Yesterday we returned from a four-day mini-vacation with our four-year-old granddaughter, Chloe. We had lived in eastern New Mexico, near Clovis, from Spring 1986 to summer 1990, but Deb and I had not seen all we had wanted. We moved back to the state, this time to Albuquerque, in December 2003. Deb has visited many local pueblos and other sites, but I have been chained to my studies when not at work. Having just completed my last full-time term of doctoral coursework, I jumped at a chance to hit the road with Deb and Chloe.

We had intended to drive directly to the vicinity of Carlsbad, to visit Carlsbad Caverns National Park, but my web search for driving directions (maps.google.com) and times suggested the drive would take around nine hours! Consequently, we decided to break the trip up with a stay in Roswell (of alien crash fame) on the way down, and Ruidoso on the way back. As this was a late decision, we zipped out of Albuquerque around 4:15 PM and stopped at Clines Corner—one of many mediocre Interstate traveler traps in the American Southwest—for a minimal dinner.

It was at Clines Corner that we rediscovered a New Mexico tradition we had experienced during our first tenure in the state—the inability to purchase items displayed on menus. There were two food establishments in the glorified truck stop that is Clines Corner. The Subway sandwich shop and the generic Mex-American restaurant had adjacent service counters and shared a single area of booths for seating. We quickly realized the generic restaurant’s single waitress/cashier was dashing about in an unresourceful frenzy, so we slipped into the Subway service area. Deb ordered first. Four bread selections were on display under glass. Her preferred bread was not available. Her second choice was not available. “We ain’t had them for a week…only got the honey wheat.” Deb selected the honey wheat. She specified an ingredient. “Don’t have any of that.” Deb, one eybrow raised, suggested, “So tell me what you do have.” It went along that way through the remaining two orders—New Mexico style service. Away from one of the several larger cities, this is typical. It’s not an issue of businesses not being able to get supplies. (Yes, New Mexico is one of the United States.) It’s an attitude that visitors will probably only be in an establishment once anyway, so why try to impress.

It turned out that even with our 45-minute amusement stop at Clines Corner, our travel time to Roswell was only four hours. Google was far too conservative. Most four-lane highways in New Mexico’s open lands have speed limits no lower than 65 mph. Visibility is excellent. Roads are usually not crowded. We realized we could have made the trip to Carlsbad in one day, but didn’t begrudge the extra stop. Chloe is not accustomed to long road trips. I had booked a room in the Holiday Inn Express, specifically because of its indoor heated pool and reputation for cleanliness. Deb and I took Chloe, clad in arm floaties, to the pool, where we tried to tire her out. Later, in our predictably tidy room, it was a mutual, pleasant exhaustion we each felt as we drifted off to sleep.

The next morning’s drive to Carlsbad took only 70 minutes. The Best Western Cavern Inn (BWCI), a bit over 20 miles past Carlsbad, was our base of operations for two days. The BWCI billed itself as a resort with four on-premesis eating establishments, the only hotel just outside the gate of the National Park and the only hotel in New Mexico with a full water park. The glowing marketing prose and photos yielded to a decrepit, poorly maintained reality. It was, in truth, the only hotel near the park entrance. At least that was accurate. My advice to anyone travelling in a personal automobile (as opposed to a bus) is to stay in one of the many nicer hotels in Carlsbad and drive the 20+ miles to the national park entrance, smiling smugly as you pass the decaying BWCI (last) resort. At least then you will be able to find a broad selection of good food. I will say that the staff of the BWCI, clean-cut older teens with perpetual smiles, were courteous and friendly. But there is little in the way of courtesies that will compensate for the mildewy rooms, air handling system that sounds like a freight train passing, malfunctioning door locks, broken plumbing and greasy-spoon food. I will also grant that Chloe had a great time at the water park–which consisted of a small adult pool, a generous children’s pool with a pirate ship feature and two 30-foot water slides with insufficient water flow to propel an adult (but just right for a four-year-old girl).

The Carlsbad Caverns National Park is top notch. Even the disappointments of our local lodging and dining could not dampen our enjoyment of this jewel of a park. We toured the visitors’ center, gift shop and incredible caverns during the heat of the day (around 100-degrees F outside) then returned for the bat exodus at dusk. The outdoor amphitheater is located immediately outside the large natural entrance to the cave. We gathered with several hundred others, listened to an entertaining and educational presentation by a young park ranger, then waited for the flock of 500,ooo bats to begin emerging.

