The sunlight came through Lisa'a apartment window early this late June Saturday morning. One more long day of driving and we'd be back to where we started from; 5,831 miles round-trip. Grant and I had vowed to not shower that morning, nor eat breakfast - but rather just get back into those now so familiar front seats of The Q, and drive. We'd catch lunch when we decided we felt like it. But the focus was on the last leg of the open road, Denver to Dallas.
We loaded up quickly, and eased through the sleepy neighborhoods streets of Denver. The Mile High air was light, the sun beaming from the east was bright. I crossed over to I-25 and set coordinates for south-by-southeast, and off we rolled.
This was just a day to make miles, no sight-seeing or interruptions were planned. Turning east out of Raton, New Mexico, I was grateful to see all the construction from years past on Highway 87 had been completed, and the once slow, two-lane road (which was heavily patrolled) was now a divided highway with 4 lanes. I accelerated along this broad, green grassland plain, noting a few grazing antelope and the basalt lava flows oozing across the landscape, including the impressive cinder cone, Capulin.
Grant was snoozing with his iPhone playlist pumping into his ears while I listend to the outcropping rocks and the soft humming of my tires across new pavement, telling me all is fine and progress is being made while each volcanic peak once on the horizon, comes closer into view and then slips into my rearview mirror. Usually, coming the other way, east to west, I arrive in Clayton, NM in the late afternoon. It is then that I like to stop at the DQ (Dairy Queen) on the north side of the roadway to get a treat, and to view the local history told by framed photos on the wall of the dining room. One series of photos shows the infamous train robber, Black Jack, being led up onto the gallows after his capture outside of Clayton in the earliest years of the 20th Century. As one sips on the DQ Tropical Blizzard Ice Cream treat, you can see that all the local and law officials are dressed up in their Sunday best for the execution, standing with Black Jack in the "before picture". And again, posing with the corpse in the "after picture". Between spoonfuls of Tropical Blizzard, if you look close, you can see that the hangman had misestimated the amount of rope needed, and made it too long, and as a consequence Black Jack's head had popped off his shoulders as he dropped through the floor of the gallows. It was too early to stop for lunch, but the DQ reminds me everytime I drive through Clayton; strive to make an honest living and quit while you're a head.
We slipped back into Texas at the very NE corner of the Panhandle, where the grain elevators marked the location of Texline and not much else. I angled down to Dalhart and then south to I-40 and I slowed at junction of the interstate to look for reasonably priced gasoline. Grant awoke, and asked, "Are we still in New Mexico?" I replied, "Nope, we made it back to Texas."
Grant's thought, "Well, in that case, we need to stop at a Whataburger for lunch." I ridiculed the name on the orange & white striped A-frame rooves that advertised Whataburger, when I first moved to Texas. But, I have come to appreciate this Texas National Institution. But, Grant is a natural born Texan and of course has always appreciated Whataburger. That's just the way it is.
We unloaded all the gear from the home driveway that evening. Quickly started the washing machine and Grant got ready to drive 900 miles the next day back to the University of Missouri.
We loaded up quickly, and eased through the sleepy neighborhoods streets of Denver. The Mile High air was light, the sun beaming from the east was bright. I crossed over to I-25 and set coordinates for south-by-southeast, and off we rolled.
This was just a day to make miles, no sight-seeing or interruptions were planned. Turning east out of Raton, New Mexico, I was grateful to see all the construction from years past on Highway 87 had been completed, and the once slow, two-lane road (which was heavily patrolled) was now a divided highway with 4 lanes. I accelerated along this broad, green grassland plain, noting a few grazing antelope and the basalt lava flows oozing across the landscape, including the impressive cinder cone, Capulin.
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| Capulin Cinder Cone New Mexico landscape along Highway 87 |
These rocks being the far east vestige of the Rio Grande rift that was the beginning of a tectonic effort by massive forces to split the North American Continent down the middle. The rift eventually failed, and the State of New Mexico was left landlocked and without any seaports. Again, I say it is a pleasure as a geologist to have the rocks talk to you of their origins and ambitions as one drives along past them.
Grant was snoozing with his iPhone playlist pumping into his ears while I listend to the outcropping rocks and the soft humming of my tires across new pavement, telling me all is fine and progress is being made while each volcanic peak once on the horizon, comes closer into view and then slips into my rearview mirror. Usually, coming the other way, east to west, I arrive in Clayton, NM in the late afternoon. It is then that I like to stop at the DQ (Dairy Queen) on the north side of the roadway to get a treat, and to view the local history told by framed photos on the wall of the dining room. One series of photos shows the infamous train robber, Black Jack, being led up onto the gallows after his capture outside of Clayton in the earliest years of the 20th Century. As one sips on the DQ Tropical Blizzard Ice Cream treat, you can see that all the local and law officials are dressed up in their Sunday best for the execution, standing with Black Jack in the "before picture". And again, posing with the corpse in the "after picture". Between spoonfuls of Tropical Blizzard, if you look close, you can see that the hangman had misestimated the amount of rope needed, and made it too long, and as a consequence Black Jack's head had popped off his shoulders as he dropped through the floor of the gallows. It was too early to stop for lunch, but the DQ reminds me everytime I drive through Clayton; strive to make an honest living and quit while you're a head.
We slipped back into Texas at the very NE corner of the Panhandle, where the grain elevators marked the location of Texline and not much else. I angled down to Dalhart and then south to I-40 and I slowed at junction of the interstate to look for reasonably priced gasoline. Grant awoke, and asked, "Are we still in New Mexico?" I replied, "Nope, we made it back to Texas."
Grant's thought, "Well, in that case, we need to stop at a Whataburger for lunch." I ridiculed the name on the orange & white striped A-frame rooves that advertised Whataburger, when I first moved to Texas. But, I have come to appreciate this Texas National Institution. But, Grant is a natural born Texan and of course has always appreciated Whataburger. That's just the way it is.
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| The Circle is Complete. We're back in Texas & We get our fix on a Whataburger Under the Orange & White Striped Roof. We bring along all the bugs we collected on our grill over the last 2 weeks and 5,831 Miles. |
We unloaded all the gear from the home driveway that evening. Quickly started the washing machine and Grant got ready to drive 900 miles the next day back to the University of Missouri.
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