Blog#8 Across New Mexico

Day 10, Across New Mexico
I drove from Lordsburg to El Paso this morning, stopping at a Rockhound State Park, outside Deming(New Mexico) I spotted a roadrunner on the way to the park, but he eluded the camera. There’ll be others. There are Ibex in this park—they are not native. They were brought to the US from Iran and raised for hunting. Apparently, some escaped the ranch and have adapted well to this area. I glassed a lot of the hillsides, but did not see any.:(

Driving into Rockhound

The adroit Cactus Wren’s nest in a brutal neighborhood.

At the edge of the park, there was a ranger driving around in a white truck with an older gentleman, who I believe is a park host or volunteer, as he was not wearing a state park shirt. This older man was a sweetheart. I was confused upon entry, because the entrance lane was blocked by orange cones. So I asked the ranger, “Does this mean I can’t go in?” He did not smile. “No—it means you stop here and pay your entrance fee” The bubble above his head read “Idiot”. $5 for the day. Okay, I find the slot to put the cash, no credit card, and I have only $4 and some $20s. You drop the cash in a metal container with a slitted lid. I think about dropping in four quarters with my four ones, but am not sure if they will be retrievable. So I cheat them the buck. The visitor center is not yet open, so I make for the camping area to look for roadrunners. In fifty feet, I see the ranger and the volunteer at a second fee station, where the ranger is taking out the fees. The volunteer, whom I think recognized that the ranger thought of me as a stupid old woman, jumped out of the waiting truck and rushed back to greet me as I walked up to them. “What can I help you with?” he asked. “The visitor center is closed, so I was hoping to look at the map”, I answered, indicating the large map displayed at the fee station. Since I noticed what the ranger was doing, I told him I had put only $4 in the first fee box. He asked where my stub was. Stub? Perhaps I should have slowed my roll just a bit and actually read the instructions. Instead of putting the cash in an envelope, I just slid it in loose. The ranger, warming up to me even more, filled out a permit for me, handed me the stub and waited while I hastily got four quarters from my car. We parted company once again, and I cruised the campground birding. Soon I needed to use the restroom, so I went back to the area where I had seen a vault toilet. I got out and tried the handle, but it was locked. As I was returning to my car, here come my boys in the white truck. The older man again jumped out of the truck and rushed up to me, I think to prevent the ranger from dealing unpleasantly with me. “Are you looking for the trailhead?” For heavens sake, how stupid do I look? I was trying the door of a vault toilet, as he could plainly see. If that were a trailhead, you can count on it being about as pleasant as Andy Dufresne’s passage out of Shawshank. I think this nice man was concerned that I might have another encounter with the ranger—who never smiled. He directed me to the flush toilets, “back where you were just driving”, he said, speaking slowly. The two of them were apparently watching me. Probably worried that I was senile and keeping track of me so when the call went out from my nursing home, they’d know where to find me. Anyway, the sweet older guy encouraged me to pick some rocks, which I did. There’s a fifteen pound limit. I picked some rocks. I don’t discuss weight.

Tonight I am in my car at Pine Springs campground in the Guadelupe Mountain National Park. Hours of vast brown dry desert, and then this breathtaking mountain range just pops up. It was once an ocean reef (millions of years ago), and all the rock is compressed coral. Pretty cool, but the signs say I can’t take any. Killjoys.

Windy here, and no electricity to charge devices. Also no showers. I took a shower this morning at the KOA in Lordsburg, so I’m set for weeks. I just drive with the windows down. I would write more, but I am conserving my battery for playing solitaire. Tomorrow is an early start to Carlsbad Caverns. Being a Clever American Woman, I researched all my stops. The caverns website said to reserve a tour, so I called today, 24 hours in advance. The website also said to call at least 48 hours in advance, but I missed that piece. Stupid American Woman. The Kings Tour has no open spots. The gal on the phone told me I can go to the park and maybe do a self-guided tour. I shall not be defeated after coming this far. I shall beg.

That’s all for now—cards are calling.

Pine Springs campground at Guadelupe Mountain National Park

In the desert, all water holes are known to the birds