Minimum maintenance road.

Flooding causes standing water. Standing water causes mosquitoes and other insects. A fresh source of food means the dragonflies grow fat and happy. This one was about three inches long, with a five inch wingspan.

We’ve got ourselves a good old fashioned lightning storm. Western Kansas.

We start with another train – no airplane fuselages this time, though.

The gantry tells the tale. At one point, this road was US-75, and the rightmost (missing) set of signs indicated that. Then, US-75 was moved onto the I-29 freeway, so they changed the gantry to indicate that – and added the new county route designation.

when they moved US-75 well into Nebraska, they took off the trailblazer, but oddly did not move the county signs to the main gantry. too much effort, apparently.

Green grass and high tides.

This old yellow stop sign might actually still be in service… it all depends on whether the dirt path it serves is a public road, or just someone’s driveway.

Old 75 intersects current 30. The sign dates to 1994, as evidenced by the sticker on the back, which implies that 75 was moved across the river after that time.

Iowa is the only state I know which uses outline shields for interstates so regularly.

One in infrared, for variety’s sake. Old US-30/75; the Lincoln Highway approaching Omaha.

Nebraska City is about the last place in the state where you will find these “BUSINESS”-tagged state route shields. The US routes are in a lot of places. The earliest ones date back to 1984, when the bypass was built.

The newer sign assemblies are divided into multiple pieces, like this one.

The view from the highway 2 bridge across the Missouri river between Iowa and Nebraska. Why is the water brown? A sewage treatment plant upstream was flooded. Ick.

The levee is holding … for now.

There’s an on-ramp in here somewhere.

You can see the first Iowa state highway 2 marker in the distance … not long before the road sinks.

The water isn’t usually this high. Or, this brown.

Instant business route marker… just add stencil.

Somewhere in Nebraska, this flower blooms.

We’re not just looking for pretty flowers. We are driving this road because it is an old alignment of Nebraska state highway 4. It got renumbered to US-136 sometime in 1951. The green post may very well have once held a NE-4 shield.

This might be the oldest sign we see in Nebraska. The black going all the way to the outside border, the yellow faded to white – this identifies the sign as mid-1950s. It’s on the same old alignment of NE-4/US-136.

Indeed, this sign was once yellow.

We are now in Kansas, where we find this white guide sign on an old US-24 alignment.

Cloud County indeed.

This storm cloud is centered over Salina, Kansas, over 75 miles away.

A railroad runs parallel to US-24. We catch this train just around sunset.

Blue skies and storm clouds.

The storm approaches. This is about a one-minute exposure, with the clouds being illuminated by successive lightning strikes.

We interrupt this meteorological quest to bring you a picture of an old brown 16″ county route marker. They’re getting quite hard to find in Kansas.

It’s electric.

Strike after strike after strike. I combined about seven consecutive exposures here.

The ranch fence gets one in the teeth.

One last lightning strike.

And now for something completely different. This might be the last cutout US route marker in Kansas. Apparently, the US-36 shields in St. Francis are gone, so this is it.

Next morning. As dawn breaks, we are in Colorado. Along the side of US-160 is this abandoned house.

Our first photo from New Mexico. It appears to be a large beast of some kind, possibly carnivorous.

Can a Prius go 100mph? Well, down a road I’ve driven far too many times… yes!

Oh dear, US-64 got demoted.

and that’s where we leave off for now!

Campfire from the night before. I don’t remember why we decided that Frosty the Candle Snowman had to go, but we certainly sent him off to Valhalla in style.

An old alignment of New Mexico state route 32 yields this tilted, decrepit junction assembly. It dates to the late 1960s or so.

This grassland – just east of Springerville, AZ – burned in the Wallow Fire just a few weeks after I took these photos. But, it will grow back, as that is how these things tend to go.

Sunset through Telegraph Pass, just east of Yuma on I-8.

This is not a ball of tinfoil – it is just paper, but somehow it ended up looking reflective.

Dale always brings the most interesting things to toss into a fire!

