Off to Branson…

I’m not at all sure about going to Branson. But after planning this trip for six months and now actually being on the road (in Ruidoso, as I write this), I guess we’re pretty committed to it. Or will be committed after we finish the trip!

Our trip is Tucson to Branson; to Victoria, BC; to Kelowna, BC; to Banff, AB; to Park City via Yellowstone Natl Park; to Las Vegas (we have so many Marriott points we’re splurging on a suite in one of the big fancy Marriotts (and yes, I know, it’s going to be hot, HOT, HOTTER in Las Vegas in July); and home.

We are driving. Some of my friends say, in tones of total incredulity, “You’re DRIVING???!!!” followed almost immediately by “Why?” Why, indeed, are we driving 5853 miles (in 93 HOURS of driving time, according to googlemaps.com)? Perhaps a better question is why NOT drive? The scenery will be spectacular, the company is pretty good (we have been married for over 51 years), and who in their right mind wants to fly anywhere? Long lines, closer contact with strangers than I had on dates in my younger years, bad food, missed connections, AND: no ability to change our plans at the last minute. ‘Nuff said?

The last time we were in Ruidoso was about 50 years ago, in the winter. Randy and I learned to ski here. On skis that were so tall that I could barely reach the top of the ski—and I’m 5’8” tall—205cm (6’ 8”)! Randy skied on 210cm (6’ 10.5”) skis Those skis were gigantic! The other thing we learned, on our way back to Big Spring where Randy was in US Air Force pilot training, was that the New Mexico police are out to get you! Do not, under any circumstances, drive through Tatum, NM! I passed a cop (I was driving a VW bug, mind you). NOBODY passes a cop unless you are CERTAIN you are legal. Well, he thought otherwise, pulled me over, told me to go to Tatum posthaste, no delays. We got to Tatum and the JP (Justice of the Peace, a misnomer if I ever heard one) said that unless Randy could post bail (the cop said I passed on a solid line), I was spending the night in jail! 

We had about $3 in cash so Randy prevailed on a gas station owner—well, actually his wife—to give him the money and charge the only credit card we owned, a Shell gas card, for a “battery.” So I got bailed out and we have never been back. And we’re only back to Ruidoso, never to Tatum!

Today we drove up to Ski Apache to try to relive our younger, more athletic years. We didn’t remember a thing and of course the ski area is completely different. For starters, no rope tows! That’s all we remember, going up the mountain on six-foot skis using a rope tow!

Tomorrow, Amarillo, TX, where we once (but not again) rode horseback in Palo Duro canyon. We’ll spend the morning in Ruidoso having breakfast and touring some art galleries before starting the 4–5 hour drive to Amarillo.

So WHY are we going to Branson? Because it is central and Randy has organized a reunion of his pilot training class from 1963. He was in class 63-H, started June 1, 1962 and finished June 18, 1963, 55 weeks of hell, fun, and panic. We were among the few who were married (we married on May 12, 1962 and spent our honeymoon driving to his first duty station in the Air Force. Little did we know then what an impact going to pilot training would have on our lives!

I worked in Big Spring, where Randy and the other guys (no women pilots in those days!) were in pilot training, in a hospital that was so small that there  were only six RNs to staff two medical/surgical units, delivery, and ER. When I worked, I was the only RN in the hospital. It was really an experience for a brand new, just graduated RN! And I loved it. And I loved the hospital and the woman who hired me, Bea Weaver. If anybody knows Bea Weaver in Big Spring, tell her I remember her fondly.

Our "home" in Ruidoso, the Shadow Mountain Cabins

Much like Mt. Lemmon, this area was devastated by a fire recently.

Not the ski area we remember, but still beautiful in spite of the fire.