June Camping at Peaceful Valley

We arrived at the Peaceful Valley Campground, near Ward, Colorado at around 7:30 p.m. The sun was behind the mountains, and I just barely had time to get the tent up, blow up the air mattress (with my handy-dandy battery powered air pump), and get the bed made before darkness fell. While I did the “cozy-home-away-from-home” thing, Harry threw some tasty hamburgers in a pan for dinner. We would have been set up earlier - or have camped somewhere else altogether - if the campground at Brainard Lake had been open. We found out the next day from our campground hostess, Karen, that the Brainard Lake campground opened June 25th - it took them that long to get the roads cleared of snow and everything cleaned up from the winter. While we ate our burgers in the gathering darkness, we tossed ginger snap cookies to Tim and Star. They love ginger snaps.

In the middle of the night, Tim woke me. He pawed at my arm, and then went to the door of the tent, and pawed at it. I groaned. “Oh, Tim. Do you HAVE to go out?” He sneezed, and pawed at the tent again. I rolled off the air mattress and slipped on my sandals (I slept in my clothes, which was a good thing, since Star had most of the bed and Harry had most of the covers). I snapped Tim's leash on to his collar, and followed him out into the night.

It was absolutely beautiful outside. The air was balmy, and there was a light breeze. I guess ginger cookies aren't the best thing for a terrier tummy - Tim hastened over to the nearest patch of grass he could find, and his guts just let loose. While Tim was “taking care of business,” I looked around me. The full moon turned everything into black and white. It threw the tree boles into stark shadows and was so bright it drowned out the stars. I was so grateful to be at that particular place at that particular time, transfixed in the moonlight. I’m so glad Tim woke me up (for more than one reason, obviously), and I was more than happy to wait for his stomach to settle down. I wish I could share that experience with you, but I didn’t think to bring my camera. I don’t know how (or if) the pictures would have turned out, anyway.



The next morning dawned cool, with warm sunshine. While I rearranged the tent (after talking Harry out of packing everything back into the Dogmobile and going in search of another campsite and that elusive “better view”),










Tim found a series of ground squirrel holes and busied himself by digging in, while Star found a convenient patch of sunshine. It was right about then that I realized I’d bought the SUV tent for Winnie, because she didn't like to sleep on the ground and it was difficult to talk her into getting out of the car when we went camping. This was our first camping trip without Winnie. My heart contracted, and I hauled a disgruntled Tim out of a hole just so I could hug him. He smelled of pine sap and sunlight.




I sat down next to Star in her little patch of warm sunshine and Tim came trotting over and laid down with us so he could rest and I could give him a rub.


That’s when I saw two blood red marks on the pale skin of his belly. The day before, I’d moved Tim off my lap into the back of the Dogmobile and he’d yelped as if I’d pinched him. I felt terrible when I saw what I supposed were the marks I’d left. He didn’t seem bothered by them at all, but, when I showed them to Harry, we saw there were more than two of them. In fact, it looked like he had five or six more marks that resembled blood blisters, all on his belly and chest. Tim had been bitten - probably by fire ants (we later learned). I’m guessing they were in the ground where he’d been digging for ground squirrels. They faded over the course of the next few days, with no lingering problems, but they sure did look awful at first!





As I sat next to Star with my camera, I realized how difficult it is to take pictures that will really convey what I would like to share with you. A photograph can’t capture the clarity of the air or the fragrance of pine trees warmed by the sun. Photographs don’t let you hear the hummingbirds whirr by or allow you to feel the mountain breezes, warm and yet cool. I can show you some of what I saw, though.














And a nearby yellow flower . . .



I didn’t get a shot of the cocky mountain jay swooping down to snatch a piece of dog food, or the crows pillaging nearby campsites, but I can share a photo of the curly tan caps on the new growth of the spruces. They remind me of my father, who used to warn me when I was a child against damaging the new growth when I “helped” the trees shed their protective coverings.



This is ATV country - almost very other person coming through the campground has two or more ATVs on a trailer. We took a short hike up a portion of one of the ATV trails that start at the campground. During our first day there we didn’t see or hear even one ATV, but that next day, there was a steady stream of folks headed up the trails. It wasn’t bad, though, and people were respectful.









The middle of the day makes a great time for napping, and Harry and the dogs took full advantage of that.




After Harry woke up, we took a little drive back up to Brainard Lake, so Harry could get his fill of the vast panorama of Indian Peaks.





