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OLD AGE IS NOT FOR SISSIES

NOTHING IN LIFE IS TO BE FEARED

A Tale of Two Andalusian Villages: Whitewashed Frigiliana and Coastal Nerja

by Filed Under: Travel Leave a Comment

Today, it was a tale of two cities.

The first we visited, Frigiliani, was once a Roman village. It reminded me of Santorini, but without the volcanic crater.

All its buildings are painted white, but the individuality was expressed in their front doors. They do have to get special permission, though, to paint it yellow.

What a great walking village. We strolled for some time up and down its narrow winding streets.

Screenshot

We also did some shopping.

Screenshot

And it was a great morning.

Next, we drove to Nerja and visited its most famous attraction, the Nerja cave.

In this cave there are Paleolithic drawings of animals believed to be done by Neanderthal people over 42,000 years ago.

After climbing up and down over 500 steps,

we ate lunch in the village of Nerja. It was almost 3 PM. At the south end of the town is the balcony of Europe, which is actually a cliff on the Mediterranean sea.

with beautiful views

in both directions!

Four Days in Málaga: Alcazaba Views, Old Town Wanders, and the Soul of Semana Santa

by Filed Under: Travel

Greetings from Malaga, Spain. I’m taking a holiday with my oldest daughter for some much needed R&R! Because I love history and different cultures, we are in Spain. I’ll share what I see, but this was the view from our plane at arrival. We are in a mountainous area.

We are in southern Spain, where the Moors invaded and stayed over 700 years. They weren’t completely routed until 1492 by King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. Yes, about the same time Christopher Columbus got to the New World.

What makes this area so interesting were all the invasions. There were Phoenicians, Romans, Visigoths, Moors, and several other peoples in between. Each stayed a while and left their mark.

We spent four days in Malaga. In those four days we saw a Roman Theater.

But notice what was above the theater. That is a Moorish fortress. We visited it, too.

So Malaga delivers a story-rich atmosphere where you can see history side-by-side throughout the city.

Malaga is a walking city where many of its downtown streets are closed to autos. Jamie and I grew to love the 2-3 hour siesta period when everything closed down except the bars and restaurants.

Lunch is late, around 2 to 3 pm. People linger at their tables, around 1.5 to 2 hours. They talk, and I see less people on their communication devices.

Dinner is 8 to 9 pm or later. This tour that we booked through Collette usually doesn’t begin daily until 9 am. It is a different life here.

I loved their market.

We spent one day touring the 11th century Moorish fortress called the Alcazaba. We had great views of the city below.

The outside of Moorish buildings are rather plain but the beauty and pageantry are inside. Alcazaba means citadel, and it was built on a hill in the center of town.

Inside are individual rooms, palaces, and courtyards.


On the way back to our hotel we learned about the city’s holy week, which they just had. It is called the Semana Santa. Here’s a short film on the one here in Malaga.


https://youtu.be/N-EzhFOI5XU?is=wjMBC2VD9hkNOe5j

Next, we visited a building where one of these thrones is kept.

Malaga was a great visit.

Why the Alhambra Feels Like the Forbidden City: A Surprising Connection Across Cultures

by Filed Under: Travel

“How charmed was I with this fairy palace! Everything here appeared as if just raised from the ground… and yet centuries had passed away.”—“Tales of the Alhambra by Washington Irving”

Irving’s writing blends history with a romantic, almost dreamlike atmosphere. He sees the Alhambra not just as architecture, but as a living memory of a vanished world. From the outside, though, it is not impressive. Once inside, though, that changes.

The Alhambra in Spain reminds me of The Forbidden City in China. They feel similar because both were designed as enclosed royal worlds, where power is expressed through ordered space,


controlled movement,

and rich decoration.

Both are a mix of fortress,

palaces,

and an inner city.

“The silent and deserted courts… the fountains murmuring in the midst of solitude… all conjure up visions of the past.”—Washington Irving

Each pathway lead you through courtyards,

halls,

and gardens.

This is a gardener’s paradise.

The Moors were from places that lacked water and vegetation. Here they could have both and did so with unbridled energy.

Plus, there is symmetry and balance that is turned inward,

focusing beauty inside its walls, integrating nature with water, light, and gardens.

It creates a sense of harmony and paradise.

The Alhambra and The Forbidden City differ in styles. The Islamic geometric and calligraphic artistry versus the Chinese use of bold color, symbolism, and imperial image.

