I have been on hiatus recently. As real life has unfolded on those important to me, I considered suspending my life’s work of travelling about making sarcastic comments.  After much rumination I decided that I am, in fact, what I am and, for better or worse, life, does go on. So, I sought the quantum of solace in the friendliest faces within 500 miles – I drove to Albuquerque to meet up with the Woods. Irby, Laura and (counting children, pets, extended family and stray houseguests) 8 or 9 others welcomed me into their hearts and/or homes.  A much needed break from the road.  It was so warm and homey. Then Laura tried to kill me.

As an itinerant spectator,  I seek out that which is unique. Laura Wood graciously offered to show me around town. I got to see the  Crystal Palace (the motel where Windy Wendy did her thing in “Breaking Bad”). I got to see old town ABQ, and the Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe – the smallest privately owned Church (whatever that means) in the known New Mexico. (pic related)

She got me drunk at the High Noon Saloon, among other things. But, first…

Where it all went to hell is when she asked me what I wanted to see.

Well, as the three fervent followers of my adventures could tell you (that’s me, Trixie,  and you, dear reader) I am a solo adventurer.  However, there is one mission so cloaked in mystery and potential danger that I thought it best to employ a local Sherpa-type guide – Laura – to lead the way.

My destination was Hidden Mountain in Los Lunas, NM and the much-touted Mystery Stone therein.

Because people always need to argue, the Mystery Stone is highly controversial. It was discovered in the 1880s inscribed with the decalogue (10 Commandments) in some kind of Phoenician/Hebrew/Greek amalgam thing.

The controversy comes in as some argue that it is living proof (living? Really? It is a rock.) that the lost tribe of Israel wandered their asses through America during what is obviously, pre-Columbian times, while opponents say, “Come on! You call that art? My 5 year old coulda done that!”

Tommy pauses to get his cape and save the day.

As with any adventure worth embarking, this one began at the county landfill. The way was blocked to prevent the faint of heart from proceeding by a narrow iron passage (pic related)

I climbed over.

I researched the location of the Mystery Stone until I lost service (pretty much right away). But, read enough to know that the way was marked with ominous arrows (pic related)

pointing the way.

I vaguely recall reading that if we achieved the summit of Hidden Mountain we had gone way, WAY too far, but at least could observe ancient encampments.

The trouble came when my inner ear thing acted up and I couldn’t tell what “straight” was according to the arrow and was forced to make a choice (pic related)

Against my Sherpa’s advice, I chose to go left to find the Mystery Stone.

In my defense,  I wasn’t thinking straight because I had just found evidence of the legendary Bigfoot symmetrical rock stacking. (pic related)

No human could stack rocks like that

I went here…

elevation – 8,000 ft

Now, I know what you’re thinking – Walking straight up a mountain isn’t so bad, right?

Right. Clearly it wasn’t difficult. I mean, my guide, a direct decendent of Legolas the Elf (as evidenced by footfalls so light that they wouldn’t leave prints even in freshly fallen snow) just bounded right up without effort at about the same speed as swarming locusts.  I followed behind with my nose no more than 14 inches from the path and my tongue lightly bobbing off of my shoes.

At least she had the decency to pretend to need to stop to catch her breath every minute or so (which wasn’t often enough for me). Once she even said in a sing songy tone (and this is a quote), “Whew.” I replied in kind with a sound you might expect from someone who is gargling with sandpaper.

Once we achieved the summit we scurried about looking for the damn blasted rock. Our inability to find it caused a member of our party (me) to suggest that it was probably blown away by the incessant fucking wind. After all, it only weighed 80 tons – no match for the blast that was robbing me of my precious core heat and trying to steal my hat (purple porkpie) in the process.

Once on top of the mountain I discovered that only the curve of the earth itself could block celly service.  I Googled for pointers and discovered that we are supposed to seek a permit and pay $25 each for the privilege of looking at this rock (pic related)

Oops!

Though the spirit remained willing while the body was spongy, aching and bruised, I decided that it was time to descend humiliatingly unsuccessful.

I sought counsel from my guide. While I dont remember her exact words of encouragement, they were something like this,

“You know, walking down a mountain is WAY fucking harder than walking up. You’ll probably die. Follow me.”

And, while we may not have discovered the Mystery Stone, we had discovered, I decided, fossilized,  feathered dragon eggs (pic related)

I wasn’t leaving with nothing

Then I got hungry and wondered if this fossilized pumpkin pie was still any good…

When I decided to sit down to think about it, I realized that my chosen cushion was the elusive Mystery Stone… (pic related)

Ta Da!

Some asshole had vandalized the first line…which, I guess if you think about it was vandalization also. I dunno. Someone scratches a rock and it is history. Someone else scratches the same rock and they are a criminal. Go figure.

All in all, it was a very good day.

I love you, Trixie!