We stopped on the way back down at Red Rock Lake. I was amazed to see that nearly a third of the lake was covered by lily pads. The wind ruffled their leaves and made their yellow flowers dance on their stalks. Star waded right into the water, although it must have been cold. Tim was a little more careful, just getting his feet wet and tasting the cold, fresh water.






The clouds had been building up all the while we were up at Brainard Lake, and by the time we got back to the camp site, it looked to me like we were in for a storm. Harry made dinner while I put everything that could be water damaged either in the car or inside the tent. We were still waiting for the storm when we went to bed, but it never materialized. We enjoyed a campfire while the furkids lounged about on the air mattress in the tent, keeping a watchful eye on our whereabouts.

The insects weren’t bad, which was surprising since we were camped very near a stream. The first night we were there, we swatted more than one mosquito. I don’t know if it was because of the impending storm, but the second night, while we were sitting by the fire, there weren’t many.


This is the sparkling stream (the St. Vrain) that ran behind our campsite.



The water was clear and cold - as my feet could attest. Star went wading, too, but I had to convince her to come in. She’s used to the muddy waters of Nebraska, and the clarity of the water in the stream confused her.


So, that was our June camping trip.

After the camping trip, we went down to Denver, and while Harry relaxed with the furkids at La Quinta Inn, I went to a party commemorating the 50 year wedding anniversary of my high school choir teacher. All in all, it was an excellent weekend!

Thanks for coming along!

Tough Love

Winnie died today. It wasn’t in her sleep, the way I wanted it to be. I told Harry this morning that I needed to talk to him, and that we needed to go on a walk.

“Harry, I need to talk to you about Winnie,” I said, as we descended the front steps.

“I kind of figured that’s what you wanted to talk to me about,” he replied.

“I think it’s her time. She got up this morning at 3:00, and I heard her flailing about in the bathroom, and when I got there, she was pooing all over. She couldn’t help herself.”

We walked in silence for a minute.

“So,” I continued, “I wanted to ask you some things. Doc will come and do it here, at the house. That way Winnie wouldn’t have to go anywhere.”

Harry shook his head. “No. I don’t want to look at the couch every day and think ‘That’s where Winnie died.’ I’d rather it be done at the vet’s office. Plus, would he take the body afterwards? And what if she - leaks?”

I nodded. “Okay. You feel strongly about this. It’s okay. I don’t think Winnie will mind. I’m thinking it should be soon. What do you think?”

He replied, “Today. I think you should call the vet today.”

My stomach turned. I wasn’t ready today. I was thinking Monday or Tuesday, after work. Walking always helps me think, though. Why wait, when it was obvious all that was going to happen is that Winnie was going to get worse? My eye was caught by something in the alley. It was a button, the kind I remember seeing back in the 1970's. It was rusted, worn, but the message was still clear. “I Am Loved.” My eyes filled with tears. It was like a message from Winnie, reassuring me that she knew what was happening and she approved.



When we got back to the house, I took the phone outside and called Doc. My voice broke as I told him I thought it was time, and he said we should come at noon, when the clinic closed.

In the interim, I took the furkids for a nice long car ride. First we went to Pioneer’s Park, where I let Tim and Star out and gently put Winnie on the grass. She couldn’t really walk, so she staggered, listing to the left, but always following me. We didn’t go far. With Tim and Star safely back in the Dogmobile, I gently lifted Winnie back in, where she collapsed into a panting heap. Then we visited Kathy and Steve (Mac the Thundering Slobber Dog’s folks) and Andre and Stacey (Little Man’s folks), so they could tell Winnie goodbye. When we drove up to the house, Winnie didn’t even try to get out of the car. Tim and Star jumped out, Harry got in, and we drove to the clinic. Everything went so smoothly, it was almost as if it had been rehearsed.

As we pulled into the parking lot, Harry asked, in a choked voice, “Can - can I carry her in?”

“Of course you can, sweetie,” I replied. I held the doors for him, and he carried Winnie into the clinic, into the room where we’ve spent so much time. Many a toenail clipping has taken place on this table, and many a vaccination. Doc came in and explained the procedure to us, had me sign a form, and Harry and I both petted Winnie, tears falling like rain, as the drug took effect. It was a very gentle passing. She was ready.

Winnie was a gentle soul, a creature of light and air. I will sorely miss her.