Yet, they feel surprisingly connected.

Tracing the Old Magnolia Road: A Forgotten Route Through Georgia and Florida

by Filed Under: Following Old Trails, Palmetto Pioneers, Travel

I recently spent some time researching aa road known as the Old Magnolia Road. I had tried to locate it before while working on my Palmetto Pioneers series. In the book, I suggested that the road may have passed east of Metcalf, Georgia, before crossing into Florida. As it turns out, I was wrong.

A few weeks ago, I found a document tucked away in the Keystone Genealogical Library in Monticello, Florida. The author is unknown, but the document suggested the road actually runs west of Metcalf. So a few weeks ago, Chuck and I set out to follow those directions—and this time, we found it.

What is the Old Magnolia Road?

Long ago, there were no highways or railroads like today. There were Indian footpaths, but not much else. People needed roads to move crops and supplies by wagons. The Old Magnolia Road was an early travel and trade route in south Georgia and north Florida. It was a dirt road used in the early 1800s.

It connected inland farms to the river port town of Magnolia on the St. Marks River. Farmers and planters used the road to haul their goods, especially cotton, to be shipped out by boat to markets elsewhere.

Starting in Thomasville

Chuck and I began in Thomasville, where Magnolia Street crosses South Hansell Street. From there, Magnolia Street becomes the Old Magnolia Road as it heads south into the Red Hills.

The Red Hills region forms a triangle between Thomasville, Monticello, and Tallahassee. It is known for its rolling red clay hills and historic plantations. The drive is beautiful, but before long, the road meets Metcalf Road just south of Thomasville.

At first, I assumed Metcalf Road had been built on top of the Old Magnolia Road. Once again, I was mistaken. The old road actually slips off west into the woods, turning south and running roughly parallel to Metcalf Road.

Finding the Road Near Metcalf

Because much of this land is privately owned, the road disappears for a time. It becomes visible again where it crosses Beachton Road, a little more than a mile west of Metcalf. That crossing is still easy to spot.

Old Magnolia Road, running north from the Metcalf/Beachton Road

If you look on satellite view in Google Maps, you can trace the path of the old road back toward Metcalf Road. The crossing is near 2249 Metcalf/Beachton Road west of Metcalf, Georgia.

From there, you can try to follow the road south on the map, but it becomes difficult to track as it nears the Florida line. Again, this is posted land. No trespassing.

Old Magnolia Road running south from the Metcalf/Beachton Road

The Old Coffee Road Connection

Before crossing into Florida, the Old Magnolia Road meets another historic route—the Old Coffee Road, one of the earliest roads in south Georgia.

You can find this crossing by driving south from Metcalf on Metcalf Road for a little over two miles. There, you’ll see a closed road branching off. It forks on both sides of the main road but is gated and on private land.

The Old Coffee Road running West from the Metcalf Road

This is the Old Coffee Road. At some point, it joins the Old Magnolia Road, and from there, the Magnolia Road appears to follow the older route.

The Old Coffee Road running east from the Metcalf Road

Crossing into Florida

The exact point where the Old Magnolia Road crosses the Georgia–Florida line is unclear. However, it becomes visible again where it crosses T. S. Green Road.

To find it drive about four miles south, turn left onto T. S. Green Road, and take the first dirt road on the right.

The Old Magnolia Road running south from the TS Green Road

This is the Old Magnolia Road again, and it is well worth the drive.

Driving the canopied Old Magnolia Road between the TS Green Road & US 90, Mahan Drive.

The Duelling Oak

As you follow this “old road” stretch, you’ll come to a large oak tree standing in the middle of the road. This is the Duelling Oak, also called the Ring Oak.

Before dueling was outlawed, men met here to settle disputes. One of the last duels fought here was the famous illegal Reid–Alston duel—a small but fascinating piece of Florida history. Google it!

Toward Magnolia

From here, the road continues south toward the old river port town of Magnolia, near the St. Marks River.

To follow it:

  • Cross US 90, where the road becomes State Road 59
  • Continue under I-10 to the town of Lloyd
  • Turn right onto the Lloyd/Capitola Road (another scenic road)
  • Continue to Chaires Cross Road and turn left
  • Cross US 27, where the road becomes Old Plank Road (still part of the Old Magnolia Road)
  • Follow this road south past the Natural Bridge Battlefield area until it turns into a sandy dirt road.

Follow this road south past the Natural Bridge Battlefield area until it turns into a sandy dirt road.

