July 27th. Albuquerque to Flagstaff.

Sunday morning in Albuquerque is like Sunday morning anywhere, empty streets with a few lost souls trying to figure out what to do with the rest of the night before. We headed West with a few stops picked up from the internet. Laguna was supposed to have a ‘Muffler Man’ the giant lumberjack statues that dot the west. But no. Laguna is like a town in the hills of Almeria or Murcia – adobe houses, a church, a post office and every yard with its obligatory abandoned car. Nondescript rubble, is there any other kind, filled in the gaps. We headed on to Grants, another town on ’66 where we had a late breakfast/lunch, I out-ate Willy for once. Some classic (I know I use this a lot, but I haven’t got my thesaurus with me) roadside cafes and motels, most of which are abandoned. We drove along the slab to Milan and then rejoined I-40 until Gallup, where we drove up and down this roadside town. It’s a great mix of the old and the new and it’s a survivor, there’s a big rail-head here, so that’s where all the endless trains come from. We started getting hints of desert, vast plains and scrubland, treeless buffs and gullies, quite spectacular western scenery, but I have to keep my eye on the road. As I said before, everyone tools along at about the speed limit, in this case 75 M.P.H. (just over 120 K.P.H.) so I slide in and out of lanes, letting a truck pass, bursting past a caravan, just keeping the fabric of west-bound traffic together, well, doing my bit, though I think, the car being King, the locals have the edge. I saw a sign for ‘Indian City’ a gift shop/trading post of old, selling Navajo jewellery and blankets. I realised it would be the perfect place to pick up some stuff for the ladies, it’s good stuff, so I told myself as I parted with the food and drink budget for the next two days but we’ll have to wait ‘til Christmas to find out, won’t we ladies? We then stopped off in another essential ’66 stop – ‘Stewarts petrified park’, it’s a very bizarre collection of shop dummies in various poses, petrified tree-trunks, an ostrich farm and a shop full of gems and polished stone some, or most of which was rather expensive, but I got out for $20. As we approached Flagstaff the scenery changed again, to a kind of mountain feel, with pine trees and mountains. As we drove around we could see that this place is a resort, both in winter with the snow and in summer with trekking and the Grand Canyon up the road. We checked in to another ‘Super 8’ and headed off downtown for a beer. Sunday night in Flagstaff is like Sunday night anywhere, the bars were empty but the ‘vibe’ in the town is very good, people saying hello as we passed, though it might have been out of fear what with the giant Willy ambling along and tubby trotting(?) along a few steps behind. We found another ‘Maloneys’ and set ourselves up with food and some more excellent local-ish brew. This one was called ‘Skinny Dipping’, but I desisted on jumping into our indoor heated swimming-pool. Meanwhile, Willy came up with a brilliant idea. As we are a day ahead of schedule he suggested we have a rest day tomorrow and hit the Grand Canyon on Tuesday. So tomorrows blog will contain details of a day off in Flagstaff, Arizona. We are on holidays, lest we forget.