I never really realized what an impact she had on my life until later in the afternoon, when Harry stood in the center of the living room, hands on his hips. He surveyed the room and said, “Well we can get rid of that couch, now. And a lot of these rugs can go, too.”

He’s right. We kept the old ratty couch for Winnie, because she spent her days lounging on it. And the various non-skid rugs were so she could keep her footing on the wood floors. The dog door was for Winnie, too - I bought and installed it because she always liked to get up at 3:00 a.m. to go outside, and I got really tired of having to let her out (Harry never seemed to hear her ear-piercing whine). The nightlights can go, too. The canned food was also for Winnie, and the spoon-feeding ritual was initiated to entice her to eat.

That’s the thing about a good ruling monarch - and Winnie was a ruling monarch, for sure. The good ruling monarch never lets you realize you’re being ruled.

I’d love to share some of the pictures I have of Winnie with you. Pictures of the good days, my favorite days. Pictures of the Winnie who was fleet of foot, bright of eye and quick with a tiny lick to tell me she loved me. She used to hug me when I came home at night, burying her head in my legs and wrapping one front leg around mine and holding me close to her.

I celebrate the life of Winnie. I called her Miss Guinevere, Princess Winnie, Winnie-Fred, Sweet Little Girlie-Girl and a host of other names, but one thing’s for sure. She ruled my heart.

The Gypsy Heart is Sated; the Farmer Feet Elated

Returning to work after a vacation is such an odd experience. The everyday tasks are the same and are basically performed by rote. But my brain is different - I’m a different person on the inside. The interesting thing is, nobody can see that on the outside. Harry is going to New Mexico sometime in the next couple of months to attend SOFA West and Art Santa Fe, as well as the opening of Bullseye Glass’s new gallery/studio in Santa Fe, the Bullseye Connection. I feel certain that after he experiences all the area has to offer, Harry will want to live in New Mexico. And when (not if) Harry does want to move, I will be ready.

This is the last day of my first week back at the office, and already New Mexico seems like a beautiful dream. When I go outside, the humidity and heat weigh me down, wrapping me in a suffocating damp blanket, in contrast to the dry, sharp heat of the sunshine and instant coolness of the shade found in the Southwest. My nose searches for the scent of Russian Olives among the fragrance of local flowers and is disappointed. But, still, I find myself looking forward to the weekend and simple, mundane things. This weekend, I’m going to set up the pool. And make egg salad. Maybe lemonade, too.

At any rate, the Gypsy Heart is happy now (for the time being), and the Farmer Feet are elated to be back home. It continues to surprise me how large a part of my brain was occupied with the trip and preparations. Things that were just too overwhelming to think about beforehand are easily accomplished now.

I also learned valuable lessons on this trip.
Here are a few of the crash mini-courses:

“Adaptation - It’s Never Really “My Way or the Highway.” Although I’ll admit to being rusty, it seems I can still adapt when things go really wonky.

“The Complicated Art of Wayfaring.” I used to be much better at finding my way. I don’t know if I’m just out of practice, or if this is a skill I’ve lost over the years, but I’m willing to work on it. Practice makes perfect, after all. Or I suppose I could always get a GPS. . .

“Death on Four Legs.” The prospect of the death of a furchild bothers me more than I thought it would. Even if you’ve been expecting the death for a very long time, there is much more involved than just figuring out what to do with the body.

“Traveling Sans Dogs.” It isn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it can be extremely liberating.

“The RV Way of Life - Is it For You?” I prefer much more solitude than an RV park has to offer. Plus, Star hated the RV. That doesn’t mean the Airstream Dream has died - far from it. Since I’m fairly certain it was the noise inside the RV that bothered Star, she would probably be just fine in a truck pulling a trailer; and I think going to RV parks either before or after the “busy season” would work just fine for me and mine.

“Silver Lining Vision - How to Get The Most Out of It.” Sure, the vacation didn’t go as planned, but all in all, it worked out great: I went RV camping with Harry; gleaned valuable information and insights into the RV lifestyle; was able to visit friends without the dogs (and in that way enjoy spending time with them without the anxiety that always accompanies bringing along furry family members); took two vacations in the span of one; and didn’t spend as much money as I would have, among other bright spots.

All of these were valuable lessons - and all were valuable life experiences. And isn’t that what vacations are all about?

I’m not sure how many more blog entries there will be here until the next trip. I can guarantee you, however, that there will be a next trip, and when there is, I will bring you with me!

Until then!