Magnolia Springs and the Lost Town

A few miles farther, you’ll see the old sulfuric Magnolia Springs on your left. Just north of the springs once stood the town of Magnolia, a busy river port on the St. Marks River.

Today, very little remains—only an old cemetery, but the land is privately owned. Again, no trespassing!

At its peak, this road was vital. Farmers from south Georgia and north Florida used it to haul cotton to Magnolia, on which 30,000 to 40,000 bales were shipped each year.

When Magnolia Faded

Magnolia’s decline came with the railroad. A mule-drawn wagon railroad was built from Tallahassee to Port Leon, making transport easier and faster. The third railroad built in the US and Florida’s first.

In response, the people of Magnolia tried to compete by laying wooden planks along parts of the road—creating what became known as the Old Plank Road. But it wasn’t enough.

The railroad won, and Magnolia slowly faded into a ghost town.

*One can also find the document I used on a webpage. Ed Cone may be the author. You can find it here.

A Journey to Virginia’s Northern Neck — and a Walk Through Our Own History

by Filed Under: Following Old Trails, Genealogy, Travel

My sister and I just returned from a trip to the Northern Neck of Virginia.

Most of you are probably wondering. Where in the world is that?

Until recently, I might have asked the same question.

Where Is the Northern Neck?

The Northern Neck is a long, tapering peninsula in eastern Virginia, shaped entirely by water. It is bordered by two broad tidal rivers, the Potomac River to the north and the Rappahannock River to the south, both flowing eastward into the Chesapeake Bay.

Screenshot

The land is gently rolling, not mountainous. Low bluffs overlook wide marshes. Pine and oak forests stretch inland. Creeks and inlets lace the shoreline. Herons lift from the reeds. Bald eagles and osprey circle overhead. Working farms sit beside colonial-era churches and family cemeteries that have watched centuries pass.

It is quiet there. Spacious. Unhurried.

The tides still seem to set the rhythm of life.

What Is There Today?

The Northern Neck remains rural and lightly developed. Small towns and historic villages are connected by winding two-lane roads. Fishing, crabbing, and oystering are not museum demonstrations. They are still livelihoods.

Large portions of shoreline remain untouched by modern sprawl, something increasingly rare along the East Coast. In many places, it feels as if the 18th century never fully left.

And that’s part of its magic.

Why It Matters

For such a quiet corner of America, the Northern Neck has an outsized place in our nation’s story.

It is the birthplace of George Washington, born at Pope’s Creek in Westmoreland County. It is also home ground for:

An extraordinary concentration of leadership emerged from this slender peninsula.

Why?

Because the rivers were the highways of their day. Wealthy landholding families had access to education, transatlantic trade, and political discourse flowing in from the Atlantic world. From that environment came men accustomed to governance, debate, and responsibility.

Today, Virginia is marking America’s 250th anniversary with the motto: “America — Made in Virginia.” After walking those shores, it is hard to argue otherwise.

Why We Went

We came because we believed the 250th anniversary of our nation’s founding was reason enough to visit where it began.

But we also came for something more personal.

In the 1600s, our ancestor William R. Wroe settled in this very region. He is my eighth great-grandfather, a merchant from Lancashire, England. He married Judith Brown, who was born in the Virginia colony. Her grandfather, Henry Brooks, purchased land on the Neck directly from the crown, land that would eventually pass through descendants and be sold to a family named Washington.

Yes! That Washington.

That land became Pope’s Creek, the birthplace of George Washington.

Our “25 seconds of fame” is recorded on a kiosk at the George Washington Birthplace National Monument. My sister and I stood there, took our picture beside it, and quietly let that sink in.

We did not know any of this while my father was alive. It was only through DNA testing of my father’s brother — and connecting with Roe descendants from William Wroe’s son Benjamin — that the story came together.

John Wroe, the eldest son and our direct ancestor, later changed the spelling of his name to Roe. From Virginia, he moved his family to Pendleton, South Carolina. In 1832 they relocated to North Georgia. In 1920, my grandfather Roe moved from North Georgia to South Georgia, married my grandmother, and eventually settled in Monticello, Florida — my hometown.

From the Northern Neck… to Florida.

From colonial Virginia… to us.

A Mason Connection

There is one more thread.

After his first wife died, William Wroe married Hannah Mason. The Mason family was deeply rooted in Tidewater Virginia. From that same extended family came George Mason, often called the “Father of the Bill of Rights,” author of the Virginia Declaration of Rights, a direct influence on our U.S. Bill of Rights.

