It’s been a nice autumn; even in late October, the trees have not yet been stripped by wind and rain. It will soon turn colder and it’s time to head for New Mexico and a few more days of pleasant weather.
On a sunny late October day with cool temperatures, I take my usual route west to Dubuque, then straight west on U.S. 20. Traffic is light and one can avoid heavy truck traffic compared to I-80 that many travelers take across Iowa. About thirty miles west of Dubuque I pass Dyersville, site of the popular baseball movie, Field of Dreams. That site is well worth visiting, but I don’t stop there as I have visited it before.
The green of summer is well past, as the beans have been harvested as has most of the corn. This is not the most colorful time to cross Iowa but the sun and blue skies are pleasant.
About halfway across Iowa, I turn south on I-35 and travel the sixty miles to Des Moines where I meet son Johnny who has been “working from home,” away from his current residence in Washington, D.C. He takes over the wheel about sunset and we head south to Kansas City. Once through K.C., it’s west to Emporia, Kansas, home of legendary journalist and newspaper editor, William Allen White.
Next morning after breakfast, we leave I-35 and head west and south on U.S. 50 for about twenty miles, and turn on U.S. 56 straight west across the northern edge of the interesting Flint Hills. The Flint Hills are strictly range country, now brown instead of the rich bluish green of spring and summer. But large herds of cattle, mostly Black Angus, are still grazing on the dying grass.
Once across the Flint Hills, the land is once again flat. It is generally colorless this time of year except where recently planted winter wheat is gradually emerging, creating patches of green. The entire upper Midwest is enduring an unusually cold snap and there is a stiff north wind blowing. But the sunshine and bright blue skies are welcome.
We reach the nice town of McPherson where one of my favorite coffee shops no longer exists, another casualty of the Pandemic, no doubt. We find another coffee shop; it’s ok but I miss the one that was.
Many, actually most, people complain about how “boring” it is to travel across the Great Plains, insisting, “Nothing to see there.” But I enjoy experiencing the subtle changes of the prairies with the rising elevation west to the High Plains.
We head west, through Great Bend, and to the town of Larned where we have lunch at a Mexican restaurant that is relatively new. It was OK, but I’m just waiting for the real thing when we get to New Mexico.
After lunch, we head west to Dodge City, then southwest through six small towns along the railroad tracks. Ensign, Montezuma, Copeland, Sublette, Satanta, and Moscow are strikingly similar to each other, each flanked by huge grain elevators and railroad tracks on the northwest side, and a small business district to the southeast.
Reaching the larger town of Hugoton, we continue west on U.S. 56 to Elkhart on the southwest corner of Kansas. From there, it’s across the Oklahoma line and west on the Panhandle to Boise City, county seat of Cimarron County, westernmost of the three Oklahoma Panhandle counties.
About six miles outside of Boise City, we take U.S. 385 south across the Santa Rita National Grasslands, across the Texas Panhandle line, to Dalhart where we gas up. Darkness has fallen and we head southwest diagonally across the northwest corner of the Panhandle. We finally cross the New Mexico state line, and soon reach Tucumcari, our destination for the day.
Tucumcari has long been a common stopping place for travelers along historic Route 66, and now I-40. Its main drag is a several mile stretch of motels, some abandoned, others still existing. That stretch also includes some businesses and a few restaurants, including my favorite, the Pow Wow where I have long enjoyed their huevos rancheros. The Pow Wow still exists but is now closed for morning breakfast, so we have breakfast at Kix at Sixty-Six on that tourist drag.
There is, or once was, a main business district north of that historic tourist strip. It was a bustling center during the 1940’s and ’50’s. It is now a collection of decaying buildings with a few miscellaneous shops that only Tucumcari residents realize actually exist.
The more upscale motels and convenience stores are neither in that old area, nor on that historic tourist strip, but a couple of blocks off the exits of I-40. Travelers on I-40 are neither interested nor willing to travel several blocks to see what remains of the old Tucumcari.
After breakfast, we take the fifty-mile stretch on I-40 to Santa Rosa. Like Tucumcari, Santa Rosa has an historic tourist strip with some decaying gas stations and motels. But unlike Tucumcari, it has some upscale chain hotels and convenience stores along that strip. And, unlike Tucumcari, its business district is adjacent to the tourist strip, and appears to be in fine shape.
At Santa Rosa, we turn south on U.S. 54 across cattle and range country. About forty miles south it’s through Vaughn, once a thriving railroad town, now a strip of decaying buildings, once motels and restaurants. Then south through Carrizozo where The Outpost Bar and Restaurant once served the best — maybe second best — chile cheeseburgers, and Roy’s Ice Cream Parlor that, until recently, made and served real old fashioned ice cream sodas and malted milks the way they were meant to be.
Ever fewer of us are old enough to have once enjoyed traditional soda fountains where ice cream sodas and malted milks were made and served the way they were meant to be — treats that younger folks will never know.
We reach Las Cruces and Mesilla where we visit friends and enjoy several days of perfect sunny autumn weather. And, we revisit a revived casualty of the Pandemic, Chopes Restaurant in La Mesa, with Mexican food the way it was meant to be.
— John Waelti of Monroe can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net. His column appears monthly in the Monroe Times.
