Santa Fe, Day 3

Posted on May 28, 2016 by Dave

Monday, May 23

Today is the optional day; about half the cars departed today by the route we’ll take tomorrow. Today’s route takes us southeast and east so we will have fairly fully explored Santa Fe’s environs, hitting all the major roads except I-25 south.

We got a more leisurely start today, on the road at 8:30. We enjoyed visiting with folks and tucked in to the potatoes again, and a strictly verboten (half) cinnamon roll. We hit the road on schedule with no drama and 10 cars: 5 Elises, a Europa, an M100, a Triumph, a Boxster, and an Evora.

First on the agenda was Sandia Crest, via NM 14. This is the route Jerry and I took when returning from the balloon fest back in October. Although we didn’t do the fourteen miles to the summit then, I had gone there the first time I attended the Balloon Fest. Today being a Monday, there wasn’t much traffic. There was, however, paving in progress near the summit. With only one lane open we had to wait for the escort truck. We were first in line both on our way up and on our way down, so we had open road in front of us.

Albuquerque is about a mile above sea level and Sandia rises about a mile above the city. There’s a spruce-fir forest on the top of the mountain, above roughly 9,200′. It’s an 800 acre island of forest surrounded by desert. The mountain gets as much as ten feet of snow in a season. There’s a ski area here which is accessible via the tram from the city side.

The Rio Grande side of the Sandia Mountains is 1.4 billion year old Sandia granite on top of a 1.7 billion year old metamorphic layer. The earth’s crust is separating along the Rio Grande Rift; the eastern side lifting and the western side dropping, the river filling the lower side with sediment.

We retraced our route nearly back to Santa Fe before heading east to Glorieta Pass and Pecos. We’ve driven I-25 many times without realizing it crosses the pass. There’s no marker, and this part of the road doesn’t appear any higher than any of several other parts. Glorieta means “hub”. In a Spanish town, the central square is called a glorieta. This is an apt name for the pass, as it served as a hub of trade and culture for nearly a thousand years.

The area was first settled at about the year 1100. By 1450 the pueblo here was a fortress five stories tall and housing two thousand people. This location commanded the trade path between the farmers of the Rio Grande valley and the hunters of the plains. Many goods passed through here – hides, flint, shells, pottery, textiles, crops, turquoise, and slaves. The inhabitants of Pecos grew rich from the trade, and their culture borrowed elements from both valley and plains.

In the autumn of 1540 the first Europeans crossed Glorieta pass. It was a party of twenty two Spanish men detached from Coronado’s army. Coronado sent his captain of artillery, Hernando de Alvarado with sixteen cavalrymen, four crossbowmen, and a chaplain to explore the area. In Pecos, de Alvarado met the “legendary Turk”, a Plains Indian held captive by the villagers. Turk told de Alvarado about a city called Quivira. Quivira, Turk said, was much richer than the Seven Cities of Cibola. This was misdirection: the Pecos people had the correct idea that the Spanish had come up from Mexico to rob them. The myth of gold in Quivira would lure them out into the Plains where they might get lost.

The Spanish searched, but didn’t get lost. They returned and, in the early 1600s, built a large mission complex. There was a revolt in 1680 that got rid of the Spaniards for twelve years, but they returned and rebuilt. The population declined until 1838 when the final inhabitants migrated to Jemez pueblo (near where we picnicked yesterday). Today, the Spanish mission is being restored amidst the ruins of the pueblo on the grounds of the Pecos National Historical Park.

Adobe blocks for restoration made on-site

We began our visit with today’s picnic lunch, then we watched a short video before embarking on the self guided tour. I thought it was somewhat less interesting than Bandelier. The emphasis here seems to be more on the Spanish history than that of the Pecos Indians. This was a much bigger, clearly more important, settlement than at Bandelier, but seems a much harsher place to live.

With nothing on the schedule until dinner tonight, we were left to make our own ways back to Santa Fe. As we were leaving I had a short chat with a fellow who asked about our club. He’s a member of the national Hudson car club. He told me they had their 2015 national meet in Colorado Springs (what a coincidence). They had over two hundred cars show up, and seated over four hundred people at their banquet.

Only a few miles from Pecos there’s a historical marker on the side of the highway. It was erected in 1961 and commemorates the Civil War battle of Glorieta Pass. The sign says the battle is often referred to as the “Gettysburg of the West.” I’ve never heard it called that, but I’m certainly no expert on the Civil War. Rebel troops from Texas captured Santa Fe in March of 1862. Colorado Volunteers met them here, burned their supply camp and slaughtered hundreds of their horses and mules. The Rebels fled New Mexico within two weeks.

We were back to the hotel by 3:15, with plenty of time to rest and clean up before dinner. Tonight we had reservations at The Shed. It was an excellent choice. I had the enchilada/taco plate. Blue corn tortillas, cheese and onion enchilada, green chili turkey sausage taco, served Christmas style (half red chili, half green). In my experience, the green chili is typically hotter than the red. I started with the red. A few bites into it I feared I might spontaneously combust. Here, red is definitely hotter than green. Instead of flour tortillas to sop up the extra sauce, they serve garlic bread. An unexpected but good choice.

During dinner Genae’s phone rang. Too loud in the room to hear, she let it go to voice mail. It was a call from Ann. They had suffered a flat tire after crossing Raton Pass, the group’s third mechanical incident of the trip. Luckily, it sounds like they quickly had a fix and were back on the road.

We rode the hotel’s shuttle to get to The Shed but decided to walk back in an attempt to burn off a few calories. We were back to the hotel before dark, and turned in early after another full day.

Santa Fe, Day 2

Posted on May 27, 2016 by Dave

Sunday, May 22

Our first destination today is Bandelier National Monument. There’s very limited parking at the visitor center. If you don’t get there first thing you have to park at the White Rock visitor center and take a shuttle bus. Shuttle buses aren’t how we roll so we planned on an early start. We wanted to leave the hotel by 7:30. They don’t normally start breakfast service until 7:00 but Mike had arranged for them to set up a half hour early for us.

The breakfast buffet isn’t the greatest spread I’ve ever seen, but we did enjoy their potatoes – diced, with generous portions of red and green peppers, onion, and bacon. Scrambled eggs, fruit, cereal, juice, and coffee were available as well.

We hit the road on schedule. Today’s caravan included the same cars as yesterday, less one Elise but plus the Z06. We have to make two left turns to get onto US 285 from the hotel. We were immediately split into two groups at that first light, a couple hundred yards from the hotel parking lot. They didn’t catch up to us until we were parked at the visitor center; Mike’s fine directions got everybody where they needed to be.

We arrived at the entrance station before the park opened. There’s a kiosk there that we ignored. Three miles past the entrance we found ourselves at the visitor center. There is parking for only a couple dozen cars. By the time the second tranche of LoCos arrived we had pretty much filled the place up.

The visitor center is at the bottom of a small canyon. The rock looks like sandstone but is actually tuff – rock formed from volcanic ash. A stream runs through the canyon all year long. Based on its meager flow this time of year it must be really puny in the depths of summer. The canyon is situated in an ecotone – the transition between two biomes. This provides an abundance of flora and fauna, which was probably key to ancient peoples settling here.

We took the one hour self guided tour. There are only three miles of roads in the park but over seventy miles of trails. The self guided tour covers about a mile and a half but visits the largest of the ruins. On the floor of the canyon are the ruins of a circular pueblo that probably contained a couple hundred rooms. Additional structures were cliff dwellings. These weren’t high up the cliffs like the ones at Mesa Verde but were on the bottom of the canyon and used the cliffs as part of the structure.

