Day 15: Window Rock to Kayenta

Up and breakfast.  Everyone in the hotel breakfast room was a Native American bar us.  Fed and Coffee'd we headed a mile or so up the road to see the Window Rock after which the town was named.

At its base was the  Navajo Code Talkers Statue.  The Code Talkers where Navajo Marines, whose language was used as a unique and cryptic tactical communications code in battle.

 

Into Ganado, and into the Hubbell Trading Post.  You can things from a tin of spam to a $450 Navajo Rug.  We bought a small pot of ointment good for aches and paints which we'll rub on Jane's elbow.

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Onto I-95 North towards Kayenta.  We could see Monument Valley in the distance.  Then there was the great plan to travel thirty miles West to go and a town called Pinon.  We'd seen Pinon Coffee advertised in a few places, but didn't know anything about the town.  To be honest the fact that every single sign on the way was covered in so much graffiti that you couldn't read it should have been a warning.  We ploughed on.  Getting there we pulled into the parking lot, looking around - looked at each other - turned the car around and started to make the thirty mile journey back to where we'd come from.

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We got to our hotel which is about twenty miles from Monument Valley which we'll hit first thing tomorrow.

Day 14: Albuquerque to Window Rock (Arizona)

Today we set off for Window Rock (or, Tségháhoodzání in Navajo).   This takes us into a fourth state.  We'd only planned on three.  But, Arizona here we come.  The journey takes us through Gallup (murder capital of New Mexico)  which we know sits on Route 66 as we stayed there last year. 

We saw a sign for Route 66 so came off the highway and started on down it before...  A u-turn and so back onto the highway we went.

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After a short while we saw a second sign at Los Lunas, so again we pulled off the highway and started down Route 66.  Look away now if you don't want to see how that panned out

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Third time lucky.  We ended up in Mesita (Population 804, just 10.7 square miles in size and a quarter of the residents living under the poverty line).  A sign on the approach stated a bunch of rules including; No Photography, No Sketching, No Tape recording.  

The little town consisted of buildings in various states of repair, but with three to four cars outside each.  In the yards of most houses were small round adobe ovens called a 'Horno'.

Onwards we came across a big rock.  I know.  Another big rock.  Wedged into a gap was a framed photo of a couple on a bike containing the text; "Klaus Dorrer 30.04.1956 - 08.03.2012.  Aalen, Germany."

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Route 66 continued on through Laguna and we started to recognise places from last year.

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Ever onwards and into Budville. 

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Crime along Route 66 back in the day was actually pretty rare. It wasn’t because times were better then than now or people themselves were better and had more regard for their fellow human beings; at least to some degree it was because in most towns along the Mother Road, the only way into and out of town was Route 66. With no other way to get out of town and nowhere to hide in the small towns, criminals just didn’t stand a chance of getting away with much. In 1967 though, a crime was committed in Budville, New Mexico that shocked locals and travelers alike.

Budville was named after “Bud” Rice who, beginning in 1928 with his wife Flossie, built and operated a gas station, garage, grocery store, post office, and wrecker service on Route 66 west of Rio Puerco out in the middle of nowhere. He also sold bus tickets, owned the local State Motor Vehicle Department concession, and got himself elected Justice of the Peace. He liked to claim he was “The Law West of Rio Puerco” and did not hesitate to use this position to increase his business dealings. The fines he charged speeders caught in his speed trap were extraordinarily onerous and he antagonized other wrecker services by passing a law which declared all wrecks east of the Rio Puerco were the domain of Albuquerque, all those west of the Rio Puerco were his and those on the bridge belonged to whomever got there first.

Although he had a kind, generous side for kids (he often bought shoes in the winter for the poor kids who lived in the area), he was well-known for being testy with most people. He often stated to anyone that would listen that he didn’t care if anyone liked him or not. One time a traveler complained about the price Bud charged for putting a new fan belt in his car. Bud simply took out his large pocket knife and cut the new belt off. When the driver complained again and asked, “What do I do now?” Bud told him he should move his car across the street unless he wanted to pay storage charges to his garage. The motorist pushed his car across the street and arranged for a friend to bring him a new belt which he installed himself the next day. Before he left though, he had to pay Bud for parking his car overnight since Bud also owned the property across the street from the garage.

On the night of November 18, 1967, after 39 years in business, Bud, Flossie, Blanche Brown, an 82-year-old retired school teacher who worked part-time at the trading post, and another employee were getting ready to close the store when a desperado entered to rob them. Before it was over, Bud and Blanche lay on the floor dead. The gunman then ran out the door and disappeared, leaving Flossie screaming, but unhurt and the other employee hiding in the bathroom. It was a gruesome scene and the site soon was being called, “Bloodville.”

State authorities soon arrested a young sailor who had been seen hitch-hiking in the area when Flossie identified him as the killer in a line-up. In spite of the ID by Flossie, there was no other evidence which pointed to him and indeed, there were a number of people who said they had been with him or seen the sailor in a location miles from the scene of the crime at the time it happened. He was released for lack of evidence and the crime went unsolved for several years.

