Making tracks out of Albuquerque
Amtrak offered a Hertz connection with a direct line from its small station here. But my brother Jim found out in doing our usual price check that Hertz would cost $507 more for that privilege. So would Budget if the car was rented in town . . . $181 more than its airport pick-up spring special.
An airport special being offered by Budget would cost only $544 for a nine-day rental. That included CDW, taxes, the works. Rule number one . . . always ask questions, check prices among competitors and ask if there are any specials. Less likely in summer, often available seasonally.
The taxi driver who picked us up at Albuquerque’s train station had moved to town when he felt Tucson changing, getting overdeveloped.
“Now,” he lamented, “I see the same thing happening in Albuquerque.”
He gave us a receipt for our fare . . . $14 and $4 tip . . . and told us to turn it in at the Budget counter and they would deduct it from the rental fee. Doubtful, I did and to my amazement we were given a credit.
A word about the train station. For years it was a jewel with traditionally dressed local native Americans sitting alongside the historic old Santa Fe Station selling authentic hand-made jewellery.
What a shock to find both the station and Indians gone, along with the annex where Santa Fe’s original Harvey Girls served meals to hungry travellers.
That now leaves Amtrak wedged into a small former freight and baggage facility. The torn-down historic railroad buildings have been replaced by a new local bus station on one side and a federally- funded, very large Greyhound bus station on the other.
However, in classic bureaucratic fashion, Albuquerque’s mayor has refused Amtrak use of the attractive new facility, insisting its federal funding was only for long-distance bus use. Two bus stations, separated only by Amtrak’s old baggage site, paid for by taxpayers, with poor neglected Amtrak in the little one-time baggage area being treated like an orphan.
What we learned about Albuquerque and its tear-down, destroy-the-past politics and excessive bland overdevelopment made us feel sorry for a cousin who recently moved here.
We headed out of town on Interstate 40, with Grants, New Mexico 75 miles distant, hopefully our overnight destination. We’ve often stopped at the Holiday Inn there en route further north, but this evening it was full.
Across the highway, we discovered a very superior Best Western which shows why travel in America’s West can be one of the travel world’s best bargains. A super-size, newly-redecorated room there cost $68.85 and included a full cooked breakfast served in a fun dining room decorated with western memorabilia ranging from vintage saddles and chaps to branding irons and other ranch equipment.
We made a mental note to return there on our way back . . . then drove off to the far east edge of the enormous Navajo Nation to explore a region we hadn’t visited since we were youngsters.
Backroading to Chaco Canyon National Historical Park was interesting. It had been many years since we lured our father far off the main highway to view remote native dwellings there dating to the tenth century.
That night we sought out another Best Western in Farmington, this time settling into a spacious executive suite complete with bedroom, living-dining room, two TVs and wet bar-kitchenette complete with dishes, silverware and wine glasses in special covered containers washed by staff for guests daily. It slept four.
Price was a very modest $99.88 during this spring off-season period. And again it included a bountiful cooked buffet in the restaurant, this time decorated with everything from vintage canoes to antique cars.
From our window overlooking tree-lined banks of the La Plata River we noticed a large number of Navajos, all wearing numbers and special T-shirts, gathering for some sort of marathon. Deciding to go down and walk along this special riverside trail, we found ourselves in the midst of one of several Navajo Nation-sponsored “Just Move It” walkathons.
So, of course, we asked if we could sign up and join them. At registration we were presented with T-shirts and registration numbers 3626 and 3627 to pin on our shirts. And we were off, two of the very few bellagonnas (white men) participating.
We were made to feel very welcome by all Navajos we met along the way, and enjoyed walking along the impressive well-maintained pathway donated by a local landowner.
At the turnaround point is a grouping of very unique war memorials focusing dramatically on each of America’s battles.
It seemed strange the ones neglected and not covered were Indian attempts to hold on to their lands . . . but Farmington is just off the Rez and a bellagonna oil boom town.
Participants told us this is only one of many tribally-sponsored marathons across the enormous reservation. It’s a healthy attempt to improve eating and exercise habits among tribal members who have a depressingly <\h>high incidence of severe diabetes. There was music, entertainment and healthy snacks for all participating.