Next on our agenda was a picnic lunch at the Walatowa Visitor Center, south of Jemez Springs on the Jemez Mountain Trail Scenic Byway. Jerry and I took this road all the way to San Ysidro back in October when we went to the Albuquerque Balloon Festival. The drive transitions from subalpine evergreen forest to red rock desert. We initially thought it was a shame to pass all that comfortable shade and end up in the desert but Walatowa turned out to be a pleasant place for a picnic. The only hiccup on this part of the drive was when Tim ran his TR-6 out of gas. Operator error, rather than a malfunction.

After lunch we retraced our route, back up NM 4. We were to stop at Battleship Rock for a group photo. The lead cars (we were 5th) didn’t stop. I don’t know that anybody behind us stopped, but given that it was midday on a beautiful Sunday it was likely there would be too many other cars there for us to get a decent group photo.

Next was a stop at the Valles Caldera National Preserve. The four cars ahead of us passed the entrance; we followed them until we saw Mike make the turn. We turned around and followed everybody down a somewhat bumpy two mile dirt road. Having skipped Battleship Rock we went about lining up the cars for a picture here. Unfortunately, Mike’s car wouldn’t start – our second mechanical issue of the trip.

Photo courtesy of Peter Monson

Unfortunately, most of the vehicles with empty seats didn’t stop. Mike needed to call AAA for a tow and he and Lisa found themselves in the back seats of the two Evoras for the return to the hotel. We later learned that the problem was just a flat battery and he was able to source one at an auto parts store that was open until 10pm on a Sunday night. I’m not mechanically inclined, but it doesn’t make much sense that his battery was fine a half hour earlier when we left Walatowa but wouldn’t even take a jump here.

In any event, this pause allowed us an extended stay in the caldera. The caldera is 24 miles across and last erupted about 1.5 million years ago. This was the source of the ash that formed the tuff in Bandelier. No trees grow on the floor of the caldera – the soil isn’t that great and in winter there is often a thermocline that makes the air here much colder than up the slopes.

Before the place was a wildlife preserve the surrounding slopes were extensively logged. One slope to the north had conspicuous horizontal lines. These were the result of clear-cutting in the seventies. When logging ceased the forest grew back to maturity, only to be severely burned a few years ago.

The last activity planned for the day was a stop at the museum in Los Alamos. We elected to drive through town but not visit the museum. In Los Alamos we failed to make a turn and led the others astray. When we finally got through town we arrived at the junction at exactly the same time as the two Evoras, executing a perfect zipper merge.

We made it back to the hotel just after four. Most of the group had dinner reservations but Genae and I were on our own. We drove downtown to the plaza and wandered around looking for anything interesting. There was a low-rider car show there earlier; all had gone except for two or three stragglers. We finally made our way to a pizza place and nano brewery – they brewed their beer in single barrel batches. Tasty pizza, refreshing beer. We were back to the hotel by eight, tired after a full day.

Santa Fe, Day 1

Posted on May 27, 2016 by Dave

Saturday, May 21

It’s time for another long weekend trip with LoCo. We used to call these trips The Colorado Good, a riff on The Colorado Grand. This one’s entirely in New Mexico, except for the to and from. The participant list detailed twenty cars and thirty-five people. Mike organized the whole affair and sent out a nice Tour Guide with turn-by-turn directions and snippets of history for many of the places we’d be seeing.

On the way down, the first official way point was in Johnson Village. The Denver folks would meet up with the Springs people there. The Denver contingent planned to gather at The Fort and caravan to the rendezvous. However, we elected to proceed solo and were headed up the canyon on US 285 when the rest were scheduled to start their engines. We were allowing for a potty stop; we’d have been separated from the group anyway.

Going up Kenosha Pass I was collected by a short line of traffic. When I finally got a chance to pass them, a glance in the mirror revealed a string of skittles rolling down into South Park – the other Denver cars. Mike’s notes indicated we wouldn’t be going more than five to seven miles an hour over the limit. In South Park this is fiction. The first few cars in line flew past us at a great rate of speed.

Pete stopped at the junction with US 24 and we all stopped with him. Several people got out and inspected the bottom of his car. With things well in hand, we elected to continue to the rendezvous. Moments after we left, the Colorado Springs cars arrived at the junction. We couldn’t have gotten the timing any better if we’d tried. (Later, we learned Pete’s issue was a loose diffuser.)

Approaching the summit of Trout Creek Pass a prairie dog darted out in front of me. He never had a chance; I don’t think my tires ever made contact with him, but no matter. In the hundreds of thousands of miles I’ve driven in cars and trucks before the Elise I’ve never killed any animals. I hit a deer in my Arrow but didn’t even knock her off her feet. But in the Elise I’ve now gotten four birds and a prairie dog. How does that work, exactly? When we stopped, I checked out the car. No blood, not even hair, and no damage to the car.

When we finally hit the road as a full group, departing Johnson Village, we were four Elises, two Exiges, two Evoras, two M100s, a Europa, a Birkin, a Focus ST, a TR-6, a Boxster, and a Miata. (In Santa Fe we added another Elise and a Z06 Corvette.)

We had a picnic lunch in Alamosa. The road through the San Luis Valley to Alamosa is one of the straightest roads I’ve ever driven on. Not exactly a Lotus road, but it gets a pass because I never get tired of looking at the Sangre de Christo mountains. We didn’t have a picnic lunch so we made a detour to Arby’s. Afterwards we refueled. Genae bought a candy bar. The cashier told her they were two for one so we decided to split one and save the other for tomorrow.

The drive from Alamosa to Antonito lacks the drama of the northern end of the valley. Ranch land instead of scrub, but centered in the wide valley and without a view. Unremarkable, except for the parallel railroad track. It’s a single line and for ten or twelve miles it’s an almost unbroken string of idle rolling stock. At the northern end it was all brand new tank cars. After the new cars it alternated stretches of hoppers, covered hoppers, and tank cars. An almost unbroken string, I say: gaps only at side roads and driveways. How many rail cars fit in ten miles? How many millions of dollars of capital equipment is that?

Leaving Antonito we finally embark on a road that is new to me. Rather than turn left to stay on US 285 in the Rio Grande valley we continue straight, the road now designated CO 17, following the Conejos River. This road takes us over La Manga (Spanish for “sleeve”) and Cumbres (“crests”) passes. The Cumbres crosses the divide of the Chama and Los Pinos rivers, both tributaries of the Rio Grande.

More than a century ago, Ernest Ingersoll described part of Cumbres Pass thus:

In the most secluded nook of the mountains we come upon Phantom Curve, with its company of isolated rocks, tall, grotesque, sunburned. They fill the eye, and in their fantastic resemblance to human shapes, seem to us crumbled images of the days when there were giants, and men of Titanic mold set up mementoes of their brawny heroes.

Much of the path parallels the Cubres-Toltec narrow gauge railroad. The road crosses the rails near the top; on the descent the rails are often visible, curling along the hillside below. The railroad turns are surprisingly tight. We didn’t see any trains running, but in Chama there were a number of sidings holding quite a few cars.

After we gassed up in Chama we were leading the group. I thought I might collect another bird when we came upon a murder of crows feasting on dead deer in middle of road. The birds were reluctant to leave their meal, not taking flight until after staring me down for a moment, making me slow down.

Our position in the lead didn’t last long. Lacking electronic counter measures we stuck to the 5-7mph rule. A few miles after the crows some faster cars passed us and we picked up the pace. The first car to pass did so just as an antelope was crossing the road ahead. There was only one; I don’t think the passing driver saw it. This section of road between US 84/US 64 junction and Tres Piedras is very nice. It features long sweeping turns on hillsides of piñon forest. There was one particularly nice view of granite mountain that resembled Half Dome.

