Viva!: A weekend in New Mexico
Justin Dubuisson
Issue date: 4/24/09 Section: Trinity Life
"We set out to conquer New Mexico, but New Mexico fought back." Kaki Talbot pretty much nailed our Easter Weekend in one sentence. To conquer a state, a person must climb it's highest peak and survive. With a three day weekend on hand, we set our eyes on New Mexico's Wheeler Peak.
At an altitude of 13,161 feet above sea level, it didn't seem to be too difficult a task to hike to the peak, but we didn't consider that 1,000 miles of shenanigans could do us in. I'll admit it was a lofty goal, but not impossible. What else did we have to do? Sleep in?
No way. "Go big or go home" became our mantra. This was an adventure if there ever was one, and we were prepared.
First item on the list: adventure hats. You've got to look good if you want to have a good time. Next, a mode of transportation; whatever gets you from A to B in style. Ours was a Toyota Matrix named Bessie with a custom Cow Spot paint job. Finally, an ass kickin' team: friends to split the gas and take shifts driving. That would be Kaki and Laura Kean. Killers. If you don't know them, you're missing out.
Our approach to planning was blunt: "Leave Thursday, 3 p.m. Conquer New Mexico. Return before 8:30 a.m., Monday."
Thus, we left with five jars of peanut butter, five cans of Spaghetti O's, one mountain bike, one unicycle, some warm layers and -
"Laura," Kaki asked in rush hour traffic 45 minutes out, "Did you pack the tent?" Laura smiled, leaned back in her seat and laughed. We didn't turn around. Go big or go home. Tents are for ninnies.
The desert was big and empty. The drive was so exhaustingly slow that when we finally crossed the TX/NM border, my brain was off. Flagged down at a US Border Patrol station, I pulled over. "Our constitutional rights don't apply within fifty miles of the border," Kaki spouted. Good to know. I rolled the window down.
"Hello," the officer said, one hand resting on his gun, "Are you all U.S. citizens?"
I'm a smart-ass by nature, so when auto-pilot is on and filter is off, things like, "I think so" slip out, even when the correct answer is a polite, "Yes, sir."
At an altitude of 13,161 feet above sea level, it didn't seem to be too difficult a task to hike to the peak, but we didn't consider that 1,000 miles of shenanigans could do us in. I'll admit it was a lofty goal, but not impossible. What else did we have to do? Sleep in?
No way. "Go big or go home" became our mantra. This was an adventure if there ever was one, and we were prepared.
First item on the list: adventure hats. You've got to look good if you want to have a good time. Next, a mode of transportation; whatever gets you from A to B in style. Ours was a Toyota Matrix named Bessie with a custom Cow Spot paint job. Finally, an ass kickin' team: friends to split the gas and take shifts driving. That would be Kaki and Laura Kean. Killers. If you don't know them, you're missing out.
Our approach to planning was blunt: "Leave Thursday, 3 p.m. Conquer New Mexico. Return before 8:30 a.m., Monday."
Thus, we left with five jars of peanut butter, five cans of Spaghetti O's, one mountain bike, one unicycle, some warm layers and -
"Laura," Kaki asked in rush hour traffic 45 minutes out, "Did you pack the tent?" Laura smiled, leaned back in her seat and laughed. We didn't turn around. Go big or go home. Tents are for ninnies.
The desert was big and empty. The drive was so exhaustingly slow that when we finally crossed the TX/NM border, my brain was off. Flagged down at a US Border Patrol station, I pulled over. "Our constitutional rights don't apply within fifty miles of the border," Kaki spouted. Good to know. I rolled the window down.
"Hello," the officer said, one hand resting on his gun, "Are you all U.S. citizens?"
I'm a smart-ass by nature, so when auto-pilot is on and filter is off, things like, "I think so" slip out, even when the correct answer is a polite, "Yes, sir."
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