In early 2020, our world was turned upside down with the news of a global pandemic. We were one of the last groups of travelers allowed on the slopes in Breckenridge that year, and as we drove home in the middle of March, we tuned into the unbelievable news. Ski resorts in Colorado and New Mexico were closing down for the season. Restaurants in most states would limit their service to takeout only. Masks, at first were discouraged. Then encouraged. Then required, depending on the state. And then fought over. Arriving home in Texas that March, we resigned ourselves to the idea that we’d be stuck at home for a while, along with the rest of the country (and in fact, the world).

Employers eliminated work travel completely and transitioned to virtual business meetings. We weren’t upset about the remote work requirements. In fact, the new work environment seemed logical and many wondered why we haven’t been doing this all along. This was good, we thought. It’s about time the professional world re-evaluated the idea of work environments with long commutes to an 8-5 block in your respective time zone – they are often unnecessary. Work can be accomplished anywhere, and employees should have the ability to create their own schedules, resulting in a work / life balance which is manageable.

While the world debated the logistics and essential nature of work, we became more concerned about the lack of business travel. Having become accustomed to coordinating our leisure travel with business trips, these new guidelines presented a challenge. Quite a bit of our travel has been funded with frequent flier miles and complementary hotel rooms. Traveling by plane pretty much came to a halt as airlines were locked down and business travel was completely kaput for the foreseeable future. The solution for 2020? Road trips – the budget version.

By the end of April, we were a little stir crazy from a month of lockdown and global chaos. Only a little over a month since we returned from Colorado, but it felt like years. We were tired of news, of conflicting information and indecision on the part of our national and state leadership, and the few people we were dodging during trips to the grocery store. Looking for a way to decompress, we planned a quick weekend trip to Colorado. This was tricky, as traveling at this point was highly discouraged. Our plan was to keep a low profile, packing food and snacks and engaging exclusively in outdoor activity. This is not too far off from our normal routine, so it couldn’t be that difficult, right?

2020 April

It was good to be on the road again, even if that road was the monotonous 287. With the prospect of miles and miles of Texas highways from DFW to Amarillo, we took a few detours, making sure to stop for walks, occasionally wandering into a gas station or convenience store. We were masked on this trip, but the rest of Texas evidently decided pandemics aren’t a thing. Not a mask in sight the entire way out of Texas, and plenty of side-eye stares for our wearing them.

First walk stop: Lucy Park in Wichita Falls, where we found some decent walking trails, including a weirdly misplaced pagoda, and an interesting hood ornament in a nearby neighborhood.

Second stop: Childress. Took a quick walk around their downtown area, observing the run-down buildings and noting the eerie silence, something that would become increasingly obvious and oppressive as we made our way further west. If restaurants and businesses were closed – the billion dollar question that was being screamed about, debated, otherwise bantered about – how were residents earning a living? The towns along 287 had been sliding through a prolonged economic downturn even without a plague going on – this wasn’t going to help. We didn’t find any answers to the problems on Main Street:

Given a compressed schedule, we were headed non-stop for Colorado. The scenery changed as we crossed the Texas border into New Mexico, as did the restrictions. Masks were required in all businesses; no exceptions. Capacity signs were posted on front doors. We were happy to comply, and it appeared that New Mexico locals didn’t have a problem with a piece of cloth on their face. West Texas could learn a few things from their neighbor to the west.

The sun was still high in the sky as we drove through the northeast corner of New Mexico, and we admired the beautiful skies – wide open, blue, clear, clean skies are sights we don’t see in our over-populated metroplex.