We were near the front of the pack and our group of cars separated from the rest. We didn’t see some of the folks until well after we had checked in at hotel. This was when we learned of Jeremy’s problem: a blown oil line. He shut the motor down immediately and was fortunate to have a handy place to pull off the road. This is by far the worst mechanical issue we’ve had on any of these trips.

Happy hour was scheduled at six, which gave us time to get provisioned for tomorrow’s picnic. We made a quick run to the grocery store and picked up sandwich fixings and some fruit.

We had adult beverages and chips and dip, cheese, and shrimp; a much better spread than we were anticipating. It was a long day’s drive, and many of us were happy to move the conversation to the next room and eat at the hotel restaurant.

Blizzard Warning

Posted on December 31, 2015 by Dave

Saturday, December 26

We drove to Phoenix for Christmas vacation. The weather was fine on our trip down, but it was a different story for the return. There was a blizzard warning for much of New Mexico – high winds and up to two feet of snow. Travel through the area was definitely not recommended. Our usual summer route takes us over Wolf Creek pass. I generally avoid Wolf Creek in the winter, as the ski area there gets more snow than any other in the state. And, looking at the forecast, Wolf Creek would be the only place in Colorado with a blizzard warning. This left us thinking the best route would be through Moab, up to I-70, over Vail pass and through the Eisenhower tunnel. The weather map had this route covered with a couple hundred miles of winter storm warning.

When the chain law is in effect, you are required to have either adequate snow tires (studded) or tire chains. We have all season radials and don’t own chains. If you get stuck on the road and obstruct travel when the chain law is in effect you face a significant fine. I found an auto parts store in Flagstaff that had chains in stock and a place for breakfast next door.

We were on the road by 5:30, in Flagstaff by 7:30. The moon was nearly full, and the pre-dawn was fairly bright. A few miles before reaching Flagstaff, a very light snow was falling from a cloudless sky. It wasn’t cloudless for long. By the time we got to Flag, it was near-blizzard conditions: cold, windy, snowing.

We didn’t dilly-dally – bought our chains, ate breakfast, fueled up, and hit the road. We headed north on US 89. There must have been other bad weather around the Grand Canyon as the electronic informational signs on the highway mentioned closed entrance roads. But a few miles north of Flagstaff, the skies cleared and the only snow in sight was already on the ground.

The wind continued to be fierce. Between Tuba City and Kayenta I started thinking I was playing some sort of hyper-realistic video game: dodge the tumbleweeds. At irregular intervals, tumbleweeds would blow onto the road. Sometimes they were coming straight at me. After a bend in the road they came diagonally across the road. Oncoming traffic increased the degree of difficulty.

In Kayenta we headed north on US 163 and into Monument Valley. It would have been nice to be able to take our time, pause here and there to enjoy the view, but every extra minute spent here added a minute after dark through the mountains on I-70. As it was, I didn’t have the good camera with us. All the pictures below were shot with a cell phone from a moving car.

Monument Valley

As we headed north, the snow on the ground got deeper. While we were gassing up in Blanding, a number of folks pulled up to the air station to inflate their inner tubes. There must have been a fun place near by to go snow tubing. On the highway north of Blanding, the driving got a bit treacherous. The wind whipped the snow into sheets across the road. The plows were out, scraping and spreading gravel, but they were having a hard time keeping up. After about twenty miles of this, things cleared up.

Wind whipped La Sal mountains

Although the roads were clear again, the wind was still ferocious.

We stopped in Moab for a quick lunch. From there, we took Utah 128 through the canyon alongside the Colorado River. When we were last here with LoCo it was in the neighborhood of 100 degrees. Then, the river was running quite high. Today it was closer to 10 degrees, but the river seemed still quite high; pale blue instead of the summers muddy brown.

We took advantage of modern technology and kept checking the weather radar. The route ahead looked clear. It looked like we wouldn’t need our chains. Better safe than sorry.

I find the cliffs to the east of Grand Junction generally not that interesting, particularly compared to the terrain to the west, the Colorado Monument. But today they were stunning. From the looks of things, the snow was blowing from the northwest as it fell. The details of the terrain stood in stark contrast – white on one side, snow-free on the other.

Rifle was our last fuel stop, and we were in full darkness soon after. The forecast winter storm evidently didn’t materialize – roads were dry and snow free. The only snow on I-70 was the last few yards of road before entering the Eisenhower tunnel. I wondered what we’d see on the other side; often the weather can be radically different on one side of the Continental Divide than the other. Exiting the tunnel, instead of bad weather, we saw the no-longer full moon peaking over the mountains to the east.

Coming down Genesee mountain we could see the lights of Denver spread out in front of us. Almost home! About a mile and a half from the junction with C-470, we were stopped in our tracks. There was an accident and all three lanes were blocked. We were stuck there for an hour.

After having the pleasure of being able to take my time getting from Point A to Point B, being able to avoid interstate highways, it was a bit of a drag making this trip in a single day. But we didn’t want to take half our holiday break getting to and from. Sometimes you just have to grin and bear it.

It was a long day, but we’re happy to be home and sleeping in our own beds.

Albuquerque, Day 3

Posted on October 17, 2015 by Dave

Sunday, October 11

Light it up!

I woke up at 2:30 with a head cold. Not a good start to the day. I managed to get back to sleep, but we needed to be up by 4:30 again. I really wanted to get a bit of an earlier start so we could check out of the motel and be on the road a sooner than yesterday to miss some of the traffic. As it turned out, traffic wasn’t quite as bad. We parked in the same lot again, being comfortable with routes in and out. When we pulled in, they recognized the car. “You guys park for free today!” One advantage of having a cool car.

Although it didn’t seem so, perhaps there were as many balloons today as yesterday. If so, fewer were actually launched; quite a few were static. With the first few launches it was obvious that the box wind wasn’t working. I think there were fewer spectators as well. Yesterday, we pretty much stayed in one spot. As all the balloons are assigned a grid spot, we went to a different area than yesterday to be surrounded by different balloons. After the first wave launched we slowly made our way across the field toward our exit.

We’d seen everything we needed to see by 8:30, so we headed out. Egress was much easier than either time yesterday and we were out of the congested area in minutes.

For our return route, we again wanted to avoid interstate highways. We also didn’t want to retrace our route from Friday. So today we’d head to the east side of Sandia Mountain and head to Santa Fe via NM 14. We did have to take I-40 a few miles east to get there, but that’s a small concession. NM 14 heads northeast through what I think of as typical New Mexico desert – sparse pinon pine on rolling terrain. We go through a series of small, artsy towns: Cedar Crest, Golden, Madrid, Los Cerrillos. They call this the Turquoise Trail.

The landscape flattens out; the road straightens and heads mostly north. When we approach Santa Fe, we have the choice of going directly through town or taking NM 599 around. I opted for the bypass route. From the maps it appears we’d be on the outskirts of town. Instead, we’re only technically in Santa Fe. The road is four lane divided highway with limited access – like an interstate – with no services at any of the exits. We didn’t see any signs of civilization until rejoining US 285. We stopped for fuel at one of the many small Indian casinos along the way.

US 285 (conjoined with US 84) takes us through Tesuque, Cuyamungue, Pojoaque, and Sambrillo before we get to Española. It’s a four lane divided highway, fairly heavily traveled. On one of the uphill sections we came across an old Volvo sedan from the 50’s, struggling with the incline. We waved at each other as we passed. The were headed toward Taos; we passed them again later.

In Española if you keep going straight on the main drag you find yourself on NM 68 headed to Taos. Most folks want to stay on US 285; to do that you need to make a left turn and cross the Rio Grande. This navigational error is how I first visited Taos. For today it’s the intended route and not an error. At this junction, we were about two thousand feet from where we left US 285 for Los Alamos on Friday.

