Christmas at the Edge of the Map

 

Chapter 112: Christmas, Closed Dunes, and Potato Chips with Altitude Issues

Christmas Day was deliberately low-key, which in van terms means multitasking immediately after waking up. While Nelson handled breakfast, I started making beef noodle soup at the same time... future dinner insurance for a long driving day, destined for the thermal cooker like a slow, dependable friend. Very festive. Very practical.


Our big plan was to arrive at White Sands National Park mid-afternoon, linger dramatically on the white dunes, and watch the sunset turn everything pink and magical. Instead, we arrived to discover the park was closed for Christmas Day. Closed. Entirely. No peeking. No loopholes. Just fences, signs, and the knowledge that the whole place is wrapped inside a missile range, which feels extremely on-brand for New Mexico.

I was disappointed. I was also mildly annoyed at Nelson, who had very convincingly altered the itinerary so White Sands landed on Christmas Day in the first place. But onward we went, turning the steering wheel toward Navajo Dam and accepting that today’s theme was now “Acceptance.”

It was a long drive, so we stopped for the night at La Bajada Rest Area just north of Santa Fe. I learned two things there:

  1. Santa Fe sits at about 7,000 feet.

  2. Potato chip bags are the most honest altitude indicators known to man.

Every single bag in the van had puffed up like it was auditioning for a balloon festival. Proof that yes, the air was thinner; and no, I was not imagining things. Somewhere nearby, a man slept in his sedan wearing only a hoodie, no window insulation, looking both slightly concerning and slightly heroic. Then again, people probably look at us and think the same thing. Vanlife is a mirror like that.

Chapter 113: Tiny Flies, Big Rivers, and the Moment Walmart Tells You the Truth

The next morning we headed north toward the San Juan River, and Nelson’s excitement was… noticeable. We stopped in Bloomfield for lunch and found Panda Garden: an adorable old-school American Chinese restaurant. We ordered combination lunch boxes like it was 1998. The food was greasy, starchy, heavy, and absolutely correct. We ate it shamelessly in the van while trying to book campsites, knowing full well regret would arrive later.

By mid-afternoon we reached Navajo Lake State Park, and wow! the San Juan River is wild. Vast, turbulent, cowboy-movie beautiful. Very different from the polite little Missouri streams we were used to. Anglers in waders were everywhere, which confirmed what we suspected: if you want to fish here, you must get wet and commit.


At Pine Campground we met Roy, a fellow RVer on a fishing trip with his wife. Roy proudly showed us hundreds of flies he had tied: midges so small they looked theoretical. Apparently, this is midge season, and trout here like their meals microscopic. My eyes immediately felt tired in advance.


The next morning, we rented waders from Float N Fish and headed to Texas Hole, a popular spot for beginners. While Nelson suited up, I attempted to tie flies using hooks so tiny I questioned their existence. Even with reading glasses, it felt like performing surgery on ants. Nelson stood in the cold river for hours, looking incredibly legitimate and catching absolutely nothing, while trout rose around him like they were mocking his holiday itinerary choices (you tell him, fish!).

See the tiny dot on the right?  That is a midge pattern!  (on the left is a small Wooly Bugger)


The following day brought more fly tying, more cold water bravery, and still no fish. I admired Nelson deeply, and also felt a small, guilty relief when we returned the waders. If he’d caught anything, we might still be there, and I wasn’t sure my eyes could survive another midge.




On the 29th, we packed up under a frosted windshield and visited Aztec Ruins National Monument, part of the broader Chaco world. The great kivas were massive, humbling, and quietly mysterious. I loved imagining life there, and loved even more that no one truly knows why these places were abandoned. In an age of endless information, mystery still wins sometimes.




After a low tire warning (rude), cup noodles for lunch (honest), and a long drive south, we arrived in Albuquerque. A quick Walmart stop delivered Nelson a moment of full-length-mirror clarity: black beanie, shrunken fleece, wool socks, slider sandals. He stared at himself and whispered, “Have I been looking like this the whole time?”
Yes. Yes, he had.

That night we stayed at a surprisingly luxurious RV storage facility... secure (had to get in with pin codes), quiet, and blessed with hot showers and laundry. I cooked creamed chicken and mushrooms with naan, inspired by Culinary Class Wars, and we fell asleep clean, warm, and deeply grateful.



Not a bad ending for a stretch filled with closed parks, tiny flies, and truths revealed under fluorescent Walmart lighting.

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