We arrived in Colorado around dinner time and before attempting to check in to our hotel, found a hilltop cluster of food trucks – one served wood-fired pizza and the other offered a broad selection of coffee drinks. The BOMB pizza was sadly average (I’ll blame a bad menu selection by one of us), but the items from The Coffee Can were fully loaded and as it turns out, necessary. After noshing in the car, we stepped out to capture some gorgeous southern Colorado sunset:

Having never been in the actual city of Trinidad (having just blown through on the freeway to northerly ski venues in the past), we had to explore a bit. Quick tour of the neighborhood behind the coffee truck – residents in Trinidad did not lose their sense of humor during the pandemic:

After dark, we drove up the hill to the Trinidad sign, a high point just out of town which offers panoramic views of the area. Cool spot, but it was crowded this evening, and our arrival was after sunset, so our views were limited. Of interest – the hilltop is labeled “Simpson’s Rest” and that obelisk to the right is a combination memorial marker and stone seat:

Having explored the hills and watched the sunset, it was time to get some sleep before our return trip. We discovered that pandemic rules in Colorado were being enforced when we were advised our hotel reservation for the night couldn’t be used without documentation of essential business travel. Feeling guilty for taking this trip, we had to answer “No, this is not required by employers.”

Frustrated and tired, we left the hotel and wondered if plan B was to spend the night in the car. Before giving up, we checked on a few hotels in northern New Mexico, and discovered at least one that was a little more lenient. It sounded like the Holiday Inn outside of Las Vegas would be happy to take our money if we could get there. We hadn’t planned on being on the road so late into the evening, but it was our only option, so we headed south. Grateful for the earlier Coffee Can drinks, we were still exhausted by the time we arrived at the hotel – after midnight – and extremely grateful the evening’s accommodations included a comfortable bed instead of a campsite and car seats.

Waking up and watching the mostly empty (but normally very busy) freeway, we again considered how eerie travel in the pandemic was going to be. Packing up and realizing breakfast might be a challenge, we took a quick tour of Las Vegas.

The historic town square has a nice vibe, with the complete lack of people reminding one of us of the classic Stephen King book “The Stand”. Before putting ourselves back in the car for a trophy run home, we decided the New Mexico Highlands University college campus would be a perfect place for a short run.

While looking for coffee (or any open restaurant) we admired the Historic Plaza Hotel on the square and decided to check that one out on our next trip out here. That would be sooner than one would expect. We accomplished exercise and failed to find coffee, visiting Allsup’s for gas and bottled corporate caffeine, and finally headed east.

The drive home wasn’t direct, of course.

Santa Rosa – this was a “nostalgia” stop. In 2012, we were attempting to get to Santa Fe from DFW for a high-school friend’s wedding, on a Friday night – yes, that’s 9+ hours (a large “+” as usual for us) with a departure time of 5PM. We made it to Santa Rosa past midnight, and desperately needed a place for a few hours rest before finishing the trip to Santa Fe. Exiting I-40 onto old Route 66, and not wanting to spend a lot of money for what we hoped would be a couple of hours of shut-eye, we ended up pulling into the driveway of a questionable hotel that showed “Vacancy” on the flickering neon sign outside. Paying $35 in cash to a hand sticking out of the locked office door confirmed the hotel wasn’t exactly 5-star, but exhaustion trumped caution. Kicking the large dead roach out the door, we carefully lay still on the broken-down bed and tried to sleep.

The glaring New Mexico light coming in around the poorly fitting front door woke us up. With slightly clearer eyes, we discovered that the door lock was bolted in place around what appeared to have been multiple door-kick entries, probably by vice cops. Turning back to the bed, we saw what looked like blood stains on the edge of the mattress we’d been sleeping on, which led us to grab our bags and exit post-haste. Icing on the cake was walking past the car parked next to ours that was held in-place by a brick jammed under the front wheel.

Swearing we’d never visit that particular hotel again, we proceeded to Santa Fe, discovering that if we’d made it as originally planned, we might have surprised the prior occupant of our VRBO rental for the weekend. More on that in another post.

Now, 8 years later, we wondered what had become of Motel Hell. We stopped in and found an abandoned structure, with nature slowly taking over. Not surprising, given the condition of the place on the first trip, but shocking that we had stayed here at all.

Making the most of our road time, we wandered home on an indirect route. Getting off 287 and going south from Quanah with the intention of stopping for a walk at Copper Breaks State Park, we were out of luck – the ranger was closing the gates as we turned off towards the entrance. Flagging the park for a future visit, we continued that way to avoid the dreaded tediousness of 287, and drove through Crowell, stopping to capture the deteriorating town and admire the miles of windmills.