It is humbling to realize how closely family lines once intertwined in those early days.

Why It Matters to Us Now

For those of us over fifty, something shifts in how we see places like this.

We begin to understand that history is not just dates and textbooks. It is bloodlines. It is migration. It is courage and loss and starting over. It is names spelled one way in one century and another way in the next.

Walking the Northern Neck felt like walking backward into time and forward into gratitude.

This old trail follows not only the birth of our nation, but the settlement of our earliest ancestors. It reminds us that the American story is not abstract.

It is personal.

I’ll be sharing more photos and updates on my “Old Age is Not” Facebook page. A link can be found on this web site.

Old Age Is Not for Sissies… but Walking Tours Can Be Delightful

by Filed Under: Family Life, Travel

The Perfect Season for Listening to the Stories Around Us

I’ve often said that getting older has its challenges—knees that argue, reading glasses that wander off, and the firm realization that Old Age Is Not for Sissies. But I’ve also learned that it’s the perfect season for slowing down and truly listening to the stories around us.

That’s exactly what I had in mind when I created The Palmetto Pioneers Monticello Historic Walking Tour, now available through VoiceMap.

This hands-free, GPS-enabled audio tour takes you through the historic streets ofMonticello, Florida—a town that seems to remember who it is. Nestled among rolling hills and moss-draped oaks, Monticello has long been a place where faith, family, and community mattered deeply. Generations have lived, worked, worshiped, and weathered great change here, leaving behind stories etched into its homes, churches, and public squares.

The tour highlights historic stops inspired by the second book in my Palmetto Pioneers series, From Harmony to Hostility. As you walk, you’ll hear how Monticello’s real places and real people shaped a community tested by hardship, division, and perseverance—much like the characters in the novel.

Best of all, you don’t have to keep stopping to read signs or fumble with your phone. Just press play, put the phone in your pocket, and let me guide you along. I’ll be your narrator for the journey, sharing both historical insight and the heart behind the story.

If you’re hosting visiting family or friends during the holidays—or if you simply want a reason to get outside, move at your own pace, and connect with Florida’s past—this tour is a wonderful way to do it. No schedules. No crowds. Just history, fresh air, and a good story in your ear.

If you’d like to experience the Palmetto Pioneers Monticello Historic Walking Tour for yourself, you can find it on VoiceMap here:


👉 https://voicemap.me/tour/monticello-florida/the-palmetto-pioneers-a-monticello-walking-tour?_gl=1*15aab4e*_up*MQ..*_ga*MjYxMTAxOTUuMTc2NTc3MDYxMA..*_ga_QHMB8LEQTM*czE3NjU3NzA2MDgkbzEkZzEkdDE3NjU3NzA2MTgkajUwJGwwJGgyNDA2MTczOTA.

Step back in time and experience Monticello, Florida through story, history, and a gentle walk—no guidebook required.

After all, while old age may not be for sissies, it’s still a fine time for a walk through history.

Glamping in Red Rock Canyon: Route 66 from Bridgeport to El Reno, Oklahoma

by Filed Under: Following Old Trails, Travel

I spent a quiet morning in the canyon, but I planned to explore another stretch of Route 66. I hoped to hike some trails when I returned, but after the night’s rain, the clay paths were slick—and I’m too old to be slipping and sliding around.

Glamping truly suits me! My tent is air-conditioned, with a cozy bed, a microwave, and a refrigerator. I even have a resident owl who woke me in the night. This morning, I took it slow—slept in, enjoyed breakfast on the deck, and didn’t leave until around 11 a.m.

I headed north from the canyon toward the interstate and picked up Route 66, planning to drive the section from Bridgeport to El Reno. The scenery was pretty in its own way—tree-lined hills and valleys replacing the long, distant views of the plains—a different beauty.

One highlight was a striking bridge over the South Canadian River near Bridgeport, Oklahoma. Though it looked new, I learned it was the historic “Pony Bridge,” recently reconstructed. The bridge has 38 pony truss spans, which were removed, refurbished, and reattached to a modern deck before it reopened in May last year.

Aside from that, there was little evidence left of Route 66’s earlier days in this stretch. When I reached El Reno, I noticed an old Route 66 bridge had been preserved—but with high safety barriers that obscured the view. I couldn’t get a picture, but you can see what I mean in this blog post.

