This site represents a very long year's worth of blogging. For those of you just coming to it, I've put together a few page links below which will give you a good smattering of my trek around Texas.
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I get asked a lot of questions about people, animals, weather, and more with a certain amount of frequency. The following blogs will address these issues with a specific story.
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The Scary Incident at the Beach
The Panther's Scream
The Ice Storm in the Lower Panhandle
The People of Muleshoe, Texas
Big Bend National Park Thoughts
The Funkiest Hostel in Texas
My Nighttime Border Stretch
Sneaking into a State Park
Reflections
The Final Map
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Faces of Texas was a recurring blog post about the people I met along the way. Click on the region to see who I met and what their stories are. There will be some overlap between regions, but by and large, it'll be accurate. Also, when a region is mentioned multiple times, just keep in mind, I was walking, not driving, through these places. I spent a LOT of time in each corner of the state.
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The Gulf Coast
The Gulf Coast
The Gulf Coast
East Texas
East Texas
East Texas
North Texas
The Panhandle
The Panhandle
The Panhandle
West Texas
West Texas
South Texas
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Finally, here are my days and miles with journal entries mixed in. It's basically a log of how much I'd done for the day with pictures of things I'd seen.
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Days 1-8
Days 9-22
Days 23-32
Days 33-47
Days 48-85
(Break for Toe Fracture)
Days 128-145
Days 146-185
Days 186-231
Days 232-290
Days 291-359
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Hope this works out for everyone. If you have any questions or additional comments, please feel free to write me at smattathias@gmail.com. You can also find me on Facebook under Steven Matthew Read.
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Enjoy!
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The Final Map
.This map has been LOOOONG overdue. All the green dots are where I either camped, stayed in a hotel/motel/someone's house, or stopped for the day (and didn't sleep there). You can see the places I went slowly and the places I went fast. I think the biggest stretches I covered were in the last push to Corpus.
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It's wild to see the map of the trek. Of course, I'd been updating along the way and regarding it, but somehow seeing it all together like this is a different experience.
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While I have forgotten a handful of my campsites, I remember so many of them vividly, which side of the road I was on, how high the grass was, the temperature of the evening. I don't remember even a quarter of my camping spots on the Appalachian Trail.
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So there you have it. Mission accomplished. What's next is in the making, so until then, follow your dreams.
Monday, October 4, 2010
In the News...
My final Caller-Times column is here. No further explanation is needed.
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So I was wrong about this blog being done. I guess there's always more that can be written. A few days ago, I got a gig for 2011 with the Austin American-Statesman! So there you go.
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Until whenever!
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So I was wrong about this blog being done. I guess there's always more that can be written. A few days ago, I got a gig for 2011 with the Austin American-Statesman! So there you go.
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Until whenever!
St. James Classroom Visit and Mrs. Linda Stalmach
.Throughout most of my hike, I corresponded with a group of fourth grade students at St. James Episcopal School. I sent postcards to Corpus, and on occasion, I'd receive a huge package of letters from the kids filled with questions about the hike and updates from their lives. This back-and-forth was one of the highlights of my trip.
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I wrote about it as well in a Caller-Times article several months ago. You can read that here.
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Their teacher was Mrs. Linda Stalmach. On the morning of my departure, my friend's mom Tommie Nattinger mentioned that Mrs. Stalmach had expressed interest in my project. I immediately said that I'd be more than happy to write the class, though I hadn't spoken with Mrs. Stalmach directly.
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I wrote that very day. Then I wrote once or twice a week for the better part of a year. When they wrote a bunch of letters, I did my best to reply to every one of them.
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Little did I know, Mrs. Stalmach was teaching her last year in a wheelchair. She had been diagnosed with ALS or Lou Gehrig's disease and had lost the use of her legs. This didn't keep her from doing a superlative job, though. More than one student mentioned that they had the greatest teacher on earth.
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When I came back, the details of her condition came to me bit by bit. I was going through my own wind-down, and on top of that, I didn't think it wise to go over without permission. I had asked a couple of times through postcards if she'd like to meet. By that time, however, she had lost a lot of weight and was having trouble breathing, let alone writing.
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I was oblivious to her rapid decline. Instead, I said yes to a classroom visit at St. James. I'd been excited to see the kids and see what they were like.
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The talk went well. The kids asked a lot of questions, played with Raisin, and tried on my backpack (some fell backward, though many stood straight). Afterward, we took a group picture, shown above. It was a lovely way to start the day.
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The teachers and admin employees informed me that Mrs. Stalmach was doing extremely poorly. They encouraged me to call and go over. So I did.
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After getting the number from Tommie, I called and was given the OK by John Stalmach. I asked my friend's mom to accompany me, and she accepted. As we were driving over, she tried to prepare me for what was coming, but really, nothing short of direct experience will give you what you need to know.
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My former teacher had disappeared. In her place was a much smaller woman, sitting in a wheelchair, whose arms and hands moved slowly, whose voice was barely a whisper. We both gave her awkward hugs.
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Tommie lead the conversation, talking about whatever snippets she could discern from Mrs. Stalmach. There were times when it was clear Mrs. Stalmach was a little confused, not responding to our prompts or muddling up what we'd just said.
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However, in these difficult moments, Mrs. Stalmach asked if I had seen the kids. We had told her earlier in the visit that I had, but in the haze of her condition, she hadn't understood. But now she was asking. She was dying, could barely talk or understand, and was still thinking about her students.
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Mrs. Linda Stalmach died the following day.
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It's been my privilege to have worked with Mrs. Stalmach and to have been a part of her last year of teaching. She will be missed by everyone.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
In the News...
I didn't think I'd be posting any more, but I suppose there's always more.
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I've got three articles left, two of which I'll post here. I've concluded my self-syndicated column series with the following newspapers: the Booker News, the Bowie County Citizens Tribune, the Brackett News, the Brownfield News, the Canadian Record, the Clay County Leader, the Eden Echo, the Fairfield Recorder, the Jefferson Jimplecute, the Lone Star Iconoclast, the Lufkin Daily News, the Pulse, the Seminole Sentinel, the Vernon Daily Record, the Victoria Advocate, the White Oak Independent, and the Wise County Messenger. I thank the publishers and editors of these papers for trusting me with this year-long writing project and for inviting their readers along on the journey. Without you, this walkabout wouldn't have been possible.
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Click here for the last syndicated article.
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The Corpus Christi Caller-Times publishes a separate column series, also about the Texas Perimeter Hike. Due to a clever early decision by Cynthia Arbuckle, the paper publishes my columns a month after I submit them, so as to form a safety net of one column. They only recently published the 11th article and will this month publish the finale. Though some themes may be similar between the two column series, this one is entirely independent of the self-syndicated series above. Thank you to Cynthia and the newspaper staff for their interest and support.
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Click here for the 11th article in the Caller-Times.
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I dug up a few interviews from Beaumont and Lubbock that I'd forgotten about after the panhandle. Unfortunately, the Beaumont paper doesn't put the entire article online, but you can still see one of my blog photos here and a bit of the text:
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Click here for the half article in the Beaumont Enterprise.
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The Lubbock paper on the other hand has posted the entire article online. The reporter Alyssa Dizon was amazingly thorough. She not only interviewed me but also my supervisor at Caprock Canyons State Park and a family I stayed with in Muleshoe. Incredible! No other reporter did this much work for a story. The Lubbock paper would be wise to trust Alyssa with more assignments and a commensurate raise!
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Click here for the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal article.
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Until next time? There's always room for another, I suppose. Keep checking!
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I've got three articles left, two of which I'll post here. I've concluded my self-syndicated column series with the following newspapers: the Booker News, the Bowie County Citizens Tribune, the Brackett News, the Brownfield News, the Canadian Record, the Clay County Leader, the Eden Echo, the Fairfield Recorder, the Jefferson Jimplecute, the Lone Star Iconoclast, the Lufkin Daily News, the Pulse, the Seminole Sentinel, the Vernon Daily Record, the Victoria Advocate, the White Oak Independent, and the Wise County Messenger. I thank the publishers and editors of these papers for trusting me with this year-long writing project and for inviting their readers along on the journey. Without you, this walkabout wouldn't have been possible.
.
Click here for the last syndicated article.
.
The Corpus Christi Caller-Times publishes a separate column series, also about the Texas Perimeter Hike. Due to a clever early decision by Cynthia Arbuckle, the paper publishes my columns a month after I submit them, so as to form a safety net of one column. They only recently published the 11th article and will this month publish the finale. Though some themes may be similar between the two column series, this one is entirely independent of the self-syndicated series above. Thank you to Cynthia and the newspaper staff for their interest and support.
.
Click here for the 11th article in the Caller-Times.
.
I dug up a few interviews from Beaumont and Lubbock that I'd forgotten about after the panhandle. Unfortunately, the Beaumont paper doesn't put the entire article online, but you can still see one of my blog photos here and a bit of the text:
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Click here for the half article in the Beaumont Enterprise.
