Out of Texas

It’s February 11 and we’re at City of Rocks State Park New Mexico for the last day. City of Rocks gets its name from the bizarre volcanic rock formations that jut out of the desert, which from a distance gives the appearance of a skyline. The rocks are a boon for the boys, as there are countless holes and hiding places to explore. We leave for Tucson tomorrow. It’s raining here in the desert, which does not jibe with our plans. When in the desert in the winter one hopes for dry weather, as there is little to do inside, as there are few “insides” to be had in these parts. Fortunately the Stoddards are here. We met Harry and Sylvia and their 5 kids while on Padre Island last month. Our kids and their kids can entertain each other- or at least have someone new to fight with... Cabin fever is beginning to set in and we just want to get through today and tomorrow’s drive, as the forecast after that is clear for a few days.

I’ll pick up where I left you a few days ago- leaving Big Bend. We drove north from the park to Fort Davis and the Davis Mountains State Park. The Davis Mountains are one of a series of small west Texas mountain chains formed 100,000,000 years ago by volcanic activity. The geology of these mountains as well as the Chisos in Big Bend is similar, in that magma pushed it’s way to the surface with varying degrees of assertiveness. In some areas it’s clear that the eruption was cataclysmic; in others the magma slowly lifted the sedimentary rock above- laid down by an ancient sea- creating areas where the layers of rock jut up at unexpected angles, with magma bulging out where resistance was least. The color and composition of the magma is strikingly different from place to place as one wanders across the mountains. I hope that Ansel will retain some of what he’s learned about geology here. This must be one of the best places in the World to learn about the earth’s history experientially. Ansel And I did a very difficult mountain bike ride at the park as well. This is a sport he seems to have a natural aptitude for and a healthy interest in. It’s a great way to get exercise, see the country (albeit blurred some times), and beat the heck out of our bikes.

One of the things that drew us to a stop in Fort Davis was its proximity to the McDonald Observatory. The observatory was located here for the site’s optimal combination of altitude and distance from city lights. One of the advantages to camping in remote west Texas is the spectacularly dark nights. Unfortunately the night we chose to visit the observatory (and the only night they were open for viewing that week) it was cloudy. The staff rallied and put on an indoor presentation, which was informative, but not as good as the real thing. We’ll have to try again at another observatory further west. Any recommendations? Please E mail me at chris@koehn.com. Thanks!

While in Fort Davis I had the speed sensor on the truck replaced. It failed the day we drove in to Big Bend, and the speedometer hadn’t worked since. If one were to choose a place to have a speedometer fail it would have to be west Texas, as the one pick up you meet on the road per hour doesn’t seem to give a hoot how fast your driving anyway. A garage was recommended in Fort Davis that is run by a retired racecar driver. Blake surprised me with the high quality service he provided. In fact, with the exception of the Ford dealer in Corpus Christi (hack, spit) everyone we’ve looked to for service has been fair and (for the most part) competent. $90 and two hours later we were back on the road.

We drove north through the Davis Mountains on a scenic state highway to Interstate 10- the main east-west route in these parts. 10 is a blur of heavy trucks and RV’s and I prefer the “blue” highways, but in west Texas sometimes the road options are very limited if a 200 mile detour isn’t in the cards. We’re skirting along just north of the Mexican border on the way to El Paso, where I have “O” rings waiting at a Camping World store to complete the under counter water filter I’ve been trying to get operational since purchasing it near San Antonio. El Paso is a sprawling city and it’s hard to believe only 400,000 people liver here- it seems to go on and on, spilling out forever. To the north of the freeway is retail hell (as Ruth dubs these places); to the south, across the narrow and muddy Rio Grande are the slums of Juarez, Mexico. Seeing the deplorable conditions there causes us to understand with greater depth why these people want to come to the U.S. so badly.
All along the Rio Grande valley are the first real agricultural fields we’ve seen in some time. First pecans, then crops- then mile after mile of factory dairy farm. Here they don’t even bother with barns; the cows look pathetic housed under small shed roofs standing in mud. Yet another reminder of the awful state of this industry.
After a brief stop at Camping World we continued west on 10 in the rain. We got off in Deming New Mexico (FINALLY out of Texas!) and headed toward Rockhound State Park. Rockhound is a small park nestled in to the side of the Florida Mountains, and it is the only state park where rock collecting is allowed. We had a couple of days worth of climbing around on the mountains, looking for geodes and jasper, doing laundry and grocery shopping in Deming (hot peppers, tortillas and tamales rule here), and waiting for the Stoddarts to catch up with us. They also were having some mechanical difficulties with their RV. A blown catalytic converter stranded them near El Paso for a few days. Fixing vehicles while on such an odyssey seems to be a mandatory part of the experience.

The Stoddarts finally did catch up with us at City of Rocks, arriving late in the day we chose to visit the Gila cliff dwellings. The Gilas are 60 miles north of here- a drive that takes 2 hours to complete. Shortly after leaving the Chihuahuan desert in which City of Rocks lies, we drove in to the Aldo Leopold Wilderness and the Gila National Forest. The road, while steep and twisted, offered fantastic views across this little used backpacker’s paradise. We crossed the Continental Divide trail along this route as well. Another place to revisit some day when the boys are bigger.
Geronimo was born along the banks of the Gila River some 600 years after the Mogdollon tribe built these cliff dwellings here in this sheltered, steep canyon. It’s fun to help the boys imagine what it must have been like to live in these deep sandstone caves in 1300 A.D. What did the kids do for fun? Where did they play? What did they eat? We have archeological hints, but no one really knows who these people were or what became of them. The dwellings were only inhabited for 30 years before the Mogdollon abandoned these well-constructed homes and left without a trace. We returned to our Chihuahuan Desert encampment after a few hours, tired from the 70 mile (each way) drive that took 2+ hours (each way), to find the Stoddarts had arrived. The kids immediately hit the rocks and we’ve seen nary a trace since. I hope they come around by the time we are ready to hit the road again tomorrow.