Month: March 2020

Cross Country (Part Three)

Our first campsite in Texas was in Stephen Austin State Park. Some Hispanic families camped nearby. We gathered up enough players for a ball game. It’s a good thing we took our ball and gloves, huh? Later, we pulled out the guitar and sang around the fire. In the night, we were awakened to a rustling and scraping noise. We flashed our lights through the tent flap. There on the picnic table was a raccoon. We caught him in the act. Spaghetti sauce was on his mouth and his long-nailed claws held a handful of stringy spaghetti. He had popped the lid to the Tupperware bowl and helped himself. No leftovers tomorrow night! We also saw an armadillo, the first I’d ever seen, waddling by the edge of our campsite.  

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The drive through the Texas’ arid, virtually treeless landscape was hot and dusty, and we were tired and dirty. We camped at Junction then made our way to Carlsbad, New Mexico. Hidden in the depths of the Guadalupe Mountains below the Chihuahun Desert along the Texas/New Mexico border are Carlsbad Caverns, the most famous of the 119 caves in the park. Below the surface are a series of 83 individual caves and a maze of stalactites and stalagmites. In the Big Room, at 750 feet, is the Underground Lunchroom built I 1928, two years before Carlsbad Caverns became a National Park. A new room, named Halloween Hall, was discovered in 2013 and was full of bat bones.

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We left the caverns and made a stop at Guadalupe Mountains National Park. We took a short hike up one of the trails and decided not to venture too far because the Park Ranger and all the posted signs gave scary warnings about all the rattlesnakes in that area. The Ranger said repeatedly, “This is rattlesnake country.” We imagined hearing rattles with every step. Besides, we wanted to make it to our campground in El Paso, Texas in a timely manner, so we drove on. After a hot, dusty day, and getting camp set up, we decided to just open a can of chili and heat it for our supper. We had to laugh when we read the side of the can, “Made in Augusta, Georgia.” 

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The landscape changed again as we neared Silver City, New Mexico and the Mimbres Mountains with their rugged unique beauty. We stayed in the KOA Campground at Silver City for two nights. This campground was one of only two places where we were unable to get our tent staked. Well, actually, we got the tent set up, but the wind was so fierce, it blew it down repeatedly. We did manage to bend a couple of the metal stakes. One of the campers who used the KOA as a summer home while mining for gems in the area saw our dilemma and offered us a place to stay. We accepted and didn’t have to worry about getting sand out of our teeth or blowing away. 

Since we arrived in Silver City on the weekend, the library and County offices were closed. Our intention was to do some family research. At that time, our knowledge was somewhat limited as to specific areas in which our great grandparents had lived. We did a bit of exploring and made a trip to the Gila Cliff Dwellings that rise above the Gila River. It was fascinating to see how the Mogollon people lived and built their homes in the cliffs. We saw remnants of their life, such as the areas in which they ground grain for their food and fragments of pottery they made and used every day. The view was spectacular from their perch on the side of the cliffs. 

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As we left Silver City, our host gave us a hand drawn map with suggested stops off the “tourist trap” route. Because of that, we drove through Apache National Forest. I didn’t see many trees in the forest except for a few that were scrubby and twisted. We stopped at Tonto National Monument, at the edge of the Sonoran Desert in Arizona, and explored the two Salado Indian cliff dwellings. The desert country was filled with large Saguaro cacti and desert vegetation. The unexpected view from that vantage point looked across Roosevelt Lake with mountains in the background and a saddle shaped ridge lined with cacti in the foreground.

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As we drove on from there, we went around a curve and there below us, Roosevelt Dam came into view. A note from history gives this description, “With a huge American flag draped over its parapets, President Theodore Roosevelt pressed a button that released a jet of water down the canyon from America’s newest Progressive-era technological marvel. The date was March 18, 1911, and a thousand onlookers witnessed this historic event, the likes of which the American West, or perhaps America at large, had never seen—the dedication of the world’s highest, stone masonry, gravity dam.” The whole scene was gorgeous with piercing blue Roosevelt Lake as the backdrop. As we drove further, we found the tourists and locals enjoying the lake as well with boating, skiing, and picnicking.

As we continued our westward adventure taking our dry flaky skin with us, the lake got smaller in the rear-view mirror. The first order of business was to buy some lotion at our next stop.

Part Two Part Four

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Sequel to Cross Country (part 2)

The beat-up old car was packed to the gills. The tent, camping gear, cooler filled with food, hiking boots, guitar, frisbee, ball and gloves were loaded, among other things. Our backpacks doubled as suitcases. We said our goodbyes. As we pulled out of the driveway on June 14, a wave of reserved anticipation washed over me. I didn’t think to imagine what washed over our mom at the same time. 