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The Lubbock paper on the other hand has posted the entire article online. The reporter Alyssa Dizon was amazingly thorough. She not only interviewed me but also my supervisor at Caprock Canyons State Park and a family I stayed with in Muleshoe. Incredible! No other reporter did this much work for a story. The Lubbock paper would be wise to trust Alyssa with more assignments and a commensurate raise!
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Click here for the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal article.
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Until next time? There's always room for another, I suppose. Keep checking!
Sunday, September 5, 2010
The End
On Saturday, August 21st, 2010, Raisin and I arrived in Corpus Christi, completing my circuit around the perimeter of Texas. With my sidetrips, I estimate I've walked around 3200 miles. Raisin must have made some records too breaking 1000 miles traveled, herself walking about 700 miles of the distance.
Several people accompanied us in the home stretch: my cousin Ted walked over 5 miles from Ennis Joslin in flip-flops, his dad Tony joined us about 3 miles out, and three neighbors, Tony, Alicia, and Nora, jumped on about 2 miles from home. Several other neighbors came out to the corner including a busload of children (or so it seemed), and my mother forced a big American flag into one of their hands (a flag of Texas may have been more appropriate, I don't know). Pictures were taken, smiles and handshakes flew, and then we retired to home.
Some surprising details: Mrs. Perez (Alicia) who had had some kind of internal surgery last year was the fastest walker (faster than me!) and was practically skipping. My uncle Tony, an athlete in his youth, overheated in the sun and had to cool off with ice water and a wet towel on his head. Ted got blisters from the flips. And Raisin, who had walked 100 miles in 4 days, had gone lame, so I had to carry her home.
At my parent's house, there were even more relatives and another neighbor, and we all sat down to eat some tamales my mother had made especially for the homecoming. (Actually, I slipped away and took a quick shower. I weighed just under 140!) An hour later, everyone was full and tired and went home to clean up and relax.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's been two weeks now. I got sick some time around Laredo and was hoping that the Airborne I took from Becky Garcia would help me out. Nope. If anything, the whole thing lasted even longer. I walked with this chest infection for the better part of a month, and only today finished off a five-day antibiotic treatment. Ironically, my friend and doctor believes I've had walking pneumonia!
Perhaps as a result, I've found myself sleeping and goofing off. It's easy to fall head first into the ocean of the internet. I was late with my last syndicated column and still have one more Caller-Times column to write. Maybe I don't want this thing to end.
Raisin, on the other hand, has wiped her paws of the whole hike. Since finishing, I've taken her on two short walks, but she's acted suspicious and uncooperative the whole time, like we could hit the road any minute. She's a 14 lb dog, in general a little thing, and that last 125 miles really took it out of her. Raisin's doing great now, her disdain for walking replaced with a disdain for the bathroom and baths.
Have I learned anything from all of this? Am I a changed person? The answers to these questions will always be yes because there's no way to undo the past. Yes, I've learned a thing or two, tons of things actually, and yes, I've grown in the last year. But it doesn't end there. I expect my experiences to have a profound influence on the rest of my life. However, I could have said the same thing about elementary school, the Peace Corps, or my first girlfriend, whom I affectionately refer to as G-1.
Life builds on top of life. Any given experience exerts its influence both up and down in time, illuminating past events and making it easier for a person to navigate future ones (in theory, at any rate). My project, while unusual, is no different in this respect than any other ways in which people choose to spend their time.
On the other hand, perhaps the questions demand a little less philosophy and a little more straight talking. Though it goes against my general principle of avoiding the dissection of a life event, I will nonetheless list ten things that I've learned in the last year:
1) I shouldn't fear a homeless person any more or less than I do another person on the street.
2) There are more good people in this world than bad.
3) Walking on sand for more than an hour is a brutal way to treat feet.
4) There's a lot more in the Texas Panhandle than open space.
5) Visiting my dad's childhood friend was the best way to learn about my dad.
6) The value of a handwritten letter in the middle of nowhere is inestimable.
7) God is out there and right here.
8) 115 degrees is really hot.
9) A kindness to a stranger can be as simple as a conversation.
10) Texas is really big.
Take from that what you will.
As per me, I have several writing projects left which will keep me busy for a few weeks, and then... who knows. There's a bicycle in my future which - given my history with my legs and feet - is my parents' worst nightmare. I want to learn to speak and write Spanish, swim better, make a business teaching boardgames to families, and solidify a career in writing.
One at a time, though. First, the bike.
Until next time, travelers...
Several people accompanied us in the home stretch: my cousin Ted walked over 5 miles from Ennis Joslin in flip-flops, his dad Tony joined us about 3 miles out, and three neighbors, Tony, Alicia, and Nora, jumped on about 2 miles from home. Several other neighbors came out to the corner including a busload of children (or so it seemed), and my mother forced a big American flag into one of their hands (a flag of Texas may have been more appropriate, I don't know). Pictures were taken, smiles and handshakes flew, and then we retired to home.
Some surprising details: Mrs. Perez (Alicia) who had had some kind of internal surgery last year was the fastest walker (faster than me!) and was practically skipping. My uncle Tony, an athlete in his youth, overheated in the sun and had to cool off with ice water and a wet towel on his head. Ted got blisters from the flips. And Raisin, who had walked 100 miles in 4 days, had gone lame, so I had to carry her home.
At my parent's house, there were even more relatives and another neighbor, and we all sat down to eat some tamales my mother had made especially for the homecoming. (Actually, I slipped away and took a quick shower. I weighed just under 140!) An hour later, everyone was full and tired and went home to clean up and relax.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's been two weeks now. I got sick some time around Laredo and was hoping that the Airborne I took from Becky Garcia would help me out. Nope. If anything, the whole thing lasted even longer. I walked with this chest infection for the better part of a month, and only today finished off a five-day antibiotic treatment. Ironically, my friend and doctor believes I've had walking pneumonia!
Perhaps as a result, I've found myself sleeping and goofing off. It's easy to fall head first into the ocean of the internet. I was late with my last syndicated column and still have one more Caller-Times column to write. Maybe I don't want this thing to end.
Raisin, on the other hand, has wiped her paws of the whole hike. Since finishing, I've taken her on two short walks, but she's acted suspicious and uncooperative the whole time, like we could hit the road any minute. She's a 14 lb dog, in general a little thing, and that last 125 miles really took it out of her. Raisin's doing great now, her disdain for walking replaced with a disdain for the bathroom and baths.
Have I learned anything from all of this? Am I a changed person? The answers to these questions will always be yes because there's no way to undo the past. Yes, I've learned a thing or two, tons of things actually, and yes, I've grown in the last year. But it doesn't end there. I expect my experiences to have a profound influence on the rest of my life. However, I could have said the same thing about elementary school, the Peace Corps, or my first girlfriend, whom I affectionately refer to as G-1.
Life builds on top of life. Any given experience exerts its influence both up and down in time, illuminating past events and making it easier for a person to navigate future ones (in theory, at any rate). My project, while unusual, is no different in this respect than any other ways in which people choose to spend their time.
On the other hand, perhaps the questions demand a little less philosophy and a little more straight talking. Though it goes against my general principle of avoiding the dissection of a life event, I will nonetheless list ten things that I've learned in the last year:
1) I shouldn't fear a homeless person any more or less than I do another person on the street.
2) There are more good people in this world than bad.
3) Walking on sand for more than an hour is a brutal way to treat feet.
4) There's a lot more in the Texas Panhandle than open space.
5) Visiting my dad's childhood friend was the best way to learn about my dad.
6) The value of a handwritten letter in the middle of nowhere is inestimable.
7) God is out there and right here.
8) 115 degrees is really hot.
9) A kindness to a stranger can be as simple as a conversation.
10) Texas is really big.
Take from that what you will.
As per me, I have several writing projects left which will keep me busy for a few weeks, and then... who knows. There's a bicycle in my future which - given my history with my legs and feet - is my parents' worst nightmare. I want to learn to speak and write Spanish, swim better, make a business teaching boardgames to families, and solidify a career in writing.
One at a time, though. First, the bike.
Until next time, travelers...
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Days Two Hundred Ninety-One to Three Hundred Fifty-Nine
A week and a half ago, Raisin and I arrived in Corpus Christi. It still hasn't sunk in. This stay with my folks has been like any other, wide open and laden with time. The way it feels we could have just come back from Guinea, Montana, New Mexico, or any other place I've lived.
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There's so much to say I want to say it in its own space. So for the last time, at least in a long while, scan the mileage, look at the photos, and read these little snips of thought. Enjoy.
