mickandlieselsantics

Forever Changes

It was a bright and sunny morning so I set off, on foot, towards Didsbury. The route that we dubbed ‘Dogshit Alley’ is a lot more overgrown than the last time I saw it. I must remember to take along some secateurs next time. I’ve said that before, I know. But I did buy some cheap ones to cut back whatever bush it is that grows above where we park our car and deposits tonnes of sticky sap all over our erstwhile pristine vehicle. They were cheap, not all that strong and I should buy a decent pair at a garden shop one day. A sticky car was not something I’d expected to come home to. But it was well worth a tenner to have it washed.

Where were we? Walking along what is now basically a tunnel on the way to the river.

The Riverside Residential Park now seems to consist of proper buildings rather than the caravans all up on stilts.

Recent floods have washed away part of the path and there are still barriers up preventing our passage. Well, with a bit of clambering, it’s quite easy to get by.

I made it to Fletcher Moss where I couldn’t help but notice a very big bee on a tree.

The reason I visited Fletcher Moss park, gardens, whatever, today, was to see the Didsbury Pop-up Cultural Market. I found it in the Parsonage Gardens. There were two stalls with artists displaying their paintings. Is that it, I wondered? Well, there were more arts and crafts on show indoors, in the actual parsonage, I guess. Lots of stuff, some well done, some should have stayed in a bottom drawer somewhere, but just stuff, really, and we don’t need any more stuff.

I tried to get a coffee from the machine but it refused to believe my phone was the source of my spending money, so even the coffee machine lost a customer that day!

I wandered through Didsbry village, nothing new there.

I hadn’t visited Marple Locks before but it was a good venue for a walk with Jenny, Liam and the children.

A narrowboat approached the lock and Martha and William were both keen to help open the gates.

We walked along the Peak Forest Canal for a while and in the end, completed a large loop. Glad I brought some water, but a bit disappointed there was no coffee shop halfway round.

It could have been a bit scary walking along the tallest masonry arch aqueduct in the UK, designed by Benjamin Outram and built between 1794 and 1800.

Marple Aqueduct is one hundred feet above the river Goyt, and we walked down the bank so that we could follow the river for a while. Martha spotted a frog trying to climb out of the water but as she leaned over to help, it panicked, dived and we haven’t seen it since.

William spotted some cows in a field that turned into horses as we approached more closely. So, for the rest of the day, cows and horses were always mis-identified.

We were above the Etherow, a tributary of the Goyt, part of which once formed the boundary between Cheshire and Derbyshire.

With two young, energetic and loud children with us, we were unlikely to see any interesting wildlife. Well, apart from horses that thought they were cows and cows that identified as horses. So here’s a nice family portrait instead.

This bridge has been restored fairly recently, to mark its 200th anniversary.

After finding our way back to Memorial Park, Marple, we had some fun in the playground. William also found a tree to climb. No health and safety considerations, no risk assessment, I blinked and there he was, twelve feet up in the branches.

Nearby in the park, we found some gym equipment. I had a go on some of it, but, er, let’s say I just hadn’t warmed up properly. I spent a couple of minutes on the stationary bike, burning a whole 7 calories, ‘riding’ 0.3 miles. That’ll do.

Not saying the children misbehaved at all, but, well, this is the sort of punishment they could appreciate.

Meanwhile, Liesel was having a good time in sunny Hope, Alaska.

On returning to Anchorage, Liesel packed, and she and her Mom caught the plane to Seattle, where they ate at the vegetarian place, Floret, before the long flight to Reykjavik and then the final leg to Manchester. This is where I met them. And what better way to celebrate their return to England than by going out for a meal at Zumuku with the family.

Both Martha and William had a jolly good shot at eating everything from the restaurant’s stock room. They’d need the energy for the next week or so in Disneyworld.

Sadly, and annoyingly, the Manchester sunshine was replaced by rain to coincide with Liesel’s return. So we had some soggy walks around Northenden.

As I was walking along, I heard the sound of horses behind me. As the empty hearse passed by, I was very tempted to tell the driver that the corpse had fallen out the back. But I resisted the urge.

The regular Thursday walk was well attended this week, but on Friday, there were just the three of us.

Liesel and Leslie are now, slowly, getting over their flight induced sleep deprivation and jet lag.

And in Florida, the grandchildren are having a Mouse of a time.

Out and about again

Once upon a time, I stayed over at Jenny’s house, and even though I anticipated an early morning invasion, neither of the children came into my room to bounce on the bed.

Jenny took me home later in the day and I changed into my eveningware for a musical recital in Manchester. Well, no, I didn’t. But I did go into the big city for a gig.

I joined the queue, and I wonder if you can guess who I was here to see?

The venue is not one of my favourites, O2 Ritz, but I decided early on that I would head straight for the balcony where I could stand at the front, and lean on the barrier, or, sit down, actually sit down, on a chair or a bench.

On stage appeared Mark Radcliffe and Marc Riley who told us that the last time they introduced a band on stage together, it was David Bowie with his band. Tonight, they were happy to introduce us to Woody Woodmansey and Tony Visconti’s Holy Holy, performing some of the Best of Bowie. With about 500 songs to choose from, they did well to keep the show down to about two hours.

Who else was in the band? Glenn Gregory from Heaven 17 is a big Bowie fan and he still seems excited and honoured to be singing the songs. Jessical Lee Morgan played guitar and saxophone, not at the same time. Janette Mason did a great job on keyboards and, one day, I hope to see her in concert in her own right.

From my vantage point at the front of the balcony, I could watch Chris Thomas working hard on the merch stall. One of the items on sale was a copy of the set list, signed by Woody and Tony. So that saves me having to try and remember what songs were performed.

There was no support act. No, the band played solidly for two hours, and the audience sang along. A comment from the stage and repeated later on, on Bluesky, suggested this was the loudest crowd of the tour so far.

A young lady was pleased that I let her squeeze in beside me by the barrier. She cried at Life on Mars. There were a few emotional people around, mostly oldies like me, but there were a few young people too.

From the balcony, It was quite hard to get a decent photo. But we have to try. Unlike some folks, though, I didn’t bother with a flash!

T-shirt wars. Tony Visconti was wearing a Hype t-shirt. Hype was the band he was in with David Bowie, even before Space Oddity. This was apparently an original t-shirt. Hmmm. On the other hand, his daughter Jessica was wearing this one, an allusion to one of the encore songs. IYKYK, as the young people say.

Yes, after the show, I went down to the merch stall to see Jess and Chris. I didn’t buy the set list but I did buy a Holy Holy t-shirt, first time I’ve bought a band shirt since about 1994.

I couldn’t fight my way through the crowd to say hello to Woody but it was good to see him enjoying being in the spotlight.

The tour bus was parked outside, disguised as a bus from Manchester’s Bee Network: bright yellow.

I walked down the road a bit to book an Uber but with perfect timing, I was able to flag down a black cab.

After being home for a couple of weeks now, I felt it was time to go for a long walk. So off I went to Quarry Bank. Sadly, the route that we often follow was still closed, thanks to flooding a few weeks ago. Still, it was good to see some colour.

Where’s Liesel when you need someone to identify the flowers?

Since I couldn’t walk where I expected to, instead, I wandered along a path I don’t think I’ve paid any attention to before, and came across this.