On the Road Again

Kristy and Aaron got up early on Friday morning to see me off. Kristy packed a wonderful little lunch/snack bag with all kinds of tasty surprises for me to discover on the road. As I started backing out of their driveway, they both waved and called “Be careful!” I nodded, and kept on backing up - right into their lilac bushes. I still smile when I remember the significant “I’m glad I’m not going to be on the road this morning” looks they gave each other. Once I got the car straightened out and finally made it out of their driveway, things went much better.

When I’m on the road, I find myself saying things out loud. Just random comments about things I’m seeing, thoughts that are floating through my head when nothing else needs to be there. You know. Those kinds of things. I thought I’d share some of those comments/thoughts with you here.

On the Way to New Mexico:

It’s a much less painful ordeal to fill the Dogmobile up with gasoline than the RV.

There’s a beautiful little yellow crop duster flying over the fields. That would be so much fun! And the soundtrack from Cars is just the perfect music for watching that little yellow crop duster.

A State Trooper is playing games with people - he’s going 73 and the speed limit is 75. Everybody’s piling up behind him.

The gypsy heart is feeling better now and the farmer feet are feeling a little less stuck in the mud.

Disclaimer: Weirdness (Hey, I warned you - these were random thoughts floating through my head. I have no explanation for them).
“You done stomped on my heart
And you mashed that sucker flat
Sweetheart you just sorta stomped on my aorta . . .”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BylPbag1szI&feature=related

The last time I drove to Ogallala, it seemed to take forever. This time, since I know I’m not even halfway to Raton, it doesn’t seem like very far. It’s weird how your mind plays these games with you.

There are three identical vans up ahead - exactly the same color (white), same model, make and year. When one changes lanes, they all change lanes. Looks like a video game!

A possible explanation for the Sontosky Wormhole Effect: My speedometer says I’m going 59 and the flashing sign says I was going 55. Maybe I’m always going a little slower than I think I am.

Its actually really pretty out here - all different shades of soft greens and greys. It’s beautiful out here before it all dries out.
I’m going down Hwy. 71 south instead of going through Denver and Colorado Springs. Totally new territory for me - very pastoral, fields of green but not the same as Nebraska. A lot of the grass is already ripening so there’s a lot more of the wild tan color instead of the lush greenness. This is a two-lane highway going south, and should take me to Rocky Ford (where all the famous canteloupes are). Should hook up with I-25 close to Trinidad.

Nothing but green and blue as far as you can see.

Houses stuck out in the middle of nowhere, no trees - how do they manage? Summers would be sizzling; winters would be just awful.

If beef producers are going to put up signs that say “Nothing Satisfies like Beef,” they should definitely work on putting up a picture of a steak that doesn’t look like a puddle of pus.

This countryside reminds me of pictures I’ve seen of California’s rolling hillsides. Just no ocean. Dang.

I just figured out what the huge difference is between this area and Nebraska. There’s nothing out here. No farms dotting the hillsides. No fences, no people. I’ve missed that emptiness - Nebraska is full of people.

Astonished chipmunks running across the road.

If you really use your imagination, you can see the mountains over to the west.

Ugh. The windshield is covered with buggy gizzard goo.

“No snow plows 7 p.m. to 5 a.m.” Is that a warning to snow plows not to be on the road then, or to people not to expect the roads to be plowed then?

Just passed the Trinidad correction facility. That makes three correction facilities on the way here, so far. It makes you wonder how many criminals they keep in Colorado - or if they just keep them out here because there is no place to run.

Between Raton and Albuquerque:

Where do worms come from? They aren’t in the sandy dirt (and Bob confirmed that), but they are in the grass in Diane’s yard. The robins confirmed that.

New Mexico’s sagebrush country is nature’s Zen garden.

At a rest stop between Rio Rancho and Raton, I stole a slip of Russian Olive in full bloom. It makes the entire car smell wonderful. Scent is one of the most important of the senses to me. Russian Olive takes me immediately back to my childhood and places that I loved.

A hawk carrying something dinner-sized, soaring eye-level with the car.

Disclaimer: Extreme Corniness
Sign saying “Report drunk drivers” and gives a phone number ending with “DWI.” I was tempted to call and turn myself in, because I’m drunk with the beauty of this place.

Things I love about NM:
All the horses you see everywhere
The dryness of the air
The versatility of the landscape
The unusual, beautiful flowers
The variety of birds - much more variety of birds than Nebraska
The hummingbirds
Diane and Kristy, and Bob and Aaron

I like it here.

