Apr. 25, 2007 - 21:09 MDT

MILES AND MILES

About the time I was old enough that Dad didn't have to carry me when I got tired, as I did once on a picnic trip to Devil's Head Ranger Station (on the Rampart Range Road west of I-25) I made the uphill hike pretty well, but by the time we got to the base of the rocks from the lookout, by the Ranger's cabin I gave out and Dad toted me down.

Mom and Dad had been talking about a trip and Dad said something to Mom on the order of, "I'm not sure Douggie can walk it that far." And Mom said something like, "Well, he's grown since Devil's Head." From the bedroom I could hear them talking but not exactly what they said.

Saturday came, Mom woke me up and said, "Lets eat breakfast, get dressed and washed quick now." I knew something was up because that was not the way things usually went on a Saturday. Won't say I hopped out of bed, but did get out and get moving.

Mom told me, "We're going to drive down to see Granny, think you can behave ?" This quivering eager puppy vowed to do his best. A few bags were put in the trunk and we were off.

Granny (my Mother's Mom) had recently married and moved with her husband to Questa, New Mexico and that was where we were headed. I had been as far south on US 85/87 as Sedalia (turnoff to Devils Head) and further yet to Colorado Springs to visit friends of the folks. But from there on out it was exciting new territory for me.

We proceeded along the knees of the Rocky Mountains for quite some time. All new and thrilling to me, I began to see what Dad said was sage brush, that soft gray green ground cover that stretched as far as I could see on the flatlands.

At Walsenburg we headed west over La Veta Pass, a fairly easy one then, but a bit more twisty and windy than it is now. Coming out of the mountains we hit a small town called Fort Garland continued on into the San Luis Valley to San Luis and on to a tiny town called Garcia, I had been seeing adobe buildings for some time and was enchanted to hear that those buildings were built of mud bricks. Dad had told me that adobe was a rather clayey soil and that made into mud and mixed with a bit of straw made sturdy brick to build with in the dry climate of New Mexico. Of course at my first opportunity, my trusty jackknife showed me that adobe was a lot softer than our brick at home, but obviously to this boy strong enough to bear weight of a roof. My sight had a lot to do with that observation of course.

Then a village called Costilla which had many adobe houses, and I had noticed the adobe outdoor ovens at many of the homes.

The vistas were new and strange, things weren't quite the same as what I saw around home. No trolley cars either nor stop signs.

I became acquainted with mesas then, and dad asked me if I remembered Table Mountain around Denver, with my answer of, "Yes," he said that North and South Table Mountains were mesas in our own area.

Hurricane Mesa

We had been on pretty flat land but began to drop a bit and came into the town of Questa, it seemed to me that it was out of a Western Movie, looked quite primitive to this city brat. Through the town, around the bend at the foot of the hills and into Grandma's place, in between two hills.

They had built their cabin of adobe, poured into chicken wire strung between two-by-fours. In later years I wonder how they could gauge the consistency of the adobe that it was pourable enough to go, but firm enough that it didn't go right on through the chicken wire. But on thinking about it, I suppose that they framed the two-by-fours with boards, and after the adobe set, took the boards away. Thought of those types of questions, long after Grandpa was dead.

The territory around their place was sagebrush and cedar brush peopled by jackrabbits and lizards with a few ant piles thrown in for good measure.

A big experience for me was when Grandpa took me into Questa to visit a friend of his. Said friend was a beekeeper and I got to watch him go to hives and get honeycombs to give to Grandpa. A few years later I had a thrilling experience with his bees myself. But at that time the thought of someone working among thousands of bees and coming out to talk about it was science fiction.

The trip down and traveling with Grandpa around his area and walking miles and miles is what made me a citizen of the Land Of Enchantment. He took us over to Taos one aftenoon and of course to the Pueblos to sightsee, and to a curio shop where he bought me a toy canoe. We ate there, and lingered about 5:30 I guess it was we headed back to Questa. Dark loomed but in the dusk an eerie color seemed to ooze out of the land. Was it blue ? I don't really know, other than it was part of the enchantment of New Mexico. I have never experienced light like that before, nor have I seen it elsewhere.

Our stay being over and Dad and Mom needing to get home to go to work, we left. Me very reluctantly, but trudging to the car and getting aboard. I occupied the shelf back of the front seat and dreamed my way home, Jack Rabbits, lizards, Indians and frontier type people on tap were hard for me to leave.

That is where my love of a vista came from where all one could see was sagebrush and miles and miles of nothing but MILES AND MILES . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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