Skeleton of a cardboard box.

One last bit of pyromania. The fire is almost out for the night.

Elk at sunrise. US-180 on the way to Arizona.

Sun glint on a cow warning sign.

One of two bridges in the US that I know of that are painted this particular shade of orange.

Different view of the orange bridge. The road is an old alignment of US-260, which was renumbered to US-180 in 1961.

On the bridge itself. It is closed to vehicular traffic, but is easily walkable.

US-180 switches back and we are suddenly heading into the morning sun, despite generally making our way westbound.

New Mexico state highway 159 goes to – and past! – Mogollon. On this historic marker, the 159 patch has worn off, revealing the old route number of 78.

On the road to Mogollon. The first few miles – between US-180 and the town – are relatively civilized.

These old-style mailboxes are getting harder and harder to find. I think their original design goes back to the 30s.

Past the town, the road turns into a very narrow dirt track. Yep, that is an officially sanctioned state highway! We do not follow it this time, instead turning around to return to 180.

Heading back to 180. I do not know what those buildings are in the foreground.

One last photo from 159.

An old US-260 bridge.

The bridge is so old that even the sign which marks it as historic has been overgrown.

The road is new enough to have received yellow stripes, which were made a federal standard in 1978.

This wooden fencepost once held a glass cateye reflector. Alas, it was gouged out by scavengers years ago. At least a bit of the old silver paint remains.

I do not know whether the 1165/40 sign is a bridge inventory marker or a mile post. The new US-180 is seen in the background.

The view off the bridge to the east.

And one last view of the bridge itself, from the current road. The bridge contains of two separate segments.

We turn off 180 here, at this classic shield on a spindly, somewhat shaky-looking gantry.

Apparently, I have gone into the food-and-chainsaw business. Neato.

State highway 12.

And state highway 32, which have just turned onto.

And now, old 32. A high-quality dirt road – but with all signs having turned black from age. The road was bypassed sometime in the 1970s.

Okay, maybe not all. Some have simply had the background fall off, revealing bare wood.

An automotive bargain.

A fishy look at old 32.

Just after the old JCT US-60 assembly is this formerly white guide sign. The topmost destination is Red Hill – 18 miles away, just before the Arizona state line.

We are now in Arizona, where we come across this old US-60 alignment.

Old enough to have received a double white stripe.

The road is sometimes barely passable.

The red asphalt is starting to go.

Road suddenly impassable. The sort of obstacle that the map does not show.

One more view of the high plains of east Arizona.

Not often you see the Arizona state outline completely accurate on a route marker. Usually the western (Colorado River) boundary is turned into a straight line. Until about 1973, though, the correct outline was used – and it seems this construction company pulled an old manual off the shelf when it came time to put this sign together.

We’re in the Phoenix area now. Button copy is getting rare. The blue 101 shields are getting even rarer.

Approaching sunset.

Getting close to Yuma. And this is our last photo on the night, as it turns dark, the wind picks up, and there is a dust storm on I-8… but we’re too busy flirting with death before our time to bother taking photos. Next time, perhaps!

I find them at Lake Roberts, and we head up to the end of New Mexico 15 to the Gila Cliff Dwellings, find some hot springs, and generally have a quality time of things.

I took over 1000 pictures on this day – quite a lot of things to be seen!

Shelly, Dale, and Beverley at the entrance to the cliff dwellings. The ladder is a modern touch for modern folks. The original inhabitants, of course, flew from door to door on the power of their awesomeness.

Today’s theme ingredient is: forest fire.

I believe this is a desert spiny lizard (Sceloporus magister). Dale spotted the little critter first and it took me a good several seconds to note what he was pointing at. The camouflage is dang near perfect!

The Gila Cliff Dwellings. They were built around 1280 by the Mogollon people, and were abandoned sometime in the 1300s. Due to the desert climate, they remain very well-preserved; almost exactly how they looked over 700 years ago.

Dale. No further explanation needed.

A lazy evening spent at a hot spring. I took this photo while sitting in the pool. Probably not the smartest idea ever, but hey, the photo came out!

