A Whisper of Resolutions, the Trail of the Mountain Spirit and Washboarding

New Year’s Greetings,

2008 closed without flair, more like the lamb of March. It whispered goodbye to us this year with a bowl of soup, a glass of wine, a blessing and thanks raised to the night sky full of constellations, and bedtime at 9. Surely that was midnight and thus New Year 2009 in some time zone; just not this one. 2009 will bring its own blessings, opportunities, challenges, transitions and expectations met and missed and next December 31 will find us somewhere, once again standing under the stars with a glass full of thanks.

Resolutions for 2009:

• I’ll learn enough Spanish to decipher the music on what is quicly becoming a favorite radio program: the bilingual program from 7 to 9 pm on the local public radio stations I mentioned in an earlier note. Who knows, I could be tapping my toes to a song that is really advocating New Mexico should secede from the Union and rejoin Mexico, and I’d never know; all I would recognize with my current language skill would be Nuevo México. Mi espanol no es mui bien.
• I’ll read more Southwestern authors – not just Tony Hillerman, who it must be said has contributed to a fascination with Navajo culture, or Barbara Kingsolver’s earlier works. I just finished Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya, a chicano writer whose roots are in Albuquerque. If you’re one who has traded books and titles with me over the years, this is a moving and wonderfully-written story of a boy in New Mexico toward the end of WWII and you’d enjoy it. I will keep this resolution by finding more of his work, and move on from there.
• I’ll learn to cook properly at altitude. You may know that altitude affects how things cook, how long, at what temps; all of which in turn, affects the results. We “entertained” for the first time last weekend – just one other couple whom Nick has met through the Habitat for Humanity Board. I roasted a rib-roast. Roasting to some degree of done-ness was at least the intent. Having lost my meat thermometer in the move, I had to judge done-ness based time per pound. I was appalled to cut into the roast as our guests were sitting at the table with dishes of vegetables and sweet potatoes cooling in front of them, and find a ‘tartar’ center. Thank heaven I had also cooked the heck out of a chicken in the krock pot to give Nicky the option of a recovering flu-suffer’s dinner. We all ate stewed chicken, although she was brave enough, or gracious enough, to claim that she liked really rare beef and ate a slice.
• I’ll give Nutmeg a gallon of water before we go off-roading in the new year so she won’t need a drink for two days, or at a minimum the duration of the walk. For the second time, she got into the local water on a hike, and two days later I was cleaning up…well, suffice it to say that we made another trip to the vet and returned with another week’s worth of bug-killing puppy-medicine. Her transition to the Southwest has been hard on her tummy and gut.

We went the wrong way!

On New Years day, it was beautiful—sunny and about 60. Since we’d both been sick, we decided to take a drive, instead of a hike. We decided to drive the Trail of the Mountain Spirit, which is a triangle with one point in Silver City. We went counterclockwise on the triangle, starting our drive up the leg of the triangle through the Mimbres valley which is ranchland and truly representative of the Old West in this region. That leg went very quickly, with straight roads and speeds of 40-50. We found Bear Canyon Lake, no problem. Walked around a little, while Nutmeg waded in the water and, omg, took several long drinks. (No problems yet!) Then, we found Lake Roberts, larger, more picturesque. Many water fowl, which made me wish I’d brought my spotting scope. Who knew – this is after all the dry Southwest. By now it was about 3 pm. We had the 3rd leg of the triangle to go, and it was only about 10-12 miles, BUT and that’s a very big BUT, that 12 miles was over the mountains down to Pinos Altos, which is just above Silver City. Put yourself in the car with us for these last 12 miles. Picture in your mind, a road not wide enough for a center stripe. This road goes through the National Forest, so the scenery is beautiful: deep valleys with classic image ranches-paddocks-pastures, meadows and creeks lined with cottonwood trees, rocky canyons with hoodoos galore, and dark ponderosa pine forests. Snow still on the ground on the north slopes. But also picture the road going upupupupup and oooooover the mountains on little squiggle roads and hairpin turns. In most places, there is no guard rail. The entire 12 miles, there are no shoulders. And for stretches at a time, beyond the edge of the road, there is no there, there. And you are driving into the setting sun so you can’t see where you are going. At one point, the only thing that kept me from driving off the road was that I saw at the last minute the very large red and white stripped warning sign. The road went hard left; straight ahead was the sign while beyond that and straight down, the great Gila River gorge. Even Nutmeg was biting her nails! I had not one but TWO glasses of wine when we got home. Next time, we’ll drive clockwise and in the middle of the day. By the way, if you ever travel this way, and the mileage sign says: “xxx 26 miles; 2 hours” believe it – they aren’t lying. If you drive faster than 15 miles an hour, you better have a parachute because you’re going airborne.

Washboarding…

…is our new term for driving on the local roads that are county maintained gravel or otherwise unpaved surfaces. Once outside of Silver City, many of the roads that lead into the communities are unpaved after the first ½ mile or so. We’ve been exploring some of the communities to learn more about the greater SC area and also to begin to think about where we might want to consider buying. We know we like Indian Hills, where we are now, but it’s higher end and we probably won’t be able to afford to buy here. So we have been going washboarding lately. This is not what Volvos were designed for, and this Volvo protests mightily. The dashboard squeaks and rattles and jigs like a 1947 truck. The squeaking isn’t new, it did that back home, but its voice is much louder and more complaining of its treatment.

I think I had made another resolution that I’m now forgetting, in addition to those I’ve declaimed here. Which means that there’s no hope it will be fulfilled this year. I hope your resolutions are more memorable and thus, achievable. We can’t wait to see what 2009 has to offer us transplants. Whatever, we’ll make the best of it. Complain a little, maybe. Gripe grouse and then just get down and do it. I’m sure you’ll do the same. Because that’s how we get through the days, weeks and months with love and a smile. I have this piece of wall-sculpture that hung in my office in DC and now is installed over my desk here, called a ‘story-person.’ It says that “Anyone can slay a dragon…but try waking up every morning and loving the world all over again. That’s what takes a real hero.” To each of you heroes in our lives, the very best that 2009 can offer. Love, Sonnie & Nicky