02-11-11

02-11-11
217.8 miles
Las Cruces, NM.
Frost on the tent; frost on the car.
My hands are as numb as when I walked through Boothill Cemetery on the morning of the big freeze.
Frost coming out of my mouth.’
Ice cubes I spilled last night at dinnertime still intact on the ground.
The water in Mischa’s bowl - frozen.
I poured in some more for her to drink. Most of the water in the container was frozen. What trickled out and she didn’t lap up, froze again.
I put on my boots - Icy. I put on wool gloves, my fingers start to vibrate with cold. I take them off.
Mischa is shivering all over.
I pick her up, wrap her in my fleece jacket while putting one hand under my armpit in the parka dn the other in my pants pocket. No help.
I pick up both u[p off the picnic table and go to the car, start the engine, turn on the defroster and put the heat selection to full and the heater fan on midway. It takes 4 minutes for the car engine heat indicator to nudge more than the low line. The heat gradually starts to seep in. 15 minutes and we (I am at least) are willing to brave the outdoors again. It’s 7:45 am now.
I find a dtone in the shape of a heart. Photograph it for Valentines Day. Pocket it for good luck.
I Break camp, shower, pay for the night and then it’s on the road to Roswell. We go south on I25 about 12 miles to the 70 junction in Las Cruces. Heading east the road climbs up to the San Agustin pass thru the town of Organ. If you donate to the community - are you an Organ donor?
The town looks pretty roughshod as you pass by it’s main drag. Buildings that look like their roofs are about to collapse are still apparently occupied. And then there is a stylish little Thai restaurant across the way. Go figure.
Cresting the peak is a view spot with a rocket overlooking the valley of the White Sands Missle Range Testing area. Heading down the grade I saw ahead of me and south strong red cliffed mountains burnishing their crests in the sun. and to the northeast one lone, yet hypnotizingly evident snow capped mountain range. I hoped I was not heading in that direction…but I had my suspicions.
Along the way I passed small rocket testing sites, a few markers and the White Sands National Monument Museum.
It was just after the Immigration checkpoint. “Sir, are you an American citizen”? Yes, lad, I am. (Doing my best Sean Connery accent)
“Have a nice day”
Of course I only “though” of pulling the accent gag.
If my “Connery’ were better…I might have risked it.
But I was pleased to note the “border” guard phraseology had improved upon that of the inspection north of Tombstone who had just asked “Are you a Citizen”?
Anyone could answer “Yes” truthfully to that question. Everybody is a citizen of someplace.
I bypassed the urge to see the White Sands Museum. Several reasons - Foremost, I had to get to Roswell before sundown to check with the post office to see if it was possible to get a two day package to them Saturday from a Thursday mailing from Denver.
- And to set up camp before sundown
- To be able to call some High school friends who were gathering at a restaurant that evening in Orange County, Ca to share the gathering with them, not just in spirit, but in voice. I even had a beer I’d been saving for a special occasion since my birthday last year!
- Nuclear radiation has a half-life of 40,000 years.
- And last, but least - it was on the other side of the road
I took the “scenic” route through Alamagordo and soon was going thru Tularosa making the east that seemed destined to bring me right to that snow capped peak. I passed thru the towns of Bent and Mescalero. Mescalero seemed an interesting community No “big town resources, but lots of individual touches that spoke of the communities identity.
I’m still climbing till I hit the 7500 two ft peak. The road turns north and I’m staring at my nemesis and I discover it’s name - Sierra Blanca. Two things make me smile in relief.
One is - Sierra Blanca is the mountain range beyond the one in front of me.
Two - the road below turns to the east.
Ruidoso (rio-dough-sew) is a mountain gambling resort. I counted at least five casinos.
There is also a Billy the kid connection…didn’t stop to investigate, Roswell was calling. I figured I’d look it up on the internet at some point.
Next came Glencoe, San Patrico, Hondo, Tinnie and Picacho. I was starting to get road weary at this time and nearly pulled over to rest as I’d been driving well below the speed limit since about Glencoe; but the prospect that Roswell was within 32 miles and I’d finally exited the mountain passes with straight roads ahead of me, refreshing my eyes with an ice cube I was revitalized sufficiently to get into Roswell and find the post office of my desire.
No Netbook then, but the possibility of it to be waiting for me tomorrow was palpable.
I left there with high hopes and looking forward to setting up camp at Bottomless lakes State Park.
And a shower in the morning!”
“Lakes” was not so beautiful or bottomless as imagined. They are sink holes. Imagine the La Brea Tar Pits.
Warmish during the day, but the temp dips fast just before sunset. I’m waiting till 6pm my timer to catch the gathering of high school friends in Orange tonight.
No luck thru repeated calls. Off to sleep. I get a call back @ 10:40 my time. I missed everyone
A.M.
Ice
Water, frozen.
Mischa - I take her to the car around 7am to warm up
Mischa shivers in my fleece again.