Day Two 
Las Cruces, New Mexico 

Bill Marriott spoke to me from the grave this morning.

“Why are you sleeping in a no-tell, motel in the middle of a global pandemic,” Bill asked?  “Our brands are not unique.  Unique is overrated. And unique is not safe. All our hotels offer travelers the same boring consistency we know they really crave. And our rooms are virus free.”

Ok Bill did not really speak to me. But the first thing I saw this morning was an email from Arne Sorenson, the Marriott CEO and president. He was channeling Bill and promoting boring consistency and while he did not promise virus free he argued the rooms were squeaky clean.

Right about now boring consistency sounds pretty good. Rachel Maddow scared the bejesus out of us last night. All that talk about shabby planning, exponential growth  and no hospital beds is unnerving. 

Social distancing and boring consistency may just help us survive this trip and this pandemic.

With this in mind we did not avail ourselves of the free breakfast the no-tell in Tucson offered. But I did grab a to-go coffee and talked to the desk clerk about the virus. The place was 85 percent booked Friday night and 95 percent Thursday night. “Normal bookings,” she said. I wore gloves, no one else did. No one offered me sanitizer. 

We left to go hiking, the highlight of the day. We took three hours to climb 5.2 miles on the Pima Canyon Trail, west of Tucson. Yep, we started the day going west on I-10 again. It was worth it. The trail is initially a rocky, craggy, steady, uphill climb through cactus, Saguaro, desert sage, poppies and critters we do not have in New England. Big horn sheep were advertised  but they were on a break apparently. Then it was a rocky trek through a sunbaked valley with a few pools of water from the recent rain. Finally another uphill climb that we started but did not complete.

The trail was crowded with families, kids and couples and a large church group from Flagstaff. A tall drink of water 40 something from that group said the virus had not changed much in his circle. He even plans to fly to Virginia in two weeks. He laughed as said: “I’m a pilot, I have my own plane.”

A lot changed on the way down. First, I had a dizzy spell. The sun was bright and warm, the sky a cloudless blue. Perhaps I was mesmerized by the majesty of the place. The moment good and bad passed as I was drinking water and learned that schools are to be closed for eight weeks. After that we scrambled to the bottom for real Internet service to learn more about the progression of the virus. There we learned domestic travel may be restricted.

Truth is you can never get too far away from the reality of this pandemic. I worry we will not reach North Carolina or ultimately Boston. My wife does not share my concern. Her glass is half full, mine has a few sips left.

We did finally find still water later in the day at a market in Las Cruces. We did not hoard the stuff because we could not. We bought the last 12 bottles of still water and 12 bubbly. They are stashed in the Nissan. 

After the hike we drove madly for 280 miles. The trip was uneventful. Some one or two liners:

Just east of Bowie, AZ., as in Jim Bowie, there is an attraction called “The Thing.” We did not stop to see what it was.

At one point the GPS announced “continue straight for 103 miles until you reach your destination.” Where would we be without technology?

The billboard of the day read “Fresh Jerky.”

In New Mexico, there was a series of Burma shave style signs that read:

Dust storm ahead.

Pull over.

Turn off lights.

Stay in the car.

Stay buckled up.

There was no dust. There was no wind. The fields were flooded.

We did the right thing in Las Cruces.

We stayed at the Springhill Suites, a Marriott hotel.