Whirlwind Day in Albuquerque

Armchair Adventures

for May 20, 2012

by Paul Sullivan

Albuquerque on Steroids

            Think of a single day in which you are offered to opportunity to see and do the following. Any one of them would make a day to remember.

            It could be a flight in a light plane up one of the most scenic valleys in the Southwest with time to land at the state capital, have coffee, then take off again to trace the path one of the west's most legendary rivers, viewing a rugged range of mountains, as well as dozens of other sites.

            Or it might be an evening concert to hear the world's most famous flamenco guitarist and his ensemble, taking in an electrifying performance of musicians and dancers as they bring a packed house to its feet in waves of applause.

            It could be a quiet drive down a National Scenic Byway through old mining towns from the Frontier West, in the shadows of towering forested peaks, a few with snow still brushing their upper flanks.

            Maybe it would include a chamber music concert by top tier musicians in an architecturally striking setting, sipping wine afterward in a chat with the players who live there.

            Surely all of these activities and a few others couldn't be stuffed into a single day?

Or could they?

            And despite this amazing schedule, everything came off without a hitch, thanks to my Albuquerque hosts, Chuck and Carol Kreis.

            Chuck and I left early Sunday for Kirtland Air Force Base, where he had scheduled time in 66-Mike-Juliet, a clean, well-maintained Cessna 182 of the base Aero Club. After Chuck dispensed with the paperwork and got a forecast, we untied and did a pre-flight on the plane.

            Despite the high altitude of the field (shared as Albuquerque International), the 182 with constant-speed three-blade prop didn't break a sweat holding a 600-foot-per-minute rate of climb as we made a wide climbing turn to a northerly heading.

            Chuck, a retired, high-time career Air Force pilot took pity on this salivating wingless flyer and offered me the controls. What a feast for the eyes and the senses!

            At 8,500 feet, where my old C-150 would be gasping, this little bird didn't seem to notice.

            We explored Santa Fe and vicinity, Chuck pointing out such notable features as the renowned Santa Fe Opera, national cemetery, and the state capital's ancient old town.

            I believe we could have made a day of our aerial tour, but a tight timetable meant that after landing and taking a moment for coffee, we had to depart

Santa Fe and head south for "home."

            On a trip to Thailand, the Kreises had met Conrad and Susan De Jong, retired musicians who live near Santa Fe. It was sheer coincidence that on the Sunday I was there, the De Jong's were holding a chamber music concert for friends at their lovely home in the woods not far from the city. Would I like to come along?

            And that explains why, soon after we returned to Albuquerque, we once more headed north, this time the three of us in a car.

            The De Jong's home is an understated showcase of brilliant design. We were welcomed, joining some two dozen guests for the concert. Although I am not particularly enamored of chamber music, generally, two of the five pieces on the card were, I thought, warm and compelling. All were beautifully executed. Mastery is always evident.

            After wine and hors d'oeuvres, we sat around outside for a time with our hosts and their great little companion, 10-year-old Zappa, a Westie (West Highland Terrier). From their patio, we had a grand view of Wheeler Peak in the Sangre de Cristo Range-New Mexico's highest mountains.

            For the journey back to Albuquerque (getting dizzy yet?), Chuck avoided I-25, opting for New Mexico route 14, a twisting, turning historic trip through that state's colorful mining history, tracing southward 64 miles along the east flank of the Sandias. This is more commonly known as the Turquoise Trail.

            Paco de Lucia is billed as the world's eminent master of flamenco guitar. So it was said; and so did I suspend judgment knowing the tendency of promoters to hype their performers.

            At the University of New Mexico's concert hall that night, de Lucia proved himself to be as good as his billing, if not better. Such energy, such dynamic range, such lyrical raw emotion did he, his dancer and vocalist sustain that he held his audience in the palm of his hands. And when his listeners stood and demanded more, I joined them.

            What a day! I have had none other like it. And I surely will not forget it.

            It was the perfect cap to my solo cross-country driving trip.

            Monday morning I bid adieu to Chuck and Carol, taking along grand memories on the final leg of my drive from Fredericksburg, Va., to Prescott, Az.