A Sad Evening

I went to a social on the plaza of Socorro this evening as part of the Festival of Cranes.  Everyone who was there was an old fart so the band was playing old fart music.  I so wanted to be dancing with a woman in my arms that I left.  Now I’m sitting in Scout with a beer instead of a babe; at least Scout in gender neutral.

Scout

I’m sitting here in Scout listening to the wind sigh through the ponderosa pine that nearly hide one trailer from another.  Supper, a pot roast, is simmering away on the hotplate while I work on my computer.  The temperature always drops quite sharply when the sum sets.  Tonight the temperature doesn’t matter because my very small ceramic heater keeps Scout warm enough to be comfortable.

Night temperatures have been in the high to mid twenties for a few weeks so tonight’s temperature is not unusually cold.  High twenties aren’t so bad, especially if I have picked my site well and get early morning sun, Scout warms up as fast as it cools off.  After a half-hour of sunshine it feels warm and after an hour of sunshine and breakfast cooking heat its quite comfortable.

Let the temperature drop just a few more degrees and I don’t like it at all.  Even putting warm feet into cold shoes doesn’t help.  At 25 degrees, I creak when I first start moving and the toilet is always too far away.  So, I moved to a place with electricity. 

Scout is not cold proof.  Oh, it has insulation in the walls that works well at reasonable temperatures however I can see light where wall meets slant.  Now that it’s colder, those cracks also leak lots of chilly air.  At the table side its doesn’t matter so much, however when I sleep, I like to sleep cool so the heater is off and those leaks are inches from both my neck and my feet.  What to do, what to do. 

While shopping at my least favorite national chain store I found a package of four foam pipe wraps that just happen to be a very good size for fitting into those pesky cracks.  An extra bench cushion fits well against the outer wall I occasionally bump in my sleep.  Voila! Warm as toast.

With the 12v lights not working, I became creative with that problem too though it took a few tries.  One or two candles add a nice glow to the inside and are bright enough to read by, however it’s difficult to see into a pot so I used a flashlight for that.  Unfortunately holding a flashlight puts it too close to the pot and I mostly saw steam, like having your high beams on when its foggy.  Hanging the light would help, if I had a way to hang it.

Scout has some very sturdy looking levers that lock the sides to the top.  They also make very handy holders for light rods.  By light I mean light.  After a day of diligent searching I found two yucca seed stalks long enough to span wall-to-wall.  It was easy to find a shorter one that would reach across between the two rods.  And I have a yucca walking stick given to me after a New Mexico trip I couldn’t take.  It almost fits and I use it when I want a fourth rod. 

Hanging a flashlight over the pot works sort of, and the light, which is on a bit of cord, easily moves to over the table.  Even though it works, I wasn’t happy with it.  I tried the idea with a different kind of flashlight and it still wasn’t what I wanted.  The trailer guy suggested using a battery charger on my battery and then I would have lights.  Battery chargers are expensive and they take lots of space.  His suggestion did get me thinking about electric lights and I went through a home decor department where I found a very inexpensive clip-on light.  Again, success!  The clip easily fits my poles, the cord is long enough to move the light anyplace I want it and the light beam itself is clear and uniform.

Light, warm and a beautiful setting; now if I could just solve the problem of keeping a picture fastened to the wall ………..

Park Gossip

I’m in Manzano Mountains State Park, New Mexico.  The park is set in a hillside of ponderosa pine so the trees are usually whispering in the wind.  A weather front was coming the day I settled in however I didn’t need a weather person to confirm the front since I was aching.  Aching enough that I didn’t unhitch even though I paid for a couple of nights.

In the morning the wind picked up, the trees swayed and with every gust a show of old needles blew past my window.  It didn’t make me much difference as I sat at my computer editing photographs. Pretty soon I heard rain and it soon changed to snow.  It took most of the day for the front to blow through.  By the time I was feeling good, it was time for bed.

Day two was beautiful though too cool to be outside without a jacket even in the sunshine.  Usually the sun instantly warms everything by about 20 degrees however there was a wind blowing and the sunshine was just a bit cool.  I went for a walk along the nature trail that had numbered posts and no information and the trail brought me back to the campground in such a way that I could leisurely snoop out the other campers.

