Las Vegas, NM

This morning I walked over to the Blue Swallow office to pick up a couple of cups of coffee for Sandy and me.  It seems like a small luxury but the Blue Swallow has a stock pile of actual ceramic coffee mugs.  Going on two weeks of travel and drinking coffee from styrofoam or paper cups, this coffee, out of a glass mug felt like drinking ambrosia!  One of the best things about road trips is getting to meet other people on the road.  “Route 66” is especially rewarding in this regard because so many of the people we met were not only traveling like us, but they were traveling the same path that we are.  The picture below shows fellow travelers in front of their rooms talking and sharing stories.  The Blue Swallow's best assets are owners Rob, Dawn and Marshall.  As Sandy said in an earlier post they woke up one day in Chicago and said “let’s go buy a motel”, and they did.  The comparison of their life in Chicago vs. their life in Tucumcari is completely incomprehensible.  This said, I believe that Rob and Dawn were born to be inn keepers... they simply don’t miss a step.  While Sandy was doing laundry I sat in the lobby, drinking coffee out of the glorious ceramic mug, talking and laughing with Dawn and Rob, Dawn’s father Don and about a dozen other travelers.  Finally, the meeting was adjourned, and we all moved on but Sandy and I will always remember the Blue Swallow.

From the Blue Swallow we drove the “Mother Road” to Las Vegas, NM.  An early alignment of “Route 66” took the northern route through New Mexico passing through Santa Fe.  Later alignments took the more direct route straight to Albuquerque.  We are taking the earlier route mostly because we wanted to visit Santa Fe again.  Along the way we took a side trip to Fort Sumner and the final resting place of the outlaw, Billy the Kid

Billy the Kid was no folk hero.  Born in New York, as a young teenager he headed west, hired on as a gunman in the Lincoln County Range wars and became known as a good hand in a gunfight.  This was not only because he was a good shot, but also because he seemed to have no compunction about killing people.  Being on the losing side of that war and being wanted for the murder of Sheriff Brady he came to the Fort Sumner area, hiding out, and committing more mundane crimes like cattle rustling, with just a little killing thrown in...eventually shot and killed by Sheriff Pat Garrett.  But the story doesn’t stop here.  He was buried in a cemetery here in Fort Sumner and lay peacefully for 70 years.  Then in 1951 someone stole the headstone (it is a very big headstone) and it remained missing for 26 years until it was recovered in Granbury, Texas.  In 1981 the thing was stolen again, this time showing up six days later at Huntington Beach, California.  Now the City of Fort Sumner was getting mad.  They got approval from Governor King for Sheriff Big Jim McBride to retrieve the marker.    This time they embedded the grave marker in concrete and covered the grave itself with concrete.  The grave and tombstone were then caged in an iron cell.  No more escaping for Billy the Kid.

Fort Sumner is also the sight where Navajo Indians had been relocated to.  It was General Sherman from Lancaster, Ohio who arranged for the Navajo to return to their homeland around the four-corners area.  Several years ago a delegation of Navajo came to the Sherman house to show recognition to him for keeping his word.

Sometimes you’re traveling “Route 66” and then this happens.