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This evening there weren’t any lights because a
thunder storm was blowing up. It was
spectacular as the lightning filled the sky for
miles. We’re not used to this kind of storm.
Large drops pounded our roof, while lightning
which we could see for miles split the sky on all
sides, and the wind blew torrents of dust into the
air. The temperature dropped 30 degrees into the
lower 70’s. The rain didn’t last long. Nor did it
cause any flooding. We didn’t cross any flooded
roads on the way back to camp. It was quite an
experience and best of all it cooled everything
down so we slept really well.
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Big Bend
We were now in the forgotten lands of southern
Texas. Years ago it had been cattle country, but
over grazing has caused it to empty, and now we
could drive for miles and never see anything
alive.
We left the RV in Alpine and started off toward
Big Bend in our Nova. It gets great mileage and
has air conditioning, two good reasons to take it.
The Park entrance was only 80 miles away. Not
to far, we thought, and we’d be there before
noon. Some how we missed the point that after
80 miles of hard desert driving we’d only be at
the Parks entrance. But, there was nothing there,
it would be another 30 miles to the headquarters
and the first and only humans we’d see all day.
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We had started in Alpine at an altitude of 4,000
feet, by the time we reached headquarters we
were up to 7,000. It’s rough country, up and
down through the Chiros Mountains. They’re
entirely enclosed within the park. That’s how big
the park is, yet we would get use to the smaller
mountain ‘chains’ which seem to exist all over the
Southwest. We climbed up into them sometimes
at a steep 15 degree grade hoping that we’d stay
on the inside, against the cliff.
It’s hard to decide if we liked climbing up or
going down. It mostly depended upon which
side of the road we’re on. It’s a whole lot less
fun when we’re on the outside, looking down. I
don’t think much about the auto brakes. But,
we’ve had some pretty thin break linings on some
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pretty long steep hills and fortunately survived
them.
When we arrived at headquarters we learned that
to go further south, toward the Rio Grande River
we’d have to have a permit. We didn’t give much
thought to the permit, except that there were so
few people they probably wanted to keep tabs on
us.
Later we would think about the border, the
customs agents, border patrol, and problems with
illegal emigrants crossing, and that we travel with
no security protection, just a little can of ‘Bear
Spray’.
We’re pretty adept with it. Each time we’ve used
it we’ve sprayed ourselves. The raccoons we’ve
targeted actually just sit watching us wondering
what we were doing.
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The permit told the rangers that we were there
and probably helped them keep track of anyone
in the park.
South of headquarters the views were spectacular,
steep valleys, high climbing cliffs, jagged rocks, all
desert dusty, yet so beautiful. We took our time
and many pictures. It was another 25 - 30 miles
before we arrived at this hillside and saw the
steep cliffs of Mexico. We had driven to the
Santa Elena Canyon which bordered Mexico.
From high above we could see the canyon nitch
in the mountain wall that runs along the side of
the river.
Rio Grande River
This river flows southeast. From the north side,
American, as the Rio Grande, while on the south
shore, Mexico, it’s the Bravo Del Norte flowing
south toward the Gulf of Mexico.
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We moved down to the shore line, a sandy area
where we could easily get to the water. The river
was muddy, moved swiftly, and was shallow
enough to wade across. It looked like a nice
place to put the kayaks in the water.
If we had a couple of cars we could have gone
several miles up-stream put in and paddled or
floated down to this spot. Because we didn’t we
put in here and paddled up-stream before turning
around and floating back down. It was enjoyable.
We would float as long as we didn’t scrape
bottom and have to push off. This was
strenuous work, and before long we were tiring.
The heat of the day was also getting to us. We
hadn’t realized that it had climbed over 105
degrees and was getting hotter. All told we
probably spent over two hours in the water.
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The heat had snuck up on us. We had driven
further than expected, stopped along the way to
admire the country and take pictures. By the
time we drove out on the soft sand with the car it
was after 3:00 pm in the afternoon and the heat
of the day was gathering.
The hardest part of any outing is the end, when
the kayaks need to be cleaned, washed down and
raised back on to the car. The little Nova wasn’t
so high that we couldn’t raise each of the 60 or
70 pounds onto the roof. Although it was a bit
much in the heat.
