Alamogordo – Monticello

9 May – 14 May

Monday:

We don’t need any persuading to leave Alamogordo this morning.  We’re driving deeper into New Mexico, heading for Lincoln.  As we arrive we realise that we don’t have the cash to pay the entrance fee to the museum.  Schoolboy error.  The nearest cashpoint is 12 miles away, which takes us into Smokey Bear country: Capitan.  

The story of Smokey starts with a bear cub orphaned by a fire in Lincoln National Forest.  He was rescued and soon stole the public’s heart.  He lived out his life in Washington DC zoo and became the image of fire safety.  After his death he was flown home to be buried in his hometown, Capitan.  Driving through you get the idea that Smokey Bear may be the only reason people pass this way – his picture is up all over town. 

With some cash in hand we can head back to Lincoln.  This is Billy the Kid country and in preparation Nick has made us watch the “documentaries” Young Guns and Young Guns II.  Lincoln is like a low-key Tombstone.  It oozes Wild West without the tack or the crowds.  We spend a couple of hours walking the dusty streets visiting the spots where Billy the Kid misbehaved. 

We soak up as much history as we can, then jump back into the car for the drive to Roswell.  For a town so steeped in intrigue it’s pretty ordinary looking, although ‘aliens’ are ever present in the billboards, shop signage and even the lampposts.  

We’ve got just enough time for a look round the International UFO Museum.  It’s interesting in its own way, but if its purpose is to open your mind to the possibility of alien life then it fails miserably.  I went in vaguely hoping to be at least half convinced, but the displays only manage to highlight how much ‘alien encounters’ are desperate human graspings. 

The museum is closing, so we leave to find a motel.  When we get hungry we cross the road to Farley’s (an only marginally alien themed pub) for beer and pizzas.

Nick adds: “I’ll make you famous”.

Tuesday:

Feeling like we need a more balanced view of Roswell we head back into town to the Roswell Museum.  It turns out to be very good, with interesting displays on early rocket pioneers and a comprehensive art gallery.  Our faith in Roswell restored, we set off again.

We’ve got one more stop on our Billy the Kid tour: Old Fort Sumner to see his grave.  It’s behind bars because the tombstone has been stolen so many times.

After this desolate stop we drive into Santa Fe.  The temperature is dropping and we check into a motel so we can layer up our clothes before heading into town.  

Santa Fe is a weird one.  We had such high hopes for it and it doesn’t quite disappoint, but it does go over the top.  Whereas Tuscon was effortless, Santa Fe is trying too hard.  Everything (including parking garages) has been built or remodelled in the puebloan adobe style.

We take a walk through the old town, which is atmospheric but seems to consist of a handful of museums and 101 identical souvenir stores.  The Native American artisans trading their wares in the plaza provide a welcome distraction.  I’m making Santa Fe sound awful.  It isn’t, it’s very pretty but just very touristy. 

As evening falls we head into a Mexican (of course) restaurant for some food and then head back to the motel.

Wednesday:

We have one last stop off in Santa Fe today: Kowboyz – a shop selling ‘western wear’.  I’ve never seen so many cowboy boots in my life, it’s just room after room with boots lined up like books on shelves.  It turns out to be a bad thing as I get boot overload and don’t manage to actually buy any.  Still, it’s been fun.

Leaving Santa Fe we drive south an hour or so to Albuquerque.  Immediately it feels better.  There is an old town, but there’s also a normal, functioning city which I think makes you appreciate the quaintness of the old town more. 

We spend some time exploring the narrow streets and little shops then take a walk downtown to take in some route 66 history, including the Kimo Theatre.

Reunited with our car we explore a little further afield before finding a motel to settle for the night.  As usual there are practicalities to be taken care of: groceries to be bought, washing to be done.

Nick adds: this is the problem with America: I can’t buy beer in the local Walmart because there is a church built nearby.  But they will sell me a gun.

Thursday:

We’re heading into national parks territory today and for the next 8 days or so we’re going to be hitting a different national park each day.  Our drive takes us northwest, through some beautiful if bleak countryside.  Just past Gallup New Mexico we cross back over into Arizona and the Navajo Nation. 

Our destination today is Canyon de Chelly, just outside Chinle.   It’s a sheer-sided canyon with the walls rising to 1000 feet.  The bottom is fairly level and quite green.  A few Navajo families farm in the canyon.  The main reason to come is to see the ruins of dwellings built by the Ancestral Puebloans.  There are scenic drives along both canyon rims with various lookout points.  Far, far below are the toytown ruins. 

