Gila Cliff Dwellings & The Trail of the Mountain Spirits & It's a BEAR! {{oh my}}

 We'd been very fortunate, weather~wise, for most of the trip and Thursday morning was clear, sunny, and blue skies.  On our way out of town, we stopped at an adobe diner and had a delicious breakfast.  I urged Jerry to get ONE biscuit with gravy rather than a full order, which was two.  At first he regarded me in a not very positive light, then resignedly asked for ONE biscuit and gravy.  After it came, he was glad that he had; as that one biscuit and gravy had two halves {I realize that's par for the course, but often when we are hungry we aren't thinking clearly and overestimate our stomach's capacity}.  It turns out, it was just the right amount for him.

I, on the other hand, ordered stuffed french toast because I can pack away a lot of food and I was hungry.  If you've just read the previous paragraph, you will realize this was perhaps a faux pas in thinking.  But oh no, I really do eat a lot.  I like to eat and I like food, and I like to eat food.  How delightful that can be!

Stuffed french toast was two eggy texas toast slices that were sandwiched around a slab of cream cheese and then topped with warm cherries, whipped cream, and dusted with powered sugar.  Umph, it was so good that just remembering it is causing me to drool all over my keyboard.  There was a group of regulars that were there before we sat down and there when we left.  They were in the next room, at three different tables that were not grouped together.  They were all three elderly, as evidenced by the woman's fluffy white hair that was teased into a gossamer cloud about her head and the gentlemen's lined faces and their stories of years gone by told in exceedingly loud voices.

Our waitress was a gregarious fixture of the establishment, who flitted about filling cups and joining in with the banter that was flying at a pretty fast and furious pace for about fifteen minutes, gaining momentum and volume as until the quips exploded into cackles of mirth that were startling in pitch and sharpness.  For an additional two dollars, our waitress wrapped up my tea mug and sent me on my way with a useful souvenir of our trip.  Not surprisingly, I've forgotten to take a picture of that, altho I did remember to include various pint glasses, postcards, magnets, and other memorabilia.

The night before, I realized that altho Gila Cliff Dwellings is only about 35 miles to the north of Silver City, it would take about two hours to get there.  The drive is part of the Trail of the Mountain of Spirits National Scenic Byway.  The drive, as promised, was truly beautiful.  There were many sharp curves and inclines, revealing broad sweeping views of canyons, clefts, mountains, creeks, rivers, hot springs, and homes tucked here and there.  We were the first visitors of the day, which was nice and peaceful, with a refreshing breeze that set the leaves to rustling.

The ranger at the welcome center had just done a stint in Vicksburg, here in Mississippi.  Then we hopped back in the car and drove a bit farther in, arriving at the small museum and trailhead.  A married couple of rangers awaited us eagerly, pointed the way, voiced warnings and cautions regarding the trail and rattlesnakes, and wished us well.  Jerry took the camera with him and kept his eyes open.  Along the way, he found a lizard sunning himself, striking a pose as tho to say, "this, this is my best side."  When he showed the rangers, they conferred, naming him and pointing out their two dry erase boards of sightings.  One listed various fauna, including the lizard, snake, a few birds, and the dates they were last seen by visitors or rangers.  The other board listed various flora in different scripts, a veritable smorgasbord of wildflowers, trees, grasses, and even a few drawings, one which resembled two stick figures holding hands but was labeled as "{indecipherable squiggle} leaf".

Jerry even saw the rattlesnake, sunning himself on an overhang, his head visible and further down the ledge, his tail draped over the edge.  We didn't get a picture of that, but Jerry described him to the rangers and they remarked that some years, they will only see rattlesnakes at certain times of the month, as the sun sets.  But that this year, all summer long, they saw the rattlers out in numbers, all day, every day, everywhere.  They did say that altho they don't want to alarm their visitors unduly, they do want to caution them to watch their step and heed the "do not leave the path" signs.

There was a cluster of vehicles arriving as we were leaving the park and we thought we had that timed rather well.  As we drove back down part of the Trail of Mountain Spirits, we came around a curve and startled a young black bear crossing the road.  He paused in midstride as Jerry exclaimed "BEAR!" and then the furry guy bolted into the trees and weeds with a speed that surprised Jerry.  It was a treat to catch a glimpse of the beast in his natural habitat.  It gave the day extra sparkle.

We didn't return to Silver City but continued down a different leg of the scenic drive and stopped at a small diner in the back of a convenience store with defunct gas pumps.  The local sheriff was chatting with a lingering group of regulars who were finishing up their specials of the day, of which there were four.  It was a curious mixture of two Mexican dishes and two German dishes.  I had the schnitzel, potato cakes, and potato salad.  They miscalculated and were out of the cabbage, apologizing repeatedly, as tho you simply cannot eat schnitzel and potato cakes without cabbage.  Both cooks came out from the kitchen at one point to visit with the sheriff.  One was the stereotypical pale blonde heavyset germanic woman and the other was the stereotypical dark short compact mexican woman; it was surprising to me that they were sharing a kitchen, as most cooks don't share their domain....of course, that might just be me, stereotyping the profession.

After lunch, we continued on to our next destination, Carlsbad.