From Big Bend to White Sands to a Lodge in the Mountains

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The drive itself is worth an entry, I skirted Mexico and then entered a new world in New Mexico, but I'm going to keep to the highlights. Through Texas I took scenic route 385 up to 90 West to 10 until El Paso, and was forced to hazardously keep scribbling notes about the sights. Texas remains in my head the death state, for the room of death at the Ranch, the dead bull on the side of the road, more 'kill' (I won't call it road because the cause of death isn't necessarily by truck- two guys in a pickup joyriding with one in the bed shooting at rabbits and foxes and such is an image that comes to mind) than I have ever seen by the wayside. In the state's defense, it is very large, and thus the proportion of land to kill is not necessarily greater than other territories, but I have to say, I think drivers aim AT the animals down here because there were dozens and dozens. While I drove along route 90, with the border on my left tracing the Sierra Blanca Mountain range, and the old Union Pacific train tracks on my right (I saw a train too, had to have been well over a mile or two!), there on the side of the road was a small dog ravenously toothing a larger dog's carcass.

White Sands National Monument
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A few tumbleweeds of varying sizes floated by, riding the wind, and I passed forgotten towns with populations no greater than 500. I thought this was desolate. All of a sudden, in mangy Lobo, Texas, on my right appeared perfect rows and columns of oddly trimmed trees. The trees were leafless, and of unknown origin. Planted about two acres deep, the symmetry tempted my gaze for miles. What was this place? Then, finally, a sign: Lobo Pecans. Pecan trees! And for the next hundred or so miles I noticed a lot of food stuffs and touristy gifts advertised containing pecans.

“Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers- Detention Facilities in Area”

Self-portrait
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El Paso was annexed by Mexico and nobody noticed.

I was on the phone when I entered New Mexico, and had considered stopping for gas along the sprawl of El Paso, but decided against it because my tank was just under half full. I had resolved back in Massachusetts that I would never let the tank get under a ¼, and so far I’ve easily refilled it every half. This ensures peace of mind, and coincides nicely with my needs as I’ve become quite the coffee drinker. So there’s the New Mexico sign, and yet another Immigration Station- the fourth since leaving Big Bend- which is when I look at my gas gauge. Just over a ¼. I’ve become accustomed to the Texas layout, which is a random exit whether a town exists nearby or not every seven miles or so. This was why I had not stopped. I look around. Many tumbleweeds, mountains far into the distance, and nothing, not a billboard or a sign of life, not even a trailer, just dead grasses all around me. I look at the map. Highway 54 follows empty desert for sixty miles. Tumbleweeds rule the road here, some are as tall as my car. There are two military bases and thus, nothing. This, is real wasteland. Captivating, otherworldly, but wasteland. The Lady tried to locate fuel stations for me, but referenced only a hundred, all in El Paso. I began my planning, because the tank empties faster, I believe, in the last quarter. If I do run out before Alamogordo, I’ll just thumb my way to the next petrol station and back.

I love moon shots
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Then there’s a sign, getting closer I’m hoping for the blue green of Valero or even a big Shell, it reads “Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers- Detention Facilities in Area.” Shit. So I’m driving by some sort of stockade filled with mutinous Air Forcemen and ‘detained’ drug cartelsmen. I hear, and then see, top gunners joy-flying jets over this wasteland, and realize they have plenty of fuel but won’t let me in. I slow to 55 for the ideal gas efficiency, and nearly wet myself at the sign “Orogrande- 21 miles.” I can make that far, just a teeny dot on the map, directly on the freeway, oh I hope I hope there’s fuel. There was, for about 50 cents more per gallon than in Alamogordo forty-six miles on. The citgo station was dated, the town screamed slasher movie, and inside above the Mr. Coffee was spelled out “Welcome to the Middle of Nowhere.” Thank you, for being here to welcome me.

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Alamogordo is famous for two things- the Space Museum, which marks the sites of bomb inventions and missiles and such, and White Sands National Monument. Along Dunes Road, or route 70, east to Cloudcroft, west to wasteland, as a snow-capped peak inches closer, there is a fortuitous pond in the desert, some kind of oasis. As you drive on, dunes of blinding whiteness rise out of the ground. I was lucky, the day was warm with an exceptionally blue sky. The Monument is a little drive with guided walks over the dunes. As one fellow explorer noted “Biggest beach you’ve ever been at with no water, eh?”

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I took off my shoes and dug my toes into the surprisingly cool sand. Any animal that lives out there has evolved to shed all pigment for camouflage. The dunes are pristine, quite boring, but a pleasant diversion from the expansive wasteland. I suppose the sand is as much proof of being inside a wasteland. But it seemed to be more evidence that I’m driving across an ocean floor from eons ago.

And then the gypsum. White Sands is a gypsum garden. Somehow the sands contain just enough moisture for the weeds. Entire acres are covered with its ugly growth. This natural wonder is a nursery for tumbleweeds. But do check out the pictures.

The view coming up the mountain, Lincoln Nat'l Forest was home to the original Smokey The Bear, a lone survivor of a forest fire.
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Hopping back on route 70 I changed into flip flops and set off into the mountains. I climbed and climbed, twirling up the green hillsides, until I was so high up I got cell phone service again. I climbed more, and at the top of this little mountain where a good bit of snow still lay, was The Lodge. To picture the estate, built on the highest grassy meadow, classic tower and all, think of the poet’s inn used in “So I Married an Axe Murderer.”

I explain the history of the place in the review. I left out, however, the story that it is supposedly haunted, a discovery that meant a bit more effort in falling asleep last night than I hoped. Although there is nothing written about how this lady died, the story goes that she was caught in bed with another man by her lumberjack lover, and disappeared. She’s a playful poltergeist. Personally, I would prefer they keep that tidbit to themselves, especially since no ‘activity’ has been reported in decades.

View heading down the mountain
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But it was a perfectly lovely stay, with a long Jacuzzi soak looking out at the mountains last night, a very nice and healthful dinner and breakfast, overall the kind of welcome I enjoy in a new state. As I ate dinner last night I watched the sunset, and as the sky at the horizon turned a fiery orange, I noticed it matched the state flag. How nice to see a new flag waving, especially one colored in natural warmth. This was the respite I desired after roughin’ it. I know I know, one weekend in the wilderness barely counts, but I have to ease myself back into the pattern of disheveled traveler.

And so, with four cups of coffee in me, it’s time to hit the road again.