The Actual Trip to New Mexico, etc.
If I were my mother, I'd give all the details of when we got off, where we spent the night, who we saw when we got there (omitting anything of actual interest, saying only "We had a nice visit"), where the car broke down, and how many tubs of mail we had when we got back. I'll try to mention not only all that stuff but much more.
Evan was due back into LA from Cincinnati August 14, so I tried to arrange his flight to Albuquerque, instead. Fortunately, the booking agent at American Airlines couldn't find a seat into Albuquerque and was delighted when I suggested that Amarillo would be an acceptable alternative. I was able to route Evan to Amarillo, and then, for no extra charge, put him on the plane ten days later to complete his trip to Los Angeles. In fact, it would have cost $100 more to officially end his journey in Amarillo, since that would have been a route change rather than a re-route.
I had envisioned our stopping by Albuquerque on way to Clayton, but Evan's route change was a blessing, because the way our dad loaded the car, there was no way we could have added Evan and his luggage to the contents. I think I've already covered the way Daddy loads a car - if there's a space, it must be filled - so I won't go into detail about that. This did mean that we had to go to Clayton and unload a bunch of stuff before picking Evan up, so I decided we ought to make the trip in two days if we could. We made it to Flagstaff on Sunday the 12th, where we stayed at the Rail View Motel 6. Actually, I think all lodging in Flagstaff is near one railroad line or another, and I knew when we checked in and saw the notice about the nearby rail activity that we were in for a treat. About every fifteen minutes all night, a locomotive would sound its horn for a nearby grade crossing; often I could hear the low-frequency rumble of its approach before I heard the horn. Earplugs took the edge off, but it was definitely an experience.
We made such an early start on Monday that we took some time to go up to see Montezuma Castle above Las Vegas (New Mexico, of course) before supper. Daddy told a story about a local wholesaler Mr. Ilfeld (who was prominent in New Mexico Jewish history). He lived and did business in Las Vegas and never knew about the Montezuma Hot Springs Spa until he went to a spa in Austria and was asked why he'd come all the way to Europe when he had a premiere spa in his own backyard, figuratively. I expect Montezuma catered to wealthy urban patrons and didn't waste any money advertising for the local ranchers and businessmen, who may not have been desirable clientele anyway, however much money they had.
From Las Vegas, I called the Kokopelli Lodge in Clayton for reservations, and I figured it would only take a couple of hours to get there (more like three, according to Yahoo maps). Go north on the freeway, turn right at Springer and keep going. Simple. Instead, Daddy took us by way of a "shortcut" where we got off the freeway at Wagon Mound and went through Roy. There was just enough light left I could tell the first bit would have been a pretty drive during daylight, but when we got to Roy, Daddy claimed the route he sought wasn't on the map and didn't want to blunder around in the dark looking for it. So instead of turning in Roy for the diagonal route, we took the straighter route back to the Springer-Clayton highway. I later checked the map and found the route Daddy had been looking for on it, and I also verified that his shortcut took longer than the more usual route - though only about 25 minutes, so it wasn't as bad as it might have been. Still, 25 minutes late at night after a 600+ mile drive is a lot longer than the same 25 minutes under other circumstances.
At any rate, we had arrived safely in Clayton without mishap or mechanical failure. I'll try to resume this narrative tomorrow. I want to do justice to the visit with Aunt Lucille and Janey and Bob Roberts.
Evan was due back into LA from Cincinnati August 14, so I tried to arrange his flight to Albuquerque, instead. Fortunately, the booking agent at American Airlines couldn't find a seat into Albuquerque and was delighted when I suggested that Amarillo would be an acceptable alternative. I was able to route Evan to Amarillo, and then, for no extra charge, put him on the plane ten days later to complete his trip to Los Angeles. In fact, it would have cost $100 more to officially end his journey in Amarillo, since that would have been a route change rather than a re-route.
I had envisioned our stopping by Albuquerque on way to Clayton, but Evan's route change was a blessing, because the way our dad loaded the car, there was no way we could have added Evan and his luggage to the contents. I think I've already covered the way Daddy loads a car - if there's a space, it must be filled - so I won't go into detail about that. This did mean that we had to go to Clayton and unload a bunch of stuff before picking Evan up, so I decided we ought to make the trip in two days if we could. We made it to Flagstaff on Sunday the 12th, where we stayed at the Rail View Motel 6. Actually, I think all lodging in Flagstaff is near one railroad line or another, and I knew when we checked in and saw the notice about the nearby rail activity that we were in for a treat. About every fifteen minutes all night, a locomotive would sound its horn for a nearby grade crossing; often I could hear the low-frequency rumble of its approach before I heard the horn. Earplugs took the edge off, but it was definitely an experience.
We made such an early start on Monday that we took some time to go up to see Montezuma Castle above Las Vegas (New Mexico, of course) before supper. Daddy told a story about a local wholesaler Mr. Ilfeld (who was prominent in New Mexico Jewish history). He lived and did business in Las Vegas and never knew about the Montezuma Hot Springs Spa until he went to a spa in Austria and was asked why he'd come all the way to Europe when he had a premiere spa in his own backyard, figuratively. I expect Montezuma catered to wealthy urban patrons and didn't waste any money advertising for the local ranchers and businessmen, who may not have been desirable clientele anyway, however much money they had.
From Las Vegas, I called the Kokopelli Lodge in Clayton for reservations, and I figured it would only take a couple of hours to get there (more like three, according to Yahoo maps). Go north on the freeway, turn right at Springer and keep going. Simple. Instead, Daddy took us by way of a "shortcut" where we got off the freeway at Wagon Mound and went through Roy. There was just enough light left I could tell the first bit would have been a pretty drive during daylight, but when we got to Roy, Daddy claimed the route he sought wasn't on the map and didn't want to blunder around in the dark looking for it. So instead of turning in Roy for the diagonal route, we took the straighter route back to the Springer-Clayton highway. I later checked the map and found the route Daddy had been looking for on it, and I also verified that his shortcut took longer than the more usual route - though only about 25 minutes, so it wasn't as bad as it might have been. Still, 25 minutes late at night after a 600+ mile drive is a lot longer than the same 25 minutes under other circumstances.
At any rate, we had arrived safely in Clayton without mishap or mechanical failure. I'll try to resume this narrative tomorrow. I want to do justice to the visit with Aunt Lucille and Janey and Bob Roberts.
posted by Jeannette | 6:48 PM
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