This cross was originally situated at Cross Farm, Styal. Around 1860 it was moved by Robert Hyde Greg to Holly Lane where it stood until 1930 when it was demolished in a car accident. The base, thought to be medieval, was rebuilt in 1983 on this site but the upper column remained a truncated stump until 2010. A campaign, instigated by the Styal Village Association, raised sufficient funds to rebuild the upper half and restore the cross back to its original state.

But the highlight of the visit was the cheese and onion pasty I had for lunch. The last one available. I got there just in time.

In local news, the occupants of Flat 3, below us, have moved to Stockport.

Like I mentioned, I’ve been back home for two weeks now, and it was time to do some laundry. I’d forgotten how long the wash cycle is on our machine, compared with the bigger American ones. I think washing machine companies here must be in cahoots with the electric companies.

I drove over to Trafford General Hospital for a medical consultation and found it easy to park, despite warnings from other folks who have been. Yes, I have a full collection of hospitals now, but I suppose that means I’m being well looked after.

While waiting in the waiting room, I was messing about with my phone camera.

Annoyingly, it was so much quicker to drive to Crewe than to go by public transport. If I’d gone by bus and train, I might have missed the end of the show: either that, or I would have needed to find some accommodation.

In the past, I’ve seen Danny Baker on stage in Salford and in Buxton, but the nearest show on this latest tour was at the Lyceum Theatre in Crewe.

Another three hours of fun for old and young, without a hint of vulgarity. He got his 10,000 steps in again, pacing up and down the stage as he told us one funny anecdote after another. A bit more name-dropping this time than before, maybe, but he’s the first to admit he’s been very lucky with his career and with the people he’s been able to work with.

The theatre is magnificent, but the view from the stage must be a bit intimidating, surely? Not for The Candyman, it seems.

It was good to join one of the local organised walks this week and to have a coffee afterwards. The other two walks? Well, I missed them for other reasons which you can read about if you press the red button.

Some things that fly

Well, that was a most satisfying and long sleep with very few interruptions, thank you. And on waking, I realised I actually felt more dazed than tired and jetlagged.

I had to get up to receive the Ocado and Groobarb deliveries. Otherwise I might have stayed in my pit all day, I don’t know.

For the rest of the day, I fought the urge to have a nap while upacking. And it was good to wander round the streets of Northenden again. Nothing much has changed. The new guy in the Post Office is more grumpy than the old guy.

The weir now seems to be fully repaired. But I did wonder where the bodies were. The whole of Northenden was infested with zillions of small flies. I thought people were being nice, welcoming me home by waving at me, but no, they were just swatting those swarming flies away.

Meanwhile, Liesel and Leslie were flying from Albuquerque to Anchorage, planning to stay for the duration of an Alaskan Summer. Liesel plans to work a lot for Amrit and to go on a few hikes.

For me, the rest of the week was getting back to normal, really: reading, writing, walking, watching a little TV, listening to a lot of podcasts, radio shows and especially music. I didn’t quite make it out for any of the organised walks this first week back.

Veronika from a downstairs flat sent a message to say that our missing wheelie bin bad returned from its holiday and was on the pavement around the corner. I doubt the local council will buy back the replacement that we bought a few weeks ago.

Medical matters managed to make an early appearance, but I was plaeased to see the big bee at Wythenshawe Hospital again.

Sneezebee created by Pam Smart, Michelle Turton and Rose Chapman

The audience had a great time at the local theatre here in Northenden. We heard many old folk songs, some written nearly 200 years ago. The songs were all unfamilar to me, so I coudn’t sing along: a disappointment for everyone, I’m sure.

But Harp and a Monkey are the go-to band for songs about cuckolded molecatchers, Victorian bare-knuckle fighters and much more. Look ’em up!

They did have CDs for sale but I said I would just download their music from Bandcamp instead. Liesel wouldn’t appreciate even more CDs in the house, especially at this time when I’m supposed to be reducing the size of our CD collection.

While walking home, using my phone camera, I tried to get an artistic shot of the Moon and a streetlamp but it didn’t really work.

One thing I didn’t miss about Northenden was the fact that as soon as we have a couple of sunny days in a row, someone lights a bonfire. Another thing I didn’t miss about Northenden was the fact that as soon as we have a couple of sunny days in a row, someone thinks it’s OK to leave their dog outside in the garden, barking all night.

Oh, and don’t forget the fireworks, I missed those!

I was happy to witness one most unusual event though. A fly flew in through the open window, had a good sniff and a look around the apartment, and flew straight back out again, through the same window.

Wythenshawe Park hasn’t changed much. There are still some deep ruts in the grass from where heavy vehicles have been driven, maybe for a circus. Where there used to be a coffee shop, there are now a few trucks, one selling coffee, one offering pizza, and the building itself seems to be permanently closed.

I visited the farm: well, I just followed the smell, whether of other visitors or the livestock, I’m not sure.

Well, I can’t complain about the weather, it’s been warm and sunny and bright, and that makes it easier to go out each day. But, after 40 days of no rain in the area, the water companies are threatening us with a hosepipe ban.

I mentioned reading, writing, walking and all that, but sometimes I let myself get sucked into Instagram. A couple of genuinely good or interesting clips, and then press next, next, next, and suddenly an hour’s gone by. I think that’s my worst habit at the moment.

Jenny picked me up and I stayed at her place for a night. The children were camping out on sofa-beds downstairs and I enjoyed kipping in Aunty Helen’s bed. Or is that Auntie? Neither version looks right, so I’ll leave them both, so you can decide.

No, she’s not assisting a taxiing aeroplane, she’s blowing bubbles. More specifically, sticky bubbles. They stick to your skin rather than bursting straightaway.

He’s enjoying a milkshake through a straw fresh from New Mexico. The flavour comes from little balls of food-adjacent chemicals inside the straw so that the milk absorbs the flavour as it’s slurped upwards.

And here they are relaxing with their tablets, playing games that are beyond my understanding: another side-effect of getting old.

On the way out of the house, I did a double-take. I don’t know why this strikes me as being a bit spooky, but, well, it just is. Scary too.

Martha and I played a game of Backgammon, and she’s picked up the rules pretty well. It won’t be long before we’re playing for real money, using the doubling dice and everything.

Time to go Home

It’s not often I watch Doc Martin on TV while eating breakfast and chatting with Liesel’s Uncle Neil, but it happened today for the first time. Neil has one of the shortest email addresses in the known universe, just ten characters in total, which is great, except that some modern sites don’t accept it as a legitimate address.

As well as being a scientist and a mathematician, he’s a bit of a philosopher and has spent the last several decades researching and writing a now 80-page long document about his theory of, well, everything. Having exchanged email addresses, he sent me a copy which I look forward to reading.

While online, I came across a ‘Truth’ or whatever it’scalled by the President:

Donald J. Trump
@realDonald Trump

After visiting the beautiful city of Albuquerque earlier this month, I decided that it is disrespectful to America to have a state called New Mexico. It is surrounded by America so it should be called America. I plan to sign an Executive Order renaming the Land of Enchantment New America!

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Actually, I suspect it’s a fake, but who knows? It’s so believable these days.

As I was packing for my departure, I thought about some things that I’d observed here in Albuquerque, and beyond.

Piñons are very small nuts and the trees are prolific. The nuts are so small, that some of us just find it easier to eat them whole, shells included, rather than trying to peel them.