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Days 291-293: More zero days in Terlingua Ghost Town
Day 294: Just inside Big Bend, about 5 miles
Day 295: Near Castolon, BBNP, about 19 miles
Days 296-297: Two more zero days in Castolon (did day hikes around BBNP)
Day 298: River Road, BBNP, about 18 miles
Day 299: Mariscal Canyon Trail, BBNP, about 21 miles
Day 300: Juniper Canyon Trail, BBNP, about 30 miles
Day 301: Grapevine Springs, BBNP, about 17 miles
Day 302: Hwy 385, BBNP, about 20 miles
Day 303: Hwy 385, about 15 miles
Day 304: Hwy 385, about 9 miles
Day 305: South of Marathon, about 17 miles
Day 306: Marathon, about 14 miles
Days 307-311: Several zero days in Marathon during hurricane
Day 312: Hwy 90, about 10 miles
Day 313: Hwy 90, about 20 miles
Day 314: Hwy 90, about 19 miles
Day 315: Sanderson, about 5 miles
Day 316: East of Sanderson, about 3 miles
Day 317: Dryden, about 17 miles
Day 318: Hwy 90, about 15 miles
Day 319: Hwy 90, about 16 miles
Day 320: East of Langtry, about 15 miles
Day 321: Seminole Canyon State Park, about 16 miles (1 mile to get there off road)
Day 322: East of Comstock, about 21 miles
Day 323: West of Del Rio, about 13 miles
Day 324: Zero day at Broke Mill RV Park outside of Del Rio (second evening here)
Day 325: Hwy 277, about 15 miles
Day 326: Hwy 277, about 15 miles
Day 327: Normandy, about 12 miles
Day 328: Eagle Pass, about 17 miles
Day 329: Outskirts of Eagle Pass, about 6 miles
Day 330: Southeast of El Indio, about 16 miles
Day 331: Old Mines Road, about 20 miles
Day 332: Old Mines Road, about 20 miles
Day 333: FM 1472, about 20 miles
Day 334: Laredo, about 25 miles
Days 335-338: Four zero days in Laredo
Day 339: Southeast Laredo, about 12 miles (3 miles were made just to get to starting point)
Day 340: Hwy 83, about 16 miles
Day 341: South of San Ygnacio, about 13 miles
Day 342: South of Zapata, about 16 miles
Day 343: Just past Falcon, about 20 miles
Day 344: Hwy 83, about 18 miles (visited Falcon Lake State Park)
Day 345: Hwy 83, about 12 miles
Day 346: East of Rio Grande City, about 15 miles
Day 347: East of La Joya, about 20 miles
Day 348: Mission, about 10 miles
Day 349: North of Hidalgo, about 12 miles
Day 350: Old Military Hwy, about 20 miles
Day 351: Los Indios, about 15 miles
Day 352: Brownsville, about 21 miles
Day 353: Northeast of Brownsville, about 12 miles
Day 354: South Padre, about 20 miles
Day 355: South Padre, about 30 miles
Day 356: North Padre, about 21 miles
Day 357: North Padre, about 29 miles
Day 358: North Padre, about 19 miles
Day 359: Home, about 16 miles
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(I haven't added up my miles. I'll have a rough estimation soon.)
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Day 300: Got a really early start. I'm behind on my schedule and need to finish by tomorrow. That means a 30-mile day today. I gots to get crackin'! [If a hiker, especially a solitary hiker, doesn't check in to the Big Bend Headquarters when he/she finishes, the rangers send out an alert and go looking for you. Didn't want that to happen, and the likelihood increased a bit because I added a 20-mile detour to wrap over Mariscal Canyon.]
Day 300: Got a really early start. I'm behind on my schedule and need to finish by tomorrow. That means a 30-mile day today. I gots to get crackin'! [If a hiker, especially a solitary hiker, doesn't check in to the Big Bend Headquarters when he/she finishes, the rangers send out an alert and go looking for you. Didn't want that to happen, and the likelihood increased a bit because I added a 20-mile detour to wrap over Mariscal Canyon.]
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Infinite, Brewster County, Day 301
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Day 301: Reunited with Raisin! Patricia drove little Raisin out to me and was a real sweetie, even offering to take her. Nope! Raisin and I are out of here! [Patricia and husband Jim took care of Raisin while I hiked around the park. Though having a puppy around mixed things up, especially for their older bigger dog, the family warmed up to Raisin by the end of the few days.]
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[There are millipedes all over West Texas. Raisin would sniff and bark at them, but they would often curl up in self-defense like the picture above. They are harmless and should not be confused with a centipede, which has about a dozen segments to the body and longer legs, and is dangerous to the touch. I saw both during the trip.]
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Fireman, Marathon, Brewster County, Day 309
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Day 309: Chopped chicken breasts, then rode and drove a fire truck! Ali had to do some fundraising. [In Marathon, I was volunteering quite a bit with the local fire department. I helped with food prep and clean up, drove a fire truck which was crazy big, and also judged two chili cook-offs. Daniel, the fire chief, was happy to have the help, and I was happy to be part of a group. I got involved through the volunteers at La Loma del Chivo hostel who were also fire department volunteers. Working for free and being part of the Marathon community for a few days was one highlight of the entire trek.]
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Pretty in Pink, Brewster County, Day 312. . .
Day 315: [Stayed at a motel. Manager asked me the following:] "Do you smoke?" "No." "Do you drink?" "No." "Do you pray to Almighty God every morning?" "No." "Then what do you do?" [She was incredulous that I didn't have any vices that she related to. I told her in response to her last question that I walk.]
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King Me, Sanderson, Terrell County, Day 316
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Wisdom, Dryden, Terrell County, Day 317
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Day 317: Then Mike - who also got invited to eat [at the store] - invited me to crash on his couch. He had heard about me from Marfa! [Imagine walking for nearly a month, then having someone recognize me through word of mouth! This is what happened in Dryden, and I am still shocked by it. I guess not too many people walk around the area and never in the summer.]
Day 317: Then Mike - who also got invited to eat [at the store] - invited me to crash on his couch. He had heard about me from Marfa! [Imagine walking for nearly a month, then having someone recognize me through word of mouth! This is what happened in Dryden, and I am still shocked by it. I guess not too many people walk around the area and never in the summer.]
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Lozier Canyon, Terrell Canyon, Day 319
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Day 319: Found an awesome canyon after sunrise. Decided this would be better than a picnic area. Fenced off. Went down anyway. We ate, I read, played in the running stream, cleaned up, washed clothes, finished The Devil's Highway by Urrea, finished Charlie's article on George Schaller, are more, relaxed with Raisin, moved on to Dead Man's Walk from Mike & Sandy. Enjoying cool white rocks and the breeze. The overhead traffic is 30 ft above us and mostly drowned out by the rapids. [I was told later that the canyon is usually dry!]
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Under the Bridge at Lozier Canyon, Terrell Canyon, Day 319
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Judge Roy Bean's Place, Langtry, Val Verde County, Day 320
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Country Humor, Val Verde County, Day 320
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Make it a Double, Langtry, Val Verde County, Day 320
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Purple Sage, Langtry, Val Verde County, Day 320
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Day 320: Shrubs with purple flowers are everywhere now. So pretty. [The purple sage turned the countryside into a painter's palette. The purple stretched to the horizon, splotches as far left and right as I could see.]
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Prickly Pear Fruit, Langtry, Val Verde County, Day 320
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Country Humor, Val Verde County, Day 320
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Border Patrol Drag, Val Verde County, Day 320
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Day 320: [The above contraption is known to the Border Patrol as a 'drag.' There are dirt roads that run parallel to the border which are 'dragged' every day or two or three. The tires smooth the road and make it possible for agents to 'cut sign' and see exactly where people are crossing.]
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The Pecos, Val Verde County, Day 321
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Seminole Canyon, Val Verde Canyon, Day 321
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Day 321: [Raisin and I snuck into a forbidden canyon. We played in the water for hours before finally camping out on a ledge at night. People probably hadn't slept on that ledge for over 150 years. I tried to make a fire from sticks and failed. Even so, the evening felt sacred.]
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Hesles Motel, Eagle Pass, Maverick County, Day 328
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Day 329: Talked with the owner Mr. Hesles-Shroeder about a work exchange. We had started the conversation yesterday. I wanted to work by the hour $10/hr and quit after 2.5 hrs. He wanted the job - weeding - done in its entirety. What if it took 5 hours? No way. "Mr. Read, I don't think anything can be arranged." There you have it. "This is a border town, Mr. Read. This isn't Montana." While interrupting me, he added, "I can find many more people like you who will do the job." Like me? What irked me is that he wasn't paying me, per se. It was a barter. After receiving the world's trashiest room, all of a sudden he has standards? I would think that 2.5-3 hrs was a good deal, but he obviously didn't. Raisin and I checked out 30 min later.
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Nest Egg, Laredo, Webb County, Day 339
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Day 339: [I watched a spider guard her egg for thirty minutes while Raisin and I were waiting out the heat inside a culvert. The images I took are big and bold, though the actual spider was no bigger than a quarter. Fascinating creature.]
