Beware of Maps and GPS that lie

Beware of New Mexico roads that on the map that appear just as two lines.  

I’ll get to the lines matter a little later.

I got into Santa Fe late yesterday (Saturday) and had originally planned to spend an extra day here, but after checking into my motel, I decided to take a quick spin through downtown. Santa Fe, known as the artisan capital of the U.S., certainly tries to live up to that reputation. The downtown core was exactly what I expected—shops wall-to-wall, artists’ booths everywhere, all clamoring for tourist dollars. The works were beautiful, but it was packed with tourists who seemed to think wandering aimlessly into traffic was part of the vacation experience.

I wasn’t overly impressed—it was pretty much exactly what I feared: a bit too contrived, too designed, and definitely overpriced. Maybe I was just tired from being on the road all day, but it all felt a little too staged. I’ve seen similar shops in similar towns before. I didn’t feel like dealing with all the pretension, so I decided not to linger.

Santa Fe has its charm, but honestly, it’s got little to do with the Route 66 journey I’m on. I can always come back when I’m in the mood for more art and crowds, I suppose.

After a "gourmet" breakfast (hey, after seven days of McDonald's, you’ll convince yourself anything is gourmet), I headed south to the National Radio Astronomy Observatory’s Very Large Array (VLA), about 190 miles away. 

Though the VLA isn’t directly on Route 66, it’s worth the detour. The radio telescopes there peer deep into the universe, capturing images of stars being born, black holes doing their fiery thing, and who knows what else. There are 27 of these giants, each weighing over 250 tons, with 82-foot-wide dishes. They’re spread out over 37 kilometers of open plains and mounted on a railway system, allowing them to realign. It takes two weeks to move all 27 into position. Fascinating stuff.

 

Part of the field that's spread out across 37 km

Inside the control room

9 of the 27 Dishes

21st Century meets the 18th Century

On my way to the VLA, I made a stop in Magdalena. Most travelers on their way to the VLA probably just zoom past it, but I had to see it. 

Magdalena is an old cowpuncher town, long past its prime. Still, I met one of the most colourful characters I’ve come across so far—Mac, the owner of an antique/junk shop. He used to be a carny, working in various circuses around the Southwest in the late '50s and early '60s. Mac was a real character and a pleasure to talk to—spent a solid 30 minutes chatting with him.

 

Mac

Mac and his leg

Old Windmill and House in Magdalena

Bank in Magdalena

 

Mac's place

Finally, I made my way to the VLA, did the tour, then headed north to I-40 and Gallup. Now, getting from the VLA to Gallup isn’t as simple as it sounds. This is where those "lines" I mentioned earlier come into play. You know the saying, "the shortest distance between two points is a straight line"? Well, in New Mexico, that doesn’t always apply.

The maps and GPS told me Road #36 would be the most direct route to Gallup. What they didn’t tell me was that #36 was less of a road and more of a mud path. I figured it would be a typical dirt road, but after the rainstorm hit, it quickly turned into a greasy, slick mess. I had to disengage the positraction to keep from sliding off the road, and it became nearly impossible to go faster than 5 mph. With night approaching and my GPS saying I still had 97 miles to go, I thought about turning around, but I figured if I stopped my forward motion to turn around I’d definitely get stuck. Staying the course was the best option.

As luck would have it, about 6 miles down the road, the rain passed, and in no time the path (the map showed it as a second grade road) dried out enough to drive again. After a grueling 80 miles, I finally reached asphalt again.

This is what both my GPS and the road map showed as shortest and main road to Gallup

After 80 miles of dirt this is what I popped on to. Gallup is at the distance

The lesson here: be cautious of roads in New Mexico that look fine on the map but turn into quagmires after a little rain. The land drains so quickly that a mere 10 minutes after the rain stops, the road’s back to dust.

Tomorrow, I’ll be back on Route 66 again—well, what’s left of it!

More to come...