It was then that we realized that we were in the
soft sand and hoped that we could drive out.
Slowly the car moved and climbed up the bank to
the harder surface. We shuddered at the thought
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that there wasn’t anyone around, we were all
alone
Even the nearby motel seemed abandoned I
suppose if we wanted some gas we would have
pumped it ourselves.
It was a long day and we were worn out.
We’ll see a lot of this river as we travel, and in
time even fish at its headwaters in Colorado.
Although we knew better we still turned on the
air conditioning as we drove the 150 miles back
to camp. This time the car didn’t mind. It didn’t
overheat, and we stayed awake.
On our way back to camp we counted 16 places
where flash floods could have crossed the road.
Usually there’s a dip in the road and it’s covered
with sand or dirt from the dry creek bed. We
didn’t see any signs of wet sand or clay, even
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after last nights fierce storm. Sixteen washes
could make a traveler cross sixteen fords, and you
never know how deep or treacherous they may
be.
These roads don’t look like they haven’t had
much maintenance or up keep for many years,
perhaps as long ago as the great depression, 80
years ago. This land has been over grazed and
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has pretty much been left alone until the U.S.
government bought it and turned it into a park.
By the looks of it there are so few people here
that we are either here at the wrong time of year,
or very few people ever come in the summer.
Maybe they come in the fall, but because there
are no campgrounds, maybe never.
As we arrived in Alpine our little Nova’s gas light
began to flash ‘empty’. We had come awfully
close into running out of gas. We relaxed as we
pulled into the gas station and filled up. Our
eleven gallon tank worked okay. It is always kept
filled along with a siphon hose for the RV in the
back.
As we’ve noticed not many people travel this
region. There are only a couple of roads. We
had followed Interstate 10 west then dropped
down to the park.
1932 The Old Spanish Trail
U.S. 90 on the other hand runs as close to
Mexico and the river as any. At some places it
runs through the border towns like Del Rio 200
miles east and El Paso 260 miles west.
We know that this road was all dirt, dust and
gravel during the great depression of the 1930’s
because Richard’s parents drove it. One excerpt
from their Journal relates the type of traveling
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along this road and the desert was like back then.
It begins on the way into Del Ray Texas on U.S.
90.
These are photos of Richard’s mother Margretta,
th
and father John, with a photo of their 1928, 5
hand Pontiac.
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‘Monday, Dec. 5 1932
Started rolling westward at six A.M. We were soon out
of town and into country that was more or less hilly and
mountainous all the way to Del Rio. And too, this
section had fewer towns and farm houses than the other
parts of Texas thru which we had driven. We were
coming into these very large areas used for grazing
purposes, and probably the place where a farm changes its
name to a ranch. Large numbers of Angora goats are
raised in the Del Rio country.
Arrrived in Del Rio in the middle of the afternoon. It
was a busy border town where there were many Mexicans
on the streets. Bought some food supplies and located a
camp on the west side of town. Its name was Val Verde
Courts. We asked about crossing into Old Mexico and
were told that there was a toll charge to cross the bridge
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and the customs officials with which to contend. Decided
not to go.
Tuesday, Dec. 6 1932
The roads up to this place had all been good, most of
them with hard surfaces. Now for a stretch of 330 miles,
to Van Horn, of dirt roads. They were rebuilding this
road to a three lane width and replacing the old bridges
with new ones. If finished with a hard surface it would
make a splendid connecting link in this Old Spanish
Trail. There were detours at the places where road work
was in progress. The detour, usually, was in the field
along side of the old road, with no attempt made to
prepare the temporary road. This resulted in awful rough
riding.
In this country the wind caused little ridges or ripples on
the road, close together and transversely with the road in a
corduroy or washboard effect. This condition extended
over long distances and recurred often, which caused an
unpleasant bumping of the front wheels of our heavily
loaded car. In this part of Texas towns were very far
apart, so that it was a poor place to break an axle.