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Hot and Spicy, Falcon Lake SP, Zapata County, Day 344
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Day 344: [I've seen grafitti the entire trip, but this person made a special effort for his/her writing to stand out. I found this underneath a picnic area roof at Falcon Lake State Park.]
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Lady Dog Dog, Rio Grande City, Starr County, Day 346
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Day 346: Dog 2 was there in the morning! Actually, I knew she would be because Raisin barked at her movements throughout the night. Crazy thing: this Dog 2 does not make any noise! [I later named her Lady Dog Dog and because of her behavior and disposition I decided to try to get her to a humane society. The poor thing was so hungry, that she stuck with us for two days with no encouragement from me. I finally caved and poured some dry dog food on the ground in front of her and Raisin. During the last few weeks, I had noticed Raisin getting uppity about dry food (as opposed to wet dog food or yummy human food), but when Lady Dog Dog started inhaling the dry food I'd put out, Raisin, who was momentarily shocked that any dog would eat dry dog food so fast, got possessive and started barking "Hey, that's mine!" (or so I believed). Sadly, a day or two later, Lady Dog Dog got hit and killed by a car in Mission. I had called two humane societies that morning - both closed.]
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Charlie, Hidalgo County, Day 349
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Days 349-350: [My brother Charlie hiked with me. All told, we did about 20 miles together in 6-7 mile chunks. Our conversations traveled all over, which was reflective of the lifestyle, but we had a good time. We took a short-cut along some run-off created by the hurricane several weeks before. We got away from the traffic for a little bit and didn't have to scream to be heard. A good stretch.]
Days 349-350: [My brother Charlie hiked with me. All told, we did about 20 miles together in 6-7 mile chunks. Our conversations traveled all over, which was reflective of the lifestyle, but we had a good time. We took a short-cut along some run-off created by the hurricane several weeks before. We got away from the traffic for a little bit and didn't have to scream to be heard. A good stretch.]
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Runoff, Hidalgo County, Day 349
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My Parents, Hidalgo County, Day 350
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Day 350: [My parents Nolan and Esther were real troopers during the hike. They visited in the first couple of months as well as the last month. Everything in between, they checked the blog like everyone else. This picture is so them.]
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No Wall, Hidalgo County, Day 351
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University Campus, Brownsville, Cameron County, Day 353
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Day 353: [The campus of the University of Brownsville is one the prettiest academic places I've ever seen. I received a tour from Professor Medrano, who teaches several history courses about the border, the general area, and Mexico.]
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Homecoming, Brownsville, Cameron County, Day 353
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Amigoland!, Brownsville, Cameron County, Day 353
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End of the Wall, Brownsville, Cameron County, Day 353
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Day 353: [The wall, as in other places along the border, just ends. The river was to the left, a small developed park area to the right. We saw a border patrol vehicle parked in some shade directly behind where this picture was taken.]
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Sand Pyramid, South Padre Island, Cameron County, Day 354
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Unidentified Grounded Object, South Padre Island, Cameron County, Day 355
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Sand Crab, South Padre Island, Cameron County, Day 355
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Day 355: [Raisin loved chasing these little suckers. They're pretty fast, too!]
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Design, South Padre Island, Cameron County, Day 355
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Day 359: [Padre Island will forever be a place of blisters and sandal sores. It was five days of pure pain, every step a shock. It didn't help that I pushed for home either. Luckily the weather was on our side. Easily ten degrees cooler than places inland, the island also had a breeze which made it very pleasant in spite of my injuries. Raisin too got chaffed and was walking at an angle for several miles. Felt bad about that. I pushed her so hard that I ultimately had to carry her most of the way home on the last day. But we made it.]
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More is coming, but not much more. Stay tuned...
Monday, August 30, 2010
Faces of Texas
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"Well, there's me, my wife, my son, my daughter. Four."
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- Joe Martinez, owner and operator of Smoking Joe's BBQ, on the population of El Zacatal. I met 75% of the community on a hot, humid South Texas day. The kids and the family's several dogs were playing in a boat while Joe was working his barbeque stand. I hadn't really considered getting anything hot, but Joe was a friendly, talkative salesperson who convinced me to go for a brisket sandwich. While I ate my mouthwatering meal, we chatted, and I found that his children are the family's fourth generation at that very location. Joe told me that there were supposedly three wagons of gold buried somewhere on his property, a treasure tale passed down from the early days of El Zacatal. He smiled and assured me that he hadn't spent any time looking for them. "This is my gold mine," he said, gesturing to his barbeque wagon. After watching several customers come and go and polishing off my own sandwich, I knew he wasn't exaggerating.
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El Zacatal (east of Progreso), Texas
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. . .
"I'm blessed to have a great wife, wonderful sons, and a job in which I've accomplished most of my career goals."
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- Dr. Manual Medrano, standing next to his wife Chavela and sons Estevan (left) and Daniel (right), on a life lived almost entirely in the Rio Grande Valley. A history professor at the University of Texas at Brownsville, Dr. Medrano was kind enough to open his doors to me and give me a tour of campus and town. His knowledge of the area was vast, and he seemed familiar with just about every subject I could think to talk about. Aside from teaching at the university, Dr. Medrano has also published half a dozen books in ten years, the most recent about friend and colleague Americo Paredes. When I asked him if Brownsville had treated him well, he was quick to cite family as his first proof, then his job as his second. It's a telling detail. As many hours as Dr. Medrano has put into his career, he defines himself first and foremost as a husband and father, as someone surrounded by love.
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Brownsville, Texas
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"Anyone can put themselves out there, but you have to make a special effort to stand out against the crowd."
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- Producer/Reporter/Cameraman Joseph Fenity on the competition in his field. Based out of Austin, Joseph has worked in broadcasting since he was a teen. He contacted me several months back, and during the hike, he interviewed me twice by phone. Determined to get video footage, he drove down to South Padre and met me going north. Armed with an assortment of gadgets, Joseph managed to get over an hour's worth of footage and audio. He is in the process of creating the first few episodes of a homegrown news program, due out in September, and is excited about starting something different. His attitude was pure positivity and optimism. He added, "Hey, if Oprah can do it, why can't I?"
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South Padre Island, Texas
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"Three weeks. That totally sucked."
- Jordan Thompson on his former girlfriend's inability to break up in a timely manner. A recent college grad traveling the country from temp job to temp job, Jordan took one look at me and Raisin at the Padre Island National Seashore Headquarters and knew that we were hurting. Though he saw us eating, he offered up the second half of his own meal. When I declined, he offered up his story which I gladly accepted. We spent the next few hours in happy conversation, trading backgrounds and girlfriend woes. In the above story, he mentioned how his girlfriend had traveled abroad to study and how he had remained faithful during the six months apart. In the final month, she broke off the relationship, leaving Jordan feeling like he'd just got back from a five-and-a-half month visit to the cleaners. He made light of it, though, and what's more, it made for a good lesson in life.
North Padre Island, Padre Island National Seashore, Texas
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Thursday, August 12, 2010
Mission, McAllen, and My Family
My parents and brother showed up in Mission the day before yesterday. They are a funny trio, prone to excitement and chaos. It's a constant battle in the car over simple things like speed and direction, but I'm glad they came. Raisin, having already met my parents in Laredo, was delighted.
Said another way, we yell a lot.
My parents are both retired, my dad a former lawyer and my mother a former CCISD employee, and my brother is going strong as a computer programmer in Silicon Valley. There's a lot of potential there for enlightening conversations, but there's no sense bringing up what might possibly BE because what might possibly BE is accompanied, inherently, by what might possibly BE NOT.
But all is well in the Read family history. It's loud, yes, but loud in this family is par for the course. It just wouldn't be the Reads if we could only whisper.
Charlie walked with me yesterday, part of the point of his visit to Texas. We got dropped off at the Speer Public Library in Mission (this library was like a palace with computers everywhere) and walked to a point a couple miles north of Hidalgo. We went from 9am to 12pm and 6:30pm to 8:30pm. He's atheletic and had no problem with the pace (not that I walked fast).
During the first segment toward the end, I was about ten degrees away from feeling miserable, but Charlie was in the midst of his limit. California's made him soft, I guess. The weather had put the temperature around 95 degrees with a heat index of 110, but I'm told the weather peaks between 2pm and 6pm. I wasn't yet at my limit, but both Charlie and Raisin were ready to when noon rolled around.
We slowed down for two spots along the way: the McAllen Nature Center and a US Border Patrol Headquarters on the old Military Highway in the south of the state. The nature center was a maze of paths in a wooded area, very green and very quiet. It helped that it was closed to visitors for we had the place to ourselves. We snuck in through a separate open entrance.
The US Border Patrol Headquarters was a little different. We got as far as a little lobby. We wondered who would visit the headquarters, but sure enough, the visitor registration sheet was filled with signatures. I got some cold water from a fountain, said hi to the man behind the glass (who was completely unimpressed by the way), and we continued on our way.