Green tree at the Lake Roberts campground.

A close-up of some of the leaves.

Lots of fossils to be found in the rocks that the New Mexico park service used to build the campground in the 1930s.

A little green and orange plant.

I don’t think the sign is particularly old, but it does have the classic 1920s block font.

A one-lane bridge on old NM-35. Lake Roberts is actually several miles to the east of 15; off 35.

This is actually the very last 15 “reassurance marker”. Here, we enter the Gila Cliff Dwellings national monument.

Yellow rocks cut away to provide room for NM-15.

This extremely green species of tree is all over the area.

Our first glimpse of the source of the smoke. We’ll be seeing a lot more of this very soon.

The confluence of the East and Middle forks of the Gila River.

Oh, that forest fire? Well, it’s here.

The Gila Cliff Dwellings visitor center flag. Brown light courtesy of – you guessed it – forest fire.

Fisheye to rectangular conversion on this one, explaining the wacky angles at the edges.

They’re circling …

Welcome to the enchanted forest of bizarre lighting.

A small stream on the way to the cliff dwellings.

Bright light. Big tree.

The cliffs. Soon, we’ll find the dwellings.

Another extremely green tree.

Different angle on the lizard. I circled around and got this photo before it decided it had enough and took off scurrying.

The path up to the cliff dwellings involves a lot of steps.

Our first view of the dwellings.

Getting closer.

Inside one of the dwellings.

Looking out the window.

I could never quite expose this one correctly.

A very Escher-looking photo.

Getting these photos to expose correctly is very difficult, due to the huge range in light levels.

About the only cliff dwellings photo which I didn’t blow out at least one corner of!

A petroglyph. Plenty may be found at the dwellings.

More views from the cliff dwellings.

The result of forest fire brown and camera flash white.

One last view of the same general area.

A helpful warning. It’s about a 20 foot drop.

I take thousands of photos. Shelly takes maybe 37. Beverley looks for Dale. Say, where is that man anyway? Did he get eaten by wolves?

We’ve completed our tour. And the sky is even more brown and filled with smoke.

A narrow cliffside path will lead us back down.

What happens when you put red dirt under red light?

The sky is completely brown, and even our favorite green trees are distorted in color.

A fire survey crew prepares to take care of business. It turns out that, as of this day, the decision was to let it burn, as it was not threatening any human dwellings.

Not shown in this photo: Captain Obvious.

Dale has to get his own picture … of just the sign, of course!

And the secret ingredient which makes the picnic sandwiches so delicious is …

And the secret ingredient which makes the picnic sandwiches so delicious is … hey wait a minute!

By wing coloration, this is a Baltimore oriole. By geographic location, it is a Bullock’s oriole. In any case, here he is, spying on our picnic, wanting a piece of the secret ingredient action.

A tree awash in brown light.

Not a sign you see every day.

Big tree, at the picnic area.

Oh, right, huge fire. And we’re planning on going forward.

A large tadpole meets an even larger blob of vegetation.

A reflecting pool.

Deer: not exactly a rare creature.

A brown reflection.

A decorative element at a hot spring we visited. It is, indeed, a 1927-1931 New Mexico state highway marker! Most of the surviving examples of this sign are in similarly execrable condition: there is only one that is pretty decent with the original paint and route number.

We’re still about an hour before sunset, but we get this kind of lighting.

And here is the reason why!

The sun sinks lower and lower.

Hot spring pool at dusk.

One more on the theme of “sunset through silhouetted trees”.

Brightly colored red rocks.

I have no explanation. Maybe Shelly does.

Horse and foal.

Bright yellow leaves.

Back at the Gila River bridge, looking at the confluence of the two branches.

Canyon in deep shadows.

Sunset through the smoke.

Have I mentioned the ridiculous colors?

Same yellow rocks as we saw in the morning. Completely different lighting.

The sun sets as we return to Lake Roberts. What a day!

Adventures in terrible light-post placement. There are only two known 1957-spec interstate shields in Arizona. (The other one is on this exact gantry, facing the other direction.)