By this time, the sun was headed for the horizon, and it was time to finish the long stretch home before we ran out of daylight and time. Not bad for a two day mission – visited new locations in preferable states, stayed away from other humans and temporarily satisfied our wanderlust.

2020 June

In June, getting restless after another several months of endless work Zoom sessions and staring at our couches, we started wondering about that Plaza Hotel on the square in Las Vegas. The exterior and what we could discern of the lobby through the slightly dusty but imposing windows had piqued our interest. A quick search online revealed that New Mexico was relaxing restrictions a bit and allowing guests to stay at the hotel, and there were even some restaurants opening in a limited fashion. This felt like good news, and might make questionably safe travel easier. In Texas, we had opened restaurants and other retail establishments at the beginning of the summer but compromised with mask and capacity requirements, both of which made lots of people angry about the government infringing on their right to acquire germs and pass them on to everyone else.

Having decided on dates for our next expedition, we started putting together a list of things we could do without spending time around other people (any more than we were at home during infrequent visits to gas stations and the grocery store). There was more we wanted to accomplish on this trip: explore Las Vegas and surrounding areas, and check out the lake we could see from the top of the mountain in Trinidad. We were more deliberate with the planning this time, adding an extra day, including bikes for exercise, and booking reservations in advance while confirming overnight guests were allowed at each location.

With extra time on the books, the wandering started immediately on this trip. We avoided 287 and went directly to the backroads, wandering through towns most people aren’t aware exist – towns like Vashti, Joy, Scotland, and Paducah.

A stop in Paducah for a walk let us observe the quiet little town. A quick Google search pulled up an article written by a local, describing their efforts to revitalize the town, which appear to be having limited success. Paducah is disappearing quickly, as evident when wandering through downtown – abandoned tools on weedy sidewalks and a blast from a pre-Walmart / Dollar General past in the form of a failed M. E. Moses 5 & 10 (which we always called a “five and dime”) store all pointed to another township waiting to blow away in the West Texas wind:

Rolling through Lockney, we saw a similar town, same slow decline in evidence. We headed on to the New Mexico border, where were greeted with a friendly sign and a robustly fat toad, both welcoming us to Earth.

Another few hours on the road of northeast New Mexico, and we arrived in Las Vegas late in the evening – standard operating procedure. Feeling some mask fatigue but sticking to the rules, we checked into the old hotel, admiring the historic interior (largely empty at this point) and noticing again the weirdness of America in plague-induced hibernation.

A high-floor room with old light fixtures and bedding that appeared to be from the 1930’s were a fitting reminder of the age of the hotel. In the morning while thinking about breakfast and coffee, we discovered our hotel was one of the filming locations for No Country For Old Men, among other classic movies. One of our party has not seen this classic – maybe we can go back some time and watch it on location …

Morning activities consisted of breakfast at a tiny local Mexican joint on the square, El Encanto, which was pretty good and was operating despite strict pandemic rules. Fresh coffee and traditional fattening Mexican breakfast food were a good start, and we had to do a post-breakfast bike ride through the town with stops at the graveyard and college campus to compensate for the calories:

After biking, we packed up and said goodbye to the Plaza Hotel, heading north. Avoiding freeways, the destination was a ghost town we’d read about and bookmarked (thank you, Atlas Obscura … again) – Dawson – a mining town tied to early 20th century exploration in the mountains. The town endured two major mining accidents ten years apart, which cumulatively wiped out the town as the much of the working male population were killed.

First, a stop in La Cueva, where we discovered a cluster of buildings at a fork in the roads, called Raspberry Farm. The shop and restaurant in the north end of the building were closed due to the pandemic, but the property was very serene. The adobe buildings had survived many decades of harsh winters, adding a lot of character to go with the small mill-race and overgrown walled garden across the parking lot.

Going on, we drove through Ocate next. There’s something very peaceful about road trips in New Mexico. Each time we would stop for a photo or a walk, turning off the car, we were overwhelmed with the perfect blue skies and the huge surrounding silence. No planes, no traffic, no people, just old buildings, clear air, dusty roads, and rings of hills and mountains in this peaceful place.

