The trip is over, but I want to write about the rest of my L2 experience; I regret not having recorded the final days of my L1 adventure. This blog is for family and friends, but it’s also very much for me and for us. I will treasure being able to go back and relive these experiences.

Day 7: Kingston, NM to Las Cruces. I woke up in the early a.m. hours after my body sobered up, my throat parched from all of last night’s wine. My bed at Black Range Lodge was extremely comfortable, but I couldn’t relax back into sleep. I lay in bed thinking about work and life, finally going downstairs to turn on the coffee maker at 7.

Within a few minutes, Tom, staff cook and woodworker, freelance silversmith and gold digger, came in from outside and began making breakfast, chatting affably about life in Kingston. Mark and Tim filtered in, and we quickly downed a pot of very good locally farmed coffee. Black Range Lodge easily takes the prize for best coffee of the trip.

In continuation of my inadvertent weight gain plan, I enjoyed a hearty breakfast of French toast, eggs, turkey bacon, and fresh homemade bread. Then around 7:45 a glassy-eyed Brian zombied into the kitchen. Yet again he had not slept well. Today’s ride, while not mountainous, would be the longest, at almost 90 miles. I was seriously worried about his ability to make it, and so were his brothers. I kept making jokes that weren’t really jokes about how I could just drive him to Las Cruces. He insisted he was fine. He looked miserable.

A very tired Brian heads out of Black Range Lodge

The whole crew!

The guys, already bemoaning their late start, wanted to take off, but Catherine from Black Range Lodge needed to get the perfect “Leaving Kingston” shot. She tried to take a movie but my camera battery ran out.

After the bikers left, I did some work in my room and stressed out about Dad’s condition. If something happened to him, would it be my fault for not insisting he take the day off? I concluded that he’s a grown-up and it was his decision. His brothers would look after him and someone would call me if I needed to rescue him. Then I resumed stressing out.

I planned to meet them in Hatch, New Mexico, chile capital of the world, for lunch. I drove there on I-10 (speed limit 75, gulp) and didn’t pass them. I parked in a lot behind a gas station to worry more, making many fruitless attempts to track Dad’s location. I texted the team asking them where they were, but no one replied. After 20 minutes I started feeling antsy and self conscious, so I drove to a nearby Dollar General (there are many Dollar Generals in this part of the country) and parked Midnight Rider. For once feeling hungry (a rarity on this trip), or maybe just to take my mind off of not knowing when or whether I would ever see the guys again, I ate the small bag of Cool Ranch Doritos I’d been given by the cold check-in lady at the Holiday Inn Express in Silver City.

I’m not kidding when I say this: the happy childhood memories contained in the experience of eating Doritos were a magic balm; I instantly calmed down and finally started thinking clearly. Obviously the guys had taken a different route; they wouldn’t have gone on the interstate. I decided to head out to find them, and within minutes I passed Tim and Mark, who looked confused that I was going the opposite direction. About half a mile behind them I found Dad soldiering along.

I turned around, pulled up ahead of them, and told Mark and Tim to pick out a place for chile burgers. They asked if I’d seen my dad, which told me he’d been well behind them most of the day. I planned to try to convince him to give up again.

We ended up at Pepper Pot. Chili burgers were just what everyone needed (except Tim who was a wimp and got a regular burger) to power through the rest of the ride. I discovered that Dad’s phone had been on airplane mode, which explained why I couldn’t track him. I made my pitch for quitting, but he seemed much better after eating, so I gave it up and figured he’d be okay.

On the drive from Hatch to Las Cruces I even stopped to get out of the car and take some photos.

All of the photos look like this — indeed much of L2 looked like this

My cousin Mary arrived in Las Cruces about an hour after I checked in. I don’t get to see her often and it was really nice to catch up and spend time with her adorable kids. With the help of the tracking app I timed the guys’ arrival perfectly, and we all met them as they pulled up to the hotel. I gave Dad a hug. I was so happy his day of riding was over.

After relaxing for a bit we headed out to a nice dinner at La Posta, a huge restaurant in Mesilla that keeps a bunch of parrots in its lobby. This dinner is most notable for Tim discovering a beer he likes enough to drink regularly: Dos Equis.  He owes it all to Mark, who had been craving one (or more accurately, two) after the long day’s ride.

Nalla was good at dinner so she got to blow out the candles on the table

Hotel Art of the Day

I forgot to take a photo of the art but found one on the Springhill Suites website. You will now appreciate the efforts I have made to cut out the glare of the glass in my shots.

