New Mexico, Land of Enchantment

I left Gallup reasonably early and had an uneventful ride to Southeastern New Mexico where I would meet up with my friend, Greg. He suggested I stop off at the Owl Bar and Cafe in San Antonio, New Mexico, which is one of those roadside burger joints that everyone who grew up within 200 miles knows about but anyone else would just blow right by. It was a memorable enough experience that I bought a t-shirt (yes, that memorable).

Then it was onward. Leaving San Antonio I was driving through the empty desert, even passing the trinity site where they first exploded an atomic bomb. I could see clouds in the distance and it was clearing raining up there but I was hoping that I wouldn't be driving through that weather. I would follow the road and it would wind so that I was facing toward the rain clouds which would raise my anxiety then it would wind so that I was driving away from the rain clouds which would calm me down. Eventually, I could no longer avoid the rain and it hit me on and off for the last 50 miles or so. To be honest the rain wasn't as annoying as the cross wind that was blowing and both, in combination, really made the last part of the ride pretty miserable.

Now here I was driving in this flat desert land, surrounded by brown, dead grass, wind gusting and rain drizzling down and about 20 miles from Greg's ranch and all I could wonder is "why the hell does he own a ranch in the middle of this horrible climate?" Well I would get my answer soon enough. He told me not to go to the ranch first, that he would meet me "in town" which meant the town of Ruidoso. After I made the turn onto the 15 mile road to Ruidoso, I started climbing in elevation and the dead brown vegetation turned into lush green forest. By the time I got to Ruidoso, it reminded me of a Colorado ski town in the summer, TONS of businesses, restaurants and winding roads through hills of pine trees. If you would have told me that was just beyond the dead landscape I just left, there is no way I would have believed you, but sure enough it's like Aspen right there!

So I met up with Greg, and we eventually wound up going back to the ranch, which is an actual ranch - they have many square miles and raise cattle on the land. The guy that runs the ranch, Jimmy, is an actual cowboy. When you turn off the highway, it's about 2 miles down a dirt road to the house, a somewhat treacherous dirt road on a motorcycle - but I made it. The ranch is called the "G-F" ranch, pronounced "G bar F" - named for the brand on the cattle of the ranch and Greg's grandfather and founder of the ranch, whose initials were G.F. Being on the ranch was quite cool, so much open space and so many cool little things that you can do, I can totally understand the draw of living in the wide open spaces.

Now for the good part....



In figuring out what to do for the night Greg said there were about 3 bars in Ruidoso, all within a block of each other. One, called Quarters and not very interesting, another, called "Coyote's" which was more like something you might find near any college campus had loud hip-hop and dancing and the third was a country bar, called Win, Place & Show or just "whips" for short (somehow, in spoken language what should be "WPS" is pronounced "whips"). Of course, to get the real flavor of New Mexico we wanted to go to the country bar, which Greg had been to before and said was quite a riot, and it was. There was a country band and people two-stepping across the dance floor, you could tell the younger guys that just wished they were real cowboys and the older guys who had obviously spent a lot of time steering cattle. And we were of course dressed for the part in cowboy hats and cowboy snap up shirts - quite convincing as we would later learn.

So we had a couple beers there, enjoyed our time, but Greg had a friend and Coyote's so we headed down there to say hi, still in full cowboy gear of course. After we'd been there a half hour or so, I'm standing there drinking a beer when an average looking guy in a baseball cap and run-of-the-mill American Eagle striped polo comes up to me and asks in a Texas drawl:

"Have you ever ridden a horse?"
I replied "Once, when I was 12"
He turns away in disappointment, but then turns back and asks:
"Have you ever steered any cattle?"
Laughing, I replied "no"
He continues, "What about your buddy, has he ever steered any cattle?"
I honestly didn't know if he ever had, so I replied saying "I don't know"
Prying further he says "Well, is he a real cowboy?"
Thinking I might be able to make a case here I said, "He owns a ranch outside of town"
"Well, I know your friend isn't a cowboy, you know how I know?"
"nope"
"He left his hat on a chair to go dancing, real cowboys would never, NEVER leave their hat"
Before I could respond he says "you guys lost me twenty bucks"
I responded quite shocked "what?"
"I bet my friend over there that you and your buddy were real cowboys, but you aren't and now I owe him twenty bucks"
Resisting the urge to make fun of him for losing the bet, I just kind of shrug my shoulders, not sure what to tell him.
He says, "where are you from?"
Thinking San Francisco wasn't the right answer I say "Michigan" - but that garnered the same look of disappointment that I thought San Francisco would have gotten so I figure I can't let this guy down any more and I explain to him that I'm riding my motorcycle across the country and I've been living in San Francisco for the last 3 years.

I don't think when he left for the bar that night he thought he was going to lose $20 on a non-cowboy, Michigan-transplant from San Francisco. But he did.

He went on to explain to me that he and his buddy dress the way they do when they come out to the bar because when they wear cowboy hats they get in fights, to which I told him something I was more sure of than anything else: "I'm not getting in a fight tonight."

He eventually went back to talk to his friend and I had perhaps the best story of the trip so far.