Extremely pointy flower in morning light. Highway 90 between Lordsburg and Silver City, New Mexico.

Heading north from Silver City on state highway 15.

San Diego. Highway 52 is now open from 125 to 67.

Caltrans manages to sneak in a 1950s (!) sign layout, with Junction spelled out in mixed case to accompany a route shield.

Early experiment in non-porcelain signage. This sign, on I-8, dates to 1962, and the 67 shield covers up a white one. Individually riveted non-reflective letters onto a green background. The reflectors were added sometime in the 1970s, when older non-reflective signs got the “bag of buttons and a bucket of glue” treatment.

Interstate 8 heads east towards Imperial County.

If I recall correctly, the “your papers, please” checkpoint was closed.

The other 1957-spec I-8 shield. Same intersection, but heading southbound.

They may very well have closed this station permanently. If so, this is one button copy sign which I won’t miss when it vanishes.

Telegraph Pass, just east of Yuma. The two carriageways of I-8 separate, and in fact the westbound lanes cross over the eastbound ones for a short while.

Rarely seen narrow Clearview. A new sign since the last time I came through here, around November 2010.

The very last I-8 reassurance marker, paired with a rarely seen (but perfectly sensible) 36″ trailblazer for I-10.

Park Link Drive – a connector between I-10 and AZ-79 which lets us avoid Tucson. It is shown on few maps, but is a perfectly serviceable paved road.

Spot the old alignment. We’re near the Gila River now; AZ-77 follows it.

Time to turn around.

Back down the hill we go.

The town of Winkelman has seen better days. Yes, that is a noose hanging down.

Lordsburg, next morning. The signs are relatively new, but the gantry itself dates to the 1950s.

Another view of the same extremely pointy flower.

Every county in New Mexico seems to have a different route numbering scheme. Grant has hyphenated numbers.

A typical New Mexico historic marker.

US-80 hasn’t run through New Mexico since 1991, but historic markers are always the last to be updated.

A 1960s (or maybe even 1950s!) cheap New Mexico sign. To save money, only the bottom half of the sign was covered in reflective Scotchlite!

The missing sign is an 18×18 New Mexico route 15 marker. Pinos Altos.

This time, a 24″ shield and an arrow are both missing.

The end of the alternate route. It isn’t signed from 15.

Further up highway 15.

Our first picture of the Gila River itself. (Finally!)

What is the nature of this ominous haze? We’ll leave off with this photo. Next up, Gila Cliff Dwellings!

Two days of photos – one of just hanging out, the second of actually going somewhere.

Flowers still in bloom in late October at 6800 feet. Someone does one hell of a job with the gardening!

Why has Dale ascended to such magnificent heights atop this flimsy half-a-utility-pole? Because he can.

Iridescent clouds, and a radio assembly on top of Sierra Grande. (Or: a flying saucer comes in for a landing.)

Iridescent clouds were a regular phenomenon over both days.

More flowers. The bees, alas, appear to be mostly gone by this late in the season. We will see only one.

It is a little-known fact that the famous Red Phone in the Kremlin actually connects to Dale’s house. (Photo has been mildly edited to protect the privacy of this charming 1970s communication device.)

The road to the windmill, as we approach dusk.

Sunset in Union County.

Moonrises are just as colorful as sunrises – you just have to take longer exposures.

Next morning. What a perfect day to go to the top of Sierra Grande!

Changing leaves and reflecting signs – what more could you want?

High clouds and bright leaves.

Up the road to Sierra Grande. We are suddenly pursued by a horde of magnificent beasts.

Bovine intervention.

Looking straight up.

Sometimes, shooting straight into the sun actually works.

Did I mention the leaves are changing?

Last bee of the season.

Halfway up the road to Sierra Grande. This is what they call, literally, a late bloomer.

Solid advice on the Sierra Grande road.

Top of the mountain. We have arrived.

