After two solid days of rest and swim sessions at Bottomless Lakes State Park, I finally felt human again. Real, actual rest—the kind you feel in your bones. Lea Lake’s impossibly clear, bright blue water did wonders for both my body and my brain. Even if that wetsuit never sees the light of day again, it was worth every penny just to float around in that magic.
Before leaving, I ran through my usual van wellness routine: tire check, exterior walkaround, ladder climb, rooftop scan. That’s when I spotted a tiny ding on one of my crossbars. Pretty sure a rogue rock off a gravel truck did the deed. Could’ve been worse—if it hit my solar panel, I’d have had a much bigger problem on my hands. Pro tip: keep your distance from trucks hauling gravel.
I rolled out of Bottomless Lakes around 10 a.m., set my GPS for Candyman Strings in Santa Fe, and hit Route 285. The drive surprised me. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was good—a subtle unfolding of terrain. The scrubby desert started giving way to high desert textures, with pink ledges, bigger trees, and an easy road all to myself.
Candyman Strings was exactly what I hoped for. I’m in the music industry myself and knew of the store through a trade group. It’s won a bunch of awards, and I wanted to check out their merchandising—and maybe say hi to a friend or two.
The store had great energy: well-lit, smartly laid out, and a pretty respectable banjo wall. Even got a peek at their employee areas and break rooms, which were way cooler than anything I’ve seen in our space. Sadly, my contacts weren’t in that day. That’s the trouble with traveling the way I do. I can’t give people much notice as I’m never sure when and where I’m going to be.
With Santa Fe sprawled out in front of me, I weighed my options. I’d scoped out some BLM spots nearby—Diablo Canyon and a few others—but I wasn’t keen on playing campground roulette this close to a city. Reviews about gunfire and trash made me wary. Maybe it was just internet exaggeration, but I wasn’t in the mood to roll the dice. I wanted easy, and I wanted close.
So I booked another KOA. Nothing fancy, no hookups, just clean, simple, and nearby. Sometimes you just need low drama.
The next day, I swung back to Candyman for a proper visit with my friends and a grand tour of the place. Then I pointed my wheels toward the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum and Canyon Road.
Georgia O’Keeffe is often called the “Mother of American Modernism,” known for her bold close-up paintings of flowers, stark desert landscapes, and bleached animal skulls that captured the raw beauty of the Southwest. Though she was born in Wisconsin, she found her artistic soul in New Mexico, moving permanently to the Abiquiú area in 1949 and drawing endless inspiration from the red cliffs, vast skies, and sun-baked mesas near Santa Fe. Her presence helped put northern New Mexico on the art world’s map, attracting generations of artists and admirers. The Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe, just a few blocks from the historic Plaza, celebrates her legacy with rotating exhibits of her work alongside photographs, letters, and personal artifacts that reveal the fiercely independent woman behind the iconic paintings. It’s not just a museum—it’s a gateway into the colors, shapes, and spirit that defined O’Keeffe’s vision of the American Southwest.
Georgia O’Keeffe holds a legendary place in American art, and her deep connection to New Mexico—particularly Santa Fe and the nearby Ghost Ranch—was more than just a backdrop. The region’s stark landscapes, wide-open skies, and warm desert light shaped much of her work, and in turn, she helped shape how the world sees the Southwest. Her museum in Santa Fe isn’t just a tribute to her art—it’s a window into the colors, forms, and solitude that inspired a lifetime of creativity.
I’m not much of an art guy, but the O’Keeffe Museum was striking. Her use of color reminded me of some of the Hawaiian greats—Tadashi Sato and Hiroki Morinoue. One piece in particular, “Mount Fuji at Sunset,” stopped me in my tracks. Blazing orange skies, a whitewashed landscape—it had that quiet, surreal punch I didn’t know I needed.
Afterward, I returned to the van for a long-awaited test drive of my underused $400 Costco electric scooter. Look at the underlighting. As a teenage boy I would have been thrilled. As a 48 yo…welp…maybe a little embarrased.
Santa Fe’s quaint streets seemed like the perfect test track. The weather didn’t fully cooperate—cold, gray, and blustery—but that also meant the historic district was practically empty. I zipped around empty adobe-lined streets like I owned the place.
The Loretto Chapen Museum looked nice, but I didn’t think they’d take to kindly to my ultra cool electric scooter. After visiting Italy a few summers ago and seeing the duomo in places like Orvieto, I thought it was okay to pass up.
That’s when I stumbled on Hecho e Mano, a pop-contemporary gallery that had some anime-style pieces in the window that caught my eye. Inspired by the O’Keeffe visit, I stopped in and found a piece by Carson Elliott titled Somewhere Near the Meteor Crater.
It certainly was no Georgia Okeefe, but it felt like this trip: long, sparse roads, gas stations in the middle of nowhere, saturated colors, and a tiny dinosaur for a bit of cheeky joy. It was pricey, but I asked Martha (shoutout!) if they’d include shipping. She said yes, and I told her I’d think about it.
I kept exploring Santa Fe on the scooter, ending up in the famous art area, Canyon Road, flowering trees, kinetic wind sculptures, deserted sidewalks, adobe everything. It felt like I had the whole place to myself. Eventually, I circled back to Hecho a Mano and pulled the trigger on the artwork. Martha was thrilled.
That purchase reminded me I should probably bring something back for my wife. I asked around for recommendations on local Native American turquoise jewelry and was pointed to Ortega’s, just around the corner. They warned me it wasn’t going to be cheap—but the selection, quality, and service would be top notch.
They weren’t wrong. Ortega’s was huge. I walked in looking like a dork—bike helmet on, dragging the scooter—but the staff treated me like royalty. I texted my wife pictures of everything I thought she might like, and she picked a hand-carved sterling silver bracelet and a pair of small turquoise earrings.
They even included info about the artists who made each piece. Solid move all around. If I’m ever going to justify a solo trip like this again, showing up with quality loot doesn’t hurt.
After all that shopping (which, let’s be honest, drains me), I faced the classic road trip question: eat another sad van meal or treat myself? Santa Fe has a legendary food scene, but spicy stuff is off the table for me. I scoped out a dim sum joint, Dumpling Tea & Dim Sum, and figured, why not?
It looked fresh and promising. I over-ordered, naturally, but the plan was to freeze the extras for air fryer magic later. I devoured about a third of it right there in the parking lot. Was it the best dim sum I’ve ever had? No. But for a cold afternoon in New Mexico, it was a dang good surprise. The soup dumplings didn’t collapse, the wrappers were tasty, and nothing tasted like it came from a freezer.
Back at camp, I took a long KOA shower and went for a brisk evening walk to stretch the legs. The campground was well-kept and clearly in expansion mode—bulldozers and fresh grading happening nearby. But man, it was cold. I didn’t think to flip on the tank heaters that night. Rookie move. A chill evening getting caught up with some content I’d downloaded.
The next morning? Icicle hanging from the van and a puddle on my doorstep. For a second, I thought I’d wrecked my plumbing system. Thankfully, the camper held up, and I had zero concerns about surviving the chill. Between sleeping bags rated to 15°F and a van that starts, you’re always good.
Next up: Angels Peak, New Mexico—a spot recommended by a fellow truck camper I met back at Bottomless Lakes. The road called again, and I was ready to answer. I was excited to leave a populated area as the road always wins. It was time to get back to it.
Check out the next leg of this Journey: TO COME!
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