Margretta (Richard’s mom) was driving on the new road
taking a turn down over the side on to the detour, which
turned sharply down and around a high pile of rocks and
on to a temporary bridge across Devils River. It all
happened so quick that she was well out on the bridge
before we realized the hazard of the crossing. This bridge
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did not have a deck or roadway surface. Here we were
moving slowly over two narrow spaces for the wheels on
each side of the car, with the waters of the river in sight
between the outside of these paths. And there was no
guard rail nor curb to prevent the car from going into the
river, three feet below. The bridge was about two hundred
feet long. Each path looked to me as tho it were made of
two eight inch by sixteen inch wooden stringers fastened
together. Surely each track did not exceed sixteen inches
in width. Margretta stuck to her post while I lined up the
front fender with the track ahead. We arrived safely on
the other side after what seemed like a ling time. This
bridge, a part of the detour, was plainly marked as such.
So that was Devils River. A fast flowing river with the
clearest of waters. We heard about a camp ground on the
bank of this river and about ten miles up stream. It was
too cold to camp here at this season so we went on.
We had just about recovered from the bridge crossing
experience when, without any warning signs, the old road
took a very sharp turn to the right and down a very steep
hill. This was Pecos River Canyon. Margretta jammed
on the foot break and switched into second gear, then
chanced to look to her left and down, down to the bottom
of the canyon where the river flowed. There was no guard
rail, wall nor curb, just a shear drop of hundreds of feet.
Needless to say that she brought her eyes back to the road
and kept them there. The road continued about half way
down the depth of the canyon, crossed a bridge, which was
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high over the river, and then went steeply up the other side
Margretta drove every part of it.
We noticed by this time that the green colored vegetation
was displaced by a sparse growth of tumble weed and
cacti. And, that we were climbing to heights greater than
hills. We were in the mountains. I had no idea,
previously, that there were mountains in this part of
Texas. Climbed up to elevation 4,500 feet at Marathon,
where we stopped for the night.
Trip 185 miles.’
U.S. 90, built in the 1920’s, was part of America’s
first nationwide road system. These roads were
numbered according to the direction they went.
Odd numbered roads ran North and south
starting in the east with U.S. 1 from Maine to
Key West Florida.
Even numbered routes ran from East to West.
Route 2 crosses the far north while US Route 90,
was the last and furthest South.
When we ran low on gas it caused us to think
about my parents. They carried extra everything,
gas, water and food. They used their water not
only to drink but to put in the radiator of the car
as it was before antifreeze. The desert heat
would often cause the car to boil over. When it
did they would stop and wait until the engine
cooled down and then add new water. They had
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no air conditioning except for the breeze they
created while driving along. They didn’t use
water jugs or bottles to keep water. Instead they
had canvas bags. Often they would attach a
water bag in front of the radiator to cool the
engine.
To cool themselves they sometimes either hung
wet wash cloths on the open windows or
wrapped them around their foreheads. They
could also open the front window shield.
We’ll revisit their journey from time to time
throughout our travels as we too have visited
many places they lived and camped so long ago.
McDonald Observatory
Just north of Alpine was Ft Davis, another safety
zone, and the McDonald Observatory. It was 13
miles away and high on the hillside. The sky was
clear, with no clouds. It was still and quiet.
Looking up this valley upon a green and grassy
hill side were these two brilliant white domes.
Undeniable domes of the Observatory. A short
distance away was another shiny chrome dome
which sparkled like a diamond in the bright Texas
sunlight.
We had just settled in at the Davis Mountain
State Park, along a dry creek bed and under a
couple of live oaks. It was a beautiful campsite
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separated from others in another of these dry
canyons.
The town was a combination of outlanders,
working at the Observatory, and old timers in
town. It’s downtown was rustic, western adobe
and old unpainted wooden shops and buildings.
Old signs adorned them like ‘Butterfield’ and
‘Over Land Stage’ adding a nice quaint feeling.
There was a half town square anchored by the
town hall and the only brick building was the
Limpia Hotel. The side streets were all dirt, with
trailers and a few small homes. On the hillsides
were larger modern homes owned by the
‘slopees’. They were much better off financially
than the whole rest of the town.
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West of town was the Blue Mountain Winery.
We tried some, but it may take some time to
mature in this desert environment.
We planned a full afternoon and evening at the
Observatory. Shopping at the gift store, going on
tour, attending a twilight lecture of the solar
system, and finishing the day with a ‘Starry Night’
review of our planets.