Dale and Esperanza – and the International Harvester Scout, and a giant radio installation, and high clouds. Don’t mind the International – regardless of how I tried to perspective-correct this picture, it refused to conform to the linearity of this space-time continuum.

Figures.

Higher than Capulin Volcano. Not quite as high as Greenhorn Mountain, which is visible in the background, over 100 miles away, just past Walsenburg, Colorado.

Dale enjoys his fancy German beer.

In the foreground, the town of Capulin. Behind it, highway 64/87 heads off into the distance. Said distance consists of the Sangre de Cristo mountains.

The survey marker on top of Sierra Grande. The highest point, apart from the broadcast towers anyway.

High clouds and installations.

Esperanza about to be vaporized by a malevolent device.

A giant heap of ladybugs. They are, ahem, causing new ladybugs to come into being.

Tall tower is tall.

High clouds: a cause for much rejoicing.

Dale surveys the landscape.

Top of the world.

Oklahoma!

Yet another person decides to climb the pole for no discernible reason. (The person who took these pictures would like to remind the world of his extremely powerful fear of heights desire to take photographs from ground level.)

Implicit in this blissful portrait is the subject’s realization that the only way down is an eight foot sudden drop.

It’s not out of focus; it’s naturally fuzzy! (I’ll have to use that reasoning for all my photos from now on.)

On our way back down.

Union County driving test.

We are on an old US-70 alignment, and here is the obligatory photo of the curves warning sign with the treacherous mountains in the background.

a sloppy-looking shield on I-25, but – what’s this?? – it has “US” above the number? New Mexico really pulled out an old standard specification to manufacture this sign.

Speaking of old, check out these classic 1960s fonts on this sign. It is more than likely that the sign does not date back that far, but this is New Mexico for ya – the first spec on the shelf that they find that vaguely covers the needed project, they will use.

This is an extremely faded sign. It may help to illustrate the point to note that at one time one of the primary colors of this sign was blue.

What, route 80 at route 70?? Lordsburg. New Mexico 80 is old US-80, but the independent routing was supposed to end many miles west, before 80 joined 70 as a multiplex all the way to Las Cruces, and then split off as an 80/85 multiplex. The fact that 80 was multiplexed with US-70, I-10, and then I-20 all the way to Dallas explains its decommissioning west of there.

US-80 was removed and the independent sections became NM-80 and AZ-80 – but significantly west of here. Suffice it to say, these signs should not exist, but here they are!

Indian Route 3 is the old US-70 alignment we will explore.

Not just any old alignment, but the very first alignment – check out the original 1920s bridges (at least 10 of them by my count) on this road!

Small boat. Large rocks.

Coolidge Dam. Eastern Arizona. Old US-70. Unlike the Hoover Dam to the southwest, here there are no Department of Homeland Security stooges getting stern-facedly involved, and you can take photos to your heart’s desire.

Crossing the dam on old US-70 – yep, the road is built right across the top of it!

Indian 3, after the dam, cuts across to current 70 on a stretch of road that was never the old highway. The western half of old US-70 is buried.

Back on current 70 – here is the brand new Prismatic High Intensity junction marker with Indian 6. I leave it as an exercise to the reader to determine why this new brand of sheeting is called “prismatic”!

Somewhere in there is an arrow. A 1950s sign, left on an old US-60 alignment not too far east of Phoenix.

Heading into Phoenix proper now – these blue Loop 101 shields date to between 1989 and 2002, and nowadays are getting harder and harder to find. Arizona colored loops 101, 202, and 303, but then found out that they faded far faster than black and white shields – and did not receive federal funding for their signs. A great idea, too bad on the implementation.

Loop 303 is black, and those shields last quite a while. It’s loop 202 (green – and I did not see an example on this trip) that really faded far too fast and doomed the program.

One of the very few button-copy interstate shields left in Arizona. US and state route shields went away from button copy years ago, but there are a few interstate markers left with this standard. There is another one on I-40 indicating I-17, and those are the two I can think of offhand.