Indoors is very dry too, very low humidity. So, often I would touch the light switch, or the fridge door handle, or Liesel, and I would experience a static shock. Every time was a surprise.

When out and about, almost everything is covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s a dry, dusty old state. It is being modernised though: we passed by a few solar arrays on our various trips.

Also, while out and about, I was greatly entertained by the many adverts for lawyers on billboards by the highways.

• Do your research: the husband and wife law team.
• $1 billion recovered for clients
• Hurt? Call Bert
• Injured? Get more. Dial 4…
• Semi truck collision? Call…
• Dead? Call Fred

No, alright, I made the last one up.

There’s one infamous sign that I was hoping to see out on the road, but, disappointingly, it never materialised.

• Eat here and get gas

We didn’t have a barbecue at all here in New Mexico. No Abq bbq, so to speak. Yes, all this time, I could have been using Abq as an abbreviation for ‘Albuquerque’ instead of writing the word ‘Albuquerque’ in full every time I mentioned ‘Albuquerque’.

I know Americans don’t have the monopoly on mangling the English language, but there were a few times on this visit when my ears wanted to pack up and go home. Just a couple of examples:

• When we were in Europe forever ago…
• Hope you guys enjoy you guys’s lunch

This sort of thing is very common too: you see a discount on an item but no actual price. So this conversation was very common:

• That’s 50% off
• So, how much is it?
• Ummm…

Meanwhile, outside the weather was not conducive to a return visit to the Bosque, the Rio Grande River Loop Trail. It rained, again with huge raindrops. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the rumbling thunder was accompanied by a hailstorm. Hailstones as big as peas. There have been larger though. On one occasion, Buzz returned from Phoenix in a car that resembled a golfball. Someone may have been exaggerating, of course!

Helen and Brent called from Australia and Liesel and I had a very nice chat with them. Helen is very happy with her new car, a Toyota.

Liesel and I did get out briefly, though, Gabe drove us to see the storm drains after today’s extensive precipitation. The water was indeed flowing fast.

What a boring picture, I know what you’re thinking, so here’s a nearby, colourful, mural.

And so it was timefor me to say goodbye to our fantastic hosts, Buzz, Neil and Gabe. Liesel drove me to the airport. Now, usually, Liesel drops me off and I’m left to check in by myself. But on the way to the airport today, I received an email telling me that my second leg flight, from Atlanta to Manchester, had been cancelled. I always feel anxious about this aspect of travel, dealing with airlines and airports, because something will always go wrong, right? Well, not always. But this is the first time I’ve had to deal with a cancelled flight.

It was a short queue to check in, because, guess what, Manchester Airport, there were several members of staff working on the counters, all at the same time. Revolutionary.

Tiffany, my Delta agent was great, though. She fought through Virgin Atlantic and Air France’s BS and rearranged my trip back to the UK. I could have postponed the whole thing until the next day, but there’s no guarantee that Virgin Atlantic wouldn’t cancel again, for ‘technical reasons’.

So, rather than Abq to Atlanta to Manchester, I now have three flights: Abq to Atl to Orlando to Manchester. And I would arrive just two hours later than originally planned.

So after all the excitement and fun and places of interest in New Mexico, my fear and anxiety of travelling through airports was, today, fully justified.

In Security, I was patted down, because the poppers on my shorts lit up on their very fussy scanner. As someone else joked, rather riskily I thought: usually I’d get dinner and a drink for that.

At the gate, we learnt that our plane was arriving late so we’d be departing late. So of course, I am now more worried about not making the connections. Whereas my original schedule had a 3-hour layover in Atlanta, it was now 1½ hours. Even less with this late departure. Tiffany was at the gate so again I thanked her profusely.

My window seat was OK, but I couldn’t see anything other than the wing. After an uneventful flight, people with connections were allowed off first. Everyone had a connecting flight.

In Atlanta I walked and took the train to my departure gate, arriving with less than an hour to spare. I took more slow, deep breaths before going for a quick wander to find something to eat. A very nice, tasty tomato, cheese and basil crêpe was the best option.

I don’t know why I worry about the size of my carry-on bag when people seem to get away with bulging backpacks and antique Victorian trunks. Well, very nearly.

This flight was late taking off too, for which they apologised but offered no explanation. I had an aisle seat this time, sitting next to a very rude Italian man. He was upset because he’d been made to check his oversize bag but I didn’t laugh out loud: never mess with the Mafia.

And of course, I was now worried about making my connecting flight in Orlando.

My English accent did me no favours on this flight: I failed to get any milk for my welcome cup of tea. While in New Mexico, only one person had accused me of being Australian, but I still can’t recall the circumstances.

The plane landed in Orlando, and we taxied for ages and ages before the pilot announced that there was currently no gate available. Apparently, after a big storm yesterday, they were still catching up on a backlog of delayed flights.

After about half an hour, we were able to disembark. I’d not been to Orlando Airport since 1992 and couldn’t remember it at all and it’s probably changed anyway since then so I really hoped it would be easy to find my next, and final, departure gate. It was, and again I plonked myself down with much less than an hour to go.

I looked around, but there were no ads for Disneyworld, so I failed in my mission to take a selfie with Mickey or Minnie. There were no food outlets either nearby so I was very glad of the cheese sandwich Liesel had made for me.

Annoyingly, I wasn’t able to order a vegetarian meal for this flight. I’d asked at every opportunity, but no, because the flight is within 24 hours. But it was your airline, Virgin Atlantic, that cancelled my original flight. Oh well, never mind was the official response.

My seat was in the back row, right in front of the toilet and I sat next to a nice lady with an English accent. Well, it turns out she lives in New York state, moved there when she was about 2 years old, and was now visiting her cousin in Chester.

I couldn’t sleep, as usual, so I watched two movies: Paddington in Peru, and Heretic, both of which I can recommend, especially if you’re a Hugh Grant fan.

There was just one thing left for me to worry about. Given my flights were late and the connection times were tight, would my checked in bag make it home on the same flight as me?

After landing, disembarking, walking a long way to Passport Control in Manchester Airport’s Terminal 2, the moment of truth. Along with hundreds of other dazed passengers, I watched the baggage carousel with a mix of excitement at being back on home turf and dread at the thought of the bureaucracy I’d have to go through again if my case didn’t turn up. But, no, look, is that it? Yes, is that the right label? Yes, yes and yes.

The taxi driver took me home the long way, but that meant he just got a smaller tip than otherwise.

Arriving home is always a bit of anticlimax. A quick walk to get some milk then I had a cup of tea and, despite my best efforts, a nap.

I managed to stay awake for the duration of the first episode of the new series of Doctor Who before going to bed properly. Good night.

Oasis v Blur

I woke up early, soon after sunrise, and was so glad I’d risen in the middle of the night to take some photos of the night sky, and yes, alright, just to gaze at the night sky with zero light pollution.

Neil hoovered the place, well, until the circuit breaker broke because the batteries had lost too much charge. The solar panels will charge them back up during the day.

First breakfast was cinnamon and apple flavoured oatmeal and a cup of tea.