The tours and the heavens were great. We
bought a couple of card games. With them we
would soon know lots of constellations and all
about the death rays from the sun.
These telescopes are among the largest in the
world. They’re made of multiple mirrors
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reflecting on each other. Our earth wobbles so
much that from time to time we need to readjust
to our true north. We now use Polaris as our
true north, but 27,000 years ago it would have
been another star.
It takes a bit to get use to astronomical time. A
tick of light years instead of a moment in an
hour. As we did we were able to see Saturn,
Jupiter, a comet and the oldest galaxy M13 which
was a fuzzy ball 18 million light years away.
Among other things we learned about the very
thin silicon liners that fit under each foot of the
telescopes. They allowed the telescopes to be
turned and aimed at any part of the heavens and
amazingly, were only 1/32 inch thick.
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It was a satisfying day and the sky was so bright
we used our parking lights to drive back to camp.
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2 NEW MEXICO:
THE RADIANT STATE
Leesburg State Park
White Sands
Roswell
Magdalena
Oasis State Park
Conchas (COE)
Navajo Lake
Aztec
Fenton State Park
Heron State Park
Taos
Santa Fe
Cochiti Lake (COE)
Bandelier National Forest
Los Alamos
Silver City
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Leesburg State Park
Early in the morning we left Fort Davis and
drove up Interstate 10 through El Paso into New
Mexico and Leesburg State Park. This park had
no protection from the sun. We were on the flat
end of a large earthen dam with only a small
Ramada for a picnic table at each camp site.
Below us was the Rio Grande River. New
Mexico had dammed it before it left the state to
irrigate the fruit and nut trees. From here it
wouldn’t be more than a trickle even though it
defined the border between America and Mexico.
As we leave Texas it’s hard not to realize how
precious the water is. Every river running
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through the southwest will be drained and used
before it crosses the border into Mexico.
We couldn’t resist going north toward Las Cruces
instead of further west to Tombstone Arizona,
and the O. K. Corral.
But, an important part of traveling in the deserts
is the ability to transform oneself from place to
place at the speed of light, in a manner
reminiscent of UFO’s, Unidentified Flying
Objects. So here in New Mexico we are
encouraged to try it.
New Mexico has a history of some pretty
interesting places. This is where Billy-the-Kid
terrorized everyone, until shot down by Sheriff
Pat Garrett. The ‘Green’ things from Mars or
outerspace crash landed in Roswell. The U.S. has
it’s greatest collection of Galactic listening
devices in Madeline, and secret testing areas like
White Sands and Los Alamos. Because the state
is so radiant we have always wanted to stop at
one of their fast food chains called WaWa. Our
attraction to WaWa is it’s large ‘W’ sign they use
to advertise. It quivers!! with all the enthusiasm
of New Mexico.
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White Sands
We followed the Rio Grande as far as Las Cruces
and turned easterly over the San Andres
Mountains down into the White Sands National
Monument. There were no camping grounds so
we drove into Alamogordo, past Holloman Air
Force Base.
VAROOOM!!!…. Whistling about 40 feet over
our head, was a stealth bomber. BIG!, LOUD!,
and BLACK!. We pulled over and 10 minutes
later it flew over again. VAROOOM!! My god!
they’re doing touch and go exercises. Was this
their home base?
Stealth was new to our war defenses in 2000. We
knew so little about them. We waited another
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half hour before putting our camera away and
moving on into Alamogordo.
The White Sands are remarkable. The sands are
gypsum like the material used in sheetrock. Very
fine and dusty. The valley’s environment helps
create a special place by cradling the sands, low
humidity, heat and wind.
We were really fortunate to have an overcast sky.
Even so it was so brilliant that even our polarized
sunglasses didn’t help much. Overhead we could
see clouds of rain sweeping down on us. Under
any usual condition we would have been
swamped yet not a drop fell on us or the sands.
The humidity was so low that the air sucked up
all the moisture.
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The winds blew the sands across the roads and
off the top of the dunes. Every week the Park
Service plowed the roads. You can see from this
photo the road sides were piled 2 feet deep. We
wouldn’t have been able to get by without their
help.
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We pulled over several places and crawled up
onto the dunes. On one hand the cloud cover
made it possible to walk around on the dunes
without getting scorched from the reflective heat.
