Before leaving New Mexico, I had a few more things I wanted to see.
I’d been in Albuquerque long enough to know it probably wasn’t going to become one of my favorite places. The summer heat certainly didn’t help. But the longer I stayed and the more I explored, the more I found to appreciate—unexpected murals, quirky Route 66 stops, ancient rock art, and those enormous Sandia Mountains always looming in the background. Some of my favorite discoveries were actually outside the city, but they all added to my experience in New Mexico.
So, before packing up and moving on, I decided to have one last look around.
I decided to see Albuquerque from above.
I’d been looking at the Sandia Mountains for weeks, so riding the Sandia Peak Tramway seemed like a fitting way to finally get a closer look.
The tram travels more than two miles up the mountain, climbing to more than 10,000 feet. As it rose above the city, Albuquerque seemed to get smaller and smaller below me. The Rio Grande stretched across the valley, and the desert landscape spread out in every direction.
I’ve seen plenty of beautiful views during this nomad year, but there was something special about seeing Albuquerque from this perspective. From the ground, the city can feel sprawling and a little chaotic. From the mountain, it looked peaceful.
And, thankfully, considerably cooler.
The tram ride made me think about how sometimes you just need to change your perspective.
Literally.
If the tram gave me a new perspective on Albuquerque, my visit to Petroglyph National Monument took me in a completely different direction—back hundreds of years.
The monument protects thousands of images carved into the dark volcanic rocks along Albuquerque’s West Mesa. Some were created by Indigenous people, while others were carved by Spanish settlers centuries ago.
I followed the trail, looking closely at the rocks for images that can be surprisingly easy to miss.
A bird.
A figure.
A symbol.
A handprint.
It was fascinating to think about someone standing in this very place hundreds of years ago, carefully carving an image into the rock.
There was no grand building. No elaborate exhibit. Just rocks, desert, sky—and these little pieces of history still sitting right where they were left.
I liked that.
Of course, I couldn’t leave Albuquerque without a little more time on Route 66.
One thing I did enjoy about Albuquerque was how often something unexpected caught my eye. You didn’t always have to be looking for an attraction. Sometimes you just turned a corner and found something worth stopping for.
A mural.
An old neon sign.
A vintage building.
A sculpture that made me wonder what the artist was thinking.
And then there’s Route 66 itself, running through the heart of the city along Central Avenue.
Albuquerque has embraced its stretch of the Mother Road with murals, public art, historic signs, and plenty of colorful reminders of its past. In fact, the city’s new Route 66 Remixed project has turned an 18-mile stretch of the road into an art-filled journey featuring murals, sculptures, and other creative installations.
That felt very Albuquerque to me.
History, art, kitsch, culture, and a little bit of weirdness all mixed together.
I stopped for pictures whenever something caught my eye. Some were planned. Others were completely random.
Those might have been my favorite kind.
Looking back at my time in Albuquerque, I realize I probably won’t remember the city as a collection of major attractions.
I’ll remember the little things.
The colorful murals I stumbled across while driving around.
The Route 66 signs.
The quirky roadside touches.
The mountains appearing at the end of a street.
The enormous sky.
The petroglyphs hiding in the volcanic rocks.
And that first view from the tram when the entire city opened up below me.
Maybe that’s what travel does sometimes.
We arrive somewhere expecting to decide whether we like it or not. We make our lists and visit the places we’re supposed to visit. And then, somewhere along the way, the place becomes less about the things we checked off and more about the little moments we remember.
Albuquerque and I never became great friends.
But I found things here that I loved.
Art.
History.
Beautiful landscapes.
A few unexpected adventures.
And, as has happened so many times during this nomad year, I found a little more of myself along the way.
So this is my last New Mexico post—for now, anyway.
I’m leaving with a full camera roll, a few more stories, and the feeling that maybe Albuquerque didn’t need to steal my heart after all.
Maybe it was enough to simply give me something to remember.