We drove out from the cabin once again via Zuni Canyon. And again, I marvelled at the extent of the lava flows. A squirrel wasted no time in running across the road in front of us, phew. A family of ground hogs (same as prairie dogs?) standing in the middle of the road quickly dispersed in all directions. All except one who defiantly stood up on his hind legs until the very last moment, realising that a heavy American car is not to be messed with

‘Do something scary every day’ is one motto I try to live by, although there’s not always the opportunity to do so. Well, I admit, I did forego the opportunity to climb a ladder yesterday. But today, my challenge was, for the first time since about 1979, to eat an Egg McMuffin. We’d arranged to meet Buzz, Liesel, Gabe and Leslie at McDonalds in Grants at 11 o’clock. On arrival, I gave my order, being sure to enunciate to the best of my ability and to emphasise that I didn’t want any bacon on my Egg McMuffin. Loudly tapping the desk, the server who most definitely was not channeling Ronald McDonald’s jolly demeanour, told me that they don’t serve breakfast after 10.30, like everyone knows that, right?Scary Mary was so scary, I was too scared to order anything else to eat, so I just had a cup of tea.

Liesel and co arrived shortly afterwards and after a bit of a chat over tea or coffee or in Neil’s case, a small McFlurry, we all set off again. Neil returned to Albuquerque. The rest of us, almost in a convoy, set off westwards towards Window Rock.

We ate lunch at the famous Earls Family Restaurant in Gallup. It first opened in 1947 . This date reminded me that I would miss out on visiting Roswell on this visit to New Mexico. My huevos rancheros was accompanied by more green chili, which was just borderline acceptable to my taste buds: a few more Scoville points and my ears would have blown off again. Even so, Liesel did ask whether I was red because of the chili or was I sunburnt?

Window Rock is just over the border in the next state. So I was looking out for a big, brightly coloured sign saying ‘Welcome to Arizona’, maybe with flags flying, accompanied by a troupe of dancing girls and a big brass band. But no. A small, insgnificant, almost apologetic sign coyly saying ‘Arizona State Line’. That’s it? Well, what an anticlimax.

In Ganado, we visited the Hubbell Trading Post, established in 1878, now the oldest continually operated trading post on the Navajo reservation. J. L. Hubbell, whose family operated the trading post for nearly 90 years, was known among the Navajo as trustworthy and honest. His trading post became a pillar of the community, playing a large role in helping Navajo families rebuild their lives after the Long Walk.

The place was full of rug dealers, many beautifully woven rugs that would look good anywhere. Lots of jewellery too, they all seem very talented, the earrings were made by the maintenance supervisor.

Arizona and the Navajo nation have a love/hate relationship with Daylight Savings. For a while, the times on my phone and Liesel’s phone were an hour different, even though we were in the same room. Another quirk in this place: no sales tax.

The Navajo Nation Museum was interesting, and quite moving. But the first thing you notice on arriving and parking up are the large rocks on an otherwise flat terrain.

The next thing we noticed was the big, black cloud that appeared almost from nowhere. And indeed, when we were inside, it did rain for a while.

Between 1863 and 1866, more than ten thousand Diné prisoners of the U.S. were marched to the Bosque Redondo reservation, known in Navajo as Hweéldi, in present day southeastem New Mexico. The Long Walk is actually a series of forced marches, no less than fifty-three, during which captives walked anywhere from 250 to 450 miles, depending on the route taken.

Many of them (Navajos) died from starvation. The kind of food they had, they died from that. Also, I think a larger percent of deaths was caused by homesickness. They wept from day-to-day, many of them, “I wish I was on my own land bark at Chinle or Kayente.” — Dághá Chíí Bik’is, son-in-law of Manuelito and one of the first Navajo Council members (1951).

The Long Walk, then a Treaty between the Navajo Reservation and the United States that is, literally, not watertight. Disputes about the Treaty are still taking place, resulting in ongoing court cases. One current issue is the water supply. The Navajo nation depends upon just three rivers, and they’re being affected by climate change, like everything else.

Diné Cosmic Order by Donovan Snyder, 2018

At the time of the White Land (Ni’halgai), First Man (Áłtsé Hastiin), First Woman (Áłtsé Asdząą), and other Divinities were choosing rock-star mica chips that were laid out on a buckskin robe to place in the sky. They were forming our constellations to light up the dark night.

Mischievous Coyote (Mą’ii) came along and wanted to help, but after witnessing the slow and methodical placement of the constellations, he became impatient. He grabbed the buckskin and scattered the remaining stars into the sky, which is why some stars today are not seen within in the orderly constellations.

After the rain, it was only a quick downpour, we drove to our final destination of the day, Window Rock. At the first sighting of this natural phenomenon, I took this picture:

Window Rock is over there at the back, but, a flying saucer? How cool! Yes, I know it’s a raindrop on the windscreen, but still…

The rock with a big hole in it is well protected, fenced off, we really aren’t invited to go up for a closer look. It’s a great venue for graduation photos, as enjoyed by one new graduate today, having a good celebration with his family.

Here is a fascinating story, we learned a lot about it at the Museum, and there’s a monument here.

The Legendary Navajo Code Talkers:

During World War II, in the South Pacific Theater, the Japanese were extremely proficient at breaking into military radio communications and transmissions. Thus they were able to decipher U.S. Military codes. The U.S. Armed forces needed to find a secure method of communication if they were to have any chance of defeating a clever and intelligent foe. To counter the cleverness of the Japanese cryptographers, 29 Navajo Marines were recruited to devise a secret military code using their native language. By war’s end, there were over 400 Navajo Marines serving as code talkers and the code vocabulary had doubled. So successful was this innovative code that the Marine Corps commanders credited it with saving the lives of countless American Marines and soldiers. It enabled their successful engagements throughout the Pacific Theater which included the battles for Guadalcanal, Wake Island, Tarawa, Saipan, Guam, Midway, Iwo Jima and Okinawa. The code paved the way to early victory for the allied forces in the South Pacific. Major Howard M. Conner, 5th Marine Division Signal Officer stationed on Iwo Jima, commented on the gallantry of the Navajo Code Talkers: “Were it not for the Navajos, the Marines would not have taken Iwo Jima.”

Far from their homes, these brave young Navajo Marines served our nation with honor and dignity. The tale of their exploits remained a closely guarded secret for decades in the event that the Navajo Code Talkers unique talents would be needed again. In 1968 the Navajo code was finally declassified. In July 2001, at the National Capital Rotunda, United States President, the honorable George W. Bush, awarded the Congressional Gold Medals to the first 29 Navajo Code Talkers, their surviving spouses or children. In November of 2001 at the Navajo Nation capital of Window Rock, Arizona, the Congressional Silver Medals were awarded to the rest of the Navajo Code Talkers, their surviving spouses or children. Sadly, many of the Navajo Code Talkers have passed on never knowing of the honor a grateful nation has bestowed upon them. The Navajo Code Talkers will never be forgotten.

Diné Bizaad Yee Atah Naayee’ Yik’eh Deesdlii.

We checked in at our Holiday Inn before wandering over the road to Navajo Westerners Ace Hardware. Some of the fabrics on sale here are very pretty.

Another shop in this Navajo Nation Shopping Center was the supermarket from where we bought a snack: still full from a big lunch, we didn’t need a big evening meal.

We were followed back to the hotel by a stray dog, but I think it didn’t speak English, since it ignored all my stern commands. Another reason to learn Spanish, I suppose. Or maybe even Navajo.

Going down for breakfast in the morning provided the first chortle of the day. Shouldn’t laugh, really, but… There was a poster outside the hotel shop with a mugshot of a young lady. The caption: Anyone know who this is? They stole our security device.