Our visit to the old church in Colorado was somewhat disappointing. Jerry had visited a much older church in or near Española many years ago. We’d done some internet searching without results but were open to a side trip if we saw any promising signs. In Velarde, Jerry saw a sign he thought was familiar so we went to investigate. Our Lady of Guadalupe was built in 1817, according to the sign outside. But everything was locked up tight. I was a bit surprised, seeing as it was Sunday, but so it goes. (Are all Catholic churches in this part of the world called Our Lady of Guadalupe?)

Up to now, NM 68 has been a four lane divided highway running in straight lines. In Velarde, it narrows to two lanes and begins to run alongside the Rio Grande. It twists and turns, passing a number of small wineries and art studios. After several miles, it climbs out of the canyon and rises to the top of the plateau. The Rio Grande cuts a deep, narrow, dramatic gorge from here north for several miles. We’d get a nice look at it from above a bit later.

Once on the plateau the road straightens again for the run into Taos. It was lunch time – time to visit another brew pub. We found the Eske Brew Pub in the old town section. It’s a few yards off the main drag with an obscure address (we continued our “no GPS” policy) but well marked. The building has character: it’s in an old house. Lots of seating outside, small dining rooms inside. We sat with a view of the kitchen which is not much larger than a residential kitchen.

After our short break we continued on our way. A few blocks north, NM 68 makes a bend to the left and becomes US 64. Four miles later, we exit the somewhat verdant Taos area and return to the desert plateau. US 64 runs nearly due west here. Not far from town we arrive at the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge. I’ve been here twice before, the first time due to missing the turn in Española and once on purpose. It’s a bit of a surprise tourist destination. Vendors set up tables by the road selling jewelry, crystals, leather goods, wood carvings and other trinkets. Lots of people like to walk across the bridge. It’s evidently a hot-spot for suicides as there are a few hotline call boxes on the bridge.

West of the bridge are a number of environmentally friendly houses. These are Earthship Biotecture homes. They’re made from unusual materials and use the landscape to reduce heating and cooling requirements. The idea is that they have a zero carbon footprint, can harvest their own electricity and water, need no fuel to heat and cool, and can product a significant amount of food.

At Tres Piedras we rejoined US 285 for the trip home, now retracing our route from Friday. I won’t repeat myself and will only add that I couldn’t help but notice that there wasn’t a single flake of snow on either the Sangre de Christos or Collegiates. I don’t think I’ve ever seen these mountains like this before. Of course, it’s probably because I seldom pass by them this time of year.

I pulled into the driveway just before 8pm, sixty one hours after leaving.

Albuquerque, Day 2

Posted on October 17, 2015 by Dave

Saturday, October 10

Hot air balloonists are an early rising bunch. We set our alarms for four thirty and were out the door by five. Navigation from the motel to the park couldn’t be easier: make a right turn onto 528 out of the motel and stay on it until we get to the park. It’s about seven miles.

We parked at the Medical Resort at Fiesta Park, a couple blocks south of the park. It took us an hour to get there. At the rate we were moving, it might have been another half hour to the main parking lots east of the park, through several blocks more traffic. To get to the balloon park from the car we had to find our way in the dark through the parking lot, softball fields, and the RV parking for the festival. It’s not well lit so we followed those ahead of us hoping they knew where they’re going.

We entered through gate 8. Admission is eight bucks, good for one session only. We’re planning on attending three sessions: the mass ascensions on Saturday and Sunday, and the glow on Saturday night. We figured to have eight hours to grab lunch, handle some logistics, and have time for another activity. Our plan was to to check out the National Museum of Nuclear Science at Kirtland Air Force Base.

We arrived at the field with enough time to grab some breakfast and scope out the area before things got going. Last time I was here, back in ’89, you could grab a beer at the same place you got your breakfast burrito. That’s ancient history. Now you have to go to the Dos XX pavilion to get the beer, so I passed on my 6am cerveza.

Before things get going, there’s a laser show to keep people entertained. At first it looked like everybody was going to watch from the edges. It seemed only the balloon crews were out on the field. We wandered diagonally, northwest, from where we got our breakfast and ended up a bit north of the center of the field. A long row of balloons started inflating in front of us.

Dawn patrol

Back in ’89 the Fiesta was on a dirt field. The event has grown since then and has been moved to a larger grassy field a bit north of the old location. Concessions are lined up along the east side. The big sponsor tents line the south end, and there are more tents on the north side. The field has markers laid out in a grid, letters and numbers. Each balloon is assigned a location in the grid.

It didn’t take long for the field to start filling up with people. Families with kids in strollers, people setting up lawn chairs. Many picked spots and stayed there, others moved constantly. Kids ran around with glow sticks and light sabers. Selfie sticks were everywhere – couples would find an interesting balloon and turn their backs on it to get their selfies. In the midst of all these people, crews were inflating their balloons, balloons were being launched, and later, balloons were landing.

It’s a chaos of motion and noise. Fans driven by gas motors are used to inflate the balloons, gas burners are roaring, and two or three helicopters are circulating counter-clockwise above it all. Over this racket is the buzz of the crowd – tens of thousands of people.

The launch directors wear striped shirts, like football officials. When a balloon has been inflated and is upright and ready to go, the directors clear a path with much waving of arms and blowing of whistles. Even a slight breeze will propel a balloon horizontally and there are no brakes – people have to be cleared out of the way. But the pilots apply the fuel they gain altitude pretty quickly.

Stage coach and Spiderpig

One reason Albuquerque is a great place for a balloon festival is the “Albuquerque Box”. At low elevations, winds tend to blow from south to north. At higher elevations, winds are north to south. This allows some balloons to take off, fly several miles south, gain altitude, fly several miles north of the field, descend, fly back to the field and land. Some pilots opt to gain all their altitude at once and do only half the box. Of course, they can’t steer the balloons, so overall they tended to scatter widely.

This year there were something like 500 balloons. Not all of them participate in the mass ascension. Technically, they do. But some just inflate and remain static. Others do a short hop from one end of the park to the other. The box wind was working today, and we saw several balloons make one or two laps before landing on the field.

The first batch of balloons to launch are called the dawn patrol. These take off before dawn. Each balloon has a green light hanging from the bottom of the gondola. During inflation they’re a presence that is more felt than seen; shadows that blot out the lights on the horizon. The balloons are only visible when their burners are on, which may only be a minute or two each.

Just after the dawn patrol launches, one or two balloons take off hanging US flags from their gondolas. The national anthem is played over the PA system and we stand, caps off, hands on hearts. Nobody wants to hear me sing.

Then things get rolling in earnest. It takes a fair amount of space to set up a balloon, so they’re launched in two waves. Some spread everything out on a giant tarp. Unroll the envelope (that’s what the balloon itself is called), lay the gondola on it’s side. Use a giant fan to fill the envelope with air. When it’s full, the pilot gets in the gondola (still on its side) and hits the gas to heat it up. A few blasts and it stands itself upright. Passengers, if any, climb in. The launch director blows her whistle and makes sure nobody is in the way and off they go.

Panorama

Sandia Mountain is east of Albuquerque, so the field is in shadow for quite some time after sunrise. Eventually the sun hits the balloons and their colors really pop. They’re often so close together, one balloon will put another in eclipse.

After all the balloons went up, we made a quick pass through the vendor area. I didn’t see any t-shirts I liked. Watched a couple minutes of chain saw carving exhibition. Nothing goes with hot air balloons quite like chainsaws. We stayed until about 10am. By then, many balloons had landed in the park. Others were scattered far to the north, west, and south. There was almost no traffic when we left; our parking lot was two-thirds empty.

