Travelogue: En Route to Oklahoma, Day 2

What: Car Ride to Oklahoma
Where: New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma
When: Monday, August 4, 2014

New Mexico

Fresh Belgian waffles! It's part of the hotel's free continental breakfast, though you have to make it yourself. I pump out the pre-made batter and pour it on the round waffle iron, flip it over, and wait for the button to beep. I pry off crisp waffle with a plastic fork.

Coffee's a bit weak. We hunt down a Starbucks.

Rain sends us on our way, but I'm busy reading When I look up again, the skies are blue.

Blue skies and sunflowers

Round verdant bushes mottle gentle hills, like spots on a dog's belly. Small wild sunflowers clump the edges of the road. I spot a grazing beast. "Cow," I cry, but it turns out to be a horse, and the whole car laughs. Later, I do see cows, glossy and healthy and black.

Another rest stop. Sunflowers, cosmos, zinnias wave in the breeze. Low white wildflowers and clumps of tiny yellow daisies dot the grass. Anthills abound. As I take photos of a creek behind barbed wire fence, I spy small bunny sitting on a dirt trail, just a few yards away.

Bunny!

I stalk it with my camera. My dad walks up, and I motion for him to keep quiet. He suddenly points to a second rabbit. And a third! They all dash behind the barbed wire fence.

Texas

We pass into Texas some time while I'm reading. The mountain have vanished and the land is flat.

A group of houses catch my eye. They have the orderly, cookie-cutter look of any suburb, but I see no fences or walls, no curbs, no sidewalk, and few roads. It looks as though someone just transplanted a neighborhood onto the farmland. It makes me think about how artificial the landscape of California is, how used to this I am.

Dad points out dying cities. Behind their sturdy brick facade, popular in the days of the old West, the buildings lie dormant. We drive past city blocks with more dead stores than living.

Rest Stop

We eat lunch at a rest stop with shade structures that form the shape of a train.

Oklahoma

The ground takes on a reddish hue. I see lines of dirt between neat rows of green vegetables: farmland. Lots of wide open spaces. It's all starting to look the same.

Guess its time to read again.

And suddenly we're there.

We're in a lively town with plenty of restaurants, some chain, some one-of-a-kind. "Get your IDs," Dad says, and I'm momentarily distracted trying to pry my driver's license out of my wallet. At the gate of Fort Sill, we have our IDs scanned and pass on through.

We park at a two-story, yellow stucco house with white wood trim. My brother, Tyler, comes out. We step inside to see my sister-in-law, Shantel; my nephew, Tyson; and two fat yipping lap dogs.

Tyson's so happy to see us!

Travelogue: En Route to Oklahoma, Day 1

What: Car Ride to Oklahoma
Where: California, Arizona, New Mexico
When: Sunday, August 3, 2014

California

We leave the house at little after 4:00 AM, squished in my parent's Prius. My long-legged dad drives. I, the shorter sibling, sit behind him. My sister, Jaime, sits behind my mom. Jaime has brought her white fluffy toy poodle Lincoln, and his carrier is taking up the entire middle seat. I lean against it, and try to go back to sleep.  Not easy. My bulky black purse, computer, and writing materials are jammed against my legs. I can't stretch an inch.

I doze anyway.
The sun rises, and the mountains take on a misty, purplish hue. We're in the Mojave Desert. The land is flat and brown and crowded with spiny bushes and clumps of yellow grass. No Joshua Trees. No cactus, either. Jaime says we can't be in Arizona yet, because there are no cactus. It's overcast. A light rain spits droplets over the window.



Misty Mojave

We stop at a rest stop. The damp of rain brings out the thick smell of sweet herbs. According to the sign, "strong-smelling creosote bushes and bursage" can be found in the desert. Are those the spiny bushes I saw? Lincoln-puppy sniffs around. We eat a breakfast of cold bagels, cream cheese pastries, and Pop Tarts.

Rain patters and pours. It quickly ends. Mist wraps the mountains like a white smoke so that only their dim outlines are visible.

Arizona

I fall asleep.

When I pry my lids open, nothing's much changed. Still desert. Still no cactus. Land's a bit greener. Do I detect willow trees? Lincoln licks my fingers through the cage. Think I'll nod off again.

Zzzz...

Now it's really raining. The rain blasts the car like a dust storm and makes silvery streaks upon the black asphalt. We're high in the mountains, surrounded by dark green conifer forests. Have I missed the cactus entirely?



Where are the cactus?

The mountains come and go. When the land flattens, a soft-looking yellow grass covers the ground. Black cows and a calf chew the grass. Railroad tracks run parallel to the road. An old-fashioned train flashes past the window. It feels like the old West.

More mountains, more forests.

Suddenly, the trees end. Short yellow wildflowers cover a long field, like a patch of sunshine fallen to earth.

The ground starts turning red. We must be getting close to Flagstaff.

Getting hungry.

We fill up for gas. Mom suggests we make sandwiches and eat in the car. The rain dashes hard around us. We huddle around the gas station canopy. Dad works the pump. I try to make a ham sandwich in the trunk, balancing pieces of bread on the luggage. Mustard spills out in a blob. This isn't working. We get back in the car and search for a rest stop.

What luck. The rain lets up right as we find one.

Puddles at a Rest Stop

Red rocks surround our picnic table, made all the brighter and more beautiful because of the rain. Pebbles crunch underfoot. Mom sets down the ice chest, and Jaime walks Lincoln. I climb the rocks. Shallow puddles on the rocks look like mirrors.

New Mexico

Around 2:00 PM, we enter "the land of enchantment." Window Rock offers us our first view of New Mexico. It's a red mesa with green bushes in a horizontal stripe pattern. "Like a rainbow," Dad says, albeit one with only 2 colors. Across the way, a sign advertises "Cliff Dwellings." Fake-looking teepees have been set up on top of the red rocks.

Land of Enchantment

We come to a rest stop at Manuelito. The cliffs are now white, though still vaguely striped. I take a picture of them between barbed wire fence. Rain drops sit in the grey-green leaves of a hearty tree. There's a strong herby scent in the air.  Mint? No. Too medicinal. I don't like it.

The round, red-bricked visitor's center houses a video of hot air balloon festivals, Navajo paintings, a cut out of Billy the Kid, an Area 51 alien, and a miniature pueblo--but mostly it houses rows and rows of glossy brochures. As I come out of the bathroom, a lady at a desk hands me a booklet of New Mexico attractions. A minute later, Jaime receives a second copy.

Back in the car, I become engrossed in a book.

I think I see a flash of lightning.



What do Californians know about storms?

Weird black funnel clouds brew in the distance. We're not in tornado territory, are we? Jaime experienced a tornado and said that the sky turned green. I keep my eyes on the clouds, but it goes back to normal.

We reach our hotel in Albuquerque around 4:00. The rain torments us one last time as we bring in our luggage. Lincoln runs around our hotel room. He's happy we're all in one place, so he can protect us. Silly dog doesn't know he weighs 14 pounds and has teeth the size of rice grains.

Lincoln thinks he's tough.