Cold, Cold, Nudists

from the hotel lobby to the car was just about enough of the flash freezing i'd care for.
every mile we distanced ourselves from Gallup the temperature would rise by a degree or so.
purposely stayed on the scenic routes, tired of the monotony of flat interstates flayed out and unsurprising, as your destination is usually visible hundreds of flat miles away. Peacefully vacant roads. Went to Acoma Pueblo in some lowlands, badlands? The snow vanished and the sun was out, if I hadn't rolled down my window to get a feel for the air, I would have thought it to be a summer in the desert. At a viewpoint overlooking red rocks shooting up from the earth and the Pueblo site, signs told us: "No Camera (film and video) Recording Allowed."
Drove into the museum for the pueblo, $20 each! Nay, but what washroom facilities, I can see where the money is spent.
Took a wrong turn and ended up in a remote Native Reservation where even the adobes, built into the sides of huge bolting bright red mountains had eyes, and all were transfixed on us, getting the hell out.
Took another detour to Jemez Springs. A quaint village based around the several natural hot springs in the area. Spruce Springs, a free, untapped springs a short knee-high hike through the snow promised waters of 105F. Several intense nudists bathing in the steam, not very friendly, yet not very mean, as I begged to have their towel, as Caitlin and I had none. Ran through the snow back to the car in wet undies.
Drove through the mountains, a landscape that echoed notions of "home," to Santa Fe.