Too early for lunch, we headed to the National Museum of Nuclear Science & History.

It’s at Kirtland AFB. Well, it used to be there; now it’s nearby. While the museum at Los Alamos was geared to the Manhattan Project, this one is somewhat more general. Its primary focus is on nuclear weapons and the cold war, it includes exhibits on nuclear waste transportation, atomic culture, and energy. Outside they have a large dirt area full of weapons and delivery systems: B-29, B-47, B-52, Ohio class subamarine (!), and a comprehensive collection of bombs and missiles.

All the planes face east

After the museum we opted for a late lunch. I was looking for a good salad. I hadn’t had much luck in that search at the brew pubs we’d visited so I suggested the Council Room at the Sandia Resort and Casino, where I’ve eaten many times. It wasn’t too far out of the way as our hotel was more or less due west of there. After lunch we went back to the hotel to recharge Jerry’s phone. I transferred photos from the camera to the laptop.

We didn’t want to get stuck in a big traffic jam again so we headed back to the balloon park at five. We parked in the same lot as this morning; it was easy access and we had a quick exit. There was almost no traffic and we were there in plenty of time. We still had quite a bit of time before sunset so we went looking for a beer. There was only one place, and that had a long line. They were only letting people in as others left. We opted for soft drinks instead.

Sunset

When we attended back in the eighties, they made liberal use of a PA system. This time it must have been radio communication to the balloon pilots. They used to announce: “Everybody glow!” “Special shapes glow!” “Pulse glow!” Tonight we couldn’t hear any such announcements so everything took us by surprise. Because the balloons were neither taking off nor tethered, the balloonists couldn’t light up for very long and there are several minutes between shots. We had a nice spot near the center of the park in a fairly large void. That gave us good views all around. By sheer luck we might have been in the best spot in the park. When the balloons are glowing they’re like giant Christmas lights.

Glow!

When we thought everything was over we headed back to the car. About half way to the car the fireworks started. I’d forgotten all about that part of the show. We were in the RV park but had a fairly good view anyway. Would have been better had we stayed where we were, but so it goes. At least we’d get a jump on exiting the area. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a big enough head start. Traffic was really bad, or our parking lot was not well situated for traffic to leave, or both. It was a lesson in powers of two: at every merge point people were good enough to take turns. But we were five merge points away from the main road. It took us an hour just to get out of the lot.

Because we had a late lunch and no dinner, it was time for a snack. Jerry needed to get cash at an ATM. From our stop at the Turtle Mountain pub yesterday we knew where to find one from his bank. This was conveniently next door to the Fat Squirrel pub so we headed that way. The ATM was out of order, but the chicken quesadilla at the pub hit the spot. It was after 10 by the time we made it back to the hotel.

Albuquerque, Day 1

Posted on October 15, 2015 by Dave

Every year in early October, Albuquerque holds the largest hot air balloon event in the world. It’s one of the most photographed events in the world, and it’s the only balloon event where spectators are allowed in the launch area. I attended twice, back in ’88 and ’89, with Jerry, who lived in Albuquerque for a few years. That was half a lifetime ago; it’s time to go again.

Jerry was up for a return visit: time for a road trip. I made hotel reservations a couple months ago and planned our routes. It’s a seven hour drive by interstate, plus stops, but it’s against the rules to make a Lotus road trip on the Interstate. And I’m not a big fan of going the same way all the time, so we’d have a couple of long drives. So it goes.

Friday, October 9

I picked up Jerry at 8am. He’s back in the neighborhood where we grew up. When we lived there we parked the trailer at an RV park on the Arkansas river in Nathrop for a few summers. We made that trip dozens of times. Dad always filled up the car at a gas station near Hampton and Lowell where the pumps took tokens. At Turkey Creek canyon the road went down to two lanes. It was much curvier and had a lower speed limit back then. It took us three hours to get to Nathrop. A trip to the Sand Dunes was five.

Today, it’s four hours to Alamosa. I’ve made that drive so many times it’s easy to take it for granted. But most of it is fairly spectacular. Once you get over Kenosha pass, it’s wide-open views the entire way. Many of the mountains on the west side of South Park are 14ers; they just don’t seem so big because South Park is so high. Coming down Trout Creek pass Mt. Princeton dominates the view. It and Antero and Shavano are impressive 14ers. And nine of the Sangre de Christos, from Poncha pass south, are 14ers.

It’s the tail end of aspen season. In South Park, most of the aspen have already been stripped of their gold by the wind. Along the rivers the cottonwood still had their leaves, mostly yellow with a touch of green. We seemed to go back in time as we went south. The cottonwoods became greener; the aspen regained their leaves. By the end of the day, in Albuquerque the cottonwood are only beginning to turn.

We arrived in Alamosa promptly at noon and stopped at the San Luis Valley Brewing Company for lunch. The restaurant occupies a former bank building – the old vault door is behind the bar. Pretty cool. None of their salads interested me so I opted for the Andouille Cajun Pork (sliced and served on wild rice with red & green peppers, onions and Southern au jus) and a pint of their Alamosa Amber. Their sausages are locally made – from the Gosar Ranch in Monte Vista. Good stuff.

When we were getting back in the car an old van pulled into a nearby parking spot. It was covered with bulging eyes: dozens of them, four or five inches across. Blue eyes, green eyes, eyes with long lashes.

After Alamosa we stopped briefly at Conejos, the location of Colorado’s oldest church. I was thinking there was a 16th century church in Antonito but before getting to Antonito we followed a sign (“Oldest Church in Colorado”) to Conejos. There we found the Our Lady of Guadalupe Church. It looks brand new – quite well preserved for a 16th century edifice. Except that it’s not. It was actually built in the 19th century, burned down and rebuilt in the 1920’s. So it’s a bit of misdirection to say it’s the oldest church in the state.

Back on the road, we passed through Antonito. At the south side of town is the western terminus of the narrow gauge Combres and Toltec railroad. Five or six miles later we enter New Mexico. The terrain transitions from farmland to ranch land to high desert before finally becoming a pine forest. The road is a series of straight stretches, 4 to 6 miles long joined by slight bends. In Colorado, the road is not only straight but level. Here in New Mexico it’s no longer level, cutting straight lines across the rising and falling terrain. There are no river crossings here, not even any culverts. The road is pretty much built without fills or cuts.

At Tres Piedras, US 285 junctions with US 64. Today we continue south on 285. On our return trip, we’ll be arriving here from the east on 64. So here we begin a giant loop. When we entered New Mexico we also entered Carson National Forest. All along the highway cars were parked next to the fences twenty yards off the road, their occupants in the trees collecting piñon nuts.

In Española we reach the junction with NM 30 and head south. From here to Albuquerque are new roads for me. We take NM 30 south for several miles, paralleling the Rio Grande river. Our next navigation point is the junction with NM 502, which takes us west to Los Alamos.

Los Alamos sits on a series of mesas separated by steep, deep canyons. The road climbs from the Rio Grande valley to the top of one of these finger-like mesas and deposits us at the top, alongside the airport. Behind Los Alamos is a range of mountains. The mountains seem to be covered by a sort of stubble. This stubble is limbless, dead trees -the result of the Las Conchas fire of 2011. At the time, this was the largest fire in New Mexico history, 150,000 acres burned.

We headed to the historic district, looking for the Los Alamos Historical Museum. I didn’t have the address on our notes – it was a late addition to the itinerary. I figured it would be easy enough to find; a minor navigational exercise we’d attempt old-school, no GPS. We did see a sign for it so we knew we were close. Somehow we never saw the museum or another sign. Clearly having missed it, I pulled over and resorted to GPS. Having failed our little test, Google penalized us by sending us through the drive-through book drop of the local library to get us to our destination.