After lunch in El Reno, I took the scenic route back along smaller roads beneath the interstate. What views!

This area was truly beautiful—

rolling farmland, scattered windmills, and oil wells dotted the landscape.

One scene especially struck me: a modern wind turbine standing alongside an old one—a glimpse of past and present power sources.

I hurried back because it was about to storm, and I’m was in a bad part of tornado alley.

This park has been in operation since 1956, well before my family first visited in 1963.

Because the trails were still slippery, and I had no business climbing up on the rim, I returned to a spot I remembered vividly—where a concrete post still marked an old wagon trail. This was the same place where Daddy once hoisted me up on the canyon wall when there were no stairs. He climbed up behind me, and we walked along the canyon rim until we reached a point 40 feet above our camper.

Pam and Mama were still asleep, so Daddy and I dropped little pebbles on the roof until Mama opened the door and hollered, “WILLIAM!” She always knew who the instigator was.

Camping in 1963

We expected more thunderstorms tonight. I felt reasonably safe tucked in the canyon, though the idea of flooding gave me pause. My tent sat beside a small creek—or “crick,” as the locals pronounced it. After the rain, it turned to mud.

Still, glamping was lovely. Even the owl became a kind of companion. I drifted off to the sound of his call and, though the storms woke me briefly, he was cooing again early the next morning.

Here’s some more photos from inside the canyon.

Red Rock Canyon Revisited: A Nostalgic Journey on Route 66

by Filed Under: Following Old Trails, Travel

The history of this road is long and much more than the ribbon of concrete it became later. Like the old roads in the east, it began as a series of paths, first created by animals and then followed by Native Americans. 

Later, the European settlers made it their own and traveled it on horseback and with wagons. Unlike the eastern older roads, though, which usually ran north and south, this settlement road ran east to west.

It ran alongside rivers that also ran east to west, such as the Canadian River. Like the Fall Line road in the east, this path came down out of Chicago and made an arc. Later beside it, cities sprung up like St. Louis, Oklahoma City, Amarillo, Santa Fe, and Albuquerque, before it disappeared into the Old West and California.

This Wikipedia map shows how Route 66 moved across the country and the cities along it, but unfortunately, it shows it as a connection of interstates.

Oklahoma is the state of the Okies who left in droves on this road during the Depression, moving west to new opportunities. Over 15% of them left. The people I see here today, though, are the ones who stayed, who persevered. As I traveled the Mother Road, I tried to visualize its paved days—with motor courts, neon lights, Burma Shave signs, filling stations, cars and trucks loaded to their gills, and hitchhikers.

East of Oklahoma City, the land is forested and hilly, but west of the city, the rolling land opens to drier, grassier, and flatter plains. In between are unseen draws and ravines. One such is Red Rock Canyon, south of the Mother Road near Hinton, Oklahoma.

Red Rock Canyon used to be a state park.

In 1963, my father planned a two-week vacation around the Santa Fe Trail, lawmen, and outlaws. I was 9, and I’m 71 now, so it was over 60 years ago. The four of us made the road trip from Florida and had been in western Kansas in old Abeline. Beginning to turn back toward home, we wandered south into western Oklahoma. 

Me, my sister Pam, and Mom in Abilene

After days of arid open plains, we stopped at a campground called Red Rock Canyon State Park, and everyone of us fell in love. We talked about it for years. We were awestruck by this canyon, and I wanted to come back and see if I felt the same way today. Now, I am the only surviving family member of the four. So here I am, spending two nights at the campground!

But why was this place so special? Last night, I didn’t realize the answer until I drove down into the canyon. I had wondered why we remembered this canyon with such love. The answer was—we were homesick! 

Camping in Red Rock Canyon in 1963

Our part of Florida is a parkland of trees and canopied roads that would probably seem like claustrophobic tunnels to people who live on the plains. North Florida is lush and beautiful, similar to what I found in this canyon.

I’m staying for two days. I’m a little tired, so this will be a good rest. Notice the pictures of then and now, and yes, I love the canyon as much as I did back then. 

Glamping in Red Rock Canyon in 2025

Dad’s camera made the color photos, but they only bought black and white film for mine and Pam’s cameras. It was cheaper, and we were kids.

We camped in a Camp-O-Tel camper, which was a Florida-manufactured camper. Its founders were local friends of the family. This was our first trip in the new camper, and I remember complaining that this wasn’t as much fun as sleeping in a tent. It is a wonder they didn’t throw me out with a pup tent.