My spirit feels much less like a wild bird always on the alert fluttering here and there. I feel much more calm. I don’t know how else to explain it. Maybe it’s the Russian Olive. One more thing I love about NM - no bugs. Not just in Rio Rancho, but also Raton.

I’m driving through a valley right now and I look off to the side and the color reminds me of the glaze on a piece of Frankoma pottery, all soft greens and browns.

I keep saying “it is way cool.”

On the way back to Nebraska:

Now I’m on the way back, in Colorado, getting closer to La Junta. There are all these little cactus trees in the fields - they look like candelabras gone crazy.

I wish I could write blog entries while driving.

I am going through some of the most beautiful country ever, even though I know it’s supposed to be desolate. I’m back on Hwy. 350, and it is Back Country USA, and it is absolutely beautiful. (Just saw a sign - this is the Comanche National Grasslands). There are buttes everywhere, covered with grasses, and the goldenrod is glowing in the sunshine. I see train tracks running next to the road - it might be nice to take the train sometime. But driving isn’t bad.

On the importance of friendships: your soul is kind of like the sun, and certain friends are like rays of your sunshine. When you are cut off from them, your life is just a little bit dimmer. That’s the way I felt when I left this morning.

I’m turned around again, in the La Junta/Rocky Ford area. God, I hate being lost. I need a GPS. Google didn’t reference Highway 50 anywhere, and that’s what connects Hwy. 350 to Hwy. 71. A stretch of about 6 miles - you'd think that would be important!

Out here in the middle of nowhere (in Brush, Colorado) Raton almost seems like a mirage in my memory.

I’m just going to have to go back to NM because I didn’t see a roadrunner.

I love the little highways, but the down side is there are no bathrooms and no rest stops, so if you need to go to the bathroom, you need to go to the bathroom for a very long time.

I wonder why the dearth of wildlife in eastern Colorado. No antelope here, but lots of lush green grass. Maybe they’re shy and don’t like to hang out by the highway.

Can I actually cross the California trip off my list? I tried, but didn’t make it. Can I cross it off?

Religious billboard against the idea of evolution - “In the beginning God Created . . .” And they have a picture of man evolving from apes with one of those red circles crossed through plastered over it. My thought: In the beginning God created monkeys, and then man evolved from monkeys.

I love having a tan. It makes my age spots look like freckles.

The Last Walk

“I feel like going for a walk,” Kristy declared.






We were relaxing on the deck after dinner. ‘Koda and Arya were playing, and Finlay was standing right next to me, perfectly positioned for a nice scratch.















Aaron groaned. “I’ve been walking all day,” he said. (He works for the Postal Service). “Do I have to?”



Kristy grinned at him. “Yes, you do. It’s Lisa’s last night here, and I want to go for a last walk.”





So Aaron put on his funky shoes, and away we went.




I wish I could really describe Raton. I guess, from what people have told me, I expected it to be mostly Hispanic and mostly poor, but I was surprised to find a variety of folks who, if not affluent, were not lacking for much of anything. It really is a charming place. As we walked by a house that was in the process of getting a new porch, the owner stuck her head out of the door and, grinning, warned us not to walk on the porch (it was nothing but framing timbers).

The air was fragrant with the scent of Russian Olive trees that were just in the beginning stages of blooming. We walked past the house with the Australian shepherd that lunged and barked viciously at Arya through the chain link fence. “The nice dog has been moved to the back yard,” Kristy said, sadly. “She used to jump up on the fence and we could pet her.”

Aaron talked about how, being a mailman, he runs into all of the dogs, on one day or another. His method for getting along with them is to keep a pocket full of Milk Bones, instead of some other carriers, who opt for a can of pepper spray to deter them. His rationale makes so much sense: “If you spray a dog, they’re going to hate you every time they see you. If you give them a Milk Bone, the next time they’ll be happy to see you!”

You know, that kind of outlook would work in so many other situations. I think Aaron might have a recipe for world peace right there.



This time I remembered to bring my camera on the walk, so I could share some things with you.


I may have mentioned the mule deer that lounge about in front and back yards.