The evening hike was a little different. Raisin sat this segment out, something she hadn't done since Big Bend National Park, and Charlie and I continued. When we got to what looked like a big river, we started hiking along side of it.
The river, it turns out, was the flood waters that are still coursing through the area. Several north-to-south roads which dip low are covered in water and are closed to the public. The massive flooding was a few weeks ago, but the flow here was still a couple of feet deep. We saw a few people fishing on the road who reported a small bass catch. It was so nice to get away from the traffic.
Today, Charlie and I will hike a bit more, then he and my parents will take off. Raisin and I will be left for the final stretch home. Whether that will be on Padre Island or the parallel road is up to the fates.
Until next time...
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Laredo, San Ygnacio, and Zapata
Laredo was one big place. It's supposedly the biggest inland port in the USA, which is believable considering the amount of traffic this supposedly small town has. Raisin and I spent a happy few days with my folks in a hotel, then with my friend Becky Garcia at her home. All this heat and humidity makes A/C all the sweeter.
I had no one to talk to after seeing Inception with my parents. The movie was just too much for them, and they had lots of questions like "Was the wife dead or alive?" and statements like "I just didn't like all that floating nonsense." I can see how the movie was a bit difficult to follow, but it explains itself perfectly with enough holes to inspire subsequent thought and conversation.
My folks and I ate at a little hole in the wall called "El Something-Or-Other." I remember it meant "The Hunter." It was right next to a closed down restaurant called El Metate. I don't pretend to understand why I can remember the shut-down place that we walked by and not the place we actually ate at, but there you go. It was delicious food. I ordered pozole, or meat stew, and it was thick and wonderful. My mom got some caldo, or soup, and was pleased; my dad ordered a side of beans, which he claimed only had ten or so, and was thus disappointed. Their presentation sucked - we were served in on styrofoam plates and bowls and cups - but the flavor and consistency of the food was superb. And the name? For all you know, I'm keeping this one to myself.
I did a little bit more historical investigation of Laredo with Becky. The area is the only place in Texas which can claim that SEVEN FLAGS have flown over it (once upon a time, Mexican insurgents created The Republic of the Rio Grande which lasted less than a year). As such, it has some very old stories which survive in family histories and - as I was soon to learn - in the buildings themselves.
Casa Ortiz (in the previous post, I mentioned Jesse Gonzalez and Casa Ortiz) is one such place, among the oldest houses in all of Laredo. There was a sizeable courtyard which had a thick staircase which made cutbacks all the way down to the river. Jesse, who lives there and gives tours, told us that the cutbacks were intended to slow down invading indians and give the family enough time to hide. You can say with accuracy that they don't make em like that anymore.
We could see the Rio Grande from the elevated grounds, and the damage from the recent flooding was evidenced by several bent or broken light poles. The river apparently covered a part of Laredo's International Bridge Number One (there are four) and came close to reaching the top of Number Two. Crazy!
After parting ways with Becky, Raisin and I took a few days getting to San Ygnacio. San Ygnacio is made up of a government building (library included), two gas stations, and one restaurant. I hit up the restaurant for an agua fresca (she just had lemonade, which was good), and then later for a meal. There were only two choices on the menu, so I chose the first one: picadillo a la Mexicana. As can be imagined with just a couple of options to focus on, it was fabulous. Soup for starters, corn tortillas and salsa (you had to break up your tortillas to make chips), and then homemade tortillas to go with the meal. Yum! Beans looked to be out of a can, but the meal as a whole was really delicious.
The kids I spoke with in San Ygnacio had a lot to say. One claimed to be seventeen but had the voice of a kid barely thirteen. He asked me about my trip, and I asked him about the Border Patrol. Specifically, did they bother the townspeople? He nodded, and I asked why. Any cars that are too full or hang too close to the ground are suspect, he told me. I had gotten carded earlier that day just hanging out at a picnic area, so I understood completely. He didn't elaborate, and I didn't push, but the entire issue felt like I was touching a local sore spot. An older kid taking a few courses at Laredo's TAMIU showed up and confessed he was doing community service for 8 unpaid traffic tickets. He complained about the lack of things to do in town, confused by the disbanding of a local rec center, and longed to get out. I was impressed with the level of conversation and interest.
The librarian gets a quick mention here. She showed up late and closed up early, BUT she let Raisin relax inside in the air-conditioned room. She gets points for the latter.
Now, we're in Zapata. A few people honked coming into town, possibly because they saw the Texas Country Reporter last week. Makes me smile.
I spoke with a lovely couple at the first grocery I saw. The older gentleman told me about his days as a migrant worker, bouncing around and doing all the picking and digging jobs that machines do now. His wife, who was tending the register and doing the work of the store, listened and commented occasionally. We talked about obesity, charity, and prosperity. We talked about the USA. Again, there was a real sense that the times have changed in this country, some things for the better and some for the worse.
Until next time...
I had no one to talk to after seeing Inception with my parents. The movie was just too much for them, and they had lots of questions like "Was the wife dead or alive?" and statements like "I just didn't like all that floating nonsense." I can see how the movie was a bit difficult to follow, but it explains itself perfectly with enough holes to inspire subsequent thought and conversation.
My folks and I ate at a little hole in the wall called "El Something-Or-Other." I remember it meant "The Hunter." It was right next to a closed down restaurant called El Metate. I don't pretend to understand why I can remember the shut-down place that we walked by and not the place we actually ate at, but there you go. It was delicious food. I ordered pozole, or meat stew, and it was thick and wonderful. My mom got some caldo, or soup, and was pleased; my dad ordered a side of beans, which he claimed only had ten or so, and was thus disappointed. Their presentation sucked - we were served in on styrofoam plates and bowls and cups - but the flavor and consistency of the food was superb. And the name? For all you know, I'm keeping this one to myself.
I did a little bit more historical investigation of Laredo with Becky. The area is the only place in Texas which can claim that SEVEN FLAGS have flown over it (once upon a time, Mexican insurgents created The Republic of the Rio Grande which lasted less than a year). As such, it has some very old stories which survive in family histories and - as I was soon to learn - in the buildings themselves.
Casa Ortiz (in the previous post, I mentioned Jesse Gonzalez and Casa Ortiz) is one such place, among the oldest houses in all of Laredo. There was a sizeable courtyard which had a thick staircase which made cutbacks all the way down to the river. Jesse, who lives there and gives tours, told us that the cutbacks were intended to slow down invading indians and give the family enough time to hide. You can say with accuracy that they don't make em like that anymore.
We could see the Rio Grande from the elevated grounds, and the damage from the recent flooding was evidenced by several bent or broken light poles. The river apparently covered a part of Laredo's International Bridge Number One (there are four) and came close to reaching the top of Number Two. Crazy!
After parting ways with Becky, Raisin and I took a few days getting to San Ygnacio. San Ygnacio is made up of a government building (library included), two gas stations, and one restaurant. I hit up the restaurant for an agua fresca (she just had lemonade, which was good), and then later for a meal. There were only two choices on the menu, so I chose the first one: picadillo a la Mexicana. As can be imagined with just a couple of options to focus on, it was fabulous. Soup for starters, corn tortillas and salsa (you had to break up your tortillas to make chips), and then homemade tortillas to go with the meal. Yum! Beans looked to be out of a can, but the meal as a whole was really delicious.
The kids I spoke with in San Ygnacio had a lot to say. One claimed to be seventeen but had the voice of a kid barely thirteen. He asked me about my trip, and I asked him about the Border Patrol. Specifically, did they bother the townspeople? He nodded, and I asked why. Any cars that are too full or hang too close to the ground are suspect, he told me. I had gotten carded earlier that day just hanging out at a picnic area, so I understood completely. He didn't elaborate, and I didn't push, but the entire issue felt like I was touching a local sore spot. An older kid taking a few courses at Laredo's TAMIU showed up and confessed he was doing community service for 8 unpaid traffic tickets. He complained about the lack of things to do in town, confused by the disbanding of a local rec center, and longed to get out. I was impressed with the level of conversation and interest.
The librarian gets a quick mention here. She showed up late and closed up early, BUT she let Raisin relax inside in the air-conditioned room. She gets points for the latter.
Now, we're in Zapata. A few people honked coming into town, possibly because they saw the Texas Country Reporter last week. Makes me smile.
I spoke with a lovely couple at the first grocery I saw. The older gentleman told me about his days as a migrant worker, bouncing around and doing all the picking and digging jobs that machines do now. His wife, who was tending the register and doing the work of the store, listened and commented occasionally. We talked about obesity, charity, and prosperity. We talked about the USA. Again, there was a real sense that the times have changed in this country, some things for the better and some for the worse.
Until next time...
