To the Border (9/21/10-9/28)

The Beginning

Leaving Golden, Sept. 21, 2010

After the usual scramble to clean the apartment, cancel utilities and pack everything into the FJ, I finally got started on this journey leaving Golden around 11:00 am. A leisurely 4 hour drive later I made it to Lake Hasty at John Martin Reservoir, southeast Colorado. The campground was surprisingly nice and quiet with lots of shade. A peaceful spot to spend night 1. Nothing more than the breezes and the yapping coyotes and the occasional distant train to keep me company.




The Panhandle Blues

South of Lamar, CO and all the way thru the Oklahoma and Texas Panhandles the land becomes so relentless in its sameness that it's bleak, man, capable of sustaining only cattle and windmills and, in Texas, gas wells. And the roads so endlessly straight and flat that I almost lost all my mojo. I actually thought, what are my options if I turn around now? The one reprieve was at Lake Meredith near Fritch, Texas, a reservoir in the middle of nowhere where I originally intended to stay. But the wind was too strong and I just had to keep going.

Aint nothing happy about it

Pushing thru god-awful Amarillo and then, because of a wrong turn, Happy, Texas. All I can say is it makes a great title for a movie. No way they filmed it here. Nine hours and over 400 miles later I made it to Lubbock where I rented a room at the Best Western for too much money, but I really didn't care. I only wanted to sleep.

I've driven thru the Panhandle a number of times over the years and I really hope this is the last one.


The Sandhills

A bit of Colorado just north
of Big Spring, Texas

Although still basically flat country, it was getting greener south of Lubbock. I know this because there were more bugs on the windshield. Further on and going southwest on I-20 you come to Midland, Texas where a sign proclaims this is G.W. Bush country. Flat, stupid and boring country, I say. Which makes sense.

My next planned stop was at Monahans Sandhills State Park. I arrived early but this is another nice, quiet place with full facilities for camping. The lady ranger was sweet, patient and helpful. I've noticed how almost every ranger I've ever met, state or national, is so much calmer than the rest of us. Serene, even, totally chill. I bet they have longer life spans.
  

Arturo the ranger

Monahans Sandhills

I guess because this is late September, I'm the only one here. I spent some time walking the dunes, which aren't that extensive but are quite sandy. Later, another chill ranger, Arturo, stops by to chat (for 2 hours). He shows me a sample of the walking sticks he creates by the whittling and hollowing out of cholla cactus. Pretty cool stuff. The next morning he came by with some more samples, but none of it is for sale. I'll have to look for those in Mexico.

Big Bend National Park

Arturo mentioned I should drive thru the farming town of Coyanosa on my way to Big Bend where I can buy sweet melons at one of the roadside fruit stands. So that's what I did.  It looks like a watermelon but it's yellow instead of red inside. Just as sweet, maybe even a bit syrupy. The seeds look like poppy seeds. I don't know the proper name of it.

Road up to Chisos

Driving into the Big Bend area, it's all desert. But then you approach the Chisos Campground and these beautiful mountains rise up and the campground is mostly surrounded by them. The park lodge and restaurant are also set here just above the campground.

me at the window, Chisos

The next morning I set out on a hike on the Window Trail. At the end is a really awesome view thru the window pouroff (they call it) where water rushes down the canyon and over the side to the desert below. Unfortunately, I had no idea how to take a good photo with me in shadow and the distant desert in sunshine. But, I did take one of me near the edge!

On the hike back up there was a woman and a man walking down towards me. (Preface: lots of notices about active bears and mountain lions in this area). The woman simply says, "yellow bear". I realize she's referring to me and so I say (she's wearing purple), "purple cougar". When we get up to each other I see that she is, in fact, older so I say "cougar, get it?" She laughs and gives me a high five. I tell ya, even on the trail you can't stop me! 

Around 6:00 pm the skies quickly turn dark and the rain comes down in sheets with the wind whipping in all directions. This lasted a good 45 minutes and was a serious test of the tent. The good news is the tent didn't leak and it held its ground. The bad news is the room, which I had attached for this stay, does leak. Through the zippers, I think. Because the camping spot was paved I wasn't able to stake down the two ends of the room, only the one longer side. So I had rocks in the corners and when the storm came thru the wind was billowing up under the floor of the room creating a hairy situation. I brought in my water container, the tool bag, anything I could find with some weight to it, including me sitting in one corner, willing the storm to go away. Which never works. September in the high desert is the monsoon season, so I'm told.

Boquillas

River's edge, Mexico side

At the southeast corner of the park is another campground that I drove to just to see it. It's right on the river. There is a town on the other side of the river called Boquillas. You used to be able to go across the river and spend the day there. 9/11 ended all that. Now it's illegal to cross here in either direction.

Some of the folks in Boquillas now try to sell their handicrafts, like walking sticks (not the same as Arturo's), here at what is called the overlook. Their sticks and stuff are laid out on the rocks next to the road on the U.S. side (just to the right of this picture). Using the honor system, you pay and when you leave one of those guys rows across, collects the money and hauls ass back to Mexico. I was tempted, but if caught the border patrol will confiscate what I bought and the Mexican guys, if caught, go to jail.

Getting close

Leaving the national park around noon on the 26th, I headed east to Del Rio. The roads in this part of the state are crowded with border patrol, a reminder of how close I am. I even had to go thru a checkpoint on my way north from  the park. "Are you a U.S. citizen?", they ask. "Three guesses", I reply. Not really, I said "yes, sir."

I pull into an RV park outside of Del Rio and spend two nights. Nothing special, but they have strong wifi and spotless bathrooms and a laundry. Big pluses in my book. Especially since much of Mexico doesn't allow for the flushing of toilet paper. That's what the trash basket is for.


U.S. trip route down to border. Double-click for bigger view

 This is followed up by a night (9/28) in the Lake Casa Blanca State Park in Laredo. I finally make phone contact with Barb and Sal, a couple I met on a travelbuddy site. They have traveled to Mexico for many years and now own a campground of their own south of Guadalajara in Mazamitla. They were going to be in Laredo the same time as me and I decided I could use the help. We meet tomorrow for breakfast, then head for the border.