We arrived in Dawson mid-afternoon after several miles on unpaved roads and admired the enormous cemetery stretched across the hillside. A nice little spot to spend your eternal underground existence all things considered, not that these lifeless souls had a chance to pick it. The azure skies stretched over us for miles, threatening rain while we wandered around reading gravestones and other decorations scattered inside the fence – a rusting donkey statue attached to a wooden wagon was one of the highlights.

Research online indicates about 400 lives were lost to the mining disasters, which occurred in 1913 and 1923. Several graves are marked with a tombstone and date, but no names – quite a few of the deceased were recent immigrants to the country and area and would have had few family connections available to document their legacy.

Afternoon was swinging towards evening, so we left the sad cemetery, driving northwest toward Raton, skirting town and merging onto the familiar I-25, up Raton Pass and over to Trinidad. We made it to the lake we’d observed during our last trip in time to watch the sunset, and we were not disappointed. While the lake level was desperately low (all that low-lying area in the middle-distance was once covered in water), the Colorado sunset and clouds were gorgeous.

Squeezing in a few more stops before dark, we followed the highway west out of town to a spot on the map labeled Cokedale. Here we found an unassuming little community with some historic looking houses on winding streets packed closely together, and centered around a little general store with a community center not far away.

Our overseer and muse, Google, returned the following: Cokedale is a former mining camp established as a complete community including a school, store and a post office within walking distance from the little homes. Although most of those operations have since closed, it’s still currently home to about 150 residents and is a national historic site. Various intriguing concrete walls, towers, and other constructs surround the town, and the mine tailings are piled high on the hills towards the highway.

We stopped in downtown Trinidad for a quick dinner at Las Animas, and were pleasantly surprised that they were open (Colorado still had strict requirements on masking and the like), and the food was really good. Added bonus – fresh, strong coffee (always a good indicator of a restaurant that’s paying attention to quality). Given a plan that required driving all the way back to Texas, strong coffee would be needed.

We arrived in Amarillo around midnight and crashed at the familiar Marriott hotel downtown, successfully ignoring the thudding music leaking through the windows from the bars on Polk Street.

Despite being x-rayed by God with brilliant sunlight streaming through the gaps in the hotel curtains, we managed to sleep in a bit. Realizing we still had multiple hours to get home, we got out of Amarillo before noon, but couldn’t resist stopping for a quick walk on the Caprock Trailway just outside of Estelline. Mid-June in this area of Texas is hot, and in cattle and deer country, hyper-aggressive deer and horseflies will draw and drink blood from any uncovered skin in minutes or less. Combining those two, we got about 100 yards down the trail and retreated rapidly to the safety and comfort of the vehicle.

If you were to follow the Caprock Trail southwest, it goes all the way to Turkey, close to Caprock Canyon State Park, but that would go on the Bucket List, with notes to target sub-freezing weather if possible (the flies do eventually retire for the winter). There’s even an old rail tunnel on the way filled with bats. Someday, we’ll have time to do these things.

We did have the opportunity to revisit Copper Breaks State Park, arriving there sometime in the afternoon. We jogged through the mostly deserted park, attempting to ignore the brutal Texas sun while logging a couple of miles and a couple of photos.

Giving up on further exercise, it was time to get home – back to 287, and southeast into the metroplex.

2020 October

In October, it was time for another round of mountains and desert. Having accomplished two trips to south Texas in July and again in September, we decided we would change up the routine (again) and head through Oklahoma. As always, we were limited to only a weekend of travel around work and home responsibilities. We’re accustomed to the short trips, able to function on limited sleep and have developed the ability to accomplish multiple bucket list items in short periods of time. We all have our talents. Not sure this one is worth putting on a resume, but it’s been helpful over the years of travel we’ve done, especially so during pandemics.

Speaking of, this was seven months into the pandemic, and while there were still restrictions in effect, the world was limping its way back towards “normal”. Masks were required almost everywhere, worn some places, disparaged in others, but it was rare that restaurants were completely closed due to COVID.

A slight variation on past trips, we drove out on a Saturday afternoon, planning for remote work from a hotel in Amarillo on Monday. First stop out of DFW – Wichita Falls for a walk and coffee, which led to a stop to see the world’s littlest skyscraper:

Getting off 287 in Childress, we took a northerly detour through Shamrock, McLean and Groom, landing us on I-40 eventually. A new route we haven’t traveled before, with fading Panhandle towns dotted along the way.

