Ghost Hunting

 

Well, I just couldn't be in the old west and not go visit a ghost town.  Actually there were 2 on my trip today.  Cuchillo has a church, a small café/store (and the only place in town with a public restroom but you must buy something first), a couple of farms, and a population of about 12.  It was once a stage stop on the way to the silver mining towns of Chloride and Winston.  And yes, the old saloon has been verified as haunted by Ghost Hunters.  I stopped to take a picture of the old church which is still being used but by whom?

After leaving Cuchillo I followed old highway 52 another 22 miles.  52 is a very curvy 2 lane road that climbs up and around the mountains and provides some spectacular views and fortunately has some pull offs for tourists so we don't run off the side of the mountain.  During the monsoon season (that's now) the rains mean watch the low places in the road for water (I ran through 3) and rock/mud slides.  In fact, just before I entered Chloride (which is where the road dead ends) the county had some heavy equipment out clearing a big mudslide.  I didn't mind waiting my turn to go down the cleared lane.  Serious mud slide there!

Chloride was founded just after the Civil War when a man named Pye staked a mining claim and started pulling out silver.  Lots of silver.  Soon the town was booming with others ready to cash in.  Churches, saloons, mercantile, and homes were built up quickly, but when the silver played out the town went bust.  And Pye, well, had a run-in with some Apaches and lost.  For a long time the town was indeed a ghost town.
Today there are 13 hardy residents of Chloride.  One of the residents who is involved in restoring the old buildings gave us a tour of the museum housed in the old general store.
When they bought the property in the late 70s it was inhabited only by bats and rats, but all the old merchandise was till on the shelves.  Slowly they have worked to restore this building as well as the saloon next door.  In each case they have saved as much of the contents as possible.  Anyone interested in a heart of pine child's casket from 1903? 

The old bank is now a café and the owners bake all their bread and desserts from scratch.  So yummy.  And while the place seems like the right kind of spot for ghosts, there are no official reports or sightings.  After lunch at the bank café and a little shopping at the artists' coop housed in the old saloon it was time to start crossing water and mudslides and find my way back home. 

Let it Snow!!

Probably the most amazing sight for me on this leg of the trip has been what appeared at first to be a low hanging white cloud bank to my west as I was crossing Apache Pass. 
The closer I got the more I realized it looked like snow.  In the desert?  When I finally found a place to pull off the road and really focus and consult my map, it finally came to me.  White Sands.  Yep, that's what I was seeing 60 miles out to the west in a stretch as far as I could see.  White Sands.  Thirty miles closer and I could really see how large the place was.  And when I actually got there, well, let's just say "wow!" doesn't cover it.  It was almost like being lost in miles of snow drifts.  If you've seen sugar sand on the beach you think you're ready for this, but it's just so much more.

Families come here everyday with snowboards and snow disks, climb to the top of the highest dunes, usually around 60-75 feet high, and sled down.  I confess I didn't try it, but I did take off my shoes and walk around barefoot in the lower dunes.  Honestly, it's just an amazing place and I kept thinking how much Aiden and Addy and Drake would love this place.  After a full day of roaming around the sands and learning about the geological causes and impacts it was time to head out to my campground.  The next day I actually had the chance to visit the museum at White Sands Missile Range.  It's the only part of the military post civilians are allowed on and the scrutiny for getting in is a bit of a hassle but well worth it.  I actually spent some time with one of the original V2 rockets taken out of Germany at the end of WWII.  And of course the museum had quite a display on Oppenheimer and the trinity test site.  Twice a year, the first weekend of April and October, civilians can sign up for a tour of the actual test site including the ranch house where the scientists set up their first clean room.  I was really excited thinking of ways I could be in the area at the beginning of October until coming across a big sign explain that budget cuts cut out the October tour.  Oh well, guess I'll focus on April now.