Welcome to California. An agricultural checkpoint, which is, these days, little more than a front for the Border Patrol to keep an eye on activity. Yes, on interstate 10, it is the aggie folks that ask the questions – and the border patrol who stand in the shadows, taking down license plate numbers.

that said – given my latest several experiences (which I will elaborate on when I post my El Paso and San Felipe trip photos), it seems the border patrol is getting to be more and more professional, and the agricultural folks more and more arbitrary in enforcing the regulations.

It’s a strange day in American history when the usual bugaboo, the border patrol internal checkpoint, for once grows reasonable and acknowledges its Constitutional bounds, develops a new sense of courtesy to break away from its previous fear-based “OMG 911″ agenda, and simultaneously re-invents itself as a more effective crime prevention agent…

meanwhile, sensing the power-vacuum, the good old-fashioned “Okies Keep Out” agency rises to fill the necessity of anti-social behavior.

strange days indeed.

Safely in California, and heading down highway 78 to county route S-34, which will connect us to interstate 8 and take us back home to San Diego.

The Chocolate Mountains, as viewed from S-34.

The danger of new signage. The old signs – dating back to the 1910s – correctly identified this location as Gordon’s Well.

Smoke in the sky. The regular burning of crops.

Interstate 8, about to hit the mountains.

Identify this train. Marked “Spirit”, this engine sits on the old Southern Pacific tracks at Ocotillo Wells.

Old US-80, before the concrete abruptly gets torn out. The original road was built in 1913, and around 1956 it was replaced with Interstate 8.

don’t ask me what this sign says – but the dirt trail is old 80 after it was torn out.

Back in San Diego. Turning onto I-15 to get home, and look whose shield has gone missing. Yep, that should be I-15 on that green sign. Here’s where I show up to work at 4pm!

A demon beetle! These creatures are all over Mills Canyon. They’re two inches long and make shrieking noises. Oh, and they fly.

The Canadian River, in infrared. This is where we park for a lazy day of being lazy.

Really, this is our parking spot. It’s a little-known feature of the International Harvester Scout: Jesus Mode.

Here, damselflies engage in, ahem, damselfly production activities. This is in the middle of the river. I floated out there on an air mattress, camera several inches away from getting soaked.

We take a lot of dirt roads. This is County Line Road and here it jogs from Colfax to Union County.

We rustle up a herd of antelope. Northeastern New Mexico is the antelope capital of the world.

Coming up on US-56. The modern road is just a couple hundred feet from the old alignment marked here, which isn’t actually visible anymore as it has been overgrown since the 1850s.

An oddly shaped tree.

The road to Mills Canyon is not particularly an improved one.

The demon beetle is not impressed by Dale’s size reference item.

The canyon itself.

A Mount Rushmore of Indian heads.

An even more primitive road. The tree to the left is one of the remnants of Melvin Mills’s orchard from a century ago. When the Santa Fe Trail decided to go elsewhere, so did Mills’s fortunes.

Dale finds a snapping turtle, and picks it up. First the turtle seems mildly amused.

After a moment, the turtle figures out that maybe a defensive reaction is in order.

The turtle tries escaping. No luck.

Looks like it’s time for plan P.

How’s that for a road? We have to ford the river.

Dale has arrived and settled in.

The entirety of the First Mills Canyon Battleship Fleet.

Let this be a warning to all: we will drink your beer!

Damselfly island.

This one’s a bit distracted and is therefore about to crash into the twig.

The ruins of the over 100 year old Mills Hotel.

Time to head home.

Looking up at a sharp angle towards this rock.

This isn’t nearly as bad as the Puffin Road, but it is still an impressive grade.

The last antelope of the day.

Sunset over highway 64/87.

A few test shots before the last of dusk.

Perfectly clear skies at 6800 feet. 5 1/2 minute exposure.

Will it lightning again tonight, providing competition for the fireworks?

Where’s the bees? A lot fewer than the first day that I got there. Must be something different about the weather, although it generally felt the same to us untrained humans.

Dale and his fully operational 1920s traffic signal.

