Yesterday was spent mostly on a big road in desolate country. Today it's little roads in desolate country.

I know that Dad doesn't think this route will be faster. I know that he thinks it will be different than the one we took before, in June, from Denver to Imperial.

We initially head toward Pecos. The idea is that we will drive 'straight' up through New Mexico. Dad knows full well that you can't drive straight north here but still. The sunrise reflects in the read view mirror and along the van's windows.

Before the sun is really up we see live jack rabbits in the ditch and cottontails crossing the road. The lighted drilling rigs provide the reminder that but for oil even this little desolate road wouldn't be here.

We pass through Roswell. If we weren't always so driven to get somewhere, if we didn't have so far to go, then we might stop in the Alien museum or the Alien coffee shop.

We go on one little road that is so lonely we don't see a car for seven miles. A tarrapin crosses the road. Dad, half serious, suggests we pick him up.

We see one endless landscape after another. One type of terrain as far as the eye can see, the road leading straight to the horizon. Subtly, though, the landscape changes to another. Hills show up or flat expanses. Red rocks crop up. Or black. But then that landscape seems as endless as the last. We see antelope where there are big flat, open spaces were you can see thousands of yards away. Dad says, as he always does, "They like it where they can see a long way."

We start to get rain in Colorado. On Momument Hill (it's over 7500 feet there) the outside temperature shows at thirty-three degress. Snowflakes are mixed with the rain.

We arrive in Littleton. We let ourselves into my sister's house and call until we find my nieces. They come over with some food. It's good to be stopped, not moving.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The long raod becomes an end in itself. My back holds up. At least I'm not crippled after 729 miles.