On our last day in the mighty city of Albuquerque, we decided to keep it low-key and just check out a couple nearby sites we found noteworthy. The first such site was the New Mexico Veterans Memorial. It’s well worth a visit if you’re ever in the area.

Brick borders line the sidewalks of the memorial, and families can donate engraved bricks in memory of veterans.

The memorial is expansive, and it has a variety of thoughtful features. (I didn’t take a lot of photos.) There are memorials for veterans of each war; this statue was for veterans of the Vietnam War.

When we were looking at the memorial honoring submariners, we discovered a familiar name among the fallen.

That’s not my grandfather, but that’s my grandfather’s name.

From there we drove through the University of New Mexico main campus and down to the athletic campus. As football fans, we were curious to see UNM’s football stadium. UNM football has struggled as of late, but we were pleased to find a very nice football stadium. And, in stark contrast to Michigan’s more recent switch to a locked-gates policy (dear Michigan athletic department: BOOOOOOOOOOOOO), we were also pleased to find the gate wide open so we could wander inside to enjoy the view.

Real live green grass doesn’t seem to be an abundant natural resource in Albuquerque — the popular ground cover options seem to be rocks and dry brown grass — but UNM didn’t take the easy option of installing artificial turf. When we arrived, the sprinklers were watering the well-maintained natural grass field.

That mountain view isn’t too shabby, either. Good job, Lobos.

In order to have a little more evidence that I really did travel to Albuquerque, I had my dad take a couple photos of me in the stadium.

I know I’m scary, but don’t be afraid. Look! My sweatshirt is waving at you!

No, I didn’t stand in front of section B because my name starts with B. That’s just a happy coincidence.

As I said, UNM football hasn’t exactly been taking the world by storm recently, but it has had its good years. Its more recent good years included a linebacker who has since become one of the best linebackers in the NFL.

Urlacher the Terrifying is still playing for the Chicago Bears…which just so happens to be my dad’s favorite team because he grew up in Chicago. He enjoyed seeing that banner. (I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it; I’m just saying…oh, never mind.)

From the football stadium we drove across the street to the basketball arena — “The Pit” — to visit the store located in the arena lobby. Shortly after we entered the store, we spotted a familiar sight:

Take a closer look at the tag on that UNM cheerleader bear:

Do you know where the Chelsea Teddy Bear Co. is located? Chelsea, MI. Yes, that’s right: we could’ve traveled all the way from Chelsea to Albuquerque to…buy teddy bears from Chelsea. Afterwards, we could’ve gone to the grocery store to buy Jiffy Mixes!

Though I wasn’t in the market for a teddy bear, I was planning to make a purchase. If you know me, you know I’m a big fan of t-shirts. In fact, the only times I don’t wear t-shirts are the times I’m cruelly and unusually forced to wear something more formal. (Thankfully, these times are extraordinarily infrequent. Dear button-down shirt manufacturers: BOOOOOOOOOO.) While browsing the shirts available in the store, I found one featuring a classic UNM logo that, in my opinion, should still be in use as the primary logo today:

They’ve since switched to some boring modern-looking Lobos logo, but…come on. There’s no way the current logo is better than that old sailor hat-wearing, chops-licking Lobo. If you’re reading this, UNM leadership, here’s what I’m saying: you need to switch back to the old logo. It’s at least 100% better than the current logo.

(As an aside…what is it with universities discarding great logos in favor of average logos? And sometimes not even just great logos, but great mascots? Yeah, I’m looking at you, Lehigh. Your mascot used to be the Engineer, a unique mascot full of historical significance. This logo is all-caps AMAZING. And you dumped it for what? The Mountain Hawk? BOOOOOORING.)

(Okay, enough of that aside. Back to the post.)

The arena itself wasn’t open, but we could peer through the gates to get a look at the interior. Once I got a look at it, I desperately wanted to go to a basketball game there. Seriously: The Pit is one of those legendary old gyms that makes you look down your nose at shiny new generic NBA arenas. Check out the photo of the interior at that link. That’s a great sports venue.

From The Pit , we headed back to the base and had a quiet afternoon and evening there.

We left for home far too early the next morning. In the first Albuquerqation post I believe I made clear my feelings regarding early mornings, and believe me, the equally early departure from ABQ didn’t change those feelings. The only benefit to leaving so early was the sunrise.

The drive home was generally uneventful…aside from my missing the Joplin exit and thus delaying dinner another hour because western Missouri is a wasteland. But we survived the wasteland of Missouri and the low speed limits of Illinois — seriously, folks, it’s not 1970 anymore — to make it safely back to Michigan.

