As I drive, twisting through mountains and leaning around curves, having turned westward at Hatchita towards Animas on N.M. 9, which then leads to Rodeo and to Portal , Arizona, I bask in the warmth of an autumn day. I am taking a one-day vacation to leisurely revisit the sites of Old West tales in the bootheel of New Mexico . This land has been eagerly explored for God and money by the Spanish, fiercely defended as their homeland by Geronimo and his Apaches, mined for profit and greed by Anglo gold and copper seekers, and researched in earnest by biologists of various specializations. On this sparkling day with its cloudless blue sky and brilliant sun, I approach the Playas turnoff and savor the panoramic view before me.
Mountains rise solidly on the horizon line.
Mountains, mystical as they recede in the distance, their soft lavenders merging with the mist surrounding them, their peaks jutting up to 10,000 feet as they try to touch the sun. Mine is the only car on this two-lane road. Silence reigns, for I drive with no music playing. I prefer my own aloneness and the meditative quiet. The other-worldliness of the landscape contributes to my feelings of timelessness.