But wait, it’s empty on the inside. How does it work? (The sun is directly behind the lens.)

There are seven traffic signals in Union County. Six of them are right here in the front yard.

The tall trees are at their greenest.

The fireworks will be the only show tonight – no particularly threatening clouds to be seen.

Oops, looks like there is some side theater after all – something got set on fire in downtown Raton.

Lighting one up on the railroad track.

What do you do when one can finishes? Start up another one, of course!

A Texas special. New Mexico no longer sells the ones that go too high.

And the actual show. Unfortunately, I only got about two decent photos, as we were very close and therefore most of my shots had the fireworks half out of the frame.

Part IV will feature a trip to Mills Canyon in sunny Harding County, New Mexico. Oh yeah, then a long, long drive back home.

It happens to be raining in sunny Union County.

Fence post, and observer, at sunset.

Orange skies are orange. I had not seen this sort of sunset since just after a thunderstorm in South Dakota in 2006!

Rain to our west, too. The only place it isn’t raining is right overhead!

Red rainbow.

Wide angle. I was too lazy to switch lenses (lest I miss something!) so I just took 7 photos and stitched them.

I turned this photo upside down for that extra otherworldly effect.

This one, too.

Spot where it was zoomed into.

Bright orange fades to purple, and I elegantly blow out the red channel on the camera.

Meanwhile, in the other direction, we have a lightning storm.

Silly lightning, you’re supposed to hit the highest point around!

And that’s about the absolute last of daylight.

coming up next – fireworks!

Sunny Union County is inhabited by huge bees.

Little house on the prairie.

What is missing here? An I-40 shield fell down off this sign! What makes this extra interesting is that I could verify the absence of any US-66 signage underneath. The sign goes back to the late 1960s, and while 66 was still around as a route until 1974, the US routes were starting to get de-emphasized in favor of the interstates on the multiplexes as early as 1964, when the gradual decommissioning was started.

Alas, it was night, so I did not feel like stopping on the freeway to find a potential souvenir.

Kingman, and the I-40 corridor in general, still has plenty of button copy – this in contrast with further-south parts of the state, which feature more and more retroreflective Clearview signage each day.

Not hard to find original-spec interstate shields in New Mexico.

A 666 sign, on the other hand, would be quite the find. They really made an active effort to eradicate that number from New Mexico in 2003 – and now, surprisingly, original 66 shields are easier to find than original 666es, despite the fact that 66 hasn’t been around since 1985.

Sunrise on the Devil’s Highway.

This font appears all over the county. 6100 is an old US-64 alignment. We’ll be taking US-64 from 666 almost all the way across the state!

New Mexico has only a casual and intermittent relationship with standards. There are NEW MEXICO/US shields of this style elsewhere in the state.

At some point in its life, this sign clearly identified Indian route J-12.

The sign is from 1980.

Some thistles.

New Mexico likes placing a black outline around shields. They also like putting the incorrect directional banner. Both 64 and 84 are east-west.

Approaching the old US-64 bridge across the Rio Grande, at Arroyo Hondo. The bridge was built in the 1910s, and the old alignment leading down to the river is very steep and has some sharp switchbacks. However, it is a very good dirt road and is easily traversed in a compact car.

Our first view of the bridge.

This photo is in infrared, as that’s about the only way one can shoot into the sun like this.

The bridge from the eastern shore. 1920s color postcard effect achieved by overlaying one visible-light and one infrared photo.

Remember those clouds coming over the canyon from the west? Well, here they are!

The east end of New Mexico state highway 38 features this slightly augmented guide sign.

US-64 winds its way through Cimarron Canyon.

Huge clouds in the distance, as we exit the Rockies.

This is what happens when we get to those clouds. 1178 miles driven in one burst, from 7pm to 3pm the next day!

Once the rain clears, the bees come out.

Bumblebees are rarely aggressive when foraging, and it’s easy to get photos of them.

One last bumblebee picture.

A different kind of bee – somewhat less colossal.

A hole in the sky.

And that’s it because sunset photos will be in the next batch!