I promised in my last post that I'd put up a few of my own Wigwam pictures in the morning. Some of you asked if it was a real wigwam. You can't really tell from the pictures, but it's made of cast concrete.
Inside, it was surprisingly roomy and comfortable, with a bathroom and shower. Tuesday morning we were up and out of our Wigwam before 7 am for the drive to Albuquerque, New Mexico. We continued to listen to Hillerman's The Dark Wind as we drove through Arizona.
When we crossed the state line into New Mexico, the legendary Joe Leaphorn was planning to meet Jim Chee for coffee in Shiprock. Out our window, on US 40, the highway signs read "Shiprock, Next Exit", while the advertising billboards asked us to "Stop at Chee's". It was a hoot.
While we were in the middle of the Petrified Forest, I got a text from my co-worker, Gabriela Ernsberger, letting me know that we had to stop at Cracker Barrel; otherwise, it wasn't an official road trip. We had never been, so we stopped there when we reached Gallup.
It was billed as "The Sampler". I'd hate to see a full order. For my diet's sake, I hope they don't ever build a Cracker Barrel closer to home.
In the event that you've never been to a Cracker Barrel either, they also have a gift shop with snacks and trinkets. They had a wide variety of sodas that I never see for sale any more.
The candy isle, too, was more extensive than I see at 7-11 or the supermarket. I bought this three-color Neapolitan coconut candy that I remember eating as a kid. (On the front of the package it says "Since 1895".)
In Gallup, we went shopping at the trading posts along Route 66. Because of Covid, the normal Indian Markets have been closed throughout all of New Mexico. I wanted to look for moccasins for my granddaughters, and rugs and blankets for ourselves.
We had heard that Gallup would be much less expensive than Taos or Santa Fe. Kathy convinced me that our granddaughters would never wear the moccasins, and the rug and blanket prices were still out of my comfort zone (although they were all very beautiful.)
After our shopping we got back on US 40 to Albuquerque, and got to our motel around 3:30. The Sandia Peak Inn, on Central Avenue was very, very nice, and certainly much less cramped than the Wigwam. It was also less expensive.
The Sandia is a family-run motel and they were very friendly. The grounds were very attractive, with the trees just coming into bloom. Our room was large and clean and had a table, a desk, a microwave and a refrigerator. We could park right at our door. We'd definitely stay there again.
Tuesday evening was definitely one of the highlights of our trip; we spent the evening with Skip Heitzig and his wife Lenya. For those of you who don't know him, Skip is the founder and Senior Pastor of Calvary of Albuquerque, one of the largest churches in the United States.
He is a prolific author, a composer, and serves on the board of Franklin Graham's relief agency, Samaritan's Purse. Lenya, besides being a pastor's wife, is also an author, co-hosts the podcast All the Things, and runs the ministry Reload Love, which ministers to children who are victims of terror.
They are also both fascinating people. I felt we could have kept talking all night.
On to Santa Fe
By now, we realized that booking hotels that offer a free breakfast was a losing strategy. Eating out of a bag isn't the same as sitting at a table. When we left the Sandia Peak Inn by 8 am, heading for Santa Fe, we realized that our first stop had to be breakfast.
We had a guidebook, but New Mexico is still a little more closed than Arizona or California. We drove down Central Avenue (historic Route 66) through downtown Albuquerque, and found our first two options closed. However, across from the University of New Mexico we found that the Frontier Restaurant was still open.
Since UNM classes are still virtual this spring, the eatery wasn't overrun with students. We both had the breakfast burrito with shredded pork and green chili sauce. I've eaten Mexican food in California with green chili sauce, but New Mexico green chili sauce is definitely in a different category. Very hot. The cinnamon rolls were also hot, but sweet, not spicy.
There are three ways to get to Santa Fe: the fast way, on the freeway, the long way, through the Jemez Mountains, and the just-right trip via the Turquoise Trail, through Madrid (pronounced MAD-rid).
Madrid is about half-way to Santa Fe. We stopped for gas in Cedar Springs and made it to Madrid by noon. The town was originally a coal mining town with as many as 4,000 residents.
Like Jerome in Arizona, it was abandoned and rediscovered by the bohemian arts crowd.
Today, its full of colorful shops. We spend about an hour and a half visiting most of them and taking pictures.
Madrid's other claim to fame is as the backdrop for the John Travolta film, Wild Hogs. I've never seen the movie, but one of the sets they built is a pilgrimage site for Harley-riding Travolta fans. Going with the flow, Kathy and I took our selfie there too.
In Santa Fe
Santa Fe is strange, and I don't mean in the Sedona sense, which I expected. It seems like everybody wears a mask, all the time, indoors or outdoors, waking or sleeping. It's a little disconcerting.
We got into town early, so we checked into the Sage Hotel on Cerrillos Road. The room isn't as large as the one in Albuquerque, but Kathy says it beats a Wigwam. We hadn't eaten lunch in Madrid, and the breakfast burrito from the Frontier was only a memory, so we headed around the corner to La Choza for lunch.
Kathy learned her lesson from breakfast, and had the chili on the side. I just assumed that it was a problem with the Frontier, and left it in my chili rellenos and blue corn enchilada. It goes without saying that Kathy was right and I was wrong.
The interior of the restaurant, and so many of the buildings we've seen here in Santa Fe, was captivating. Our artist daughter, Hosanna Rubio, thought that this heart decoration over the arch was beautiful.
After lunch, we walked around down town. Our idea of buying inexpensive southwest memorabilia in Gallup hadn't borne fruit, so we adopted a different tack; visiting thrift stores. After all, those Santa Fe folk surely have some good rugs and clothing to discard. We visited several thrift stores. Double Take near downtown was especially impressive. Nevertheless, we weren't successful. Navajo rugs and turquoise and silver jewelry never makes it to the bargain rack.
Many of the businesses in the downtown area, including the Cathedral, closed at 4 pm. Kathy thought it might be part of the Covid restrictions, rather than a cultural preference, like eating dinner at 10 pm in Spain. Since we couldn't go inside, I took a picture outside with the statue of St. Francis, the patron saint of Santa Fe.
I talked Kathy into standing next to the statue of Kateri Tekakwitha, the first Native American Saint.
On the way back to the car, we visited one of the tourist emporiums, and came away with some "southwest themed" blankets and clothes. Not hand-made on a wooden loom over months, with hand-died wool, nor signed and numbered. But, lovely all the same. We were both pleased.
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