Our Camp-O-Tel Camper, manufactured in Monticello, Florida, by James Demott and Mack Wright.

In the canyon, though, this time I am glamping. I don’t think Mom or Dad lived long enough to know what glamping was. They both died almost 20 years ago, but I think my Mama would have loved this. The tent is even air-conditioned, and neither the truck nor camper above was.

Glamping at Red Rock Canyon

A Cross, a Crisis, and a Canyon: Another Day on Route 66

by Filed Under: Following Old Trails, Travel

You know the song? 🎶 Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam.🎶 Well, just east of Amarillo, there are homes on Route 66, but not a buffalo in sight.

Route 66 east of Amarillo, TX

There are windmills everywhere, but this is high plains, as flat as a pancake. You can see for two days.

Route 66 next to I-40

As I get farther from the city, once again, I’m driving next to the interstate. It is a pleasant day. I woke up and it was 51° but it warmed up to a dry 65 degrees by the time I left my hotel. We are already in the 90s in Florida, and it is a steam bath there, so this Texas weather is nice!

At the exit to Groom, Texas, I got off the interstate because I could not miss the giant cross in the distance.

It is really worth a visit.

Not only is there a cross, but there are life-size statues of the stations of the cross.

I have seen the stations of the cross depicted most of my life on paper or on the walls of churches or in stained glass, but nothing touched me like this. I’m 71 years old, and I got emotional seeing these life-sized sculptures.

About 10 miles from Groom, TX and the cross, I was on Route 66 and realized that I was almost out of gas. I broke my number one rule when following old trails, I always buy gas before leaving each morning, because the areas I go into have long stretches with no gas stations. It has been so long since I’ve followed a trail on my own, like this, that I forgot my rule.

I was between Alanrede and McLean, Texas and trying to get to McLean where Google says there are some gas stations. There was one in Alanrede and Google said it was open, but it looked like the picture below. Obviously, it has been closed for a long time. Oh well! It’s something I would’ve stopped to take a picture of anyway.

Alanrede, TX

So I kept driving east on Route 66 with the interstate right beside me until horror of horrors I ran into a dead end with road construction. My gas indicator says below empty. I cannot continue and I can see McLean, Texas in the distance. So what was a girl to do?

I guess I broke the law. I backtracked and drove through a shallow, wide ditch to get onto the interstate. I’m lucky because Texas does not have fences that run down the sides of their interstate like we do in Florida.

Then I got off the interstate a quarter-mile later at the McLean exit and got my gas. Cattle operations built McLean.

Hungry, I found a restaurant (the interior shot could be in Florida). It was in McLean, TX on Route 66. At the table next to me was a man and his mother, who were from Florida. He was moving her to his sister’s home in Arizona.

McLean, TX

When I got back on the interstate, I realized I was running low on time, so I quit getting off the interstate and I drove like a bat out of hell to my destination for the evening, a former state park near Hinton, OK.

Oklahoma has done a better job of repairing the old Mother Road and keeping it open. I got off the interstate one more time at Shamrock to see a few things and then I got to Hinton, Oklahoma, home of Red Rock Canyon, where I stayed the night.

Shamrock, TX – service station used as a prototype for the “Cars” movie.

I guess the rest of Britten is gone.

The leaning water tower of Britten

By the way, I camped at Red Rock Canyon south of Hinton for two days. My stop here was nostalgic. The last time I was here with in the 1960s as a child with my parents. I’ll share more in my next Route 66 blog post!

Following Old Trails: From Albuquerque to Amarillo on Route 66

by Filed Under: Following Old Trails, Travel

This is another blog post in my Following Old Trails section of the blog.

I recently traveled west for a family reunion. One of my characters in the second book of my “Palmetto Pioneers” series moved to Texas in the 1870s, and his offspring was having a family reunion near Tulsa, Oklahoma. Anyway, a flood canceled the reunion, but I had already made my flight arrangements and lodging reservations. So, I made the trip anyway and followed an old trail—or road in this case.

About 19 years ago, my youngest daughter and I did a significant section of Route 66 from Santa Monica in California to Albuquerque, New Mexico. It was a great two-week vacation, and we had planned to do another section of the road later—plans that never came to fruition.

So, I did another section of it from Albuquerque to Tulsa in the first week of June. Here are some scenes from my first day, which was Albuquerque to Amarillo, TX.