Of course, we couldn’t be that close to scenic wonders such as Shiprock and Monument Valley without detouring there for a few days, covering some of our favourite remote, unpaved roads. And it’s impossible to bypass Fort Defiance, Shonto and a long list of sites luring us back over a lifetime.
But then it was back across the centre of the Nation to drive along a complication of paved and unpaved roads leading us to two trading posts not visited for decades. One is Toadlena, the other Two Grey Hills, surprisingly only miles from each other. Both are vintage and of historical significance.
Toadlena was built in 1909, Two Grey Hills in 1897. Each is totally different, definitely worth a detour despite often challenging road conditions.
It probably would come as no surprise to well-travelled Bermudians to learn that one of their own had preceded us to Toadlena by a few days. That information was announced to us by very personable Navajo tradition post manager Dolores Yazzie.
When we purchased what we considered a unique juniper tree carving crafted by her talented cousin for $300 in the museum, she said she’d just sold something interesting to a woman from Bermuda only days earlier and told us her name, a familiar Bermudian one.
This post, on the National Register of Historic Places, is preserved as a time capsule typical of the ones we first visited as children, now mostly disappeared. Old wagons and farm equipment are scattered around its grounds, saddles and bridles hang from the silver tin ceiling.
While the store and original rooms full of rugs are intriguing, it’s the cavernous old pawn vault that takes your breath away. Much larger than most we remember, it houses a priceless treasury of rugs dating back to just after the turn of the 19th century.
And we definitely did remember a lot of pawn vaults where traders took our parents to select from large piles of rugs. Jim and I amused ourselves trying on neat rows of turquoise and silver pawn jewellery. Happily, it was all carefully tagged or we would have caused major confusion. To my recollection, we never passed one by!
It’s almost impossible to adequately describe the museum collection. Dazzling, overwhelming, priceless, yet most are for sale, as are the carvings. The pattern is a very famous valued local one, woven in natural shades of wool using geometric designs. There are also ceremonial symbolic Yei rugs of dramatic figures that are all of museum quality.
Just by chance, two master weavers were at the trading post when we arrived — 92-two-year-old Clara Sherman and 77-year-old Evelyn George. Both of their entire lives have involved sheep and weaving, gaining considerable acclaim for their work.
Two Grey Hills Post is even older. One can only imagine what it was like here in 1897 when it started, since the area today remains a vast wilderness setting, sparsely settled with openness to the horizon.
A Mrs. Brown took us out back to the sheep pens and showed us the interesting variety of breeds, with colours ranging from white to beige, brown and black . . . all the natural colours used and blended for the distinctive Two Grey Hills rugs.
Again, there were treasures in the smaller but very interesting vault . . . rugs, jewellery and wood carvings. A large pictorial rug depicting a Navajo village was a stunning prize winner at $4,500.
Spindles, wool and rug-making equipment lined shelves. Red “peanut pie patty”, candy bars one seems to see only on the Rez were here, and Jim immediately bought out the entire supply, as he does on any rare occasion they are discovered anywhere.
We headed east across the Rez towards Lukachukai, climbing up the rocky drama of the Chuska Mountains, pausing to picnic at the summit after negotiating a sheer wall of switchbacks.
Observing us hungrily from a distance was a badly crippled dog. Wary, fearing humans in a way that indicated previous abuse, we rustled together a meal for him of assorted picnic supplies including apple slices and rolls, culminated with strawberry yoghurt served on a plastic plate. His pleasure gave new meaning to the phrase “licking the plate clean”.
Tempted to drive to a trading post for a bag of dog food as we’ve often done elsewhere, we feared it would only make him a wounded target of coyotes and wolves.
We were off down Highway 666 to Window Rock and into Gallup to overnight. Next morning temptations of the Indian Jewellery Supply Company and Thunderbird Supply Company awaited with their warehouse of turquoise, silver and assorted treasures bought by Navajo jewellery makers.
A word about getting around on the Navajo Nation. Roads are too complicated to explain in detail here. What travellers need is a good local map, willingness to stop to ask directions and a degree of adventurous imagination. With the Rez spread out over northern Arizona, western New Mexico and southern Utah, there’s a lot of territory involved.