There are three of us here, myself, an rPod that I envy over and a large white tent of the type often used by outdoor vendors.  It appears to be attached to the mouth of a completely enclosed two-horse shaped trailer.   A young man was splitting firewood at the third trailer and we exchanged waves.
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Its now several days later and I still have lots of curiosity about the other visitors.
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Thank goodness for public toilets in parks.  My curiosity has finally been sated.  Today I met the people in the rPod and learned the white tent dwellers consist of a man and woman who live in the trailer full time and are traveling around.  The woman buys things at local shops and resells them on eBay.  Apparently she knows merchandise and has made some excellent finds.

There is a school bus that comes into the park at 7:32am and returns about 4:30pm.  The park ranger, who I had guessed to be retired and only working part-time, has a teenage son and the bus is for the boy.  That also explains why the ranger typically starts his day soon after the bus leaves.  He has an industrial strength golf cart type vehicle that the revs up and uses to drive around the campground usually twice.  I hope he’s working and not just making sure the campers are awake.

The rPod people are a couple who formerly lived in the state of Virginia and moved out to New Mexico in January.  Now they have a small condo in Albuquerque, and rPod and 130 acres not far from the park.

Pat offered to drive me out to their property, if I was interested in seeing it.  Well, I’ve been building an adobe house in my mind as I drive through some repetitious parts of the country so I jumped at the chance to see what they were doing and to pick up a little local information.

Some people are simply good at interfacing with where they live and Pat is one of them.   They have started acquiring the equipment they will need to live in the country so how to keep it safe when they are not always at the land became an issue.  Pat talked to the local sheriff and was told to buy a container and lock it up.  I’ve seen containers in yards, some with windows and doors added and I have wondered about them.  Most are rusty or still wear company markings and add to the general disarray of yards. There is a business in the area that sells containers.

Pat and George bought a used one which on their property and they are using.  While they await the arrival of the new one they also bought, they poured footings for the containers to rest on.  Each container will then be bolted to the footings and then they will have a shed roof built over their tops.  In the end, it will look like an old-fashioned corncrib with cribs on each side of a drive-through.

They also have a well, finding water was part of the buy-conditions.  George was building a frame for a solar panel to power the pump while Pat showed me around.  There are some interesting rock ledges begging for use and a small ravine loaded with rocks begging to be picked up.  We looked at the ruins of someone else’s dream, guessed to be from the 1920s. And I saw the spot they have decided for the house, maybe.  They are going to build a straw bale house.  Each of them attended building workshops and George helped another couple work on their house so he has some additional experience.

Building for this year is almost done.  Nights are in the lower twenties and they will be happy with finishing the storage shelter.  In the meantime, Pat is gathering materials for a mud and wattle shelter she is going to create.

On the drive back to my car I learned they had 14inches of snow last year and couldn’t even visit the land.  While no snow is predicted for next week, it is becoming colder.  Highs for next week are going to be in the mid-fifties.  Fortunately, I’m moving to a lower elevation tomorrow.

El Morro National Monument

There are sandstone bluffs nearly everywhere I look.  This one, El Morro, is a national monument because of graffiti.  Although there are petroglyphs on it, I believe it’s the writings of Spaniards dating from the late 1600s that gave it the monument rating.

The writings, some even in English are interesting to see.  Whoever the traveler was, the reason they chose this particular sandstone bluff is because of a large spring at its base.
Regardless of the writings, the part of the monument that grabbed me was the cliff dwelling on the top and the walk to reach it.  A pueblo supporting maybe 1500 people used to exist up top.

Now, I’ve learned to be careful about using water and still a couple of quarts plus drinking water is typical for me; that’s not counting washing clothes.  The Indians who lived there didn’t wear the kinds of clothes that take well to washing and I’m guessing they washed themselves down near the spring.  Still, there would have been children too small to carry water or reach the hand- and toe- holds cut into the steep bluff sides. There would have been a few people who were unhealthy who couldn’t make the trip and I’m hoping they let the really old people off from carrying their own water.  In my mind’s eye all I can see is a stream of people like ants climbing up and down to the spring, carrying water, on their backs maybe, to the top.