By the way, originally Route 66 followed the Old Santa Fe Trail, which ended in Santa Fe, New Mexico; but they re-routed and bypassed Santa Fe in the 1930s. I had already traveled the Santa Fe portion of Route 66 many years ago; therefore, on this trip I followed the bypassed, straighter, and more direct section.

Albuquerque was getting ready to celebrate the 100th birthday of the road, and I took a few pictures before leaving the city. The Mother Road came to Albuquerque in 1926. There were banners on the road,

and people had restored some of the old signs, even though the properties were long gone.

From our earlier trip in the early 2000s to now, there was not much left of the old stores, motels, and sites. But there were a few.


Check out this bus stop!

Once you leave the city on Route 66, the road becomes State Road 333.

There’s hardly anything man-made left ,

but the views and the vistas are exceptional.

This is a pretty part of New Mexico. Imagine what the earliest people who used this road, especially those moving west, thought about these views.

Route 66 is also called the Mother Road. Through many states, it runs alongside I-40.

Frequently, Route 66 was on higher ground here, running along the top of a ridge. They had been getting rain, so everything was green. However, between Moriarity and Santa Rosa, they buried the road beneath Interstate 40. I got off when there was a town.

One of the former Harvey girls ran the Blue Swallow Inn in Tucumcari, NM. “The Harvey Girls, sometimes known as the women who ‘civilized’ the Wild West, were young Americans (well-groomed, well-behaved, single, 8th-grade educated, and white) who left family and friends to head west as waitresses for the Fred Harvey restaurants,” writes Alison Owings. Mr. Harvey owned a chain of restaurants beginning in the late 1800s, and his women became legendary as independent women. There is a Judy Garland movie about them called “The Harvey Girls.”

Some places have done Route 66 art to commemorate the road. This monument to “The Mother Road” is in Tucumcari. Notice its tailfins, commemorating the golden age of American automobiles.

I stopped at the Silver Moon Cafe, established in 1959, for lunch in Santa Rosa. Great Mexican-American food. I had their Indian Tacos.

A popular place for travelers to stop was the Blue Hole in Santa Rosa, an 81-foot deep artesian well. Its crystal clear waters have a constant temperature of 62 degrees.

Blue Hole, New Mexico, Wikipedia

Before I got to Texas, the road ended, and I had to get on the interstate. There are stretches of the road in New Mexico, just before I got to the Texas state line, where the locals said that they were better off with an interstate because this stretch was so dangerous. I noticed one time that what was left of the roadbed went up the side of a draw, and it occurred to me that only a car that could climb like a mountain goat could’ve made it. The roadbed was gone, and there was nothing but a rocky dirt road going up.

This part of the road near the state line reminded me of the old Road Runner cartoons. I kept looking for one or at least a coyote, but saw neither, except for this sign.

When I got to Texas, everything flattened out. These were the plains of Texas, and I was in Comanche territory. This was also where the big herds of buffalo roamed.

Route 66 moved across the state like a rifle shot, and mostly it was right next to the interstate, but Texas did not do a very good job of maintaining this road. I think it is used only by ranchers. And their ranches were few and far between.

Gone were the vistas from the Mother Road where it ran higher than the interstate. Instead, in Texas, it ran directly beside the interstate. On my left as I traveled east, my view was of Interstate 40. This part of Route 66 was not my favorite. Only where the road intersects with towns, can you see anything left of what the road used to be. Route 66 was famous for sites that displayed unusual sights to get people to stop. Even today, they still use this strategy.

Also, Texas chopped up the Mother Road into fragments, crossing the panhandle. Here are little towns, long passed by the interstate, called Glenrio, Adrian, and Vega. Adrian was at the midpoint of Route 66. A sign said it was 1,139 miles to Chicago and 1,139 miles to Los Angeles.

I got to Amarillo in time to have dinner with one of my Andrew’s cousins. Her second great-grandfather is Henry Andrews in the book, and Henry was two years older than my second great-grandmother, Laura, who is also in the book. Henry named one of his daughters Laura.

Andrews Cousins, Palmetto Pioneer Descendants

I stayed at a Route 66 hotel called the Big Texan.

And we had dinner at the Big Texan Steak Ranch, next door. This motel and restaurant made it because they left the Mother Road and rebuilt their operation next to the interstate in the late 1970s. The restaurant gained renown for its free 72-ounce steak. If you can eat it in one sitting, there is no charge.

Just as we left, a man was trying to eat one. Neither of us wanted to see him get sick.