Why you should get the hell off the interstate

On a three-month road trip around the US to help raise money for Type 1 diabetes research, it may seem rather insane to swear off interstates. They are the main arteries between big sections of the land, after all. But I’ve been avoiding them whenever I can, and the unexpected treasures of the drive today between Arizona and New Mexico through Apache and Gila National Forests is why.

Masayo and I were going from Tucson, AZ, where we’d visited super-cool Saguaro National Park, and were heading for a town called Deming, NM to pause for the night. I-10 connects the two places; it’s a fast and straight and lightly-populated direct drive. But we didn’t take it.

For a while we did; but as soon as we could we left I-10 and headed up some roads that we knew nothing about – just thin lines on a map that went through towns with funny names like Thumb Butte and Three Way. We had no idea what to expect, if anything, except lower speed limits, narrower two-lane roads, fewer amenities, and fewer other cars.

What we got was astonishing. How could people take the interstate when they could add a couple of hours to their drive but see all this?

Highway 191 was dull at first, a big humorless divided four-lane blacktop, though the rolling fields on either side were lovely. It soon narrowed into a two-lane, got curvier and higher, and entered something called Apache National Forest, which I hadn’t even noticed on the map. The landscape here was brilliant and fascinating, and we were the only people around.

As the sun began its slow descent in late afternoon the hills got higher and the shadows got longer. The road wound around steeper grades and increasingly frequent “15 MPH” curve signs. In the distance, dark red rock mountains rose while closer to the highway yellow grass and small green bushes flowed breezily around the soft hills. At one straightaway a roadrunner jumped from the guardrail and darted in front of the car, looking just like the cartoon.

Soon we found ourselves among tall trees and signs warning of icy conditions in winter: the entrance to Gila National Forest, a spot where we finally saw the “New Mexico Welcomes You” sign. We pulled over for photos and to stretch; the air was nippy but felt calm and friendly.

The first thing we saw in New Mexico was a wild turkey on the side of the road, plodding and then running comically away from our slowed-down car. We gasped and tried to get photos of this little New Mexico welcome party before he disappeared into the bushes.

Soon it got dark and we were on a long and larger highway down towards I-10 and Deming. Beware of deer signs gave way to beware of moose signs as Masayo crouched and craned her neck in her seat, looking up and identifying constellations in the numerous stars overhead. You couldn’t see that from any well-lit interstate.

There was something magical about this drive through the National Forests: maybe it was the unexpectedly dramatic scenery, or the quiet solitude, or the fine-with-me slower speed limits, or the amiable rays of the sun slanting in on us and illuminating everything in a pale and subtle orange.

The trip took longer than I-10 would have; we had to stop at McDonald’s for an unfulfilling and unhealthy dinner because there wasn’t anything else around, and it took more gas. But there is no contest: interstates may be coldly practical but local highways are the heart of a road trip.

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