Trip Report | Day 8: Grants, New Mexico
A quick last walk with the dog turned into a surprise breakfast at Mather Point. Lemon poppyseed muffins and coffee from the trailhead cafe and golden morning light on everything. On the way back, we met a man with a little Westie that Nola took to immediately. The two started poking around in some pine cones and the guy scooped up his dog. “I don’t want him picking up any bibblets,” he said.
“Picking up what?” I asked in alarm.
Newbie tip: Bibblets are little seeds and bits of undergrowth that can stick to a tiny dog’s muzzle. If your dog is taller than an iPhone, don’t worry about them.
Trailer Village is designed to make you feel like an actual villager.
We broke camp and would have hit the road by nine except for another CruiseAmerica family who needed help. Eric was the deeply tanned, preoccupied-looking Frenchman who waved us over, then motioned to two women he was with. They were all from Paris. Their furnace wouldn’t work.
One of the women, maybe the other’s mom? or friend? was the main translator. She held Nola’s leash and told me they’d landed in LA, were driving through the Southwest for five weeks, and would fly out of Denver. Five weeks! “We don’t want to take all your time,” she kept repeating while Dave tried several things, including the breakers and fuses. Finally he pointed with regret to the CruiseAmerica phone number and we took off.
Actual villagers.
We crossed the Continental Divide at 6:21 p.m. and stopped for the night at Bluewater State Park, just north of Grants, New Mexico. It was our first time doing self-service check-in. A couple walking their dog pointed us toward the campsites. They advised that the electric sites weren’t as pretty as the rustic, lakeside ones. “But we already paid for electric,” I apologized, clutching my pay envelope stuffed with fourteen dollars, the first cash I have spent on this trip. I had already sealed it but didn’t want them to see I hadn’t put it in the box yet. I circled back to the rig to confer with Dave, who said, “We definitely want the electric.”
The next morning I watched a wild horse in the meadow next to us. We walked through light rain to a breathtaking canyon. A trail led into the canyon and we followed it without meeting another soul. The rain stopped and the sun came out, intensifying the smell of piñon and the brilliance of the cactus flowers.
Post rain, pre filter.
Gas: 30.12 gal. Miles: 296.8. MPG: 9.8. Next stop: Santa Fe.