Blue, green, and gray tiles
~48″x24″
Springhill Suites, Las Cruces, NM

Hotel Art Score

5/10. It’s very easy to ignore this piece, which looks like a a close-up of a nice kitchen backsplash. Yeah, it goes with the sofa. It’s got some texture. It’s completely inoffensive. Its blandness works against it, though. The colors are too cold and unvaried to make the room feel homey. But its failure is partly the fault of the overall interior design of these suites, which I would label “confused modern” or “what it looks like when a contestant on a design show doesn’t have enough time to finish.”

Art Art 

3/10. I like the idea of examining everyday objects like tiles closely — genuine beauty and wonder can be found in things like this. But I detect no heart, and not much thought, behind this piece. It had the potential to be something real but it just doesn’t care enough.

Day 6: Silver City to Kingston, NM. Dad and Tim were pretty anxious about climbing Emory Pass on Black Range (aka Sierra Diablo, Devil’s Mountains). It was the coldest day so far, and Day 5 had been extremely windy. They didn’t know what to expect. Neither did I.

Mark projects confidence about the mountain climb while Brian and Tim are secretly shaking in their booties

The bikers quickly relaxed once enveloped by the mountain’s beauty. But I, a few hours later, cursed constantly in surprise and fear at how dangerous the road was. This was the twistiest path I have ever driven, and there were no guardrails. Driving off the road into my death was an unrelenting option. I greatly disliked having that option, just as I dislike having the option to jump onto the subway tracks or jump off a hotel balcony when it has a low railing. Plus, at every turn (so about 117 times) I thought, “Maybe they fell off there.” I worried for us all. And I had no cell signal, so I couldn’t track Dad’s location with the GPS app we have on our phones.

But it was gorgeous. In my sporadic calmer moments I felt like I was in Disney’s Davy Crockett, crawling through unspoiled, Technicolor splendor. (Is it sad that I often first think of Disney when I experience real-world beauty? Is it because beautiful wilderness is so foreign to me? I will explore this on my own time.)

At last, only about 15 minutes after I expected to find them, I found them. They were in good spirits and ready for more supplies.

I love the typography in the Gila National Forest sign

I breathed only a little easier for the 12-mile drive from the rest stop to our B&B. At one point (because at 15 mph, it seemed to be taking forever) I yelled, “Get me off of this mountain!” And then amended it to, “But safely, not by me driving over the edge.”

Thanks, me, for not driving over the edge.

The Black Range Lodge was pretty much as I expected: cozy, quirky, and hospitable. Roosters crowed. Dogs wandered into rooms wanting some petting. Catherine, the proprietor, gave me a tour and shared the history of the place. As a former assistant director in Hollywood who has written screenplays, she originally envisioned Black Range Lodge as a writers’ retreat. The lodge, and Kingston (pop. 24) in general, certainly make for a remote escape — maybe a little too remote for me — but it would be a good place to write if you want to cut yourself off from civilization.

Cozy bedroom at Black Range Lodge

The guys arrived about an hour after me, we had our snacks by a gas fireplace outside our rooms, then Tim and Mark went off to soak in the hot tub and Dad and I made dinner. We invited Catherine and her handyman Gary to join us, and thankfully I’d bought just enough chicken breasts for everyone. Dinner conversation topics included Vietnam, LBJ, and I don’t remember what else because I drank a lot of wine. I needed it after that harrowing drive.

We then retired to the game room and played pool while listening to Chuck Berry on the room’s CD player. I was in no shape for a game of anything, to everyone’s amusement. Tim dominated and humble bragged about not having played in years. Then Mark put on Sting’s Ten Summoner’s Tales while Tim read to us about the next day’s trek. All in all an unforgettable day.

“I’m really not this bad” – Me

Hotel Art of the Day

Light Iris (Georgia O’Keeffe. 1924)
22″x28″
Black Range Lodge, Kingston, NM

Hotel Art Score

9/10. If you’re a remote B&B in New Mexico you can’t go wrong with a Georgia O’Keeffe print. But let’s say I didn’t know there was such an artist as Georgia O’Keeffe, and this was just on the wall without any marker. It’s immediately obvious that this is in another class. It invites you into its spaces; it wants you to look, and look closely. It reminds you to go outside and look closely at the world. Plus the yellow in the flower ties in nicely with the wall.

Art Art Score

8/10. It’s kind of a different ballgame when the artist is critically lauded, but I’m trying not to let it affect my judgement. I should say that in general I’ve never been much of a fan of O’Keeffe’s work. My usual response (one I should maybe reconsider) is, “Oh, another flower that looks like lady parts. Mmhmm.”  But: I really like this piece. It’s intimate but not the most overtly “feminine.” Looking at it makes me feel peaceful. It’s just lovely.