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21st Oct 2005
At a Gallup
Friday 21st October, 2005
Today’s the first day of an annual balloon festival in Taos so we were out in order to catch some of it. We left the Abominable early, all bags packed and stowed in the car; not quite so cold this morning, but we still had to wait a few minutes while the ice defrosted on the windscreen enough for the wipers to tackle it.
We took a run down the length of the town in search of some ballooners, but there wasn’t too much happening – a couple of the car parks had silks all laid out across them but nothing in the air.
Breakfast was becoming not only a priority, but a necessity and we decided to take a break from the balloon preparations and retired to “Michaels” on the main street.
Michael (whoever he was) was doing a roaring trade welcoming the various members of the Church of God from Somewhere or other … all of whom were ensconced in one half of his diner. We were ushered out of sight into the snug on the opposite side.
Harry’s resolve remained and the chillies were ordered once again. Ben’s constitution needed a break and he went for something a little less hot and more substantial. This time Harry made sure that the requisite glass of water was available to hand, but found, just as he was about to imbibe, that it had a large piece of tissue floating round inside it.
By the time we’d finished breakfast, the balloons were getting airborne and we pulled off half way down the main ‘drag’ in the car park of the Quality Inn, just in time to find a balloon touching down in the scrub land behind. We watched for some time and at one point there were fifteen balloons in the air … apparently a mere patch on what would be happening tomorrow when about 70 would ascend.
We got to Sante Fe at about 11 and parked at the back of the town but quite near to the Plaza. One side of the square is completely covered as a passageway and under this, their backs against the wall sit the traders with their various wares spread out on blankets in front of them.
Most claim to be the relatives of the artists as part of the sales pitch and we heard quite often, ‘this is made by my husband’ ‘….. (or) brother’ … or whatever.
Anne and I went into an arcade on the opposite side to get some gauge of pricing. A couple of shops really caught the eye. The Santa Fe Boot Co who seem to make bespoke cowboy boots in all manner of hides, for lots of the rich and famous; testimonies from film stars pinned to the walls list their clients.
Just down the mall was a Mexican working a hand loom and I bought a couple of Navajo style cushion covers … and photographed him. He comes from Chimayo and is a fourth generation weaver.
We re-grouped and made our way around to the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum, which was great … but slightly disappointing in that it didn’t have any of the New Mexican landscapes I was expecting, however, most other subjects were represented quite well.
On the way out Anne stopped off a tucked away little shop and bought a really nice silver Navajo belt buckle.
On we pounded across the prairies from Santa Fe to Albuquerque and then on some to Gallup.
We arrived at Gallup just as the sun was beginning its final approach for setting. The boys got some shots contre jour looking along the top of a train that was passing slowly under the bridge we crossed to get in to town.
Anne had made an arrangement to stay at a famous old motel / hotel called El Rancho … which had provided accommodation for many Hollywood stars over the years and we passed this on the way into town before driving the length of the main street and taking a turn up the hill on to some waste ground in order to get some sunset colours.
We abandoned Anne and the car at the top of a slightly dodgy cul-de-sac and after about five minutes, a couple of pick-ups full of Mexicans turned up looking (but as it turned out, only looking) threatening. We hid behind a bush and left Anne to deal with them … Joking!
We relocated to El Rancho in darkness to find that the hotel was hosting a wedding this evening (‘Congratulations to Jen and Tony’ written in neon lights outside).
It’s certainly a place which could tell a few tales. The usual large concourse hallway, log-lined with a mezzanine balcony above and on the first floor level, the walls were covered with the signed pictures of a variety of Hollywood greats and locations shots from a number of films … The Desert Song was one …
We were on the third floor along a painted brick lined corridor reminiscent of old hospital corridors … but the rooms were comfortable enough. Nick slept in with us and Ben and Harry had another room along the passage.
We had a great dinner; a few beers and quite a bit of live entertainment in the form of a birthday party happening in a private room to our right and the strains of the wedding party leaking through into the dining room.
Outside, the rail tracks ran about fifty yards in front of the hotel. For some reason every train that passed felt the need to give a loud sonorous toot as it passed, hence, sleep was not entirely unbroken and at about 5 o’clock some wag on the footplate gave us a toot, toot, toottoottoot, toottoottoottoot, toot, toot! (BaŁ$&rd).
I cannot imagine, John Wayne, Ronald Reagan, Lee Remmick or Howard Keele (among others) thinking that this was a great idea, but there we are.
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