The Los Alamos Historical Museum is small, but packed with exhibits. About half are for the Manhattan Project and the rest for general history of the area. The place was fairly well packed, with most visitors in the Manhattan Project area. I’d have liked to spend more time looking at things here, but it was just too crowded.

After the museum, we go over a big bridge and NM 502 turns into NM 501. We pass through a sort of toll booth. We’re not actually entering any facility or restricted area, as far as I can tell, but I’m asked for my drivers license. “That’s all, you can go.” If this was an entrance, there was no exit. Only southbound cars were stopped.

Many of the street names in the area are a-bomb related: Bikini Atoll Rd., Trinity Drive, Oppenheimer Dr.

NM 501 ends at a T-junction with NM 4. We head west and immediately start climbing the ridge that runs north/south behind Los Alamos. This takes us along the southern border of the Bandelier National Monument. The area to our left, south, has been mostly burned. The road climbs fairly steadily, a nice Lotus road, and we soon arrive at the Valles Caldera National Preserve. It’s almost a miniature South Park – a flat, high, treeless valley surrounded by tree lined slopes. Miniature: only a few miles across and no big mountains.

Next the road turns to the south and drops the better part of 2,000 feet through red rock cliffs and red soil. Though technically we’re still in the Carson National Forest, the reality is we’re crossing from montane to desert. The road drops through the Jemez Pueblo and into San Ysidro. We gas up here for the final blast southeast on US 550 to Rio Rancho.

After checking in at the hotel we headed out in search of dinner. We ended up at the Turtle Mountain Brewing Company. The parking lot was packed and there was a wait for seats inside. We sat outside; a bit on the cool side, but not uncomfortable. Jerry had pizza, I chose a calzone.

LOCO Black Hills – Part 3

Posted on May 25, 2015 by Dave

May 18

This morning we opted for the hotel’s breakfast. Genae tried the automatic pancake maker, I had two fruit cups. The plan today was another picnic, this time at Devil’s Tower. We’ll make a pit stop in Sundance, WY, where there’s a Subway a block from the gas station. We hit the road by nine.

We headed west on US 16 to Newcastle then north on US 85 to a place called Four Corners. Odd name because there aren’t four corners there. Odd, even, that it has a name. There are two t-junctions and the Four Corners Country Inn. We took the second T and WY 585 northwest to Sundance.

Harry Longabaugh made a name for himself here at the age of 15 by being arrested for stealing a horse. That was the only time the Sundance Kid ever got arrested. Half of us first got sandwiches while the other half pitted for fuel. While waiting for everybody to get provisioned up we saw three state troopers, the only ones we saw since Nebraska.

We had a pleasant little picnic then headed for a walk around the tower. After two pictures, the camera quit working. It’s just not my weekend with cameras. But it was a pleasant day, mostly sunny and cool. The Tower Trail is about a mile and a quarter. We took our time, stopping often to look for climbers and visiting every little spur of trail. When we finished the loop, we did the beginning portion again. The it was back to the visitor center.

Somebody said Mike wanted to line up for a group photo down at the entrance. It was a bit of a miscommunication. We exited the park and waited in the parking lot but Mike was at a much more scenic picnic area. We finally got our act together and got to the right place.

“Do Not Clean or Wash Here”

Leaving the park we took WU 24 east. This took us to a junction with US 85 just south of Belle Fourche (pronounced “Bell Foosh”). The road is a four lane divided highway, but construction had the right lane closed for quite a while. In Spearfish we made a pit stop. Overheard remarks: “They’re Lotus Elises!” and “Is there a rally going on?” There were a lot of flying insects there, but they all congregated on Cindy’s yellow Evora. She says it happens all the time; she calls the paint “Bug Yellow”. I didn’t see any bugs on my yellow stripe or wheels, clearly not “Bug Yellow”.

As is apt to happen with a chain of a dozen cars, we got split up in town after leaving the gas station. By the time we made the right turn on US 14A and headed south through Spearfish Canyon we were down to about half a dozen cars. The canyon is very scenic. Frank Lloyd Wright visited here in 1935 and was quite enamored of the place. There are many sheer cliffs and numerous wide ledges sprouting tall pines. To Wright, it evoked classical Chinese paintings.

Staying on US 14A, we exit the canyon and eventually rejoin US 85. We’re heading northbound this time, to Lead where we find US 385 and the road to Hill City and Custer. Genae and I were wondering how you pronounce “Lead”. Is it lead as in “Wild Bill Hickcok got filled full of lead in Deadwood” or lead as in “you can lead a horse to water”? It’s the second.

Lead, like Deadwood, had road construction on the main drag. Here, mercifully they kept us out of the mud by a detour through some back alleys. The trip down 385 back to Custer was a repeat of yesterday but with better weather. We thought we’d get tricky and take the truck route through Hill City and get to the head of the group, but I turned too soon and had to make a u-turn. So we were shunted to near the back of the pack.

Ambiguous sign?

As there was no group activity planned for the evening, we figured to grab a quick dinner then go back and drive the Needles Highway in a more leisurely manner. At the hotel I started one of the camera batteries charging. Then I noticed that the battery pack was a bit loose. It didn’t obviously feel loose, so I didn’t notice. I tightened it up and all is well now.

Genae wanted pizza, so we asked the hotel desk clerk for a recommendation and thus we were off to Pizza Worx. Not much in the ambiance department, but decent pizza. When we got back to the hotel to pick up the camera, we heard talk of folks wanting to get together for dinner. A large group of them decided to the Blue Bell Lodge.

We drove the Needles Highway the opposite direction from yesterday, slowly, and stopped for photos several times. It looks like the pine beetles have been at work here; quite a few trees have been cut down and the wood stacked up in piles. It’s not as bad as in some places in Colorado, hopefully the clearing they’ve done will stop the critters. We pretty much had the place to ourselves and saw very few other cars.

Eye of the Needle tunnel

It was still fairly early when we got back to Custer so we headed back into Custer State Park again searching for bison. We didn’t see any buffalo but did see much of our group parked at the Blue Bell Lodge. It would be dark before we could complete the wildlife loop so we just went a couple miles farther south and turned around. No bison but loads of white tail deer, some pronghorns, a rafter of turkeys, and even some elk.

After dinner we stopped at the Purple Pie Place but nothing struck Genae’s fancy. So when we approached the Blue Bell we decided to stop there for dessert. The gang was still there, so we joined them and ordered the apple crisp à la mode (with Blue Bell ice cream, of course).

Drove 329 miles.

May 19 – Custer to Denver

Two years ago yesterday, May 18, 2013, LOCO awoke in Telluride to snow on the cars. There wasn’t any snow on the cars when we woke up today, but it started snowing before we were downstairs for breakfast. Just about everybody got towels or washcloths from their rooms and cleared the snow from the cars. A snow brush is not generally carried as standard equipment in a Lotus.

We were on the road by 8am. Yesterday we spent most of the day near the front of the pack. Today we stayed near the back. The snow only lasted a little while – we were not only heading south, but downhill as well. Early morning the precipitation was variable but as the day wore on the rain became heavier and more steady. We considered making a stop at Lusk but stuck with the group. Our next scheduled pit stop was for Torrington.

Unfortunately, the gas station we stopped at was small. Only a couple of pumps and a single bathroom. By the time we got stopped, there were half a dozen people standing in line. Genae, not able to wait in line, found a bathroom nearby after a couple of attempts. Before she got back I had decided we’d try another place. We didn’t need gas, but I didn’t want to stand in line here, in the rain. We found another gas station down the road. Jeremy pulled in after us, and that was the last we saw of anybody from our group.