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Books on the Edge
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The Devil's Highway by Luis Urrea details the disastrous border crossing of some two dozen Mexicans in the Arizona desert. Wherever you stand on the issue of illegal immigration, Urrea's book delves into the details of the entire operation, from the men both young and old who look north for an answer to life's troubles, to the smuggling chain of command, to the Border Patrol and their methods for handling this unending assault. In his retelling, Urrea has a somewhat annoying habit of driving home a point using extremely colloquial language, but his eye for detail and drama make this an essential read for understanding the border conflict. A reviewer on the back of the book said something like "Read this book now." I thought at first that this was just the kind of garbage that publisher's love putting on books, but he was right. You need to read this book right now.
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. . .The Devil's Highway by Luis Urrea details the disastrous border crossing of some two dozen Mexicans in the Arizona desert. Wherever you stand on the issue of illegal immigration, Urrea's book delves into the details of the entire operation, from the men both young and old who look north for an answer to life's troubles, to the smuggling chain of command, to the Border Patrol and their methods for handling this unending assault. In his retelling, Urrea has a somewhat annoying habit of driving home a point using extremely colloquial language, but his eye for detail and drama make this an essential read for understanding the border conflict. A reviewer on the back of the book said something like "Read this book now." I thought at first that this was just the kind of garbage that publisher's love putting on books, but he was right. You need to read this book right now.
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. . .Dead Man's Walk is the first of the Lonesome Dove tetralogy detailing Gus and Call's beginnings, both as friends and Texas Rangers. It's a light read, full of everything you might expect from a non-Lonesome Dove novel. The bad guys range from the indomitable Comanches and Apaches to the Mexican army, and the good guys count among their numbers the famous Texan Bigfoot Wallace. You also get to read the first few moments between Gus and Clara (frankly, I read the story mainly for these passages). It's good fun, more popcorn for the LD fan, but perhaps less meaningful for someone unfamiliar with the original story.
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A side note: My longtime friend admitted to me that he had neither seen nor read Lonesome Dove. If you are a born-and-raised Texan, you have got to carve out some time to experience this story. You'll get more out of it by reading the 900 page epic, but the 6-hour miniseries was so well done that the whole thing's become a toss-up. Fiction at its best.
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. . .The Tecate Journals is Keith Bowden's thru-adventure down the Texas section of the Rio Grande river. Sometimes with friends though mostly alone, he bikes and paddles every mile of this no man's land, spending time on both sides of the river and seeing the spectrum of humanity through everyone he meets. While the book does have its moments, there's a lot left to be desired. I got tired of reading that a couple of beers hit the spot or that some interaction was superlative in some way or another. There's a lot in the book for the canoeing enthusiast, especially if you're about to tackle little known sections of the Rio Grande, but the book falls short of the mark for the rest of us.
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Until we meet again...
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Faces of Texas
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"It was 40 miles of tarantulas. I've never seen anything like it."
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- Robert H. Lee on riding a motorcycle in West Texas after a heavy rain. I met Robert on the Terlingua porch in the middle of one of his motorcycle roadtrips. Originally from Texas, he told of a heavy rain that slowed down a bike trip for him and his buddies. When they finally resumed the ride, they discovered that the road from Presidio to Marfa was inundated with tarantulas trying to stay away from the heavy water. With nowhere to go but onward, they drove the spider-filled road for an hour, covering their wheels with a thick layer of smelly arachnid guts.
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Terlingua Ghost Town, Texas
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"I still log on about six hours a month, say hi to people, shoot some fireballs, gain some experience, whatever."
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- Brian Alexander on his post-"everything's about my on-line adventure game" life. I met Brian at the La Loma del Chivo hostel in Marathon while he was visiting his friend Ali. We worked together building a goat shed, volunteered for the fire department chief, judged the chili cook-off. After my week there, Brian walked with me for a few miles and talked about his former intense obsession with Everquest, an on-line adventure game. He was years into it when he realized that it might be better to branch out. His visit to Marathon only served to reinforce the decision he had made several years prior, but he still makes time to dish out the occasional fireball.
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Marathon, Texas
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"So is this some kind of free-loving hippy place?"
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- Dan, a cross-country bicyclist, on the hostel La Loma del Chivo. Dan only stayed one night in Marathon, but we had a couple of long conversations before calling it a day. He was recently out of a career, a marriage, and a subsequent relationship, and was literally rebuilding himself as he biked across America. Dan confessed that he had never experienced the kind of intensity of the road that allowed total strangers to become close in a relatively short period of time. When the hostel caretaker told him that bikers weren't required to pay, Dan couldn't believe it and spouted the above question. He followed that with, "Hey, this is all new to me."
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Marathon, Texas
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"So is this some kind of free-loving hippy place?"
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- Dan, a cross-country bicyclist, on the hostel La Loma del Chivo. Dan only stayed one night in Marathon, but we had a couple of long conversations before calling it a day. He was recently out of a career, a marriage, and a subsequent relationship, and was literally rebuilding himself as he biked across America. Dan confessed that he had never experienced the kind of intensity of the road that allowed total strangers to become close in a relatively short period of time. When the hostel caretaker told him that bikers weren't required to pay, Dan couldn't believe it and spouted the above question. He followed that with, "Hey, this is all new to me."
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Marathon, Texas
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"From the courthouse [in Sanderson], the nearest traffic signal is 65 miles."
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- Mike Millican on the remoteness of the entire region. I met Mike in Dryden over dinner at the grocery store (we were both invitees). His friends in Marfa had told him I was coming some time ago, so he wasn't surprised at all by my arrival and invited me to crash on his couch. During the evening and following morning, he told me about his plans to create a primitive bicycle campground, something that would break up a 150-mile stretch of Adventure Cycling's southern route. He even had a name picked out: El Escondido. With nothing in all directions, "The Hideout" seems like a perfect fit.
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Dryden, Texas
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"When I'm here, you know they can't find anybody else."
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- Keith Mann on working at the Lillie Langtry gift shop. Looking at the picture, it might not seem like Keith was working, but he most certainly was. Sitting comfortably on the porch and facing the not-so-busy Judge Roy Bean museum, he only went inside when there was a customer or two, which on this particular day happened at a rate of once per two hours. Keith lamented not being able to work on his porch on an overcast day, but there were moments playing his music when he didn't seem to mind. "This is my little Spanish guitar," he told me. Then he'd gently play another tune, looking off to see who might be blowing through his lonely West Texas town.
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Langtry, Texas
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"My son said, 'Daddy, who's that girl over there in the purple dress?'"
"My son said, 'Daddy, who's that girl over there in the purple dress?'".
- Jesse Gonzalez on his son's witnessing an apparition in his home. Jesse lives in Casa Ortiz, a historic house in downtown Laredo. One of the first questions I asked him was if it was haunted, and he answered 'yes.' Stories, we agreed, usually have a logical explanation, but there was no explaining his son seeing another person in an otherwise empty house. Jesse gave me and Becky Garcia a tour of the house, going through all the rooms with extra history thrown in for fun, but I didn't see any girls in purple and didn't feel the air go cold. Of course, I wasn't there at night.
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Laredo, Texas
Friday, July 30, 2010
In the News...
I just posted a big blog below, but I also have a couple of articles that have just come out across the state.
Click here to see my Corpus article on my Marathon Border Checkpoint woes.
Click here to see my self-syndicated column in the Victoria Advocate about solitude.
Sorry there's not more information, but the columns are self-explanatory once you get into them!
Until next we cross paths...
Click here to see my Corpus article on my Marathon Border Checkpoint woes.
Click here to see my self-syndicated column in the Victoria Advocate about solitude.
Sorry there's not more information, but the columns are self-explanatory once you get into them!
Until next we cross paths...
Thursday, July 29, 2010
The Border Patrol and my Daytime/Nighttime Strolls down Old Mines Road
I just finished a stretch between Eagle Pass and Laredo. Twenty miles after the former, I passed a town called El Indio, an aerostat radar unit a few miles after that, and then a whole lot of nothing for the remainder of the walk. The pavement petered out, and Raisin and I walked Eagle Pass Road, though nobody calls it that. People call it the Old Mines Road, and it goes all the way into Laredo.
We met TONS of border patrol agents on this road, and because they don't communicate too much with one another and not well at all between regions, I had to introduce myself countless times. As a benchmark for comparison, anywhere else but the border I might have met one law enforcement agent in 100 miles. On Old Mines Road, I met a few dozen in 50 miles.
The BP agents all do a double take. Several pass us, then turn around to ask questions. It's usually the same conversation, but there are notable exceptions due to the agent or circumstance.
On the first day off the pavement, some agents stopped and got out of their car (You never know. Sometimes they stay in and talk to you from the comfort of an air-conditioned car; other times they get out and meet you halfway.). I thought, "Here we go again," but they didn't approach me. They were bent over something by the side of the road. When I got closer, I saw many many foot prints, fresh and about a half-inch to inch deep in the somewhat firm mud. They were trying to learn as much as they could from the prints before continuing any kind of search. I didn't stick around, but thought it was pretty interesting.