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We drove southwest toward our first scheduled stop. The closer we got, the flatter the landscape and the thicker the air. We drove through swamps, bayous, waterways and over long bridges. Cypress trees were draped with Spanish Moss and long-legged cranes walking lazily through water black as steeped tea. That seemed to set the mood for the laid-back atmosphere reflected in the locals, matching their thick Cajun accents and the humidity that hung heavy in the air. The smell of stagnant swamps that teemed with life mingled with the smell of salt water from the Gulf.

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We arrived in New Orleans and checked into the campground. The lady that managed the campground invited us to have supper with her family. I suspect that she was watching out for us, imagining her own children traveling across the country without parental supervision. After all, we looked younger than our 18 and 20 years. We accepted her invitation and were rewarded with fresh crawfish and other Cajun delicacies. It was delicious and gave us a taste of a culture completely foreign to us. Our two-night stay gave us plenty of time to explore the area. We drove down Bourbon Street at night with doors locked only stopping at red lights. The street looked like a human swamp teeming with life. A sea of people strolled along the sidewalks and gathered in front of bars and restaurants. They were quite colorful in their garments as diverse as the people themselves. Jazz bands and one-man bands performed along the street. During the daytime, we visited the French Quarter. We people-watched, browsed through little eclectic shops, stopped at various street venders, and ate at a restaurant complete with peanut hulls on the floor. On the way back to our campsite, we got on the wrong bus and had to get off and walk back to the campground in the drizzling rain. That night, it poured. It’s a good thing we waterproofed our waterproof tent! When we crawled out the next morning, water was almost to the top of the lip above the floor of the tent. It was miserable packing up the tent and gear in the pouring rain. I can honestly say I was glad to leave New Orleans. I was a bit antsy to be on our way and truthfully felt much safer in the wilderness than the wild city! 

We left all that behind and drove away from the land of water, bridges and swamps to the waterless plains of Texas. It felt like we were finally on our way.

Part One Part Three

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The evening before, the sky was ablaze with fire. Flames lit up the skyline as evening cast long shadows across the desert of Southern Idaho. Soft light of the “golden hour” had turned to brilliant yellows, oranges and reds, then transformed into pinks, purples and midnight blue until it faded into the dark of night. Stars appeared and the Milky Way laid out its path across the ebon expanse. 

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The night was overshadowed as day emerged. In the morning light, it looked like the fire of night had turned everything to ashes. The clouds hung to the ground causing an eerie look over the landscape covered with cooled lava flows and ashes left behind in its wake. Hardened lava resembled exposed tree roots, some seeming to be burning with dying orange embers. 

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It appeared that we had landed in the middle of a dormant volcano on a strange planet. At one time small volcanoes erupted, spewing scoria to the ground near the vent to build up steep cinder cones. I had never heard of this alien place on earth called “Craters of the Moon National Monument and Preserve,” but it was fascinating. It was formed from lava erupting from the Great Rift. This protected area covers 1,117 square miles, encompasses three lava fields, and contains the deepest known rift on earth at 800 feet. The Monument and Preserve contains more than 25 volcanic cones. This foreign harsh environment was visited by astronauts in 1969 as part of the study of volcanic geology in preparation for their trip into space. Years before, it was frequented by Northern Shoshoni Indians who hunted in this area and possibly gathered tachylyte, which is a form of basalt, for their arrow points.

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I found an interesting article about the Monument taken
from Geographical Review, Jul, 1924
https://www.jstor.org/stable/pdf/208417.pdf

Even in this harsh environment, life adapts and finds a way. Somehow, plants grow in cinder gardens throughout the preserve. The black ash, extremely porous like pumice, quickly absorbs water, and heats up in the summertime, often exceeding 150 degrees. Cinder crags and formations rise from the sleeping volcanoes. This universe never ceases to amaze me. I’ve been to many interesting places, each with a beauty and uniqueness all its own. “Craters of the Moon” is definitely one of those unique places, a rare jewel hidden in this harsh terrain.

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I’m always amazed when life blooms in unexpected places. Seeds can lie dormant for years just waiting for the ashes of death and adversity to bring life. Fertile, mineral rich ashes give birth to new growth that might never have had the chance to live otherwise.

The same is true in our lives. Fires of adversity and trials burn in our lives leaving us standing in ashes of destruction and uncertainty. When we least expect it, a bud pushes up out of the ashes and something beautiful blooms. Life has a way of purging itself. By getting rid of the weeds that threaten to strangle us, we are enabled to grow. Life is given a chance.

There are lyrics in a song, “Sometimes flowers grow in the soil of ashes.” Another says, “He gave me beauty for ashes.”  Life finds a way and out of the ashes we rise.  

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