On the other hand it was so bright and white that
our camera couldn’t adjust. We also had our
problems with the brightness.
I couldn’t really get my bearing in the dunes. I
feared I would easily get lost if not following the
orange trail guides. The sand dunes didn’t have a
shape to them. One blended into another
without a trace or outline. Only the tops, or
horizon was clearly marked because of the color
change from the mountains behind them.
I climbed one dune, hand over foot, sinking and
sliding down with each grasp forward. At the top
it was apparent that I had climbed the steepest
side of the dune. It wasn’t by choice, because I
couldn’t tell where the slope was easier.
They say that gypsum is pretty heavy and for the
wind to blow these dunes around it must be over
20 miles per hour. The dunes therefore have a
particular shape, like an ocean wave. A softer
side with smaller particles to the windward where
the dune slopes upward slightly. Then a crest,
and a steep decline where the larger particles have
been blown.
I had just climbed the leeward, steep, side of a
dune without knowing it. At the top I took my
boots off believing that it would be easier
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walking. It wasn’t. I sank even deeper into the
soft finer sand. It didn’t take long to realize that
I could have used a pair of small snowshoes. The
wider the base the easier it would be to travel
over these sands.
Roswell
SWOOSH!! we’re outside of Roswell, camped at
the Bottomless Lake State Park. It’s a long
canyon outside of town. Often cattle would be
ranged and driven in these canyons. They
offered a natural barrier, keeping herds together.
It got it’s name when cowboys couldn’t reach the
bottom with their lariats. Today kids from
Roswell come out to swim and jump off the cliffs
into the deep pool. We took advantage of the
water to wash the RV.
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There were severe electrical and hail storms
predicted for the night, but we were lucky, they
passed to the north of us.
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Today there’s little more than antelope grazing,
but a few years ago it had some very different
visitors. One might say they were Aliens
We have only a few photos of the event and they
are not that clear. However, if you look closely at
the little green fellow there’s a strange yet
discernible reflection of his body type. We
supposed it to be an alternative universe.
We were able to see where they landed but our
only photo has been marked by a calendar we
made of the occasion.
You can see that their space vehicle didn’t land
easily. We suppose it was a traumatic event for
them.
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The inscription reads. ‘Shattered, from an
uncomfortable landing aliens slid down the sides
and out the portholes.’ ‘Roswell, New Mexico’.
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Magdalena
SWOOSH!! Where are we now? we’re not sure
possibly in the Magdalena National Forest. There
aren’t any trees around so were not sure.
In the middle of the desert valley we came across
this Very-Large-Array of listening devices. As
the Photo says ‘Where would you put a celestial
listening device? New Mexico of course. Twenty
Seven dishes make up this Very-Large-Array. No
wonder the little green men visited here first.’
We’re pretty sure this is a U.S. secondary or back-
up to the Puerto Rican celestial listing device.
These disks, each the diameter of a baseball
infield are arranged on railroad tracks. They can
thereby be shuttled around to magnify their
focus.
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Although we weren’t chased away, there were
only a couple of people around. No one looked
official, mostly all like us visitors.
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Oasis State Park
SWOOSH! We’ll take a break from the weird
things in New Mexico to recall a long drive, over
600 miles to the eastern border near Portales, and
the Oasis State Park. Here on the great plains
was a small clay colored pond no more than 100
feet in diameter, and three sites each with a metal
ramada over a picnic table. After our long drive
we were so glad to be there.
However, during the last 150 miles we had
passed several ‘Feed Lots’ filled with cattle being
fattened for market. You can usually tell when
your getting close to one because they smell
terrible, from miles away.
One of these lots was about 5 miles from our
camp. When the wind died down we could hear
the cattle, but we weren’t worried because the lot
was to our east and so far away. Winds out here
in the southwest blow one way from the west to
the east, or sometimes from the northwest to the
southeast, but never, never from the east to the
west. We were sure we’d be okay. But the wind
changed direction.
By 4:30 we’d picked up stakes and headed for
Clovis and breakfast at Wal Mart, the only game
in town.
