New Mexico 1

 We were on the Glenrio to San Jon dirt road, and weren’t sure we’d passed into New Mexico till we saw the ruins of Endee. Believe it or not, there used to be motel cabins here; only the “modern restroom” remains.

Once labeled "Modern Restrooms"! (They flushed.)

Old Route 66 here follows the abandoned Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific Railroad. 

San Jon once had a broad main street, but the town was devastated by a one-exit bypass.

We continued to avoid I-40 and passed through scenic red hills. Ahead of us lay Tucumcari Mountain and the town of Tucumcari.

Tucumcari (rhymes with “carry”) was incorporated in 1908, after the coming of the railroad. When Route 66 was at its peak, Tucumcari advertised with many miles of “TUCUMCARI TONITE!” billboards, as the town boasted 2,000 motel rooms. Before researching this trip I’d never heard of Tucumcari, but now I understand why so many people stopped there, as there’s no place along the road for many miles afterwards.

 

There are still some motels with neon signs, such as the Buckaroo (“Every time you sit down it bucks you out of your seat,” T. said). 

There are also a ton of murals, most by artist Doug Quarles, so that a brochure proclaims Tucumari “City of Murals.” We picked up a map of them from Flora May, who runs a Route 66 welcome center and gift shop on the main street. Lile had sent us to her. We told her that the road had mostly been empty all the way along from Chicago; “not good for us!” she said.

There are so many things worth taking pictures of in Tucumcari; even some of the old neon signs are still working. But surely the gem of them all, which T. had had the foresight to book in advance, is the Blue Swallow Motel.

The slogan "100% Refrigerated Air" is in the Smithsonian as a great example of '50s advertising.

This photo was taken by our neighbor, who told me this was her and her husband's favorite place to stay. Of course, at the Blue Swallow one chats to one's neighbors. The late Lillian Redman kept this historic motor court intact, rather than turning the individual garages into more rooms like at other motels. It has new owners now who are doing a fabulous job. All the décor and even the music playing in the courtyard is vintage, though they also have WiFi and made us very comfortable. As soon as Robert realized T. had trouble hearing him, he said “I will look directly at you when I’m talking”—and he did, never forgetting throughout our tour of the place and the next morning. 

Radio in our room

Rooms have rotary phones, and they work!

I loved the Blue Swallow and enjoyed getting there early and just relaxing. I also tried to see as many of the Quarles murals as I could.

Where truck ends and mural begins

Patriotic mural, Veterans of Foreign Wars

T. seemed to enjoy it too. 

Lois the fridge

I really feel like Tucumcari, and in particular staying at the Blue Swallow, was a Route 66 highlight. Even the Motel Safari has taken down its camel (there were camels used in the West, believe it or not) and put it indoors, which kind of ruins its sign.

Classic cigarette ad: "More Doctors Smoke Camels"

I’m not sure T. was as in love with Tucumcari as I was but we did get a good dinner at Del’s. The hickory chicken T. ordered was about the best thing I tasted the entire trip.

The next day, Robert’s buddy Antonio (and Antonio’s dog) brought doughnuts, so we enjoyed those too. 

Even the ashtrays were classic.

Reluctantly, we moved on towards Santa Rosa, quickly realizing Tucumcari was the stop between here and there. “This is beautiful, in a desolate way,” I said.

 

“Or desolate in a beautiful way,” T. said.

Tight tunnel under I-40 at Montoya

Thank goodness for Newkirk. Portable toilets!

Of course, it partly looked this way because after Cuervo, another town wrecked by the interstate, we took the “Cuervo cut-off,” pre-1950s Route 66. It’s a dogleg of about another eighteen miles, but paved, which didn’t feel like a rough road at all compared with the dirt alignments.

Dust on our wheels

This took us over to Santa Rosa. 

There are still some good signs in Santa Rosa, including neon.

Also there is an underground lake known as the Blue Hole. There were only a handful of scuba tanks there when we visited, but Jessica Dunham notes it’s the diving capital of the Southwest.

Almost as soon as we'd gotten to New Mexico we started noticing fall colors on some deciduous trees. All yellow, reportedly aspens or cottonwoods.

We’d made a few important planning decisions before the trip. One of them was the Blue Swallow, and another was to take the pre-1937 alignment of Route 66 after Santa Rosa. This much longer option loops up to Santa Fe, which neither of us had ever visited. (Later Route 66, now mostly I-40, goes straight west to Albuquerque.) The original dirt alignment as far as Dilia is now impassable, but we took U.S. 84 with which Route 66 is mostly overlaid.

We also took a short side trip to Las Vegas (New Mexico, not Nevada). Before 1937, this was an important stop for Route 66 travelers. The main street was closed for road works, but we could still access the plaza and its historic hotel.

El Campesino, Peter E. Lopez, dedicated to farm workers

Plaza Hotel

The road then led to Pecos, where we stopped at the historic park. The volunteer there was extremely enthusiastic, although she never took off her mask to speak to us, which was odd considering we were all outdoors the entire time. It was a real culture shock after the states we’d been traveling through.

 

Pecos National Historic Park has excavated ruins of a pueblo dating from A.D. 800. There’s also a mission church that was built and rebuilt by the Spanish before and after a revolt of the Pueblo people.

One area was closed due to snakes. “I won’t hear them!” T. pointed out.

I learned one more interesting thing just before Santa Fe, when we reached Glorieta Pass (over 7,500 feet). The historic marker, of which New Mexico has many, informed us that this was the westernmost battle of the Civil War in 1862. After three days of fighting to take Santa Fe, the Confederates retreated, and the State of New Mexico remained in the Union. Did you know any of that was happening this far west? I’d had no idea.

The most spectacular sight of the day, though, was another of which I have a picture only in my mind. As Route 66 followed the Santa Fe Railroad, suddenly we caught sight of a beautiful silver train with windows. Not one of the many, many freight trains, but a passenger train, climbing east. Probably back towards Chicago, where we had started.