Raisin and I hunkered down in the shade on the same day and were resting when several cars passed us on the road. There were BP cars, sheriff cars, fire rescue vehicles, EMT vans. There might have been ten in all. On a lonely dusty road, ten cars turn your head.
A bit later, a couple of BP agents stumbled upon our resting spot while doing a drag pull. The Border Patrol have a system with which they identify the general location of a hiker or hikers. There are several dirt roads on which they drag several huge chained-together tires to make the road flat and mainly smooth. If a walker disturbs the road's dust and stones by crossing it, the BP agents are trained to spot the trail he leaves. This is called cutting sign. By monitoring which roads have been crossed, they can specify the general location of a hiker or hikers.
So the agents were dragging a couple of tires, and I flagged them down to ask about all the cars. Apparently, an 18-wheeler collapsed on a man changing a tire. On the 18-wheeler was a house. Yeah, think about it. All of that came crashing down on a man who, believe it or not, may have survived. But in what condition, I'll never know. Other 18-wheelers were brought out to disassemble the house and lighten the load so the emergency personnel could do their job and get the guy out.
That was day one. At the end of it, we found a decent camping spot hidden off to the side of the road. Little did I know I would be betrayed by my own.
At 2:30am, I could hear a BP truck driving slowly down the road, looking for signs of a crossing. When it got close and the slow grinding of their tires on the caliche road made the rubber growl, Raisin started barking. The car stopped, and a flashlight beam cut through the night. I called out to the men, and the first thing the driver said to me, keeping in mind that we hadn't yet seen each other, was "Do you need any water?" These guys were looking out for me, and though I think Raisin has a lot to learn about stealth camping, I felt good about the encounter. We had a brief conversation, and then on the flip-side of their tour of the road, they stopped to talk for a bit longer. It was bizarre to be having a conversation in the middle of the night while I was in my sleeping bag and these armed agents were standing nearby, but Raisin wasn't intimidated. She was wagging until they left.
The mosquitoes, by the way, were bad on Old Mines Road. They weren't terrible, but it only takes a handful to make your nighttime sleep a little harder to hold onto.
Once the guys left, I got attacked again. I hid under the sleeping bag which was rated at 20 degrees Fahrenheit and way too hot for South Texas hiking. I lasted a couple hours, then got up and took off, saving both our breakfasts for later.
I started the hike with about nine liters of water and knew that I'd have to rely most likely on either mud puddles or the Border Patrol. Since the BP agents usually keep their water cool, I preferred theirs. All the agents I encountered were very helpful with the water resupply, even giving me food in the process. Between Eagle Pass, Carrizo Springs, and Laredo, they've got a really nice team of men and women working for them.
We got stopped again, though Raisin never officially got carded. It's a good thing, too, because dogs have to have a chip in them in Laredo - city ordinance. I didn't understand the sentence, "Are you a US citizen?" due to various factors, the main one being that some agents choose to ask the question all of a sudden. Like this:
"So you're just walking?"
"Yep."
"Where'd you start?"
"Corpus."
"Where are you going?"
"Corpus."
"Where are you from?"
"Corpus."
"Are you a US citizen?"
The question is not a natural extension of the conversation and has tripped me up because of its inherent awkwardness. The majority of agents will ask, so I know it's coming. Still, I sometimes flub it, like going up a staircase carrying something big and thinking there's going to be another step.
So I flubbed, and this raised their suspicions. They asked for my ID, which I gave, and they soon realized I was telling the truth. During this time, another BP car pulled up, and the drivers got out. They walked right up and said, "We got one."
A man had been abandoned by his coyote group and wandered around for five days, totally lost. He was hungry and thirsty and needed to give himself up to survive. So he sat on the road and waited for a BP truck, which given enough time will always come.
I really wanted to see him but refrained from asking. The guys were friendly, gave me some water and a few power bars, and then the same fellow who had spoken of getting "one" warned me of the emptiness of the upcoming stretch of road: "The only people who use this road are oil men, truckers, Border Patrol, and the wets."
It's weird to hear that word "wets," but I know the crossers are using similar terms to describe their hunters like "gringos" and "migra." So strange that with just one word, hundreds of thousands of people can be summed up and brushed off, divorced from their humanity. The fact that it happens in both directions does not make it any better.
The following morning, I woke up at 2:30am again, this time from the mosquitoes alone. I packed up and left, disgusted with my inability to wipe them out (I usually fight them. I've got good techniques, too.). We hit the road and after 30 minutes or so saw the lights of a BP truck coming our way. We walked directly into the light.
While I have a hard time understanding people's general weariness of me when I show up during the day, I have absolutely no problem understanding how unusual it must have been for these men to see a hiker at 3am on a road heavily used by illegal migrants and drug-runners. They rightly had a hard time believing me. I got carded, as usual, but gained their confidence once I cleared. They gave me a refill on water and an MRE, a military "Meal Ready-to-Eat" ration. (One hour later, Raisin and I sat down to our first meal like that. We gobbled it up.) In parting, one agent said, "See you in the morning." And we did, a few hours later with the rising sun.
I was hoping we'd be done with the mosquitoes in the evening, but it just wasn't in the cards. For the third day in a row, I got up at 2:30am to 3am, and started hiking, Raisin by my side. This time, we didn't see Border Patrol for several hours. What did happen took me off guard.
We were walking by moonlight and could probably be seen for quite some ways. I know this because a vehicle honked at me. I stopped and looked off to my left and could see the brakes of a car come on and off. They were telling me, "We're over here. Now come on up." I got very tingly and continued walking, all the while glancing at the hill. They never honked again.
When we finally hit the pavement again, I felt as if several days had passed when in fact I'd only been out of touch for two and a half. We walked a few miles then sat by the road for a break from the heat. A few moments later, a BP car pulled up with a cameraman in the passenger seat. He was videotaping me! From his seat, the agent asked me a few questions, then got out and came over to us. The cameraman and two others got out, and they crowded me and Raisin all while the BP agent was giving me information and asking questions.
Turns out, the non-BP passengers were from National Geographic! They were doing a story on the border on the stretch of road I had just hiked. They asked me some questions, videotaped Raisin drinking some water, and were full of pure energy. During this time, three other BP vehicles showed up, everyone clearly excited about the presence of National Geographic. I asked the first agent about the honk that had happened earlier, and he explained that it was likely a coyote, not a drug-runner, who had called me over and that it was a common technique.
Then just as soon as they had appeared, they were off!
Raisin and I took another day to reach Laredo and stayed with my folks in a hotel for a couple of nights. We're now with a childhood and high school friend named Becky Garcia, and she too is giving us a healthy dose of Texan hospitality. R&R! Read & Raisin!
And that is that. Until next time, folks...
We met TONS of border patrol agents on this road, and because they don't communicate too much with one another and not well at all between regions, I had to introduce myself countless times. As a benchmark for comparison, anywhere else but the border I might have met one law enforcement agent in 100 miles. On Old Mines Road, I met a few dozen in 50 miles.
The BP agents all do a double take. Several pass us, then turn around to ask questions. It's usually the same conversation, but there are notable exceptions due to the agent or circumstance.
On the first day off the pavement, some agents stopped and got out of their car (You never know. Sometimes they stay in and talk to you from the comfort of an air-conditioned car; other times they get out and meet you halfway.). I thought, "Here we go again," but they didn't approach me. They were bent over something by the side of the road. When I got closer, I saw many many foot prints, fresh and about a half-inch to inch deep in the somewhat firm mud. They were trying to learn as much as they could from the prints before continuing any kind of search. I didn't stick around, but thought it was pretty interesting.
Raisin and I hunkered down in the shade on the same day and were resting when several cars passed us on the road. There were BP cars, sheriff cars, fire rescue vehicles, EMT vans. There might have been ten in all. On a lonely dusty road, ten cars turn your head.
A bit later, a couple of BP agents stumbled upon our resting spot while doing a drag pull. The Border Patrol have a system with which they identify the general location of a hiker or hikers. There are several dirt roads on which they drag several huge chained-together tires to make the road flat and mainly smooth. If a walker disturbs the road's dust and stones by crossing it, the BP agents are trained to spot the trail he leaves. This is called cutting sign. By monitoring which roads have been crossed, they can specify the general location of a hiker or hikers.
So the agents were dragging a couple of tires, and I flagged them down to ask about all the cars. Apparently, an 18-wheeler collapsed on a man changing a tire. On the 18-wheeler was a house. Yeah, think about it. All of that came crashing down on a man who, believe it or not, may have survived. But in what condition, I'll never know. Other 18-wheelers were brought out to disassemble the house and lighten the load so the emergency personnel could do their job and get the guy out.
That was day one. At the end of it, we found a decent camping spot hidden off to the side of the road. Little did I know I would be betrayed by my own.