Buzz and Gabe are here at this time for a weekend of fun with the Girl Scouts.They were at the breakast table along with Liesel and Leslie, plus three other Girl Scout leaders, by the time I arrived.

Liesel looked at a very pretty necklace in the shop, but decided not to buy it in the end. ‘It’s only stuff’ and ‘I’ll probably only wear it once’.

Over the road, the famous Flea Market was being set up. We wandered around, admiring all the jewellery (of course), ignoring the car tyres and electronics up for sale, and just passed some time until the Navajo Arts and Craft Enterprise opened. More locally made jewellery, and this time, Liesel did buy something, an unusual pair of earrings.

Leslie chose to stay with Buzz today, with the Girl Scouts, so that left Liesel and me to drive back to Albuquerque. Having plenty of time, we paid a visit to El Morro, for more local culture and a walk. Thanks to some roadworks, we found ourselves driving along the rumblestrips at the side of the road, and that’s a very uncomfortable feeling after a while. You’re doing nothing wrong, but we’ve been programmed to think that that noise means we’re too near the edge. Weird.

We listened to Classic Rock 93X: Putting the rock into Window Rock! Well, classic rock? Over half of the songs they played were new to me. They may have been big hits and very popular in the USA, but it was reassuring when the odd, genuine classic, came on.

On to El Morro, then. This cuesta has long been an oasis to the travelers who left their mark upon it. A reliable waterhole hidden at the base of a sandstone bluff made El Morro (the headland) a popular refuge for hundreds of years. Native Americans, Spanish explorers and missionaries, and American soldiers and pioneers carved over 2,000 signatures, dates, messages, and petroglyphs. Atop the cuesta are the remains of the fourteenth-century pueblos of Atsinna and North Atsinna where the ancestors of today’s Puebloan communities once lived.

A most enjoyable and interesting walk. The guide lent us a book, and we followed the route more or less as suggested.

These artefacts won’t last forever, being carved into sandstone and where they’ve tried to hide post-1906 markings, the surface looks unnaturally smooth.

As we walked back to the Visitor Centre, we felt a few spots of rain. Big spots. But, just as quickly, we stepped over a crack in the concrete path, and it wasn’t raining any more.

We heard the thunder in the distance, relieved that we weren’t caught in a major storm.

Our journey back to Albuquerque continued. We saw sheep and horses close to the highway, mostly behind a fence, but not always. Not ideal when the traffic is moving at 60mph or more.

We can sort of understand why people might choose to live out here in the middle of nowhere, miles from the nearest town. But, then, why would you build your house so close to the noisy highway?

We drove over the Continental Divide, elevation 7200 feet. This was a much more interesting sign than ‘Arizona State Line’. And if there was such a sign, we missed ‘New Mexico State Line’.

But we couldn’t miss the thunderstorm ahead of us, so of course I had to try and get a picture of the lightning. Liesel wasn’t keen on me almost leaning out of the with with my phone. But it was worth it!

Back at home, we took Neil out for a meal at Monroe’s, a return visit for us. I enjoyed my final New Mexico meal: #6 Veggie Tostadas (Gluten free) 2 bluecorn tostada shells stuffed with avocado, whole beans, pico de gallo, mozzarella, lettuce and tomato. Served with calavacitas and salsa. Hey, I remembered what I ate! But only because I screenshot the menu.

Final NM meal? Yes, my time here was nearly up and I had to do some packing. I have more to take home that I came with, especially the Seestar S50. Four weeks here, and it’s all a bit of a blur right now. I need a holiday, as they say.

Oh, and WordPress has just told me that this is the 600th post on this blog. What a lot of antics!

Seeing Stars

There was no point in revelling in our success at the pub quiz last night, since we didn’t have any! We came joint last, but it was all good fun. In the morning, we left Tammy and Aaron in peace and drove into Santa Fe city centre for breakfast in Clafoutis, the French bakers. No, we didn’t mind sitting at a ‘communal table’. But our ‘companions’ left as soon as we sat down. We had the table to ourselves until a couple of ladies joined us. One from Colorado, the other from Pennsylvania.

Liesel and Tammy had had a great massage last week, so Liesel took me to the same place and we were pummelled and poked for an hour. I think it was a good massage. To recover, we spent a little time in the book shop next door. So many books to catch up on, both new and old.

The drive back to Albuquerque was quick, I think I nodded off for a bit and missed a lot of the stunning New Mexico scenery.

As a prelude to a visit to the zoo, I spotted some wildlife in the courtyard.

There was nothing special about these millions of ants apart from their speed: they were very busy, or at least, running around, looking busy. Fudgelling, I think, is the word.

Liesel drove Leslie and me to Albuquerque Zoo , or more accurately, ABQ BioPark Zoo. We had a nice wander around the place, which wasn’t as crowded as we’d expected, having seen how packed the car park was.

It wasn’t only the animals we were here to see: some of the plantlife was fascinating too. There were some bigger animals, as well, don’t worry. The polar bear here seemed to have a lot more room than that poor old thing in Chessington World of Adventures a few years ago. This one appeared to be having fun too, climbing rocks, diving and swimming.

The kookaburras responded to my recording of their cousin, made in Australia some years ago. It was mean, really, they probably think they have a new friend. Sorry. That’s nearly as bad as little boys chasing ducks.

In the café, the man had to show me how to order food on the touchscreen because it was too hard for him to listen to my order with his own ears. Having placed the order electronically, he then read it out to me from his own screen, just to confirm what I wanted. Anyway, my bowl of fries was very nice, just what I needed. Liesel and Leslie had an ice cream instead.

The sign on the fence told us there were zebras in this enclosure. Well, that small rodent with a fluffy tail looked more like a squirrel to me, it didn’t even have any stripes.

One of these characters is preparing to add some charcters to the mural, the other is playing hide and seek with his troop.

The hippos were very active, although Liesel was disappointed that none of them did the thing with their tail, spinning it round and round to spread the love from their bottoms.

The cutest thing was undoubtedly the Mum gorilla carrying her baby around.

Time for a return visit to the cabin. Neil and I left quite early and spent the day and night there, seemingly out in the middle of nowhere.

I helped Neil with a few odd jobs. Fixing a light fitting was OK. Attaching the fan was OK, I just let Neil climb the ladder. Fitting the fan blades was a bit of a let-down, because the wrong size screws had been supplied.

Another job was plumbing related, definitely not my favourite thing. But we succeeded without losing too much water from the system.

The most interesting job though was to affix a Moultrie Edge cellular trail camera to a tree, facing the cabin, so that from home in Albuquerque, Neil can keep an eye on the cabin and monitor the weather.

It can be set up with a motion sensor so that any passing wildlife will be captured on film too. Well, not literally film, but you know what I mean. The first animal it took a picture of was, er, me, posing by a tree.

Walking around the area surrounding the cabin cannot be done stealthily. There’s always something crunching under foot, leaves, wood, pine cones.

Later in the evening, I prepared my new Seestar S50. The Moon was easy to spot, but the sky was pretty much obscured by clouds, which was disappointing.

I also found Jupiter and its four brightest moons, but I couldn’t discern the coloured bands on Jupiter itself. As it got darker, more clouds moved in, so I went back inside, and very soon, it was time for bed.