We continued southbound on US 85 a bit slower than we were going in the group. I was expecting them to catch us sooner or later, but perhaps they slowed down as well due to the rain. The wind added to the fun, a crosswind blowing strongly from the east. Oncoming trucks were brutal, throwing up huge clouds of spray. Luckily not much standing water on the road.

The group never caught us. We had lunch in Wellington and were home by 3pm.

We really enjoyed the trip – the roads, the sights, and friends. Thanks to everybody for their companionship and especially to Mike for putting it all together.

Drove 342 miles.

LOCO Black Hills – Part 2

Posted on May 22, 2015 by Dave

May 17

Although the hotel provides breakfast, nothing on offer particularly appealed to us so we decided we should head to town instead. We ate at Baker’s Bakery and Café, a little place with about ten tables and the tag line “you’ll love our buns”. After bacon, eggs, hash browns and toast we went back to the hotel for our usual drivers meeting. Today we would drive the Needles Highway and the Iron Mountain Road before visiting Mount Rushmore. Then we’d head to Sturgis for lunch and return to Custer through Deadwood and Hill City. I mounted the GoPro above the left rear wheel and we hit the road.

We headed north from Custer on Sylvan Lake Rd, SD 89. For the first few miles there are numerous houses and small ranches. One has a gate with big statues: a longhorn and a bison. He has a few dozen head of each. At Sylvan Lake we reach the junction with SD 87, through here known as the Needles Highway.

The road is quite narrow – no danger of getting stuck behind an RV here. There is no center stripe most of the way, and there are a couple of primitive narrow tunnels blasted through sheer granite walls. Mike was in the lead up to this point, but pulled over for the canyon carvers. We passed Mike and the others who wanted to take their rime but didn’t go as fast as many. We let two cars pass.

The highway is named for the granite needles that punctuate the terrain. Peter Norbeck (Governor and US Senator) plotted the route on horseback and foot and construction was completed in 1922. It cost so much at the time, locals called it the Needless Highway. The road has been well maintained but not significantly upgraded. Very nearly a one lane road, there are plenty of pullouts and overlooks.

SD 87 ends at a T-junction with US 16/16A. There’s a small parking lot there, and restrooms. We stopped there for a short break, completely filling the lot. The rangers from the Custer State Park entrance station walked over the hill and took some photos. While we were stopped, I remembered to power off the GoPro to save battery. I even remembered to turn it back on when we left.

A few miles up the road I happened to look in my left hand mirror to see the suction cup mount fail and the GoPro go flying off the car. I think it survived the initial impact intact. Colin was behind me in his new Evora and he managed to dodge it. After that I didn’t see what happened. I stopped and turned around as quickly as I could and made my way back to the “scene of the crime.”

The mount was in the middle of the road, the camera nowhere to be seen. John rolled up in his Elan and helped me search. I walked up and down the side of the road a few times, along the road and down by the stream. I found the battery and the back door of the camera, both more or less intact. But no sign of the camera or housing. I was afraid somebody ran it over, possibly damaging their car, but I asked around and nobody says they hit it. After the futile search, we figured we were now on our own, well behind the group.

Rolling again, we made our way to the Iron Mountain Road. We were a bit chagrined that the road is being resurfaced. The sixteen mile stretch we were on had had the surface ground, leaving a rough road with shallow holes and loose rocks and gravel. This road, like the Needles Highway, was laid out by Peter Norbeck and is also known as the Peter Norbeck Memorial Highway. He designed it as a scenic low speed route for tourists.

Like the Needles Highway, most of it is narrow and twisty. It features a few “pigtail” bridges and one lane tunnels. A pigtail bridge is much like it sounds – the road crosses a bridge then turns 270 degrees to pass under the bridge just crossed. The tunnels, again, are one lane and hewn from solid granite. Two of the tunnels are aligned with Mount Rushmore and obstructing trees removed. One of the tunnels dumps you directly onto a pigtail bridge. At the second tunnel with a Rushmore view, I was out of the car lining up a picture when Terry rolled up in his M100. We weren’t last ones on the road after all.

This narrow, twisty portion of US 16A meets SD 244 and widens to four lanes. We went left at this intersection, taking 244 to Mount Rushmore. When we arrived at the entrance station to pay our fee, the ranger asked if we were from Colorado: “I sent the rest of your group to level 6. Follow the red arrows.” Our cars occupied about a third of the level, and, as usual, had drawn admirers.

We last visited Mount Rushmore six years ago during a Clark family reunion. That time we came after dark to see the monument all lit up. This time we had daylight and scattered clouds. Lots of people visit Mount Rushmore and everybody tends to get the same picture, so I wanted to get away from the amphitheater. This turned out to be a good choice, as we weren’t allowed into the amphitheater because there was a high school graduation going on there. What a great place for a graduation ceremony.

We hiked on the Presidential Trail. Luckily, we went to the right. The trail makes a loop from the Grand View Terrace, down the hill and up a boardwalk slightly up the slope below the carvings. We didn’t know that half the trail was closed and might have been discouraged had we gone the other way instead. The weather was still pleasant and we enjoyed the short walk. And I got the same pictures as everybody else.

Next on the agenda was a drive to Sturgis via the outskirts of Rapid City. The weather held out until a bit before we arrived there, when it got windy and rainy. We weren’t too impressed by Sturgis and broke off from the group here, perhaps hunt buffalo in Custer before going back to the hotel.

We ate at Taco Johns then headed to Deadwood. It rained the whole way, and the main drag through much of Deadwood is under construction, a muddy pot-holed mess. The place has been overrun by casinos. Everything historical in Blackhawk and Central City were pretty much destroyed by the construction of casinos in the name of historical preservation. Deadwood looks to have suffered the same fate. We don’t gamble, so we didn’t stop other than to refuel.

The weather cleared about half way to Hill City, which boded well for a trip through the park. The drive from Deadwood to Hill City is pleasant if not dramatic. It had the bonus of having very little traffic. I caught up to no cars for several miles, and if I had there were ample passing zones. Unfortunately, when I did catch traffic, the passing zones evaporated.

When we stopped to pay the entry fee the ranger said, “Your car is too short!” As it so happens, the park is a free today. The ranger recommended Wildlife Loop Road. This is the third narrow road we’ve driven today. Instead of granite tunnels and pigtail bridges, it’s eighteen miles of riparian areas and grassy hills.

Genae was hoping we’d see the baby bison again. She was disappointed. All we saw were a few lone males. One guy was quite close to the road. When we stopped to watch them yesterday they were making a cacophony of grunts and belch-like rumbles. This lone one was quiet.

We came across a solitary pronghorn by a cattle guard. She posed for me a little bit, crossed the road, and scratched in the gravel a couple times. Then she proceeded to piss. In retrospect, I should have taken the picture. But, frankly, I was a bit offended!

There was very little traffic. If somebody was stopped, that generally meant there was an animal in the vicinity. The biggest crowd we saw were stopped to take pictures of some donkeys . The asses didn’t appeal to us, so we skipped the photo opportunity.

Dinner was a group affair. We ate at the State Game Lodge, which made for a pleasant little drive. It’s about twelve miles from Custer, five or six miles into the park. It’s a great building, built in 1920. President Coolidge booked a two week visit but stayed for thirteen. The room we were in looked to be newer construction. I considered the Cobb salad (with hard boiled quail egg) or the bison steak but went with the buffalo burger instead.

Drove 250 miles

LOCO Black Hills – Part 1

Posted on May 21, 2015 by Dave

It’s time for another long weekend road trip with Lotus Colorado. This time, Mike put together a four day excursion to the Black Hills of South Dakota. We’d drive to Custer on Saturday, visit Mount Rushmore and Sturgis on Sunday, head to Wyoming on Monday to see Devil’s Tower and return home on Tuesday.