Feeling "Alien" ated

Roswell is a town unafraid of embracing its past no matter how "alien" it may seem.  Think Area 51.  Roswell, 1947.  This is a quirky little city and I like the feel of it very much.  Not too big.  Not too small.  Friendly folks everywhere I went.  And while I spent most of my time at the state park or out seeing sites within a short drive of Roswell, I did take a couple of days to just see Roswell.  I laughed a lot of the time there too.  How can you not laugh at things like Alien City Florist or mailboxes painted up like R2D2?  So here's a picture tour of a city that is just too much fun.  And if you have no plans yet for next July 4th week, try coming to the UFO Festival here.  I hear it's (groan) OUT OF THIS WORLD!

 

 

Gone Walkabout

My completed map.
Each smiley face is a cache
that I found in the desert.
Yep, I'm crazy.

The Australians have a word for when someone goes off on their own in nature: walkabout.  "She's gone walkabout," they'll say.  I guess you could say I've been gone walkabout for a couple of days on the BLM land just outside of Roswell.  Unlike the Australians, I had good reasons for my walkabout.  I was not in search of answers to deep, dark questions.  Instead I was in search of Pecos diamonds and a few geocaches. 

Actually there were 42 geocaches that I wanted to find.  When I checked out the map of geocaches in the Roswell area I found that some local cacher with a great imagination, good understanding of  plotting waypoints, and way too much time on his hands had laid out a trail of 42 caches that when viewed on the map created the outline of an alien head.  Well, given that this is Roswell and how into the whole alien (as in little green men from Mars) thing the town is, I thought I would have to go looking for these caches.  Plus I was told that the BLM land has lots of Pecos diamonds just laying around for anyone to grab. 

Diamonds!!

So what's a Pecos diamond?  Well, sadly not a real diamond, not that I have ever had luck digging for those.  Darlene and I tried our luck at Crater of Diamonds in Arkansas one Thanksgiving but came up empty, and a few years later Brenda and I went back there with Gus to help dig.  Still nothing.
  But I'm proud to say that I did better this time.  Of course they aren't worth much, just pretty to look at.  They are actually quartz crystals formed inside gypsum.  But it's still a thrill to find them and I know my grandchildren will enjoy the box of rocks I just mailed them. 

There was also just the beauty of the desert.  Yes, beauty.  The cactus blooms I saw reminded me of the hot pink water lilies in the gardens of Asia. 

 

 

The intense yellow desert buttercups were nearly as bright as the sun.  And the little purple flowers I found but haven't yet learned a name for were in such contrast to the cactus and brittle sage bushes.  I saw several brightly colored lizards skittering across the ground but not one would hold still for a picture.  One day there was one lone pronghorn antelope that stood on a hill watching me.  Too far away for me to get a picture but I know he was making sure I didn't get near his territory. 

So for two mornings I drove out to the desert to walk about signing logs and taking pictures and bagging quartz.  Each time I got there just after sunrise when the temps were in the low 70s.  I parked my car on the road and walked into the desert about a mile and then circled back keeping the car in sight.  Yes, the land here is that flat (and it helps that I have that orange car that glows in the sunlight).  Each morning I spent about 3 hours searching and walking and drinking water.  I carried two 32oz water bottles that I had frozen the night before and which were thawed quickly in that heat.  Once the water was gone I got back to the car and left, so maybe I'm only a little crazy.  For those that are wondering, no, I didn't see any rattlesnakes even though they are out there.  I guess they had better sense than me and were somewhere shady instead of out on walkabout. 

Look Ma, no bottoms!!

Well, actually, the lakes really do have a bottom.  It's just an old cowboy story.  In the 1800s the lakes were a stop on the Goodnight Loving and Chisolm trails.  The legend says that the cowboys tied their ropes together to find out how deep the lakes were but couldn't find bottom so they gave them the name.  Unfortunately they didn't know they were dealing with underwater currents.

I am camping at Bottomless Lakes State Park about 12 miles east of Roswell, New Mexico, and I think if they didn't have a policy requiring you leave after 14 days I would stay here forever.  It is truly a beautiful place to be camped.  Well, there's also the fact that I don't have a sewer hook up and I think the black tank is getting close to its limit.  But seriously, dear readers, if you ever find yourself in this part of the country you should at least come spend the day here. 