At about 1.30, I woke up for the usual reason, and while outside, I couldn’t believe how clear the sky was, how many stars I could see. No clouds at all. Well, even though it was cold, I decided I would take the Seestar out on the balcony again and do some stargazing.

I was very impressed with these pictures, but I wasn’t so impressed with the how cold it was outside, brrr, apparently it was about 40°F, that’s so different to the daytime temperature. So I went back to bed.

Quirky places

Buzz drove me, Liesel and Leslie to Tinkertown Museum, one of Albuquerque’s more quirky attractions. On arrival, I couldn’t help but notice that they’re still celebrating the fact that in June, 1997, they were visited by the top TV show Good Morning America.

The next thing I noticed was that most of the walls are made from bottles stuck together with some kind of mortar. There must be a name for this innovative construction method.

Inside the museum, you see a wonderfully eclectic collection of objects: for example, we found ourselves treading on horsehoes embedded in the floor. There are hundreds of old vehicle registrartion number plates, some of which are just a small amount of rust held together by pure luck.

As one homemade sign says: Tinker Town was started as a hobby in 1962. It was not intended as a public display until your interest helped build our museum.

It was a fascinating character called Ross Ward who started the museum. Many of his wood carvings are on display, featured in displays of fairgrounds, wagon trains and other exhibits. Some are animated, and some have buttons to press. It’s all great fun.

The smallest wedding couple are fleas (I hope I’m not giving too much away). There’s a one-man band named Otto, who’ll play something for a quarter. Yes, Sarah, who greeted us, made sure to give us some quarters when we paid to enter.

I had my fortune told, and it looks like everything’s coming up roses. For another 25 cents, I shook hands with Uncle Sam and his conclusion was that I am a romantic. On the other hand, in the next room, the Career Pilot told me I was destined to be a fish seller.

There’s a 35-foot long wooden sailboat that Fritz Damler spent ten years sailing around the world, losing one wife, finding another.

We thought we’d finished wandering around the museum, but no, there was plenty more to look at outside.

It was a fun place to visit, but we both thought it needed a bit of TLC: many of the displays were dusty, but I suppose that can’t be helped in a desert.

Lunch was taken at The Cheesecake Factory but my Impossible® Burger didn’t leave enough room for some actual cheesecake. Also, we weren’t served by Penny from The Big Bang Theory.

Buzz drove us up the hill to give us a nice all-round view. I say ‘hill’ but that’s an understatement. We drove up and up a long and winding road, with plenty of nearly hairpin bends, to reach the top, Sandia Crest, the highest peak in the Sandia mountains. Albuquerque is about a mile above sea level and Sandia Crest is another mile above Albuquerque. On a clear day, you can apparently see 100 miles in each direction. Today wasn’t that clear. But it did feel a bit ooky looking down on what might have been a model of the city of Albuquerque, a mile below.

Another really noticeable difference was the temperature. At the top, it was 56°F (13°C) and back at the bottom, on the way back, the mercury reached a massive 81°F (27°C).

Liesel and I had arranged to meet up with Tammy and Aaron one more time in Santa Fe. So after packing, we set off in a northerly direction.

Highlights of the drive up the I-25? Seeing some horses by the side of the road. And we saw a few small dust devils, which would be called ‘willy-willys’ in Australia.

We stopped briefly at a rest stop: such a place wouldn’t normally be of interest to anyone, but here there was a sign for the New Mexico Historic Women Marker Initiative, founded in 2005 by the New Mexico Women’s Forum. The 2006 Legislature funded the project to recognize women’s contributions to New Mexico history with official historic markers.

This is one of nearly 100 markers erected across the state, recognising women’s contributions in various fields, including arts, business, education, government, healthcare, and science.

Both Albuquerque and Santa Fe are rightly proud of their murals. This very colourful one celebrates Adelitas, women who supported the Mexican Revolution. It’s outside a Mexican restaurant in Santa Fe, and we passed it on our way to Meow Wolf: House of Eternal Return. This is a large-scale interactive and immersive art installation, a 20,000-square-foot (1,900 m²) facility, including a concert venue.

‘Quirky’ is the word you’re looking for. As you walk through the different rooms, you’re supposed to be able to piece together a story. It’s probably easier with the app, but I was unable to download the app because, it said, I was in the wrong region. Probably it meant that my phone was UK-based.

There were many strange noises and effects, lots of user interaction, though I don’t think everything worked as it should. There were aliens, strange creatures, and it was very colourful.

You can crawl through fireplaces, climb into fridges, enter a wardrobe and come out through a bookcase.

It felt a bit like an escape room, but with no specific puzzle to solve. We’d still be there if we’d tried to read all the printed material lying around, newspapers, books, journals, video displays.

Some of the video games required tokens, which we didn’t purchase for our human dollars. And there were some obvious nods to science fiction characters such as those from Star Wars.

A couple of rooms were designed to look like cartoon strips, just black and white imagery.

You need to visit to see and enjoy the whole experience, of course: no more spoilers here.

We found a place for a delicious ice cream. Two scoops for me: green chili and vanilla flavour, a perfect combination. While sitting inside the parlour to enjoy our treats, a group of young people were outside decorating the pavement. There was no political message, just a lot of squiggles in blue paint.

We arrived at Tammy’s house bang on 6 o’clock, our agreed time, after driving via the local supermarket.

Almost immediately, Tammy whisked us away to El Dorado Fusion Tacos. We ordered our meals, said we were going to the pub next door, Santa Fe Brewing Company Eldorado, and the guy said they’d bring our food over.

No, I don’t know why sometimes it’s one word and sometimes two words: Eldorado or El Dorado? Anyway, it is the title of one of my favourite ELO records.

Aaron joined us straight from work and we ate, drank and prepared ourselves for a gruelling pub quiz.

In the end, there were only 16 questions, with a points system based on the TV quiz show Jeopardy, so 200, 300, 400 or 500 points for a correct answer. There were four categories.

After the main quiz, our team, Autopilots, was tied in the lead with Rolling Stones, both of us having a score of 3200 points. The quiz is decided though, again in a twist from Jeopardy, in which the teams wager a certain number of points on one final question. We bet all 3200, of course. But we got the answer wrong and ended up with zero. No wooden spoon for losers here, though!

Great fun, but all over by about 9pm. On the drive home, we observed a very thin crescent Moon just about to follow the Sun and set. I should have brought my telescope, but I’d decided not to because I thought the quiz would finish much later and we wouldn’t have time to use it. So what’s the best my phone could do?

PS I would have taken a picture of a slighly fatter crescent the following night if only there hadn’t been 100% cloud cover over Albuquerque, but that’s all to come…

Powwow

Smile, you’re on Candid Camera, said the world to the Moon. As a thin crescent, with Saturn and Venus both in the right place, we should have seen a big smiley face in the sky just a bit before sunrise. Not me. I got up in time, the sky was clear but I couldn’t see through the Sandia mountains to the east. So I crawled back into my pit.

Liesel, me, Gabe, Elizabeth (Gabe’s daughter who I met for the first time today), Buzz, Lisa, Hannah and Leslie: we all visited Frontier for breakfast, a very popular eating spot here in Albuquerque. It’s a big place too, it was quite a challenge carrying the meals from where they were served up to where we were sitting.

There were far too many interesting things to take pictures of in here, even though the main point of our visit was to eat breakfast. Which was very good, actually.

