Three Rivers Petroglyphs, Carrizozo, and surprise mystery guests. Too many pictures.

I was feeling the need for a little getaway, and Carrizozo was it. I grabbed a willing friend, and we headed up Hwy 1 north. If you're used to taking 25, this is an entirely different experience.

We had heard from a friend of a friend of a trucker that Santa Fe Diner and Truck Stop had good food. Giddy with freedom and emboldened by adventure, we stopped in for breakfast -- smothered burritos generous with HOT green chiles. We'll come back to this.

Carrizozo could use a little more local color. And burros.

The purple courtyard is one way into the Malkerson Gallery. Pia invited us in and was very cordial, despite me buying nothing, and probably touching one of her sculptures.

Before leaving home, I had a strong impulse to pack fresh underwear and pants. I try to listen to my weirdo compulsions, but this was too crazy. I compromised with myself by packing baby wipes in my purse. We'll come back to this.

I have burned ruts in the road between Carrizozo and Alamogordo, but had never seen Three Rivers Petroglyphs. This was the day! I greased Volunteer Gary's palm with $5, and that bought us a parking spot and admission to the petroglyphs. If you go, do prepare to hike a bit - bring water, a walking stick, sturdy shoes, a sturdy friend. 

It was strenuous enough that I needed to call it good-enough about halfway, but I was sorry to disappoint my friend who is fitter than I am. She was gracious, though, and said she had business back at the visitor's center anyway. She tried to stay behind to help me, but finally sprinted ahead. Occasionally, she would stop as though in wonder at the majestic Sacramento Mountain vista. Sprint. Repeat awe. We'll come back to this.

Roxanne: I just thought of something REALLY FUNNY.

Hiking partner: DO NOT TELL ME ANYTHING FUNNY.

Please enjoy too many pictures of petroglyphs. The BLM says there are 21,000 at this site; now a couple dozen doesn't sound so bad, does it?

Just a little bunny ...

Don't worry about me getting down off the ridge. Left to my own devices I employ unpretty methods that work just fine. They're the kind of maneuvers that make a hiking partner uncomfortable, so I save them for the solo times.

But, about uncomfortable hiking partners ... I was glad to see her enjoying her rapid descent, punctuated by the absolute stillness of a rapt visitor to the unfathomable beauty of New Mexico scenery. More downward speed, more enjoyment of nature. A final desperate sprint toward the finish line just in time to transact her urgent business in the park office. 

Friends, New Mexico green chiles are not to be trifled with. Please enjoy responsibly. 

To cleanse your visual palate, I have saved a few shots.

Beautifully-focused weed with photobombers behind.

Someone's watching us.
Where??

Where???
You're hilarious.

I don't see anyone ...
That joke never gets old.

We were so close that we drove on into the Three Rivers BLM campground in the Lincoln National Forest. It's beautiful, and at $6/night, a real camping bargain. 

A quick stop at the chapel on Chapel Road, Santa de los Ninos ...

... and we were done seeing stuff.

Then a honeybee stung me. There I was, depleting the population. I pondered the consciousness of honeybees, and would it have stung me if it knew it had one shot?

We were happily on our way back to TorC, arriving just twelve hours after we started. 

Take the long way home.

I spent three weeks, seven months, and two hours at the Datil cabin this fall. There's a weird time-wrinkle there, maybe because I spend days at a time reading odd things (besides this blog) and hearing elk bugle. 

The above pictures were happening simultaneously. A rainbow at the last possible moment of the day.

Not-elk

Also not-elk. I call her Janice.

We headed out to Pie Town, and this time we enjoyed Pie Town Cafe. Now that Pie-O-Neer is serving only pie, it's good to have a real-food option. Open Friday - Monday.

Not much merc at the Merc 'n' Tile.

I allow other people to pun when it's their turn.

Pot of gold - a fresh cup of coffee enjoyed in a mountain cabin. 

Then it was time to face reality, or a New Mexico facsimile, and return to Truth or Consequences to pet-sit. Not a bad sort of reality, if I have to face some. Route 25 at 75 m.p.h. was not the sort of reality I was in the mood for, so I took the "shortcut" down Route 1 from Socorro. As my dad used to say, "I don't mind a shortcut, if it doesn't take too much longer."

Bridge over Nogal Canyon, as seen from Nogal Canyon. 

This is not a Datil tarantula

The morning I left the cabin I saw the season's first tarantula, looking for love in whatever places it wants. Mountain tarantulas are a lot smaller than the Lowlanders. Tarantulas are several years old before they make the autumn Journey of Courtship. If you see him out and about, give him a break; he's waited a long time for the chance to get lucky.

A different perspective: Elephant Butte Lake from the east side.

Soon I'll be headed north to Taos for frolicking fun: four fuzzy feline friends (and their two devoted servants). A quick break, and then we're headed for a brand-new adventure that I'll try to enhance, embroider, and embellish for your reading "pleasure."