Looking down from the bluff.  My camper is at the back.

Now for some background.  First of all, they aren't really lakes.  They are sinkholes ranging in depth from 17 to 90 feet that were formed when underground water from subterranean caverns dissolved salt and gypsum deposits.  So basically the lakes are the collapsed roofs of ancient caves.  And did I mention salt?  Lea Lake is the swimming lake at the campground and it is 1% saline as opposed to the ocean's 3% saline content.  Needless to say you need to shower off the salty lake water after swimming.  But the swimming is so fine here.  It's a lake but the water is so clear that you can see down to the bottom even at 20 foot depths.  There is a pavilion and water tower by the lake that was built by the CCC in the 1930s.  It's all at the base of a huge red bluff.  There's even an overlook area at the top of the bluff where I took this picture.

There are a total of 8 lakes in the park with names like Lazy Lagoon and Devil's Inkwell.  My favorite is Mirror Lake which is 50 ft deep and during the low water season (like now) there is a narrow strip of land that seems to divide the lake into 2 parts.

Mr. Big Ears

Oddly enough, only one side of the lake supports living creatures.  I'm told that in the winter the park is filled with ducks and swans and even sandhill cranes.  All I've spotted so far is a blue grosbeak, a couple of common nighthawks, a small flock of lark buntings, and plenty of jack rabbits and lizards.  The tamarisk trees are lovely with their soft blue-green foliage against dark brown bark, but the mesquite trees with their treacherous thorns hold no beauty for me.  When I ride my bike on the trails I make sure to steer clear of the thorns.  Even a dead branch on the ground could send a thorn through my tire and turn my ride into a walk. 

So I am enjoying myself thoroughly here but will have to leave soon.  Until then I will take another swim, another trail walk, another bike ride.  Maybe find another cache (there are 12 in the park) or go out to the bird blinds to look for those elusive ducks.

White Line Fever

Pretty much all of us had a dream job in mind when we were growing up.  I remember doing reams of research on becoming an airline hostess.  Of course back then you had to be 21 to get hired and you know I was no good at waiting even then.  So I did a few other things, you know the Navy thing and all, then fell into what feels natural - teaching. 

But some folks have a dream and follow it through for better or for worse.  Case in point: my little brother Ronnie.  From the time he was a little boy and his namesake, my father's brother Ray, set him up in the cab of his semi rig Ronnie was hooked.  That's all he ever talked about growing up.  And as soon as he was out of school he took his first truck driving job and never looked back. 

So has it all been good?  I'm sure it's been a mix of bad and good.  I do recall him coming off the road a time or two and trying his hand at other jobs, but the lure of the road always called him back.  These days we have a few things in common, or should I say a few miles in common.  We both run up and down the same highways although we have a different approach to schedules and reaching destinations. 

When I hit the road I avoid major highways and the interstates if possible because I know all those 18 wheelers like him are in a hurry to make the next pick up or delivery.  And I think it's a long day if I cover 300 miles while he does that much or more before lunch.  He also has to put up with slow drivers, crazy drivers, construction, detours, and whatever else the universe can throw out on the highway in front of him. 

During the recent tornadoes in Oklahoma I saw where truckers and their trucks were thrown off the highway and those that were left on the road had to contend with holding control in wind and baseball sized hail.  Of course I called Ronnie and was thrilled to find him waiting on a load in New Jersey far from the storms. 

One week found him back on I40 running through Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Texas.  We talked a couple of times and tried to find a time he could stop off near where I was in Oklahoma and share a meal and conversation but that darn schedule thing got in the way again.  "Maybe next time, Sis," he told me. 

Was I disappointed?  Well yeah.  I can count on one hand how many times our paths have crossed in the past 5 years.  So how do I feel?  Honored to know my brother is still following his dream.  He never lost sight of it.  He never let it slip away.  And even when it's really tough and he knows there are easier ways to make a living the dream still calls.  And he follows it. 

So happy 55th little brother.  Hope it's a good one for you.  And stop by if you get close to me.