24th May – Santa Rosa to Gallup

Yesterday evening we visited the Silver Moon diner and had what was one of the most unpleasant meals of the trip so far. In search of something vaguely healthy we both opted for the catfish and seasonal vegetables. The former turned out to be some nondescript white fish which had been battered into submission and deep fried. It had no feline qualities nor indeed anything resembling flavour whatsoever. However the chef had really excelled himself with the vegetables which had been diced into small pieces, coated in batter and deep fried! There seemed to be okra and courgette amongst it but honestly it was hard to tell. America – why do you do this to yourself!

Our enjoyment of the evening was not exactly enhanced by the arrival of three elderly gents in bandanas and sleeveless vests which proclaimed their membership of the Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club. Rolling Thunder? More like Grumbling Prostates, but it at least made us feel comparatively young!

Later, safely tucked up back in our room we thought we heard a rattling on the door. Opening it we saw the most amazing storm with thunder, huge flashes of lightning, rain and hail. We watched it, fascinated, for ages but surprisingly no-one else in the motel seemed to take an interest.

Checking out this morning, Mark discovered that the owner of the motel was from Walsall originally! He went to Palfrey School, his father still lives in Walsall and Mark probably taught his brother! There’s an expression to describe this but it escapes me at the moment…….

Anyway, once out on the road we were on Interstate 40 all the way to Gallup. The first 130 miles or so as far as Albuquerque were fairly monotonous flat agricultural land although the strong, gusty sidewinds did add the occasional moment of heart-stopping terror to lighten up the tedium. Albuquerque itself seemed massive but we didn’t have much time to appreciate it as we passed through on the freeway at 70mph. There was simply too much fast-moving traffic for us to be able to slow down and look around.

After that the road quietened down a bit and the scenery improved as we climbed into the Cebolleta Mountains and the Navajo National Homelands. The original Route 66 runs parallel to the new Interstate and we could often see it alongside us as we made our way along but we weren’t particularly tempted to join it. We passed by many exotically named towns along the route but my favourite was Wagon Wheels, although I don’t understand why they wanted to name their town after a chocolate biscuit.

About 60 miles out of Gallup we passed through an area of lava flows. The hills on either side were sandstone but the valley floor was paved with black volcanic rock which must have flowed through there at some stage millions of years ago. We also crossed the Continental Divide about 30 miles out of Gallup. This marks the point where water drains either into the Pacific or Atlantic oceans.

After 263 miles in total we reached our hotel in Gallup. Gallup’s population is about one third Native American and it is sometimes called the “Indian Capital of the World”. It does however seem to resemble any other American town apart from the many souvenir shops.

We walked into town tonight and had a mind-bogglingly huge and delicious seafood dinner at the Coal Street Pub. Being far too fat to walk back we took a taxi and had an interesting conversation with our taxi driver. She made a point of telling us that she was Latino, not Native American, and she had been born here after her father had come to work in the coal mines (hence “Coal Street”). Her husband had worked in the uranium mines and perhaps unsurprisingly was no longer alive. She said that the uranium had contaminated the groundwater and a lot of Indians had died as a result.

We have just been out to buy bottled water and will shortly be turning in!