And that’s not all they carried.  The people were mostly hunter-gatherers and all that food would be carried up top too.  The energy needed to move all that food and water and the bodies involved in moving it all, boggles my mind.

What did those people gain by living up there?  Once I climbed up and stood on the top of that bluff, I knew one thing they gained.  I experienced a sense of magnificence standing on what felt like the top of the world.  There was also a sense of smallness and how nothing a person actually is.  And I felt a sense of belonging in a way that was much different than belonging to a family or a community.  I felt like I belonged to the landscape I saw in the same way a tree or a snake belongs, there would be a place for me if I chose to fit into it.

(Argue all you will about how man changed the landscape as soon as he picked up a rock from here and moved it there, or how killing an antelope upsets some balance of nature. And then consider the rabbit that digs a den or the ants that build mounts a foot or more high.  How about rattlesnakes, common out here, that kills to eat?)

I took the backway up to the top, using steps, and took the front way, using a switchback, coming down. The ruins are quite near the steps.  Excavation started a long time ago however there are only a few exposed rooms.  Others were back-filled, as happens at many places, to preserve them.

As I approached, I saw two people inside one of the rooms.  They were clearly conferring and then doing something to the wall in front of them.  Later I found out the guys are called “Living Treasure Masons”.  Isn’t that a wonderful name? I personally would have died to have such a job.

One of the men was willing to talk.  When the pueblo was first excavated, photos were taken of every item found and every wall after it was dug out and cleaned up.  Now photos are taken before restoration starts and after it is finished.  The men, using a picture of the originally cleaned up wall, were taking broken or fallen rock off the floor and fastening it back into place, using a mix of mud and water as was originally used.

The talkative one showed me a rock that had fallen out.  Because of the photo, he knew it had broken when it fell and where it went in the wall.  He assured me not only would the rock be replaced but also both parts would be stuck together before returned to the wall.  I’ve often wondered about restoration and how real it actually is, and now I know.

The pueblo is back toward the broader part of the bluff and my trail led me toward the front where the spring is located at the base. What I saw was mostly polished stone.  I know nothing of rocks except I like looking at it.  There is much to read about the geology of the area however my mind turns into a sieve when it comes to remembering any of it. Whatever kind of stone is up there, it changes from sand color to white.  I was there mid-afternoon and the sun glistened on it.  Everywhere I looked was below me; a long way below me.  There is enough rock around to feel safe however I wouldn’t want to be up there with a wind blowing.

And the trail itself is pretty amazing.  Someone has etched lines to indicate the path.  In places steps are chiseled out of the stone.  However, wind and water and whatever have weathered the marks and worn the steps so in some places the marks are nearly missing and the steps slide into one another.

I’m not an antelope, I’m slow and cautious and not very nimble.  For a bit, up there on top of the world, I too was wild, free and boundless.

Bluewater State Park, New Mexico

I’m staying at Bluewater State Park, slightly south of I-40 and more or less midway between Gallup,NM and Albuquerque, NM.

The road to it winds through some pretty hills, passes through a small nameless community consisting of a couple of businesses closed for the season, some clutches of trailers and the inevitable corrals.  The road crosses a cattle guard and abruptly ends at an open gate and an empty fee collection station.

There is a sign on the gate saying it will be closed at 6pm and if you return later, park your car off the roadway.  I’ve seen those signs before and the gates have not been closed so I didn’t pay it too much heed.

I found a spot, paid my fee, hung my copies of the permit and went to check out the facilities.  There is a sign on the door of the women toilet/shower room that says the door will be locked from 5pm to 7am to save on energy. I disbelieved that sign and the door was locked at 9pm when I tried to use the toilet.  I walked to another building thinking it was an outhouse.  No, it was another flush unit with the same saving energy sign however it was locked for the season.  Strangely, there were lights on inside and I counted over a dozen security lights that were on as I walked back to my trailer.  Clearly saving energy is not what the sign actually meant.  Maybe, I speculated, it meant saving water since hydrants are scarce.

