#WhereAreTheUbryTerrells ... Leg 8: New Mexico

We spent our first week of this RV adventure in New Mexico, doing more preparation for travel than actual traveling.

Mom last used the motor home in September/October of last year, as she moved from California to her home in New Mexico where she wanted to spend her final days. 

Since the RV had been sitting for the better part of 6 months, we weren’t sure what we were getting into. But after initial inspection (plus removing the dryer sheets and ivory soap that were placed in every corner to prevent mice from chewing up any wires) everything seemed to be on the up and up. The front windshield was cracked and we had to jumpstart the battery every time we wanted to drive, but these seemed like issues we could deal with down the road

The next agenda was to figure out licensing and registration. We plan to end up in Ohio eventually, so New Mexico gave us a “transit permit” to get us from here to there. (Of course we are taking much longer than the suggested 10 days to get there, but I suppose we’ll deal with that too if a cop ever stops us to check.)

We then had to unpack everything we had haphazardly dropped off a month ago and organize… figuring out where our clothes would go, and dishes, and hiking gear, and all the little extras that somehow made it on the trip.

Once we had done some initial “nesting”, we set out… camping alongside the Rio Grande our first night in Albuquerque. Which turned into our second night when we spent the next day at “Aloha RV”, determining why we were blowing fuses every time we tried to plug in.

While the repairmen looked at the motor home, we walked to a nearby sandwich shop to get some lunch. On the way, we passed a sign on a restaurant that read “no colors.” I immediately felt sick to my stomach. Had we gone back in time? Was this really real? Were people in this country still so divided?

The night before I finished reading “Small Little Things,” by Jodi Picoult, a fictional novel that challenges the reader to examine her own racial prejudices: It’s easy to look at a KKK member and say “that is racism”, but what about the more subtle forms of racism that we may not even acknowledge are our own?

Randy assured me that “no colors” was this restaurant’s way of discouraging gangs. But I was only mildly reassured. What if it had meant “no coloreds” instead of “no colors”? What would I have done? Obviously I wouldn’t have eaten there (we didn’t anyway), but would that have been enough? 

A bunch of my friends were arrested recently for participating in an anti-poverty demonstration. Another friend shared that he would be willing to chain himself to a rock if the Grand Canyon puts in a tram to the bottom. We saw a woman in Memphis who had been protesting for nearly my entire life the fact that they have a gift shop at the Lorraine Hotel. Would I have been willing to go so far, to stand for—or against—something I fiercely believed in?

Later while walking our new dog Cinnamon, I saw a black man with a backpack and sleeping bag (I am reading another book now where the author capitalizes Black but not white when referring to people… I’m confused and not sure what is “correct” or preferred…). I called out hello to the man cheerfully, thinking he looked like he was “on Camino.” We were on the Continental Divide, so I thought it likely he was making his way up the middle of our country on foot. He was pretty clean and so were the backpack and sleeping bag, so he was either taking really good care of them or he had just begun his journey, I assumed. He, however, seemed confused by my cheeriness and uncomfortable with the fact that I had said hello at all. I wondered what he thought that I thought of him. Did he think I assumed he was homeless because he was black? Or because he had a backpack and sleeping bag with him? Was he, in fact, homeless and I had incorrectly assumed he was out on the road for “fun”? (Are Randy and I the only ones crazy enough to call hiking across a country "fun"?) I felt unsettled, and wondered what other ways I will be challenged on this journey as we meet people both alike and different from ourselves.

All of these thoughts were occupying my mind as Randy and I set out for Petroglyphs National Monument for a hike. It was nice to be outdoors… something I missed intensely in Mexico where it was either too hot, too windy, or we were too busy to enjoy. Not to mention the beauty of the petroglyphs, this language that was used so long ago to communicate messages to fellow pilgrims on the journey. Being outside brings balance to my soul. Something I was obviously missing.

When we were finally back in our fixed-up motor home again, we stopped at a Starbucks in Santa Fe to get our bearings. Where were we headed? We hadn’t actually gotten around to figuring that out yet…

As I ordered a coconut milk latte, the barista told me we must go to Taos, her hometown, which was just up the road. I had been to Taos once before, when moving from California to Arkansas in 2004, and remembered a lovely earthy vibe from the town and the people. I remembered drinking coffee and writing there. I remembered a man named “Io” who told me about his mountain home and political conspiracies he had overhead. Yes, we definitely needed to go there!

The barista told me about a winery near Taos—called Vavoc—which she declared necessary to any grand adventure. A friend of mine who I met in Mexico had told me that many wineries allow you to camp there for free. So, even though we arrived as the winery was closing its doors, they sold us a bottle of red and some handcrafted chocolates and told us to make ourselves at home amongst their vines until morning. Which we gladly did. 

Life, and this journey, was starting to feel good. And with a more balanced mindset I feel open to the ways I’ll be challenged along the way, and encouraged that there will be many blessings, particularly from the people we meet.