There’s only one hike that you can do down into the canyon without Navajo guides, so of course we do it.  It’s not a long walk (2.5m), but it’s quite fun.  A short tunnel drops us below the rim of the canyon and a broad stone ledge takes us down, before another tunnel brings us out on the canyon floor.  A short walk along the bottom brings us face to face with the Whitehouse ruins – named for the ruin towards the back that is white-washed. 

Once we’ve hauled ourselves back up again we continue our scenic drive and then turn back to Chinle for the night.

Friday:

Heading out from Chinle we encounter some more humbling scenery: all flat plains and towering mesas in shades of red, pink and orange.  Finally we round a corner and see one of the most iconic sights of the west: Monument Valley.  John Ford shot dozens of westerns here, so this is kind of hard-wired into the brain as cowboy country. 

There’s a rough scenic drive, which takes us round to various lookout points.  Everything (apart from the darting lizards and chipmunks) is large scale: enormous distances and towering heights. 

Once we’ve bumped our way along it’s 17m we decide to stretch our legs a bit.  The Wildcat trail takes us out into the red desert, looping around the impressive West Mitten in 3.5m.  It’s not too strenuous a walk, but we get back to the car covered in red dust.

It’s only a short drive to our stopping point for the night.  Mexican Hat – named for the nearby sombrero shaped rock. 

I wouldn’t quite call Mexican Hat a town.  It basically consists of 4 motels plus a garage.  We’re expecting it and our motel to be a bit of a dump, but they both turn out to be quite charming.  The setting is quite stunning: on the banks of the San Juan River and surrounded by multi-hued sandstone. 

We’re out of food and our options are pretty limited, so we head downstairs to the open-air steakhouse for some dinner.  It’s brilliant.  A gentleman with his check shirt unbuttoned to the waist is furiously grilling steaks over a log fire and a country band is warming up in the background. 

Surprisingly, of the 4 dishes on the menu one happens to be a veggie burger, so I’m sorted.  Nick of course goes for the biggest steak he can get.  Everything is served on tin trays with mounds of pinto beans, salad and Texas toast.

Bellies full, we go back upstairs to bed.

Saturday: 

We drive out of Mexican Hat and after 5 miles we reach the Goosenecks State Reserve.  We’ve only come for the views.  Our 5 miles have also brought us 1000 feet up and the San Juan River is now far below us.  We’re looking down on what is called an entrenched meander: the river snakes so much that it flows 6 miles to advance 1 mile.  Some tiny specks below are rafters floating along. 

Behind us the Cedar Mesa rises up another 1000 feet.  That’s where we’re headed next.  The highway takes us directly towards the sheer cliffs.  It looks as if the road must dead-end, but at the last minute we turn onto a narrow shelf of a road (called the Moki Dugway) that torturously twists it’s way up.  I’m not sure whether to be more nervous of the drop-off or the precariously balanced rocks high overhead. 

At the top we turn off for some more panoramic views and these are breathtaking.  The landscape is so vast it’s hard to get any sense of scale. 

On the horizon we can see Monument Valley.  Or I can.  Nick is struggling to concentrate on the views as he’s trying to make friends.

Some voices call to us seemingly from over the edge of the abyss.  There’s a broad ledge below us reached by scrambling down some boulders.  A couple (the owners of the dog) have found some petroglyphs so we climb down to take a look.

We soak in the wide-open space for a while longer and then drive on.  It’s late morning when we arrive in Natural Bridges National Park.  The name kind of gives it a way.   The first bridge is the largest.  We can see it from the road but the views from the bottom are even better.  It’s a fun climb down involving staircases and even 2 wooden ladders, although coming up is harder work.

We hike down to the second bridge as well.  As we’re about to climb back up a group of walkers ask us if we’ve seen the ruins rock art.  One of them plays tour guide and leads us a short way down the canyon to a small gallery of pictographs and –glyphs with a few ruins.  Bridge number 3 is a shorter climb and a bit easier on the legs.

We’ve got another hour of driving to reach our stopping point for the night.  The scenery is starting to change.   We’re still surrounded by canyons, mesas and buttes, but there are now snow-capped mountains on the horizon.  We stop briefly at Blanding to pick up some groceries and liked the shelving layout: no need to walk too far between your junk food and your dietary aids. 

There’s not much to Monticello when we arrive, but it’s convenient. 

Janet adds: I’m not sure why they bother with the separate national parks.  The scenery in-between is just as impressive.  They may as well just turn all of southern Utah into a national park.