And I think I also mentioned the fact that Ratonians seem to be inordinately proud of their bears. See the warning about the bears on the dumpster, there? Those are little bear cub pawprints right next to it. I have to admit, the thought of running into a bear scares the bejeebers out of me, but I found the stories of neighbors finding a bear asleep in their tree or coming face to face with one on a walk in the dark early hours of morning fascinating. I’d hoped to see a bear from the safety of my room while I was in Raton, but the closest I got was the last night I was there. The dogs all started barking (a sure sign of a wandering bear, I hear), and when I jumped up and looked out the window, I heard a man’s voice say, “Shoo! Go on, then!” Of course, it could have been a raccoon or some other such critter, but I’m going to go with a bear.

There were quite a few houses for sale in the neighborhoods we wandered through. I found myself picturing what it would be like to own one; to wake up to surroundings like these. (I was also slightly suspicious that Kristy was taking me on a tour of houses for sale on this last walk in order to tempt me into looking on-line to see what was available when I got home).






After the hike up the rim of the volcano, I expected to be worn out. Some of the streets were every bit as steep as that hike, but for some reason - maybe because I was on vacation - it didn’t kill me. I was happy I was able to keep up with Kristy and Aaron, even though I’m a “flatlander.”

















The beautiful sunset was a perfect ending to a perfect day. Kristy and I sat on the deck and enjoyed it for as long as it lasted.


I headed to bed relatively early. The next day was going to be a long one.

The Mandala Center

On the flank of the Sierra Grande Volcano, across from the Capulin Volcano, sits a house. It’s a very big house, with round rooms and high ceilings. It was built by a woman who was going to use it as her home, but unfortunately she didn’t live to see that happen. This home has now been turned into a center for meditation, classes and gatherings. It is called The Mandala Center. We went there after our hike on the Capulin Volcano, and I loved it. In one room there is a conference table that holds an ancient door. In another room hang portraits of the woman who planned and built this place and her daughter - amazing portraits that are unlike any I’ve ever seen. And if you look up at the ceilings of the round rooms you will see some incredibly beautiful beveled glass windows. The large windows in all of the rooms offer a panoramic view of the plains and the herds of cattle grazing peacefully below.

There are additional buildings near to the Center, nice rooms available for very reasonable rates, for those visitors who wish to find a quiet corner to meditate or to attend classes. (Should you be interested, in September there is an International Day of Peace, and a group of monks are going to be creating a sand painting).

I walked their labyrinth - made of flat stones and set about with meadow flowers, while Kristy took photos. Not of me, of the flowers.





Except for the bum steer that we saw on our way out that was staggering about because it couldn’t bear weight on its right front foot, all in all, it was a very satisfactory day. (Kristy made a quick call to the Mandala Center to report the steer - they have the cell phone number for the stock management company).

The Capulin Volcano

The Capulin (pronounced “cap-oo-LEAN”) Volcano was apparently named after the Indian word for “chokecherry” - a connection that doesn't make a lick of sense to me, since I don’t remember seeing even one chokecherry on the climb to the rim (although the brochure says they do indeed grow there). Basalt, the black rock formed by volcanic eruption, was everywhere around the volcano. Back when Capulin was active, it blasted big blobs of basalt into the plains, a fiery shower of rock. Now cows, antelope and elk graze peacefully on the vegetation that surrounds these once red-hot boulders.

Kristy and I climbed the steep path to the rim of the volcano. Along the way, we were covered with tiny gnats hitching a ride, and butterflies flitted all around us. Well-placed signs strategically placed along the trail invite hikers to stop, catch their breath, and discover something else new. Kristy even saw a tiny lizard dart into a rock crevice, but try as she might, she couldn’t convince it to come out so I could see it.

Although the volcano looks rather insignificant from the plains, it actually rises quite a few feet from the valley floor. (“1,300 feet above the plains, to 8,182 feet above sea level” - I just looked at the National Park Service brochure). Once at the top, you can see forever - all the way into Texas, Colorado and Oklahoma.

Looking down into the bottom of the crater was a unique experience, as well. Although it is now covered with vegetation, it is obviously a volcano - and looking out into the plains from the top, the area is just covered with similar, smaller cones. I had no idea New Mexico was terra-formed by volcanic activity. The Dogmobile is in that parking lot. The bottom of the crater is still out of sight, to the left.

On our way back down the rim trail, we passed a red-faced, perspiring Ranger on his way up to the rim, clutching a water bottle in one sweaty fist. He paused to greet us, asking us “How y’all doing?” When I asked where he’d gotten that “ya’ll” from, he grinned and said he was from Oklahoma.

Nice place to end up!