When I tried again in the morning, the shower was in use.  Since I also heard a smallish child, maybe the water here is actually warm. With chronic sunshine I expected to see solar tanks on roofs for heating water however none of the parks I’ve visited have them and hot water barely counts as warm.  While I was fixing breakfast an unfamiliar car left the shower building and drove out of the park (there are only two of us here).  A bit later it returned with different people and again parked by the shower building.

A new idea takes shape; maybe locking the door is to keep the locals out of the outbuildings.  Unemployment in the Deming area is close to 30%.  From the many closed businesses I see in every town, unemployment must be hurting lots of people.  I wonder what water costs that a local family would come to the park to shower. I saw the driver’s face when he drove past me; he looked unhappy and I think furtive. The car itself was old and the paint was gone from most of one side.  I wonder what it costs in spirit to take your family to public showers regardless of the why?

POST-NOTE:  I talked to a woman in the shower today who, it turns out, is one of the outsiders.  She buys an annual daily pass and comes in regularly to shower.  The water is warm at this park because she has emailed administration several times complaining about the previously cold ‘hot’ water.

The woman was quite talkative and told me she lived in one of the trailers outside the park, that it belonged to a male friend of hers and that it had neither a septic system nor a well. Since she has no septic system they use a pail which she emptied before leaving the building.  I’m quite sure hers is the same voice I heard on the weekend showering with a little girl.

She made it quite clear that living independently outside of town was worth the inconvenience of no water.  I wondered what kind of interference she had experienced since using the park facilities does not seem particularly independent to me.

The Catwalk, New Mexico

On the western side of New Mexico, near the town of Glenwood is a point of interest called the Catwalk.  Back in the mining days there were rich mines in this area.  Unfortunately the only surface water comes from a little stream called Whitewater Creek.

Since the crushing mill needed more water for its electrical generators than the creek easily provides, workers lay a 4” pipe three miles up the Whitewater to a place where they could get reliable water.  The miners kept coming to the area and strikes kept producing precious metals.  A bigger mill meant a bigger generator so more water was needed.  So the men lay an 18” pipe.  Parts of the canyon is so narrow the pipe was suspended from the walls and the only way up the canyon was on top of the pipe, hence the name catwalk.

Today I walked up the first mile or so, the part that has been civilized for us tourists.  Nearly everyone else went up and came down while I was meandering my way.  I talked to some folks and overheard others.  In the process I learned that the water will get 20 feet high in the canyon during a bad flooding.  And the footings and foundations of past bridges and walkways that have been washed away are apparent.  I also learned that the pipe came up in flat sheets and were bent into a pipe shape during installation.  The workers would bend it into a pipe shape and then send a little guy inside.  It was his job to keep the pipe in shape while each rivet was pounded into place.  None of the pipe fragments were close enough for me to see if the little guy was the one who had to do the pounding or whether he did the holding.  The pieces were also riveted together.  I kept hoping they had more than one little guy.  The more I thought of that story, the more I wondered at its truth.  I’ve carried both flat and round and I think a round pipe would have been easier to carry. Official Catwalk literature says the smaller pipe was hand-made however it says nothing about the larger pipe.

It’s hard to imagine twenty feet of water roaring down the canyon.  In places I could see the Whitewater and on this day it is a placid little stream.  In other places I saw rocks scoured into fantastic shapes by the force of the flood water and there are tree trunks easily three feet in diameter lodged in improbable looking places. 

What was easier for me to imagine was a group of workers moving up the canyon to service the pipe. Some, maybe most, are young and many of them will still think they are immortal.  Maybe they feel lucky or maybe they are just being brash young men.  At any rate, I picture them reaching the part where they have to walk on the pipe.  I imagine them jeering and cheering each other on as the pipe becomes a challenge to travel it the fastest or with most skill or maybe with stunts.  Not all will indulge though some will.  My body would have probably followed the cautious however my spirit would have rejoiced with the wild.  And who knows, one day I may have joined them.

postscript:  Arrrgh! There must be an easy way to insert photos however it eludes me - and it IS NOT an oh well!