As I drove through the Eastern U.S. and into the South, I noticed only subtle differences in the landscape. By the time I crossed the Mason-Dixon line, the earth began to take on a reddish tinge. The trees on either side of the Interstates looked pretty well the same from New York to Alabama. Only when I got to within a hundred miles of the Gulf of Mexico did anything change. As I headed for Dallas from Lafayette, LA, the highways looked just about the same as they had everywhere else.
Once I got past Ft. Worth, TX, the landscape changed dramatically: no more trees lining the highways; just flat plains as far as the eye can see. I could tell that I had come some distance uphill as I stopped for fuel just past Ft. Worth. I was looking south at a distant valley, and West at a pancake flat prairie.
It took me two days of driving to finally reach New Mexico. The entire Texas Panhandle would make a great runway. It is remarkably flat. The sky overwhelms the earth. At sunset, I could see at the same moment the darkness of night due West, and the light of day due East. I tried to take photos of the sunset, but the limitations of my camera foiled me.
Near the New Mexico border, the ground appeared to give way under the highway, as the land opened up to distant mesas all around. After many miles of horrible tourist traps along the Interstate, I arrived in Albuquerque, where I sampled some of the local cuisine and rested for the busy days of exploration ahead.
