Welcome to Part 2 of our 10,000-mile road trip, where we continue driving The Mother Road the “wrong” way, West to East, this time through New Mexico. Missed Part 1? Here it is: Route 66 Backwards, Part 1… Arizona?
We began in Las Vegas, hopped on Route 66 in Needles, and traveled through the heart of the US of A. After reaching Chicago, we looped back through the northern states, exploring National Parks and quaint towns, before reaching California and finishing the last part of our Route 66 journey (backwards) between LA and Needles.
“Well, we’re not in the middle of nowhere, but we can see it from here”
– Thelma & Louise
Day 3
Route 66 – Gallup, New Mexico: Humphrey Bogart Slept Here!
We left Arizona’s vintage Route 66 towns behind and passed a sign that said “Welcome to New Mexico, The Land of Enchantment” road sign.
One of the great things about Route 66 backwards is that you have the road all to yourself, while a couple hundred yards away, cars and semi-trucks compete for space on a freeway.
When we rolled into the town of Gallup, it felt like we stepped back in time. Red sandstone cliffs, old shops full of horse saddles and Indian rugs, and the historic El Rancho Hotel’s lobby dripping with nostalgia.
We sank into the comfy red armchairs by the stone fireplace, the fabric worn smooth by the buts of weary travelers and Hollywood royalty. Staircases curved on each side, leading to rooms where John Wayne once rested his spurs, and Katherine Hepburn fixed her lipstick.
The mounted deer heads stared down from wood-paneled walls, witnesses to the hotel’s slow shift from1930s Hollywood glamour to road-trip curiosity.
Spine of the America: Continental Divide
I love this trip so far! As we drive, we talk, binge-listen to audiobooks (Chelsea Handler is our current guilty pleasure), we do daily recap recordings, play The Ultimate Game For Couples (we skip physical challenges like “Close your eyes and let me put your hand on my body. Guess what body part it is” and stick to questions like “Tell me, if I could get rid of one of your belongings, what would it be?”). It’s a fun way to see how well we know each other.
We crossed the Continental Divide – an invisible line splitting the country in two. The raindrops that fall on the West side flow to the Pacific, and on the East, to the Atlantic. Not that we saw any rain, just endless sky stretching over the high desert as we wound our way toward Albuquerque. The road sign and the Continental Divide Post Office were the only hints at this geographic phenomenon.
The King of Villa de Cubero
Villa de Cubero, further down the road, was much less glamorous than El Rancho. The sun-bleached auto court (opened in 1936) has links to celebrities and an American literary classic. J. Robert Oppenheimer often came here to escape the pressures of work at Los Alamos, actress Lucille Ball (of I Love Lucy fame) used Villa de Cubero as heaven during her divorce from Desi, and Ernest Hemmingway stayed here for a few weeks while writing The Old Man and The Sea.
While we were checking out the peeling paint and faded signs, we met the post’s unofficial greeter: a white Great Dane called King, the size of a small horse, with eyes so pale blue they seemed translucent in the sunlight. He leaned the weight of his huge, warm body against my thigh as he came to be petted.
The store is still open. The hubby and I bought a bottle of Peach Snapple each, our favorite guilty road-trip pleasure.
We rolled onto the pre-1937 Route 66, a ribbon of smooth blacktop that seemed almost too perfect for its surroundings – past an Amazon warehouse in the middle of a field, ranch houses hugging the Rio (not so) Grande River, and gas stations that hadn’t pumped fuel since Eisenhower was in office.
That night, we traded our makeshift car bed for a proper Hyatt mattress in Albuquerque. After a couple of nights at truck stops in cramped quarters, that hotel bed felt like floating on a cloud. We sprawled out, savoring every inch of horizontal space, the luxury of being able to stretch without hitting a door handle. Simple pleasures.
Day 4
Route 66, The Albuquerque, New Mexico Pit Stop
The next day, well-rested and with bellies full of the hotel’s all-you-can-eat breakfast, we cruised down Central Avenue, the old stomping grounds of Route 66.
You see neon-lit motels with pink and baby blue stucco, dusty curio shops hawking Coca-Cola memorabilia, and greasy spoon diners where the cook was probably the same guy who’s been flipping burgers there since the glory days.
I half-expected to see James Dean or Marilyn Monroe stroll by, stopping to grab a slice of apple pie and a milkshake. Instead, we see a group of hipsters, all in black, reading a paper sign stuck on a movie theater, completely unenchanted by this time-warp of a street.
We restocked and refueled at Costco and headed out of town. The next stop has a reputation for the number of artists, galleries, and retired millionaires.