Overnighting at our favorite Marriott, we had to plot out a long day of driving for Sunday. Instead of following the ruler-straight line of TX-82 to Texline and points west, we wanted to change the route to Trinidad on this trip. The map showed a path north out of Amarillo through the Oklahoma panhandle, then west.

Before leaving Amarillo, we accomplished our daily pre-drive exercise ritual with a quick run at the Wildcat Bluff Nature Center outside the west loop. The land around the nature center is mesquite scrub and some open pasture, liberally dotted with cows and their offspring, but leading to a rocky outcropping overlooking a dry creek with 350 million year old rocks and notes about the cattle drives that passed through here in the 1800’s. A nice diversion and one of the little niches of scenery scattered around the Panhandle as a break from the sometimes endless horizons:

Arriving in Dalhart, and instead of taking 87 to New Mexico, turning on 385 and heading into Oklahoma, we sat for a few long, straight, uneventful hours before we found ourselves in Boise City. One of many high plains towns built on false promises, misleading advertising, and speculation, Boise City is today another windblown grid at the intersection of roads that mostly carry cattle, cotton, and oil to other places. At the edge of town, near an interesting looking local history museum, we were greeted by a life-sized rust-coated steel Apatosaurus statue, along with a refugee from the Wizard of Oz:

Never taking a short path when we can wander, we found some green areas on the map and pointed the car towards them. We explored the Black Mesa State Park and Nature Preserve, hopping out of the car for a few short walks along the way. As you get further into this corner of Oklahoma, the terrain gets quite a bit more interesting, with steep buttes and eroded cliffs mounting higher as you go west towards the northeast New Mexico volcanic fields.

Before crossing into New Mexico, we worked our way to the trailhead leading the highest point in Oklahoma, but time and our scheduled meant tacking the climb on the hiking bucket list. We did have time to wonder about a single abandoned hiking boot at the trailhead – obsession with true crime and serial killer tales led to probably overblown imaginings …

On the way back to the main road, this dilapidated building was notable – appears that someone planned a remote getaway that never quite came to fruition:

Staring at several more hours of travel to Trinidad, it was time to head west through Kenton, with the intention of taking 456 through Branson, entering Colorado from the south side. As magical as Google Maps often is, they do a pretty crappy job of notating road closures unless you’re also using Waze. This gap bit us again just outside of Kenton, with a “road closed” sign blocking what looked like a very scenic path across the hills we’d entered in the Black Mesa area. Defeated, we turned south towards Clayton on 406, hooking up with our usual route in near the oh-so-scenic Love’s Travel Stop there. Behind schedule at this point, you would think this would deter us from further stops – not so. Turning off the main road past Capulin, we spotted this lonely church and cemetery standing next to the road, and hopped out for photos.

Arriving in Trinidad after dark, slowly lifting pandemic restrictions meant we still had options for food. Las Animas was our first choice, but they were closed this Sunday evening, so we were left risking BBQ in Colorado. Not to be snobby, but coming from Texas, the bar is pretty high for BBQ. Sadly the Trinidad Smokehouse, while not terrible, did not get very close to that bar. Being very hungry, we were tucked in at a tiny half table hanging off a pole in the basement bar, made a bit more special by the reminder that we were still working through our 2020 resolution to eliminate alcohol from our diet. Dinner consumed, steps were needed – we took a quick walk around downtown, stopping to grab a photo of another creepy church before getting back in the car …

… and driving all the way back to Amarillo. Overnight in Colorado or New Mexico this time would present challenges because we had to work Monday morning, and that was going to be easier from the predictably quiet hotel lobby in Amarillo.

Braving some chilly October air and typical Amarillo wind cutting through our clothes, we watched the sun rise over the streets of downtown Amarillo and grabbed a short run before settling into to work for the morning.

Calling it a day early, we picked up food and coffee and trudged back down 287, wrapping up one of our last road trips during one of the weirdest years either of us have lived through so far. Memorable to say the least.