The first indication was the disappearance of the swarm of cave swallows that had been swooping about the entrance. The second was the disappearance of the gnats that had been annoying us. At first, a few bats emerged and headed to the southeast, to the Pecos River Valley. Soon, thousands of bats per minute were spiraling up from the cave, creating a great, ascending vortex. The relative quietness of such a mob was amazing. Had we been two hundred feet farther away, I doubt we would have heard anything. It was one of the more thrilling experiences I have enjoyed in Nature. This should be a pilgrimage for anyone with any interest in the natural world.

Another excellent attraction in Carlsbad was the Living Desert State Park. Deb and our son, Seth, had visited there in 1990. Deb thought it was not in quite as good a shape as then, but it was still excellent. If you visit Carlsbad, be sure to see this, but come in the spring or fall, or if between May and October, come very early or late in the day. The heat can be severe.

On our return trip, we headed due east out of Roswell and up into the mountain range that includes the mountain Capitán, and the historic town of the same name, where we visited the Smokey Bear Historical Par. As an Boomer is likely to know, Smokey was a bear cub who was found clinging to a burnt tree trunk in 1950 and grew to become the emblem of the National Forest Service’s multi-decade forest fire prevention campaign. Smokey lived out most of his years at the National Zoo, in Washington, D.C. His remains are buried at the park in Capitán. Chloe, who had not been aware of Smokey, became an instant fan, taking home a Smokey doll and legacy patch.

Heading back toward the main highway to Ruidoso after that short side trip, we stopped in the Historic Old West Town of Lincoln, New Mexico, where original buildings, such as the old courthouse, once were frequented by William Bonney (AKA Billy the Kid. It’s a quiet town now, and worth a stop for the history lessons and photos.

We stopped for the night at the Holiday Inn Express, at Ruidoso, New Mexico. It was new and fresh, but the jammed-open window in our room, that took the hotel handyman an hour to secure, must have been a sign of things to come. Chloe and I played briefly in the bug-infested pool (she was to young to be very worried and I am old enough to have spent many a childhood day swimming with much scarier waters) before getting a good night’s sleep. We paid approximately $70 the next morning before departing. Despite our receipt, the Hotel posted a bill of nearly $1,100 to our credit card and refused to call us back after three separate calls. Only after we engaged our bank’s dispute resolution department did we get a credit for the overcharge. We were more irritated by the manager’s lack of professional courtesy than by the (possibly) mistaken overcharge. To this day, we have received no call from the management.

The next morning we drove through the picturesque shopping and dining strip of old Ruidoso, then visited the beautiful resort, Inn of the Mountain Gods, at Mescalero, New Mexico. That’s definitely on our “come back” list now. The Inn is owned and operated by the Mescalero Apache nation and has an excellent reputation for luxury and beautiful environs. The Mescalero Apache were famous for their strident opposition to Spanish, Catholic and all later forms of European interlopers. Today, any respectful folks with suitable methods of payment are warmly welcomed. It’s a must-see and a must-stay location.

From Mescalero, we drove up through the mountain spine as long as we could, drinking in the lovely vistas. All too soon, however, the highway deposited us back onto the high Chihuahuan Desert, which possesses its own subtle charms. We drove a desolate, stretch of apparently unpopulated range land, eventually reaching the Gran Quivira Pueblo, part of the Salinas PuebloMissions National Monument. The peacefulness and absence of manmade sounds alone justify the side-trip. A bit further up the road to Mountainaire, New Mexico, we found the side road to the Quarai Pueblo, where a platoon of young men were laboring under the supervision of a National Parks Service archaeologist to repair portions of the walls. Quarai had a very pleasant short trail through a cottonwood slough. Both Gran Quivira and Quarai had excellent visitors’ centers with restrooms and educational displays.

We had an outstanding, authentic New Mexican lunch at the decrepit Mountainaire Cafe. What a find! I didn’t even mind the flies. We completed the trip over country roads through the Manzano Range, intercepting I-40 West just east of the Sandia Pass. All in all, this was an excellent four-day road trip. Motivated adults without small children in tow could do the trip in three days without undue stress, but why hurry?