Colorado Bound - Day 8
Day 8 to Albuquerque, NM
I re-organized the car. I was able to store some of its contents with a friend, lightening my load by a cumulative 200 lbs or so. The cubic footage I saved will now allow me to have almost full vision out my rear window. I've been relying on the side-view windows exclusively, and now, driving is even more safe.
I enjoyed making some awesome trail mix before leaving NY. Two kinds of nuts, dates, raisins, chocolate chunks, butterscotch chips and some other good stuff. I thought that would help sustain me with some energy on the long drive. My car was packed so tight that I couldn't get to the trail mix until I had a chance to clean out the car. It seemed like every time I opened the passenger door, my trail mix would roll out. Soon my only goal became to not get my nuts slammed in the door. It's a good rule to live by.
My days in Littleton, CO were quite enjoyable, especially the excursion up to Evergreen.
I got some lovely photos. May favorites are the ones with Celeste. SHe's been so kind and so helpful, and I want everybody to meet her. My blog may be the only way for that to happen. She took me up the mountain, and it was wonderful, as you can tell from the photos.
She also cut 15 minutes or so off my trip to Albuquerque, which will hereafter be ABQ because it's a pain to type. Anyway, I met the friendly Shell station attendant, who welcomed the opportunity to pose with Frog Angel.
We had a nice trip and stopped briefly for pics at Colorado Springs — Pikes Peak from a scenic overlook — and later Raton and Santa Fe.
Celeste's big concern was the weather at the Raton Pass. The Raton Pass... where men fear to tread. But not frogs. Our weather was clear sailing all the way. Except at the Raton Pass. A few stray, black clouds threatened to dump bad weather on us, but we were hit with just two flakes of snow. Two. I counted them. I imagined the weather report that night: "The Raton Pass was hit with two flakes today. And there was also some snow."
I pulled off at Raton, and wanted to find a sign with the name "Raton" in it. I headed to the business district, and passed run-down motels and shanty houses that indicated the impoverished underbelly of New Mexico. The living conditions I saw made me sad. The main street in Raton was vibrant, although closed on Sunday. Inside one shop, a woman painted a beautiful garden portrait in the window. And we found our Raton sign — at the el Raton Theatre. Enjoy the video report from there!
On to Santa Fe. Angela enthusiastically greeted me at a gas stop off the exit, we parked my car and went on a blitkrieg tour of the city, taking pictures before darkness fell. We went to Mass at the Catherdral Basilica of St. Francis, a church with amazing artifacts, including a statue of St. Francis dating back to the 12th century.
We could not decide where to have dinner until Angela ran down the entire list of possibilities. My choice was a place called "The Cowgirl," which featured BBQ and live entertainment, and was once reviewed by Rachel Ray. The pulled pork sandwich with chipotle spices was perhaps the best sandwich I ever had. Except for the delicious tuna salad sandwich Celeste sent me packing with in the morning. Two great sandwiches in the same day! The live entertainment consisted of a piano player whose time setting up was wasted. After two songs, Angela commented, "We have to leave. I can't take any more of Beethoven, here." We laughed, amid looks of disgust from Gabe Beethoven's family. We did not buy the CD. But we couldn't leave because we couldn't pay the check. It turns out that the staff shared our appreciation of fine music, and had all stepped outside to preserve their sanity. And last night, in this moment of clarity, I understood why Van Gogh would cut off an ear.
We walked through town, enjoying the Spanish and native American ambiance that is Santa Fe. A man in a cowboy hat playing guitar in the chill air on a storefront step. A photographer capturing night images. Window shoppers at the many boutiques and small galleries. And the many outdoor art pieces and religious artifacts in a city obviously in love with being "under God."
My favorite place was the lobby of the Santa Fe Hotel, a native American place with southwestern beauty unrivaled by any I've ever seen. We took pictures. Lots of pictures. In Santa Fe, alone, I took more than 110 photos.
Then, we drove an hour to ABQ, stopping at the Scandia Casino, or "cashino" as FA calls them. He was not allowed in, for fear of creating an Indian rebellion and because cameras aren't allowed in. I'm shocked that Angela hasn't yet created an Indian rebellion, but that's a different story for a different day.
Then, Angela patiently directed me to places to find some extra-strength cold medicine. I was pretty sick and in need of anti-histimine and a cup of hot tea. ABQ is the city of "Great Expectorations." Sorry, 'bout that, ABQ.
Next: I'll share my experiences and observations in ABQ.
Going loco in New Mexico.
Kerry & Angela on St. Francis Dr.