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Conchas (COE)
A little further North we stopped near Tucumcari
at Conchas Lake (COE). It’s a Corp of
Engineers camp. This was a really grand
campground. Our site was on the edge of a large
canyon overlooking the Lake. The stucco
ramada, sheltered us from the brilliant sun, yet
let us see down into the canyon and the lake.
New Mexico, like much of the Southwest is in
the middle of a multi-year drought. 12 years ago
we were told the lake was filled, and came up to
the base of our camp. That would mean we
could have put our kayaks in the water right
behind the trailer.
At night the skies were so clear we could see M13
without a telescope.
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Navajo Lake
Sometimes we come into the state through
Colorado. Usually from around Durango. One
th
4 of July we stopped at Navajo Lake, where the
San Juan River is dammed. A friendly camper
and his grandson were on a western tour.
He gave us a couple of wooden tulips, red, white,
and blue. They have become part of our camp
display with a couple of American flags.
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On the far side of the dam was a famous fishing
hole, where the sign read ‘Throw back anything
under 19 inches’. Suppose they meant trout?
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Aztec
Matt had done some work in Farmington, NM
and met a State Trooper , theyr’e called Sheriffs.
We stopped at the Police Office in Aztec in
hopes of getting in touch with him. He was on
the road but, had left a message for us to wait
until he returned.
We did and after a short time we heard heavy
foot steps walking down the hall. It was
lieutenant Lynn Izack bigger than life. He wore
sharply creased slacks, starched shirt, a large
white cowboy hat, Ostrich leather boots, and a
polished nickel 45 on his belt. He greeted us
with open arms as if we were long lost relatives.
We talked for hours. Our conversation went like
this:
We didn’t carry any security protection with us.
Were we safe camping here? ‘Sure, he said, but
Southwestern New Mexico was mostly lawless.
Ranchers down there usually took care of their
own problems.’
We mentioned how shocked we were at our first
rodeo when the wild horse jumped and kicked
out of the gate crossed the arena and slammed
into the far railing. ‘Rodeo riders are all show, he
said, there was nothing to it.’
He then reared back on his swivel chair and
started shaking around. His arms flailed, his hat
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flew off, and his cigarettes went out of his shirt
all over the floor.
He’d grown up on a ranch outside of Moab, and
they regularly broke horses. He won the Utah
High School Wild Bronco Riding Championship.
It was hard to leave, but we were miles from
camp and it was getting late in the afternoon.
Fenton Lake State Park
Southeast of Aztec was a little town of Cuba. It
was a wonderful drive through rolling hills of tall
pines and forest grasses. We thought it was
Apache lands, which conjured up stories of
Geronimo. At Cuba we had a Mexican meal, and
left through a back, a dirt road called route 126.
The rolling hills ended as soon as we left Cuba.
This little road was rugged, and like so many one
lane. We followed the two grooves up the
mountain side and it’s switch backs down the
other side, then back up and down. We were in
forest, and never could see far enough ahead to
tell if another auto was on the road. There
wasn’t. All the way into Fenton Lake State Park.
We stopped there for the night, but would return
with Doug’s daughter Betsey, and son in law
Brian.
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We had gone to see them in Tijeras, a small town
outside of Albuquerque. They were great fun
and took a lot of time and patience with us and
our rudimentary fishing skills. We would meet
them again to fish in Creed, Colorado at the head
waters of the Rio Grande.
While in Albuquerque we visited the old town
square, bought some wool Navajo place mats for
our dining table, and watched the thin braided
Rio Grande pass through.
Heron State Park
In the mean time we were headed for Taos with a
quick stop at Heron Lake. We liked the State
Parks in New Mexico and have stayed at many of
them . Heron State Park was pretty nice and we
hiked around the lake. Our plans were to stop
over night, but it was great hiking.
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Also Richard developed a sore back around his
kidney. A spot he’s particularly sensitive about.
So in addition to staying longer than expected we
went to the local clinic to have him checked out.
The clinic was in the country side outside of
Tierra Amarilla. We waited for several hours,
before a young Indian doctor poked around
Richard’s back and determined he was okay, and
ready to go.
Our health has been really good during all of our
travels. We’ve been to see a couple of doctors
during these 20 some years. Mostly our doctor
appointments are concentrated in the fall while
at home. Hopefully that will continue.