In summary: I’m happy to give Albuquerque the official Burrill Strong Seal of Approval. Thanks for a good time, ABQ!

One evening, we visited the local courtroom. This wasn’t just any courtroom, though: this was an Air Force courtroom. Since he was looking all dignified with his beard, my dad decided to be a judge for a moment.

In the case of Bob vs. The Beard, I find the defendant accused fuzzy.

The next morning, we set off for Sandia Crest, the peak of the mountains you saw beyond the city in the photos from Petroglyphs. This involved a trip up a winding road, past a ski area, and finally up next to a flourishing landscape of communication towers.

Next to the parking lot they had signs warning that the towers might interfere with wireless devices like car remotes. I was vastly disappointed to find not just that our car remote worked just fine, but also that I wasn’t receiving any curious communications in my fillings.

You may have noticed the strange white coating on the ground. That’s called snow. Albuquerque itself doesn’t get much of it, but since Sandia Crest is over 10,000 feet above sea level, it has the good sense to have a good solid winter. This made us snow-loving Michiganders happy.

There was, however, one downside we couldn’t ignore: they don’t maintain the roads and trails during the winter, so snow can make things a bit interesting. Things got crazy interesting…but wait, I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Crazy interesting wasn’t until later.

From the parking lot, there was a very short path to a scenic overlook. Due to the lack of winter maintenance, this path was approximately 99.998% ice, but we made it to the overlook thanks to the presence of handrails. We were glad for those handrails, too, because the overlook provided this view:

That’s Albuquerque you’re seeing. Yes, there’s a lot of Albuquerque.

At the top of that photo you can see the main section of Albuquerque. (That’s highlighted by the presence of the few buildings that are taller than one story. The University of New Mexico is near there — keep that in mind for the next post.) You can also see how the city just seems to keep going and going and going. In that sense it’s like Toronto, but without all the tall buildings and Canadians and with about 2 million fewer people.

Having sufficiently looked over the scenery — and having successfully made it back down to the parking lot (by clinging to the handrail as if our lives depended on it, because they did) — we decided to brave the lack of maintenance and try exploring one of the trails. In theory this seemed like a fantastic idea, but…well, this is when it got crazy interesting.

With more handrail clinging and very cautious steps, we managed to make it around the gift shop to the start of one of the trails. At that point I paused because while the handrails ended there, the icy snow kept going, and I did not trust my questionable-at-best balance on such a surface without any sort of handrail. As I paused, dad moved toward a staircase down to a lower parking lot to shoot a few photos. I heard him yell, so I looked in his direction. What did I see? I saw dad sliding headfirst on his back down a gentle but very icy slope.

Before my brain could process that bizarre and entirely unexpected sight, suddenly dad just disappeared. No, seriously. One second he was sliding down a gentle slope, and the next second he…wasn’t. Concerned, my mom and I made our way in that direction to see where he could have ended up. As we approached, we were relieved to see his head peek up over the edge of a dropoff. Remarkably, he suffered no significant injuries.

Here’s a look at dad standing at the bottom of his dropoff.

If you look closely, you can see his slide marks leading from the bottom right corner of the photo to the edge of the dropoff. That’s where he slid on his back headfirst over the edge. If you continue looking closely, you can see a rock on the ground near him. That’s the rock he dislodged on his way down.

Since he went over on his back, he tore up the back of his coat.

As we (VERY CAREFULLY) walked down the staircase to join him at the bottom of Bob’s Cliff — hey, it needed a name — we couldn’t help but laugh at the sign we saw.

When we got to the bottom, we got to see just how tall Bob’s Cliff was.

It looked to be about ten feet tall.

For posterity’s sake, I had to get a better shot of the rock he dislodged.

See that dark spot just to the right of his head? That’s where the rock used to be.

Oh, and I haven’t even mentioned the best part: you may have noticed that he’s holding a very nice camera in his left hand. He had that in his left hand when he slid over the edge. Do you know how much damage the camera suffered? None. He told us that when he was sliding down the hill, he was thinking that he had to protect the camera. Somehow he managed to do that and escape injury himself.

So yeah. My dad fell headfirst down a ten-foot dropoff…and brought a chunk of rock down with him…and walked away unharmed beyond a couple minor bruises. Sandia Crest: 0. Bob: 1.

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As the end of the day approached, our jaws dropped when we looked at the sky. The sunset was…I mean, it was so…well, just look at the pictures. Just look.

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands. My, oh my, do they ever.

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Check back soon for the next — and last — Albuquerque post. It’ll have bricks and flags and Lobos and a bear! You won’t want to miss it.