The police eventually caught a break when 3 criminals agreed to tell what they knew about the Budville murders in exchange for lighter sentences for crimes they had been convicted of. They all fingered a young drifter by the name of Billy Ray White, a man with a long criminal history, and provided numerous items of proof. Eventually, after the FBI placed Billy Ray on their 10 Most Wanted list, he was found, apprehended and stood trial.

Flossie this time identified Billy Ray as the killer and with the proof presented, it seemed sure that the accused would be convicted and justice would be served. However, the defense lawyer made sure Billy Ray was clean-shaven, wore a nice suit and looked nothing like the dirty, scroungy individual he had been when the crime was committed. In fact, he cleaned up so well he looked just like one of the clean-cut, innocent young high-school boys who attended the trial as part of their civics class. The defense pointed accusing fingers at a multitude of possible scenarios to throw doubt into the juror’s minds. Did Flossie have something to do with the crime? After all, she did get married again an embarrassingly short time after her husband was murdered, and to a convicted felon at that! And why did the murderer leave her standing there alive and unharmed instead of killing her too? And if she was mistaken about the sailor she first identified, couldn’t she be mistaken this time too? And what about a possible hit being placed on Bud by rival tow truck drivers? And just a few days before he was murdered, Bud testified in a Texas drug trial - could he have been hit because of that?

Less than 2 hours after beginning deliberations, the jury returned with a verdict of “Not Guilty” and Billy Ray White walked out a free man. Officially, the crime has never been solved, but Billy Ray was later convicted of robbery and murder in a small store in Louisiana, just like Budville. On June 8, 1974, he died an apparent suicide in a Louisiana State Prison after supposedly confessing to his cell mate that he did indeed commit the crime in Budville.

Abandoned ruins around Budville
After the murders, Flossie and her new husband continued to operate the businesses in Budville until he was killed in a fight in 1973, dying just 3 feet from where Bud had died in 1967. Flossie married for a 3rd time and passed away of natural causes in 1994. After 66 years in business, the Budville Trading Post finally closed.

After being sold, re-opened as the Budville Trading Company and closed again, the building today is probably one of the most photographed landmarks of Route 66 in New Mexico. Standing about 30 feet from the highway shoulder, it is just an abandoned, 1-story, white cement-block building with a large non-functioning neon sign in front. Its only function now is to serve as a fascinating reminder of one of the legends of Route 66.
— http://1dustytrack.blogspot.com/2012/12/route-66-sad-story-of-budville.html

Soon we were into San Fidel.  It has a pleasing sign saying; "Geezerville".  I've no idea why.

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Into Grants there were loads of great old, rusting signs to photograph. 

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Nestled between a Sonic Burger and a McDonalds was the 1st Street Cafe.  A no-brainer.  A father was arm-wresting his son inside.

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On the door of the cafe was a sign saying; "Guns are welcome on the premises. Please keep all weapons holstered unless a need arises.  In such a case, judicious marksmanship is appreciated."  I went to ask the owner if this was serious, or a joke.  She said that a guy had come into the cafe and put his gun on a table.  New Mexico is open carry so they couldn't ban guns, but the sign seemed to the best way to tell people they could bring guns in but to be careful.  While I was asking about this a customer inserted himself into the conversation.  He acted as a good example of how it's pretty impossible to have a nuanced conversation about gun control and legislation with an American who loves guns.  The word liberal was bandied about a lot.  I've been entirely sure what liberal means when used by certain Americans.  To him, it meant "people who hate guns and hate successful people."  By "successful people" I took it to mean Capitalism versus Socialism.  We shook hands and no one got shot.  Jane said that during the chat everyone else left the place, but I'm sure that was a coincidence.

The more we drove the more things we recognised from last year's trip.  Passing the small shop in Bluewater Village we chatted to the owner that we remembered from last time.  Jane bought a small butterly coaster.

Back on the road, at Continental Divide, we had to rejoin the I-40 and made good progress to our hotel at Window Rock

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Day 6: Monticello & Rocks

A long lie in and since we have a washing machine and dryer we put some clothes through.  The Mormon Temple looked quite pleasing in the early (ish) morning light.

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Lunch was at the Peace Tree Juice Cafe.  Jane bought a bracelet.  I didn't.  I do still need to find a stupid holiday hat though and time is ticking.

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Back home for more loafing about and then out to see some rocks with names.  First, just off  U.S. Route 191 is Church Rock.  If you remember the Home of Truth cult and the items we saw belonging to its founder Marie Ogden.  Well, Marie Ogden thought the Church Rock was the centre of the spiritual universe. 

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From the Church Rock we drove to the Newspaper Rock (another day - another rock).  On the way we drove past some of the remains of the Home of Truth.  You can't roam around as it's on private property but you can see some from the road.

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Newspaper Rock is 200-square-foot and contains many petroglyphs showing human, animal, material and abstract forms.   The petroglyphs were made around 2,000 years ago, left by people from the Archaic, Anasazi, Fremont, Navajo, Anglo, and Pueblo cultures.  In Navajo the rock is called "Tse' Hone'" which translates to a rock that tells a story.

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