Taos
Rather than head back to Heron Lake we went
up into the San Juan Mountains and for the first
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and only time we pulled over to the side of the
two lane road for the night. It was gorgeous. We
were on the top of a grassy hill, below us on both
sides was a pastoral valley outlined by forests.
That evening we enjoyed a beautiful sunset, and
saw several deer in the valley. It was a swell
night, quiet and restful.
Not far from our ‘heaven on the hill’ was the Rio
Grande Canyon. We had seen the river just
inside the southern border of Texas and New
Mexico, at Leesburg State Park, then in
Albuquerque. The river bisects the state, from
La Cruces to Albuquerque into Colorado.
It had rained during the night and streams of
water were pouring off the prairie down the cliff
into the river below. Brian had told us that
fishermen like hunters usually fished as near to
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where they parked as possible. He figured for
each mile away from a parking lot the number of
fishermen reduced by half.
We don’t always come into New Mexico from
the North. Usually from the East even so
Portales wasn’t the only entrance for us. All along
the border with Texas there are entry points.
Entering from Hobbs, and crossing through
Artesia where most of the oil is found. Mile after
mile the desert is covered with dipping birds, oil
rigs..
When we enter further north through Clayton we
usually head for the mountains along the famous
western trails through Cimarron Canyon toward
Taos. Taos is a quaint seasonal tourist town. A
good place for skiing in the winter and art shows
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in the summer. It’s so picturest with it’s stucco,
adobe architecture.
Santa Fe
SWOOSH!! Here we are in Santa Fe. The capital city
with the only round capital building in the U.S. We like
Santa Fe with it’s adobe architecture, fine art and
good restaurants.
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We always start in the town square where silver
smiths sell turquoise and squash blossom jewelry.
From there we branch out to count the number
of tin lantern sconces, and art dealers. Ending up
at the best watering hole in the State.
A Margarita heaven called Maria’s. Where you
can also get a ‘well’ Margarita for $5.00 or a super
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Patron for $350.00. Robert Redford the actor
has helped with their Margarita mix booklet.
We’ve always arrived at noon and therefore only
drank lemonade. Richard swears by it, claiming
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it’s better than his uncles; who made large
batches in milk cans with real lemons.
The Mexican menu is grand and made fresh on
the spot. We like the Enchiladas and Tacos, but
both of us overindulge, usually overdoing the
lemonade.
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Oh, by the way Trader Joes is just across the
street so we also stock up on supplies.
Cochiti Lake (COE)
We’ve visited here often in the last few years.
Each time we stay at a Corp of Engineers (COE),
camp near by Cochiti Lake. The further west we
go the fewer COE reservoirs, and dams and the
fewer campgrounds. Only our National Parks
compete with them, and that’s because of their
location, not facilities.
This camp has no protection from the sun. It’s
on a hill side, overlooking the dam. The sites are
flat cement with water and electric. Each site has
a copper colored metal Ramada, that shown
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brightly in the blistering sun, but didn’t provide
much protection from the heat.
We hiked over the hills, down to the dam and
waters edge. There was a strange object just off
to the side of the dock, a mast raising post.
We’ve never given a thought to New Mexico
having sailboats , particularly hear, near Santa Fe.
It took us a while to realize what it was, a tall
pole, with a cantilevered extension at the top,
with a pulley system attached. Just right for a
smaller, 20 ft sailboat to help step the mast.
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Bandelier National Forest
Outside of our camp was a fire road that led to
the Bandelier National Monument. I was
interested in it because it led to Los Alamos and
was a 150 mile short cut. We could hardly
swoosh across it, even though it was only 35
miles. There had been a horrible forest fire in the
Bandelier Forest the year before and few people
knew if the short cut was open. We asked the
rangers, and several shop keepers near camp, but
they didn’t know. Finally, at a gas station a fellow
told us he had been up the road a year before the
fire. He didn’t know if it was open but we could
try it. He suggested we keep account of the
milage and if we got stuck we should back track
the shortest distance either back to camp or
forward to the Monument.
Just up the road past the Indian village we came
to an opening in the fence and a narrow one lane
dusty dirt road. It looked okay, with only 3 or 4
inches of loose dust. Driving these roads we
would make sure to keep moving, and not too
fast.
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