The contact list included 22 cars and 38 people. Over a quarter were Elises – one blue, one red, two orange and two BRG. Gordon was the other green one – no stripe, silver LSS wheels, hardtop. Three Evoras, two black Exiges, two red Elans (both 1967), two M100 Elans, and a Europa round out the Lotus contingent. The others were BMW, Porsche, Saab, Volvo, and a Miata. As always, a few new faces on this trip, including a Chicago couple who rendezvoused with us in Custer.

May 16 – Denver to Custer

On past drives we’ve been pretty fortunate with the weather. We did get snowed on two years ago this weekend in Telluride and it was a bit on the warm side in Moab last year, but never anything much to complain about. But it has rained or snowed every day so far in May and the forecast doesn’t look too bright for our trip. Still, we hoped for the best.

We left the house at about 8am and fueled up. Luckily I realized I had forgotten the SLR before we got very far, so we went back home before heading to the meeting spot. We met at a gas station off exit 22 of I-76. The morning was cool and a bit breezy, with scattered, nonthreatening clouds.

Once everybody showed up we had a quick drivers meeting then hit the road, running northeast on I-76 to exit 80. There we headed northbound on Colorado SH 52 to a T-junction with CO 14 at the southern border of the Pawnee National Grassland.

After a short jog to the east, we continue north on CO 71 through the Pawnee. Here we hit a bird. I’ve hit more birds in this car than all other cars combined. On my trip to Portland last year I hit two at once. Usually it’s high on the car but this one hit the front clam and ricocheted to the windshield wiper where it got lodged in the wiper arm. For a few seconds I thought the wind might take it, but, no, it’s stuck. I turned on the wiper hoping for the best but no luck. I have no choice other than to pull over and pull it out manually.

The Pawnee Grassland gives way to a checkerboard mix of ranch and open prairie. On the south edge of Kimball we cross under I-80. Time for a pit stop. The route instructions directed us to the Kwik Stop but we followed the Miata into the station across the intersection. After fuel and potty, we lined up with the other cars at the Kwik Stop. As usual, we drew a crowd. It’s always fun to see people’s reactions – lots of smiles.

Our next stop was a picnic lunch at Scotts Bluff National Monument, a couple miles west of Gering, NE. Between Kimball and Gering is forty more miles of checkerboard. Here, more of the checker squares have checkers on them: center-pivot irrigation systems and their attendant crop circles. At Gering, the directions send us north when 71 bends slightly east, but we split up and attacked the place from several directions. We headed downtown to grab sandwiches from Subway.

We had our picnic and socialized for a while then we drove to the top of the bluff. The road to the top is 1.6 miles long. After a 180 degree sweeping turn it passes through a tunnel that curve 90 degrees the other way. It zigs and zags, passing through two more tunnels before finally dumping onto a parking lot on a wide saddle below the summit of the bluff.

Above the parking lot, a trail makes a sort of bow-tie and affords nice views. Below the bluff to the east lie the conjoined towns of Gering, Terrytown, and Scottsbluff. Immediately below the trail to the east is a nice cluster of houses – the high rent district. A national monument on one side and golf course on the other.

The North Platte valley is to the north. Both the Oregon Trail and Mormon Trail passed through here. When driving in comfort though these vast, rugged spaces in the west I often try to imagine what the pioneers went through. Sell your house, if you have one, and buy a wagon and team. Pile all your worldly possessions into the wagon and making twenty miles on a good day. Risking it all, venturing into the great unknown. Scotts Bluff was about a third of the way from St. Louis to the west coast, perhaps the easiest third.

I’m not sure why I started doing it, but whenever I come across a survey marker I take a picture of it. That doesn’t mean I have lots of pictures of survey markers; I don’t come across them every day. The one on the top of Scotts Bluff is interesting because of what has happened to it since it was placed there in 1933. Scotts Bluff is made up of soft sandstone with a cap of hard rock. Where the hard rock is gone, the sandstone is eroding away on a human time frame. Scotts Bluff is about a foot and a half lower now than it was in 1933.

Exiting the town of Scottsbluff, Mike missed a turn. We were second in line and didn’t catch the error and everybody followed us. Mike found somebody to ask directions and while we waited, Ross passed through the formation looking like he knew exactly where we were going. We took off after him. He correctly navigated us onto US 26 eastbound. I drove several hundred miles of US 26 last summer through Oregon, Idaho, and Wyoming, but now we only followed it for a handful of miles before taking US 385 to Alliance.

For about twenty miles we’re out of the valley, away from the fields of checkers and back in prairie. Here we saw two pronghorn antelope running in our direction along the fence on the other side of the road. Our line of cars is probably a quarter mile long, and we slowed down considerably. The antelope switched direction a couple of times but were stymied by the fence.

In a field north of Alliance, a guy named Jim Reinders built an homage to Stonehenge out of old cars he’d gotten from nearby farms and dumps. Reinders noticed that the monolithic dimensions of cars from the fifties and sixties were similar to the stones at Stonehenge. They’ve painted the cars gray to make them look more like stones and they keep them from rusting away. There are some interesting cars in there – a Willy’s truck, a Gremlin, an old Plymouth like “Christine”.

Scattered around the property there are a number of large sculptures made out of car parts – a spawning salmon, a dinosaur, wind chimes, a Conestoga wagon. As built, Carhenge included three imported cars. These have been replaced by domestic cars and the foreigners ritually buried here, their grave marked by another junked car.

After a pass through the little gift shop, we started assembling for our departure. By now the skies were looking quite threatening. Here we had our first bit of rain, and it looked very nasty directly to the north of us. Luckily to get back on US 385 we had to jog a few miles to the west and we missed the biggest of the squalls. Along here we saw a couple of large birds in the grass along the road: a turkey and a ring neck pheasant.

Most of Nebraska looks just like what you expect Nebraska to look like – some farms, some ranches, a few feedlots. But just south of Chadron we pass through the Nebraska National Forest. I had no idea there were pine trees in Nebraska. Heck, there are hardly any trees at all. Genae found it a bit reminiscent of the area south of Flagstaff. Sadly, and perhaps obviously, this interlude was short and we were soon back to the more typical Nebraskan scenery.

After a pit stop in Chadron, we continue on 385 into South Dakota and through the Oglala National Grassland. Although the North and South Platte rivers were running high, they were within their banks. The rivers we’d been crossing lately were flooding. In addition, many low lying parts of the fields along the road had standing water.

At Oelrichs US 385 meets US 18. The two routes are conjoined until Hot Springs where 18 goes west. We continue north into Wind Cave National Park. We made another minor navigational error, missing the turn on SD 87. US 385 would take us into Custer, but we wanted the more scenic route through Custer State Park.

This is not a big park but it’s packed with things to see. It looks like parts of the place catch fire every few years so there’s an unusual mix of pine forest, recently burned areas, and open grassy hills and valleys. The hills are populated by an abundance of wildlife. In a few short miles we saw deer, antelope, and bison. A group of buffalo grazed very near the road, several cows and calves.

Our accommodations for this trip were at the Bavarian Inn, a pleasant establishment on the north side of town. We got checked in, unloaded the car, and socialized over margaritas and snacks. There were no group plans for dinner, so we were all on our own. Nonetheless, almost everybody ended up in groups of four or six or eight at the Buglin’ Bull. They weren’t really prepared for so many guests and those who arrived later after us were there quite late. We were back to the hotel and in bed by 10:30.

Today’s drive: 421 miles.

Nobody is Listening

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