Horns and a Springfield model 1884 ‘trapdoor’ rifle

I assume the weapon is real and I was glad to see it glued to the wall so well.

The rest of the day, we spent at The Gathering of Nations, north America’s biggest Powwow. It was a beautiful day, and even apart from the performances, it was fun to watch people changing into their various tribal outfits, whether in the car park, or in the queue to get into the venue, or later on, on-site. It was a very colourful display.

Buzz, Leslie and Lisa went into the indoor arena and reserved seats for the rest of us while we wandered around, admiring the various food offerings and watching people.

In a couple of the buildings, more jewellery and artwork was on display and for sale. Again, we wanted to buy more than we could afford, or store. The different Indian nations each have their own style, and I think, slowly, we’re beginning to pick them out.

Liesel did buy some earrings, made by an Alaskan Athabascan. I bought a print of a painting that caught my eye from across the room.

We found our family inside the Tingley Coliseum in good time for the Drum Roll Call and the Grand Entry of Dancers. The auditorium seats over 11,000 people and it was pretty full. A number of drum groups were located around the outside of the floor, they woke us up with their very loud rhythms.

We witnessed Elders, Chiefs and other Dignitaries lead the parade, with dancers from the many tribes joining the throng in the arena, dancing round until the whole floor was covered. It was a very colourful sight, exuberant and quite loud. I went as far as tapping a foot and trying to drum out the rhythms on my leg.

I took several picture like this during the day. You can see how busy the place was, but it’s hard to focus on any one individual, so here are a few of those:

Liesel and I went outside for a quick walk and found lunch, an Indian taco in my case, and very tasty it was, too. When Liesel returned to her seat indoors, I found some shade to sit in and eat while I listened to a band, Sandia Sons, performing a couple of songs.

One of the main events at the Powwow is to select Miss Indian Nation 2025-26. The incumbent for 2024-25, Kassie John, performed a dance for us, very nimble footwork.

There were of course a few speeches, all uplifting and positive, apart from one lady who went on and on losing everyone’s attention: this event wasn’t supposed to be about her and her personal religious beliefs.

Some of the performers had cool names: Sharpshoort Singers, from Saskatchewan; Iron Bear; Albert Nicotine; Dark Canyon, although didn’t he used to be a Musketeer?

Outside again, and Liesel commented that she’d forgotten to bring her hat. Let’s buy a new one, then, I suggested. So she did.

I get the impression that Liesel’s not as fond of it as I am, but at least it will keep the Sun off, to a certain extent.

By now, Liesel and I were on our own. Everyone else in our group had gone home. They don’t know what they were missing.

Near to the place where we found this hat, we saw badger with feet, grey fox, Arctic fox, coyote with feet, river otter, dyed black coyote and silver fox. No, not a display of local, wild animals, but a selection of fur coats up for sale. Well, I hope they’ve all still got fleas.

Back outside, we lined up with thousands of other people for the next event, The Traditional Horse and Rider Parade. Here are some of the runners and riders:

Nope, look more closely, it’s not a unicorn – and sorry about the decapitation

Back inside for one more session, I realised that at least one of the MCs reminded me of the DJ who appears at the beginning of The Carpenters’ song Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft, just a bit over-excited.

One of them got the audience to perform what can only now be referred to as a New Mexican Wave. When the folks to your right stand up, arms in the air, woohooing, it’s your turn to do the same. And so this wave goes round and round forever, well, four times on this occasion.

The Sacred Eagle staff was carried by an important representative from the Pawnee nation, but he couldn’t get far without being closely pursued by the paparazzi.

To our ears, many of the songs sounded the same but the rhythms of the drums kept up the overall sense of excitement.

At one point, relations of the performers were invited to join them on the dance floor, and then, so were we, the rest of the audience. I thought there was no need for me to be stomping on other people’s feet, so I stayed seated. There came a time when Liesel and I both felt we were fully saturated in Indian culture, and it was time to go back home.

The event has been run continously, apart from a couple of years for Covid, and this was the 42nd Annual World Celebration. When invited, a few people in the audience claimed to have been to every one, so far. Well, this was our first and what a fun, educational and entertaining day it was too. Not so say,exhausting. Thanks to Buzz for sorting out the tickets for us.

The next day was a day of rest, of writing, reading and relaxation, the alternative three Rs. I caught up a bit with emails, Liesel caught up on a bit of TV.

Go west

Problems with plumbing always cause me more grief than is strictly necessary, even when it’s nothing to do with me. The fact that my shower leaked ino the bathroom below while I was using it was just pure bad luck. The shower hasn’t been used regularly for a long time and the seal around the drain had dried out over the years. Neil fixed the problem with the help of a friend.

By way of escape, Gabe drove Liesel and me to the Three Guns Spring Trail, a hike postponed from a few days ago.

I thought this was a good place to balance a large boulder, just above the car park.

From here, the trail was up and up. In places, the gravelly path was quite steep. Gabe was a good guide, both as a geologist and a cactus-specialising horticulturalist.

It was very quiet. I could hear the silence even above my tinnitus. Strangely, no birds and very few insects.

This pair seemed to be having a good time though, we look forward to seeing the next generation in due course. There were a few other beetles, including stink bugs. And later on, a couple of bees did buzz around.

I think this was the longest, continuous climb I’d done for several months, and of course my old issue, shortness of breath, affected my performance. We reached a point where reluctantly, I had to stop. I parked myself on a rock, in the shade, and listened to the silence. A gentle breeze cooled me down. Liesel carried on, reaching our erstwhile goal, The Post, and a bit beyond.

The Post (not much to write home about, is it!)

Sadly, neither of us saw the spring that gives the trail its name. Nor three guns, come to that.

Surely, there was other wildlife? Liesel saw a single lizard but most/least exciting was seeing less than 25% of a deer on the trail on our return to the car park.

At least my chest no longer felt like it would explode. But other things happened too. Dear body of mine, if I’m so dehydrated, why do you keep producing so much snot? Just stop it.

There’s a house on the road leading to this trail’s car park that is very well decorated. I for one didn’t expect to see this famous statue here.

This guy (I assume it’s a guy, a gal would have better things to do with their time) has built a bird house in the style of an old pueblo dwelling.

Lisa arrived tonight. She is Buzz and Neil’s daughter, Leslie’s niece, Liesel’s cousin. I really should draw up a family tree.

The following day, I went on a road trip with Neil. Neil and Buzz have a cabin near the Zuni Mountains about 80 miles west of their home in Albuquerque. On the drive, Neil and I had a good conversation about philosophy, even if I didn’t recognise many of the names that Neil dropped.

We saw a few long trains on the way too, including a couple passing by each other. Another great photo opportunity missed.

Once we turned off the main road, the bumpy road was a roller-coaster ride. Luckily, we’d come in a vehicle with plenty of clearance underneath.

The cabin is at an altitude of 8200 feet, significantly higher than the house, so lower air pressure and more chance of a nose bleed, grrr.

The second building will be Buzz’s design studio in the fullness of time. It’s definitely a remote location, and Neil should be very proud of having constructed the cabins pretty much by himself.

After enjoying the packed lunches carefully put together by our spouses, we went for a short walk towards Cinder Cone, through the woods, more of a forest really.

