman.

Again, a campground where each site has a covered picnic table, most likely because it can get quite windy, making a canopy impractical.  My photo skills cannot capture the river valley just below the campground.

Trying to stay hidden, as usual.

Leasburg Dam State Park is tucked between I 25 and I 40 in what even a few years ago would have been  classified as the back of beyond.  Today, civilization is encroaching, though comfortably far away.

The not so mighty Rio Grande River

And a vineyard near the campground. 

This camper was in the tent-camping area, with no hookups, therefore cheaper than what I pay for water and electric hookups.  I could do without a water hookup, but I'm spoiled for light, heat (definitely needed even in NM in February), and my computer.   It finally occurred to me that this solar array is the reason this small poptop is in the tent camping area. 

So I walked over, knocked on the door, stepped back to be polite and not pushy.  A youngish man came out, and I asked if I could take a photo of his solar panel for my blog.  He seemed to think that a bit odd, but not in a hostile way.  We then discussed the benefits and limits of his home made solar system, with me not understanding very much of the technical part.  Regardless, I was impressed.

As with many state park visitor centers throughout the country, this one reflects its local heritage.  All in all, Leasburg Dam State Park was a good find.