After Kingman

After Kingman

Kingman, Arizons was my farthest point west for this trip. I still had additional signings in Albuquerque and Amarillo as I started my return trip, but first, a bit of down time in Gallup, New Mexico.
I used to go to an intertribal pow wow in Gallup. I wondered how much might have changed. Of course, the pawn shops selling Indian jewelry and curio stores selling souvenirs still lined the strip, and native Americans still appeared in numbers for a day or two in town. Not much had changed that I could see. Not like some of the places on Highway 40 that had gone from half-deserted mining towns to boomtowns once again as McMansions and new shopping centers blossomed overnight.
I discovered a restaurant in the old section I hadn't been to before, the Eagle Cafe. The sign said it offered lamb stew. Are you familiar with that? It's pretty common in the southwest, but varies a lot from group to group. The Hopi have a version called "nuc qui vi" that has a clear broth. The Navajo use a tomato base broth. Both seem to use hominy corn, which gives the stew a distinctive taste and combines with lamb extremely well. What a treat. I love it.
The tough part about my stay in Gallup centered on New York. Tropical storm Lee was dumping inches of water on ground already saturated by Irene and a generally wet summer. Lesley was reporting the rise of the creek into our backyard and the state of emergency in the area. It was frightening. Much more so for her.
So many people have been devastated by bad weather this year. Everyone seems to be commenting the same way, first it was a hundred year storm, then a five hundred year storm. Is this the new norm? Or, will it be worse next year? Some talk about end times, and others about global warming. I wonder how many of us who write will be including a flood in our next novel?
I once heard that the adventures you talk about most are the ones that scared the hell out of you at the time. My trip was an expected adventure, but not anticipated to be especially frightening. Old places, new faces. Fresh experiences along a route traveled before. A different reason for being on the road, and a set of goals I hadn't any familiarity with, but not terrifying. Sometimes the greater "adventure" can occur at home, watching the creek come up, and rising to meet the challenge. How did all of you fare with this year's storms? Will you be talking about them for years to come? I hope you fared well.