Lisa and her sister Andrea (Andi, who now lives in Richmond, England) used to play on this tree when they were younger, according to Neil. No wonder it’s bent.

There is quartz all over the place here in the woods, plus fir cones and all sorts of things that our grandchildren would love to pick up and collect such as…

We drove back along the old Route 66 as much as possible, through Grants. At least Route 66 is paved, not like this road through the Zuni Canyon as we left, which has been newly gravelled (if that’s the right word), so we left a cloud of dust behind us.

The canyon itself was stunning, more stratified rock structures than you could imagine.

By the time we arrived home, Hannah was there too, she’s Lisa’s daughter and you can work out the rest of the relationships yourself.

Valles Caldera

After last night’s Seder feast, today we celebrated Easter with a big breakfast. Gabe had retrieved a crate of Easter paraphernalia from the garage and the house is now suitably decorated.

And so, it came to pass that it was time for Jyoti and Rupert to leave this place and return to Charlotte, North Carolina. After saying goodbye to them at the airport, Liesel and I failed in our next mission, to find vegetarian gravy. Oh well. One thing I’ve realised recently was that you don’t see cows with cabbages on their heads these days.

The nearby mountains were patchily covered with snow, probably not enough for a decent skier. Plenty for me, though, to observe, from a distance.

If you mention Red Arrows at home, you’re probably talking about the aerial display team. Here, it is a popular landmark in the city centre. The Giant Red Arrow was constructed in 1961, is 20-feet tall and stands opposite the Whole Foods Market, very convenient.

It is now iconic, a landmark, and most people like it being there. Not so much the guy that would like to rip it up to make room for a few more parking spaces.

It can literally be seen from space, look!

The rest of the day was quite relaxed. Some TV, a spot of reading, a bit of writing.

Liesel had some work to do, and after writing for a while, I went for a walk, locally, with Neil. We didn’t go far, but it was nice to get some exercise.

Even this close to home, cactuses can be seen to grow wild. They’ll take over, one day. This stormwater storage area was home to a couple of deer until the rotten authorities cut the vegetation back.

In the park, a group of young people were having fun sliding down a homemade water slide.

I hope they remembered to take all their buckets home afterwards. There was one hosepipe leading to someone’s house over the road. I suspect their water bill will be higher than usual next time.

In an alleyway next to the tennis courts, we collected 23 tennis balls that had been hit out of bounds. Neil, Buzz and Gabe take them to the local dog park where the dogs have a great time. I can’t work out how the dogs hold the rackets, though.

Liesel prepared dinner tonight, a festoon of vegetables, thank you very much: very nice, very tasty.

We did get out and about next day, we weren’t confined to barracks. It was a hot drive to Jemez pueblo and we passed through some more stunning landscapes.

Again, the photo doesn’t show the scale of this place (which, incidentally, Google thinks is in Namibia, but even using Google Maps, we rarely get that lost).

The red rocks really showed up against the normal sandy colour.

In places, yes, it did remind me of the Australian desert, but not everywhere: the red here doesn’t appear to ‘glow’ as much, maybe it does when it becomes much hotter. Today was a very pleasant temperature. There were even little pockets of snow still present on the ground, not enough to make a whole snowman, but I think we were both surprised to see so much of it, so long after it fell.

But surely, we saw some wildlife? A cow and a man on a horse. Not the actual things, of course, just the yellow signs warning us of their presence.

There are many geological formations in the Jemez Mountains, and we were spending some time here in Jemez National Recreation Area just looking and going ‘wow’.

On a more human scale, I’m still surprised at how strong the Roman Catholic church is in New Mexico.

Jemez Springs is a very small town, so it feels like this church is in the middle of nowhere.

Further along the road, we came across Soda Dam, so we screeched to a halt to investigate it. (We didn’t really screech, Liesel was in the driving seat, and we came to a well controlled stop just off the road.) Not my words, but:
This spectacular formation has built up over the centuries by deposits of calcium carbonate from a spring that bubbles to the surface at this point. The river flows under a dome that is still building. The dam is 300 feet long, 50 feet high and 50 feet wide at the bottom.

I clamboured over the crash barrier for a closer look, but I was reluctant to walk over what looked like a very slimy, damp area, the result of water running in from under the highway.

We’d noticed that many of the cottonwood trees were a much brighter green now, whereas even a few days ago, we were commenting on how dead they seemed to be.

My ears knew we were on a road trip that involved changing altitude quite a lot. They kept popping, the left one more than the right, and feeling asymmetrical is a sensation I’m not that fond of.

More geology now: Valle Grande is a large caldera. There’s no sign of the volcano erupting again any time soon, but it’s strange to imagine what might be gurgling away beneath the surface.

We decided not to go for a hike on this occasion: it’s been here for millions of years, it won’t change much before our next visit. As we were driving away, Liesel thought she saw a wolf by the watering hole. I missed it, and on reflection, it was probably a coyote.

We passed a couple of places where the trees showed signs of having been burnt

Lunch was taken in Los Alamos, at a place called ‘Beef and Leaf’. I wondered whether it was related to the ‘Pig and Fig’ where we’d been the other day. Two things of note in this emporium. The coffee cup and saucer were fun to play with. You could spin the cup around, and it would rotate almost frictionlessly for quite a while before stopping.

The other thing fulfilled a nearly lifelong ambition.

Yes, we saw a cow with a cabbage on her head. Wonderful!

Being in Los Alamos, we thought we’d visit the Historical Museum. Yes, the place is most famous now for the Manhattan Project, but there was plenty of history before the second world war.

Ancestral Pueblo People started arriving on the plateau in the 1150s, about the time St Mary’s Church in Chessington was being built.

John “Mike” Michnovicz, born in 1923, documented the people and activities in Los Alamos, and there were plenty of his pictures on display here. Such a big project, with such devastating results, yet all the participants look like normal people. And no, I don’t know what kind of being I was expecting to see.

A highlight for me was seeing Richard Feynmann’s drum: just a bit sad it’s behind glass and I couldn’t have a bash.

The History is Here campaign was a major fundraising effort conducted by the Los Alamos Historical Society during 2012-2016 Our motivation was to enable the preservation and communication of the remarkable history and inspiring stories of Los Alamos. Through the generosity of these donors the Society bas been able to protect its archives and collections, expand the museum, preserve historic buildings, create new educational programs, sustain its publishing capability and collaborate with the Manhattan Project National Historical Park.

I always look at such things, but very rarely do I actually find a long-lost relation memorialised. Thank you Uncle Arthur and Auntie Nancy.

Dr J Robert Oppenheimer and General Leslie Groves

We explored Hans Bethe’s House too and a gallery of local artwork.

On the way home, the end of the world as we know it. For some reason, Google Maps decided to speak to us in Spanish. I have no idea why it did this. Random emissions from a secret laboratory in Los Alamos? Punishment because we’d decided not to go and pester Tammy and Aaron? The text all appears in English still, but my Aussie Sheila has been replaced by a Spanish lady. All the internet could offer was to check the settings. I did. Nothing appears to be changed. The only way I could resolve this ridiculous problem was to uninstall and reinstall the app. As they say: to err is human, to really mess things up, get a computer.

We ate pizza at a place called Farina in Albuquerque and when we arrived home, nobody else was in. Where were they? The cars were still here. Phones on the table. Another mystery.

But still, a cow with a cabbage on its head, how exciting.