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Dr. Frazier: When Maps Lie Adventure Begins Photo Gallery

When Dr. Frazier points his KLR650 toward a New Mexico ghost town, he realizes that when the map lies, the true adventures begin. Read the full story in Dr. Frazier: When Maps Lie and Roads End.

The warning was clear enough: No picture taking unless prior approval given “by the village mayordomos.”
Leaving the Laguna Indian Reservation meant a change in rules and laws.
Off the Laguna Indian Reservation and immediately new rules and laws applied, those of the Cebotteta Land Grant, with a hard-to-ignore warning.
Front yard artwork entering the village of Seboyeta showed an interesting expression of thought.
The road quality began to decline as soon as I left Seboyeta.
Up a steep incline over ugly loose rocks could have been done, but the thought of having to come back down after some miles changed my mind and direction.
Following dubious directions out of Seboyeta towards Marquez the road soon became gravel.
What was difficult traveling further into the depths of the unknown was accepting the risk of having to turn around a retrace my route if the road ended.
My equipment was well prepared for off-pavement travel, and included tent, sleeping bag and even a can of food for an unplanned stay in the wilderness. The sign told me to stay on the road, and off the private property.
A bullet riddled sign instructed me to stay on the road as well as guns were aplenty on the land I was crossing.
Another sign of gunplay also told me I was on a country road, leaving Cibola County.
Entering the village of Marquez, a village not on my map, told me the locals had been right up to this point and the map was lying.
The church in Marquez looked like it had not seen much use recently.
This crumbling building or home in the village of Marquez was devoid of sound except for that made by wind passing through empty windows.
The road out of Marquez came to an end when I took heed of the sign telling me to turn around.
My effort to reach the L-Bar Ranch was halted by yet another warning. Private meant private was the instinct I followed.