Gallup to Winslow

Pulled into Gallup a little after 5:00 pm, completely knackered.  Had a nap in the heat, then on to Winslow in the cool of the evening.  Just got to Winslow.  Must sleep.  More later.

 

Update:  It was a long, hard drive from Albuquerque to Gallup.  It started out ok, with the landscape opening up to the classic desert southwest scenery.  Mountainsides sheered off to reveal the layered striations of the epochs as they were laid down, mesas rising up out of valleys, and colors from delicate salmon to flaming orange and dusky rose.  At one point there were great masses of tumbled black basalt, broken in piles of jagged blocks, or folded in curved, flowing shapes, frozen in time from the day some volcano vomited it up in a monstrous eruption, back in the time before humans ever walked here.

 

The road is steadily climbing here, and Goose labored on the long grades, relieved by stretches of relative flat or short downhill sections.  Up and up, higher and higher, toward the continental divide.  There were many signs for souvenir shops and indian trading posts.  A reader had sent me a text when I got into New Mexico about a gift shop with large tipis.  I looked for it, but didn't see it.  Not too far from Gallup there was a smoke shop with a building shaped like a large tipi, so perhaps that was what he was remembering.  But it was dark and late, and I didn't stop.

 

At last we crested the rise to the top of the divide.  There were a cluster of gift shops beckoning, but I kept going.  I was anxious to get to get to Gallup.  There was some road construction that slowed things up, but much of the drive had been made at under 50 mph due to the hard climb and the heat, so it took a long time.  By the time I reached Gallup, I was destroyed.

 

I found my scheduled stop, Giant Gas on Historic Route 66.  When I climbed out of the truck, I knew I was not in good shape, but I managed, slowly, to get gassed up, check the oil, clean the windshield and check the hitch.  I found a place to pull off to the side of the pumps and got a snack and a drink.  I felt like I was bonking, but worse.  This station had a gift shop, and I browsed it briefly but saw nothing much of interest and decided I had to have a rest.  I routed to the Gallup Walmart.

 

At the Walmart I crashed.  It was hot.  The ambient air temp wasn't bad at all.  In a shady spot you could be perfectly comfortable.  But there was no shade to be had, so I opened the windows for some cross breeze and tried to sleep.  It was a fitful, hot, unhappy sleep, but I couldn't have gone on.  After dark fell the temperature improved, and I got up and dragged myself into the Walmart for some fresh ice and a few groceries.  I felt feverish and distinctly unwell.

 

One Walmart is pretty much like another, usually (with a few exceptions).  This one was a bit grubby.  There were lots of indians, faces familiar from my powwow days, and lots of little indian kids running around.  The Navajo lady who checked me out looked like she should have been sitting on a blanket with her pottery around her for sale.  She wore traditional, heavy silver and turquoise adornment, and a very Navajo style shirt and skirt.  Walmart is a steadier paycheck than the market, I imagine.  Near the front of the store there were sacks of flour piled up, cloth sacks with a really neat label.

 

 

I'm afraid that is the only picture I took in Gallup, which seems like a bit of a rough and tumble town, but one worth exploring.  I would really have liked to be able to see more of it.  They have a lot of trains, and apparently very loud train noise is a problem.  There were billboards on the approach to town advertising hotels with "no train noise."  In the checkout line there was a local paper with a headline about an initiative for a "quiet zone" having been "derailed," with a picture of a locomotive.  I heard train noises, bellowing locomotive engines and blatting horns almost the entire time I was there, and when I left town I got stuck at a crossing behind a very long, very slow train.

 

I tried to get something at the Carl's Jr. (no longer called Hardee's now that I'm back in the western states), that was right in the lot at the Walmart, but only the drive-through was open, so I had a snack from what I had with me and drove on to Winslow.

 

6/23/74 put enough heart into me to make that drive (and if you don't know what that means, I'll explain later), and the cool night helped a lot.  Also stretches of improved road.  I hit some more road construction, with a detour near Winslow that was difficult to navigate in the dark and with narrow, confusing lanes and unfortunately some bobsled action (a nickname for tight narrow lanes enclosed between k-rails that refers to a truly awful stretch I had to navigate a few years ago while pulling a trailer on a trip with friends).

 

Got to Winslow after midnight, checked the Flying J and bailed for the local Walmart.  Lots of good parking here and found a place along the edge near some trees.  Will try to enclose a pic.

 

I think I've hit the wall.  I feel frankly terrible, as though I'm coming down with something.  Maybe it's the altitude, maybe days of bad food (I'm trying, had some watermelon for breakfast), maybe I'm just finally wearing out.