Outside the basilica
Gabe Beethoven.
I re-organized the car. I was able to store some of its contents with a friend, lightening my load by a cumulative 200 lbs or so. The cubic footage I saved will now allow me to have almost full vision out my rear window. I've been relying on the side-view windows exclusively, and now, driving is even more safe.
I enjoyed making some awesome trail mix before leaving NY. Two kinds of nuts, dates, raisins, chocolate chunks, butterscotch chips and some other good stuff. I thought that would help sustain me with some energy on the long drive. My car was packed so tight that I couldn't get to the trail mix until I had a chance to clean out the car. It seemed like every time I opened the passenger door, my trail mix would roll out. Soon my only goal became to not get my nuts slammed in the door. It's a good rule to live by.
My days in Littleton, CO were quite enjoyable, especially the excursion up to Evergreen.
I got some lovely photos. May favorites are the ones with Celeste. SHe's been so kind and so helpful, and I want everybody to meet her. My blog may be the only way for that to happen. She took me up the mountain, and it was wonderful, as you can tell from the photos.
She also cut 15 minutes or so off my trip to Albuquerque, which will hereafter be ABQ because it's a pain to type. Anyway, I met the friendly Shell station attendant, who welcomed the opportunity to pose with Frog Angel.
We had a nice trip and stopped briefly for pics at Colorado Springs — Pikes Peak from a scenic overlook — and later Raton and Santa Fe.
Celeste's big concern was the weather at the Raton Pass. The Raton Pass... where men fear to tread. But not frogs. Our weather was clear sailing all the way. Except at the Raton Pass. A few stray, black clouds threatened to dump bad weather on us, but we were hit with just two flakes of snow. Two. I counted them. I imagined the weather report that night: "The Raton Pass was hit with two flakes today. And there was also some snow."
I pulled off at Raton, and wanted to find a sign with the name "Raton" in it. I headed to the business district, and passed run-down motels and shanty houses that indicated the impoverished underbelly of New Mexico. The living conditions I saw made me sad. The main street in Raton was vibrant, although closed on Sunday. Inside one shop, a woman painted a beautiful garden portrait in the window. And we found our Raton sign — at the el Raton Theatre. Enjoy the video report from there!
On to Santa Fe. Angela enthusiastically greeted me at a gas stop off the exit, we parked my car and went on a blitkrieg tour of the city, taking pictures before darkness fell. We went to Mass at the Catherdral Basilica of St. Francis, a church with amazing artifacts, including a statue of St. Francis dating back to the 12th century.
We could not decide where to have dinner until Angela ran down the entire list of possibilities. My choice was a place called "The Cowgirl," which featured BBQ and live entertainment, and was once reviewed by Rachel Ray. The pulled pork sandwich with chipotle spices was perhaps the best sandwich I ever had. Except for the delicious tuna salad sandwich Celeste sent me packing with in the morning. Two great sandwiches in the same day! The live entertainment consisted of a piano player whose time setting up was wasted. After two songs, Angela commented, "We have to leave. I can't take any more of Beethoven, here." We laughed, amid looks of disgust from Gabe Beethoven's family. We did not buy the CD. But we couldn't leave because we couldn't pay the check. It turns out that the staff shared our appreciation of fine music, and had all stepped outside to preserve their sanity. And last night, in this moment of clarity, I understood why Van Gogh would cut off an ear.
We walked through town, enjoying the Spanish and native American ambiance that is Santa Fe. A man in a cowboy hat playing guitar in the chill air on a storefront step. A photographer capturing night images. Window shoppers at the many boutiques and small galleries. And the many outdoor art pieces and religious artifacts in a city obviously in love with being "under God."
My favorite place was the lobby of the Santa Fe Hotel, a native American place with southwestern beauty unrivaled by any I've ever seen. We took pictures. Lots of pictures. In Santa Fe, alone, I took more than 110 photos.
Then, we drove an hour to ABQ, stopping at the Scandia Casino, or "cashino" as FA calls them. He was not allowed in, for fear of creating an Indian rebellion and because cameras aren't allowed in. I'm shocked that Angela hasn't yet created an Indian rebellion, but that's a different story for a different day.
Then, Angela patiently directed me to places to find some extra-strength cold medicine. I was pretty sick and in need of anti-histimine and a cup of hot tea. ABQ is the city of "Great Expectorations." Sorry, 'bout that, ABQ.
Next: I'll share my experiences and observations in ABQ.
Going loco in New Mexico.
Kerry & Angela on St. Francis Dr.
Outside the basilica
Gabe Beethoven.
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