You know you're in New Mexico . . .

. . . when the hotel breakfast includes beans and (plenty hot) green chile.

 

Backtracking to our day of arrival in La Villa Real de la Santa Fe de San Francisco de Asis, thankfully popularly known as Santa Fe . . .

 . . . before even checking in to our hotel, we were off to visit the Deborah Allison Art Studio (https://www.deborahallisonstudio.com/) where we spent considerable time with Deb & Walt, and what a charming visit it was!

Her studio is delightful and so are they.  For some reason, despite very disparate backgrounds and lives, we have discovered so much that we have in common.  It all began when Chris was playing solo piano at St. Michael's Lobby Bar in Prescott, and I spotted Deb creating an oil painting while they enjoyed the music.  

She & Walt were in town because Deb had been juried into an art show at Phippen Museum; the piece she was working on was next day awarded first place in the exhibit's plein air division.  One thing led to another, as things are wont to do, and we stayed in touch.

As we chatted away the hours surrounded by many of Deb's works, I greatly admired her painting style . . .

. . . her beautiful palette . . .

. . . and learned that Walt often serves as her model.

Deb with one of her (and my) favorites. . .

. . . and a self-portrait wall.

Our visit culminated with a wonderful dinner at the Plaza Cafe, a Santa Fe tradition as its oldest restaurant since 1905.  Flavor-filled fare was made even tastier by the company sharing it.  What a lovely welcome to Santa Fe!

The Valles Caldera . . .

. . . has fascinated us for quite a few years as we read about it and marvelled at its vastness from the rim.  When I learned about the possibility of exploring within the crater, we determined to obtain a back-county pass to do just that.

The mind cannot comprehend what the blasts that created that 14-mile-wide volcanic crater must have been like.  In my mind, the Earth must have shaken, quaked and quivered to an unimaginable degree as surely miles of boiling magma, ash and whatever else was dislodged from deep underground shot far into the atmosphere.  

At a degree estimated to be 300 times more vast than the blast that Mount St. Helens spewed a few years back, the heat, gas & debris had to have destroyed everything living for many hundreds of miles around.  So that's my imagining of the event; the reality of what remains after some million(s) of years later is a place of great beauty and serenity.

As we drove, we were entranced by the colors of the landscape - who knew there could be so many multiple hues of greens and blues!

The east fork of the Jemez River & San Antonio Creek are the prime waterways within the crater; their serpentine windings through tall lush grass create a trout habitat that entices fishermen to try their luck.

I watched this woman hook & net a lively fish . . .

. . . while this gentleman said he had not yet found the right pool for larger trout.

 

The place teems with prairie dogs.  As we explored on foot, we had to really watch that we did not stumble into their myriad open dens lest we end up with a broken leg.  Those wiser than we stuck to trail hiking along the winding routes that once served as logging and/or ranch roads. 

The natural beauty within the caldera is stunning; I am disappointed not to be able to capture it photographically.  I offer some feeble attempts; it's one of those "You had to be there" things.

 

Even the sky above collaborated to gift us with an incredible beauty for our day at the caldera.

The richness of that landscape has for millennia brought humanity there to utilize its natural resources, such as obsidian created by the volcanic eruption.  As we walked, we saw ample evidence of chips remaining from ancients making stone tools.

 

As time went on, later residents raised livestock within the crater and others cut the timber that filled the valleys and hills.  Roads grown over with grass and brush attest to those uses.  Some fencing and a few cabins remain from those days not so long ago.

 

This cabin gained television fame when it was used as the sheriff's abode in the Longmire series.

 

Beginning and ending with breakfast . . .

The pancake maker at our hotel is quite the popular curiosity: a clear screen allows breakfast patrons to watch their flapjacks being produced automatically at the touch of a button.  This family was videotaping the process.  It's a tad disappointing when the duo of pancakes ordered turn out to be about the size of silver dollars!

Baby, it's hot out there

It's less than 500 miles from our Prescott home to Santa Fe, New Mexico, an easy enough day's drive; however, we opted for a one-night stopover in Holbrook to give us time with son Lewis from nearby Joseph City.  We miss having the kids close at hand, so this stop was an alleviation for offspring-deprivation syndrome.

We were impressed with the patio he created and the little garden border and bird feeder, as were the quail that departed just prior to our arrival and the house sparrow that was availing itself of seeds on the ground.  I'm maybe gonna remember to record a bird list during this trip, so starting now with the paltry few others we identified during the day: raven, turkey vulture, Swainson's hawk & rock wren, a fitting lineup for a brutally hot July day in the very arid region we traversed.

Ghosts of days past . . .

Likely because he's our son, having inherited the Kelley-curiosity-about-things-past, Lewis wanted to show us an interesting relic of Holbrook's heyday.  In the midst of a once-prosperous few city blocks, a large long-abandoned structure exhibited evidence that Route 66 and railroad travelers once filled its rooms and expansive grounds with life.

The only life evident during our perusal was a young one-eyed cat peering back at us from beneath its leafy shelter.

With a bit of later research, I learned that the once-stately building is thought to be the oldest extant structure in Holbrook, and has a long multi-use history.  It began circa 1881 as a private residence built by Pedro Montaño, and has been known variously during later iterations as the Arizona Rancho, Higgins House, Arizona Hotel and Brunswick Hotel.  Its uses evolved over time from private residence to boarding house, hospital and motel as additions filled multiple needs of the era.  It housed a Masonic Lodge and a dance hall as well as filling multiple other uses over time.

Its prime location between the railroad tracks and the Little Colorado River must have been desirable for a city center that has now relocated closer to the Interstate highway.

We enjoyed wandering the property's perimeter and speculating at the place's uses . . . and wondering if that was a slight movement behind the curtain at that upstairs window . . .

 

With that fascinating sidetrack . . .

. . . out of the way, we proceeded toward our destination: the Petrified Forest and Painted Desert.  Oh, there was one other sidetrack (may it ever be) when we stopped for an extended gape & gawk through the most amazing and humongous private collection and for-sale array of fossils, crystals, rocks and petrified wood objects imaginable.  The joke's on me: I can't even remember the name of the commercial enterprise, but I strongly suggest that if you ever pass by it on Highway 180 approaching the petrified forest, you stop - absolutely fascinating!

As sometimes happens, we eventually got to where we were headed, but by that time, hunger pangs suggested we lunch at the nice covered picnic area where ravens were on hand to clean up any droppings.  It was so hot that the birds were all panting, or whatever equivalent birds do with their beaks agape.

Then . . . in the very hottest part of the day, we drove and walked through that bizarre and beautiful landscape where an ancient forest has transformed into a endless variety of stony colorful striations.

The 100-foot-long Agate Bridge, pictured below, spans a deep gully.  It has long been one of the most-visited sites in the national park.  As early as 1903, efforts were being made to support it with concrete pillars and now a concrete beam.  It was a popular place to have one's photograph taken atop the span, an activity no longer allowed.

Our later-in-the-day arrival at the Painted Desert was slightly disappointing for photography because of hazy conditions.

 

I liked the juxtaposition of this vehicle relic where Route 66 crossed our road, with the old power poles marching alongside that storied highway and Interstate 40 truck traffic beyond.

We were one minute past the 4 p.m. closing to peruse the interior of the charming historic Painted Desert Inn, but it did not deter us from admiring its graceful exterior.  The inn was constructed prior to 1920 and used as lodging for Route 66 travelers, revitalized by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s, and used later by the Fred Harvey company.

A very full very hot day: we were grateful to have the time together and that we did not allow the  conditions to deter us.