26.) Surplus of Douche Bags and Eagles......And a Ghost Ranch.....

     I venture on, piloting the Jeep through the northern New Mexico mountains. 41 degrees at the summit, 58 when I reach the bottom. On and on I drive.  I smile as I pass a traffic stop because the offender is driving a bright yellow Corvette with 2 think black stripes from nose to tail.  The quintessential douche-mobile.  My grin widens when I see the drivers skin tight red t-shirt and white sunglasses.  If you ever really wanna look like a douche bag get yourself some white sunglasses.  I pass a sign that makes me chuckle. ‘Double Eagles 2’ airport. Double eagles 2!? Ha! Thats at least 4 eagles already…thats a lot.  
The flat desert is interrupted by more of the red rock cliffs.  They loom on the horizon slowly growing as I get closer until they're right on top of me.  The highway leads me through and not long after they disappear in my rearview like they were never there; while in front of me another expanse of desert humbly sighs into existence and stretches to the limits of my vision.
Along the way I stop at a few indian casinos just for bathroom breaks.  Mostly slots, one appeared to be nothing but penny slots. There’s a few lightly populated table games but the indian dealers and the elderly players look equally depressed.  It makes me a little sad and I choose not the linger.
Abiquiu is what I’m looking for.  Abiquiu, New Mexico. I seem to remember a woman referring to it’s beauty as “where you go when you die.” I locate it in my atlas and head in its general direction.  What I find is Ghost Ranch and it doesn’t disappoint. 
At the end of another long dirt track Ghost Ranch is, or used to be some sort of christian retreat or camp. It’s a secluded and tranquil group of buildings and cabins in the middle of the desert used by a number of groups and clubs to host a number of sermons or seminars, or gatherings.  I wander around for a short while but quickly get bored with the camp itself and venture toward the Chimney Rock Trail.
I see the huge ‘chimney’ rock formation before I even reach the trailhead and three miles later I’m right behind its peak enjoying another gorgeous view. This one being capped by grey, overcast skies has a different feel to it.  A sort of drab, muted foreboding that’s hard to explain. At the trail’s summit the rock underfoot is grey, almost white.  In the distance the cliff faces ooze from this off white to tan and orange. To pink through a reddish maroon. It’s all very……Something.  It looks like a storm is heading this way from over the cliffs behind me so I head back down in hopes of avoiding a soggy afternoon.