Albuquerque to Tucumcari

New Mexico is rightly called "The Land of Enchantment."  We awaken to a beautiful sunrise in Albuquerque over the Sandia Mountains.  (When we went to bed last night, we looked out on this same vista and saw "PRESBYTERIAN" spelled out in neon lights below us, which turned out by morning light to be the nearby Presbyterian Hospital and not a reminder of my nominal church affiliation).

We had intended to take some time to drive north from here, through Santa Fe and Las Vegas (NM), but we find ourselves in delightful Old Town Albuquerque, lots of little gift shops and restaurants, and two musicians set up outside in a little plaza playing flute and guitar. 

Also here is the Albuquerque Museum of Art and History:  sculptures and beautiful grounds outside.  This old man and his dog have been eyeing each other for a long time.

We stay for lunch at the High Noon Restaurant and Saloon, built in 1785 and filled with history - the original building was said to contain both a casino and a brothel.  The Santo Room, the Gallery Room, and the Kiva Room are decorated differently to remember various periods of its history.  And the food and drink are good, as well! We sample some Monk's Ale, made by Benedictine Monks in nearby Abiquiu.

As we leave Albuquerque, we continue eastward on Route 66.  Cline's Corner (since 1934) is out here, and so is an artisian well called the Blue Hole in Santa Rosa, a popular scuba diving destination.  Out here in the middle of the desert!

On the other side of Santa Rosa, on a long straight two-lane road again, I start to wonder why there are so many trucks passing from the other direction; they are usually on I-40, not Route 66.  It takes me some time to realize that I have somehow navigated onto Route 84 instead of 66, and it also begins to rain.  That is why there are so many trucks - they are coming from somewhere else entirely, not Tucumcari where we are heading.  We turn around and backtrack, losing perhaps an hour, but finally driving out of the rain.  That old hiker's adage comes to mind:  the way to avoid getting lost is to stay found.

The Blue Swallow (ca. 1939) greets us in Tucumcari in all its neon glory!  This is a great little motel, listed on the National Register, and we feel like we have stepped back in time.

Our room is like something out of your grandmother's house - small, porcelain sink, with separate hot and cold faucets and a little rubber drain plug on a chain.  A rotary dial telephone that actually works (and instruction on how to use it).  And perhaps the smallest shower I have ever seen.

The icing on the cake is the garage next to our room, into which we can snugly back our Mini - she is tired from a long day on the road and an unexpected detour, and we all sleep as soundly as we did in the 1950s.