Santa Fe in SlowMo
Santa Fe is a retirement brochure designer’s wet dream: cute adobe buildings, art galleries every third step, and enough turquoise jewelry to sink a small yacht.
The church bells seemed to ring in slow motion. Hypnotized by Santa Fe’s well-curated charm, we stepped into an (allegedly) French pastry shop, ordered one piece of (dried out) pastry and one cup of (mediocre) coffee, and were (almost) happy to pay $12 for the privilege.
The weather is gorgeous (it’s mid-May), flowers are blooming, bees are buzzing, the air is fragrant from fresh-cut grass, both pedestrians and drivers are sweet and unrushed, sturdy adobe houses flank the streets, mature trees sway their branches over green parks… are we in a Truman Show?
Blue Hole Blunder
We were cruising along, a giant Route 66 guidebook in hand, when I saw Las Vegas, NM, on its fold-out map. Very tempting, given we’ve spent almost 20 years in the more famous Las Vegas, but the sun was getting lower, and we had a destination in mind: a “Blue Hole” in Santa Rosa, NM.
Blue Hole is magic—as water always is in a land of little rain. Visibility is an astonishing 100’, the water completely renews itself every six hours—it’s truly never the same lake twice.
– Blue Hole website
What doesn’t change is the temperature—a constant 62 degrees, ideal for storing a fine Cabernet or tossing in the kids on a hot summer’s day. It’s not just a tourist spot or a place for recreational diving. It’s sacred ground. A place that commands reverence.
We followed the signs. But when we finally found the place, it was such a letdown. Instead of a gorgeous swimming hole, we came across this murky circular lake with Band-Aids and inflatable toys floating in it.
Then I thought maybe we had the wrong place, so I double-checked, and sure enough, there were actually two circular lakes just a short drive apart.
When we found the real Blue Hole, it was a whole other world. The water was an unreal shade of blue, so crystal clear you could see all the way down. And the setting, with those dramatic cliffs and lush greenery surrounding it, was just breathtaking. We still regret not jumping in, but in the late afternoon sun, 62 F just seemed too chilly.
We Found the Midpoint of Route 66, Not in New Mexico
Tucumcari (an hour East of the Blue Hole) seemed lifeless by the time we got there. It was getting dark, and the one bright spot was the iconic TeePee Curios shop. Literally. Lit up with neon signs, it looked like a vintage postcard.
The doors were already locked for the night. Peeking through the windows, we could just make out the antique Route 66 trinkets and vintage Americana that gave this place its reputation as a must-see roadside attraction. It’s one of those places that’s been a part of the Mother Road’s history, a proper landmark for road trippers.
Later that night, we stumbled upon the Midpoint Cafe that marks the “Exact Midpoint of Route 66” in Adrian, Texas. We parked and walked the bold line, crossing the empty Mother Road from one side to another. The cafe was closed but still, it was touching to stand there under the dark sky, knowing we were at the heart of American road trip history.
The First Taste of Texas
We spotted the glowing signs of the “TA Travel Center” near Amarillo, TX through the rain-streaked windshield, a beacon in the dark after an hour of desperately scanning empty highways (and Google Maps) for rest stops.
“Look at this place!” I pressed my nose against the window like a kid at Christmas. We went in to check out the amenities.”Look at this place!” I pressed my nose against the window like a kid at Christmas. We went in to check out the amenities: a laundromat, plenty of bathrooms, and—wait, are those massage chairs by the TV room? And there’s a diner!
It’s funny how after a few nights of car camping, one gets into a routine – the hubby shuffles bags to the front seats while I make a beeline for the bathrooms, then we swap, and I arrange our cocoon in the back.
The $15 showers remained a luxury untested, but we didn’t mind. We had found our slice of road heaven.
We cuddled up in our double sleeping bag and listened to raindrops tapping softly on the roof of our “Hotel Prius,”. We whispered about our luck – What a lovely day! What a great rest stop! What an amazing road trip!
When we woke up to that perfect morning in Texas – a state the hubby wasn’t particularly excited to visit after a rough year there as a kid – neither of us expected that a truck stop sunrise would be the first step in changing his mind.
So, there you have it, that was the New Mexico part of our Route 66 trip. We covered 10,259 miles in 73 days. The total damage? $2,894, or $20 per day per person. You can see the breakdown in the September issue of my Mappy Monday newsletter. 10,000 Miles and Still Married
Curious about sleeping for free at rest areas in the USA? I wrote about it here: Free Car Camping in the US Rest Areas