At 2:30am, I could hear a BP truck driving slowly down the road, looking for signs of a crossing. When it got close and the slow grinding of their tires on the caliche road made the rubber growl, Raisin started barking. The car stopped, and a flashlight beam cut through the night. I called out to the men, and the first thing the driver said to me, keeping in mind that we hadn't yet seen each other, was "Do you need any water?" These guys were looking out for me, and though I think Raisin has a lot to learn about stealth camping, I felt good about the encounter. We had a brief conversation, and then on the flip-side of their tour of the road, they stopped to talk for a bit longer. It was bizarre to be having a conversation in the middle of the night while I was in my sleeping bag and these armed agents were standing nearby, but Raisin wasn't intimidated. She was wagging until they left.
The mosquitoes, by the way, were bad on Old Mines Road. They weren't terrible, but it only takes a handful to make your nighttime sleep a little harder to hold onto.
Once the guys left, I got attacked again. I hid under the sleeping bag which was rated at 20 degrees Fahrenheit and way too hot for South Texas hiking. I lasted a couple hours, then got up and took off, saving both our breakfasts for later.
I started the hike with about nine liters of water and knew that I'd have to rely most likely on either mud puddles or the Border Patrol. Since the BP agents usually keep their water cool, I preferred theirs. All the agents I encountered were very helpful with the water resupply, even giving me food in the process. Between Eagle Pass, Carrizo Springs, and Laredo, they've got a really nice team of men and women working for them.
We got stopped again, though Raisin never officially got carded. It's a good thing, too, because dogs have to have a chip in them in Laredo - city ordinance. I didn't understand the sentence, "Are you a US citizen?" due to various factors, the main one being that some agents choose to ask the question all of a sudden. Like this:
"So you're just walking?"
"Yep."
"Where'd you start?"
"Corpus."
"Where are you going?"
"Corpus."
"Where are you from?"
"Corpus."
"Are you a US citizen?"
The question is not a natural extension of the conversation and has tripped me up because of its inherent awkwardness. The majority of agents will ask, so I know it's coming. Still, I sometimes flub it, like going up a staircase carrying something big and thinking there's going to be another step.
So I flubbed, and this raised their suspicions. They asked for my ID, which I gave, and they soon realized I was telling the truth. During this time, another BP car pulled up, and the drivers got out. They walked right up and said, "We got one."
A man had been abandoned by his coyote group and wandered around for five days, totally lost. He was hungry and thirsty and needed to give himself up to survive. So he sat on the road and waited for a BP truck, which given enough time will always come.
I really wanted to see him but refrained from asking. The guys were friendly, gave me some water and a few power bars, and then the same fellow who had spoken of getting "one" warned me of the emptiness of the upcoming stretch of road: "The only people who use this road are oil men, truckers, Border Patrol, and the wets."
It's weird to hear that word "wets," but I know the crossers are using similar terms to describe their hunters like "gringos" and "migra." So strange that with just one word, hundreds of thousands of people can be summed up and brushed off, divorced from their humanity. The fact that it happens in both directions does not make it any better.
The following morning, I woke up at 2:30am again, this time from the mosquitoes alone. I packed up and left, disgusted with my inability to wipe them out (I usually fight them. I've got good techniques, too.). We hit the road and after 30 minutes or so saw the lights of a BP truck coming our way. We walked directly into the light.
While I have a hard time understanding people's general weariness of me when I show up during the day, I have absolutely no problem understanding how unusual it must have been for these men to see a hiker at 3am on a road heavily used by illegal migrants and drug-runners. They rightly had a hard time believing me. I got carded, as usual, but gained their confidence once I cleared. They gave me a refill on water and an MRE, a military "Meal Ready-to-Eat" ration. (One hour later, Raisin and I sat down to our first meal like that. We gobbled it up.) In parting, one agent said, "See you in the morning." And we did, a few hours later with the rising sun.
I was hoping we'd be done with the mosquitoes in the evening, but it just wasn't in the cards. For the third day in a row, I got up at 2:30am to 3am, and started hiking, Raisin by my side. This time, we didn't see Border Patrol for several hours. What did happen took me off guard.
We were walking by moonlight and could probably be seen for quite some ways. I know this because a vehicle honked at me. I stopped and looked off to my left and could see the brakes of a car come on and off. They were telling me, "We're over here. Now come on up." I got very tingly and continued walking, all the while glancing at the hill. They never honked again.
When we finally hit the pavement again, I felt as if several days had passed when in fact I'd only been out of touch for two and a half. We walked a few miles then sat by the road for a break from the heat. A few moments later, a BP car pulled up with a cameraman in the passenger seat. He was videotaping me! From his seat, the agent asked me a few questions, then got out and came over to us. The cameraman and two others got out, and they crowded me and Raisin all while the BP agent was giving me information and asking questions.
Turns out, the non-BP passengers were from National Geographic! They were doing a story on the border on the stretch of road I had just hiked. They asked me some questions, videotaped Raisin drinking some water, and were full of pure energy. During this time, three other BP vehicles showed up, everyone clearly excited about the presence of National Geographic. I asked the first agent about the honk that had happened earlier, and he explained that it was likely a coyote, not a drug-runner, who had called me over and that it was a common technique.
Then just as soon as they had appeared, they were off!
Raisin and I took another day to reach Laredo and stayed with my folks in a hotel for a couple of nights. We're now with a childhood and high school friend named Becky Garcia, and she too is giving us a healthy dose of Texan hospitality. R&R! Read & Raisin!
And that is that. Until next time, folks...
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Del Rio, Quemado, and Eagle Pass
One of the exciting things about being on the southern boundary is the inundation of Mexican food. To be fair, though, I started noticing a lot of authentic Mexican restaurants from as far back as the north-central panhandle (yeah, think about it). As unlikely as it seems, I've been eating good Mexican food for about 1500 hundred miles.
However, facility and ease are important to me, especially being on foot. Before hitting El Paso all the way until now, I had to sort of take the Mexican food whenever I chanced upon it. I got burned a couple of times, but I also found some real gems in the desert.
In Del Rio, locals and tourists alike really enjoy Fisherman's Headquarters, a little bar-restaurant attached to a gas station. For me, I could walk there from the Broke Mill RV park where I stayed on Hwy 90 (which, as far as RV parks go, is a swank place; I still can't believe the owner Mike cut me a deal at $12 bucks a night). I've been on a chicharron kick lately (also known as 'pig skin'), and this place did a pretty good job.
In Quemado, I couldn't figure out what locals most enjoyed, but I went to a little grocery which also had a restaurant. I missed the name, but it's the only place in the north of town (and it's a really small town). I wanted some quick tacos, but they didn't have chicharron. All they had was barbacoa (barbecue) and chorizo con papas (hot sausage and potatoes). I didn't care too much for the former, but the latter was fantastic. I got the last of it, and I was glad for it. I got Raisin a scoop of barbacoa, and she was really really excited (Quick disclaimer: I'm not saying it was dog food. It was good, just not as good as the other.).
Smack in between Quemado and Eagle Pass was a little place called M&M Cafe. There was literally nothing around it, not in the way of development. I stationed Raisin in some shade and went in. It was mom and pop operation, and I greeted the woman in English. She wouldn't have it. She replied in Spanish, saying - and I'm guessing here - "Now, now. We'll have none of that in here. Why don't you speak Spanish to me?" I obliged and asked her how she was doing. She smiled and asked what I would like. Chicharron, I said. Haven't these people figured this out by now? She brought it out about ten minutes later, a single perfect taco of pig skin. The skin was crispy and mixed with eggs, and there was salsa on the side. I carefully put some aside for Raisin (if she's going to hike with me, she's going to eat pig skin). Delicious. Outside, Raisin looked at it and was skeptical at first, but in a moment devoured what I'd given her. My kind of dog.
In Eagle Pass, I foolishly filled up on camping food on the outskirts of town. I'm also wondering what happened to my infinite appetite. While I'm processing trail mix and what not, I'm keeping an eye out on every place I pass, and I've passed several. To borrow a phrase from Clerks, I feel like a salsa shark.
Anyway, we're having a good time and enjoying all this good food. Andale, perro!
Until next time...
However, facility and ease are important to me, especially being on foot. Before hitting El Paso all the way until now, I had to sort of take the Mexican food whenever I chanced upon it. I got burned a couple of times, but I also found some real gems in the desert.
In Del Rio, locals and tourists alike really enjoy Fisherman's Headquarters, a little bar-restaurant attached to a gas station. For me, I could walk there from the Broke Mill RV park where I stayed on Hwy 90 (which, as far as RV parks go, is a swank place; I still can't believe the owner Mike cut me a deal at $12 bucks a night). I've been on a chicharron kick lately (also known as 'pig skin'), and this place did a pretty good job.
In Quemado, I couldn't figure out what locals most enjoyed, but I went to a little grocery which also had a restaurant. I missed the name, but it's the only place in the north of town (and it's a really small town). I wanted some quick tacos, but they didn't have chicharron. All they had was barbacoa (barbecue) and chorizo con papas (hot sausage and potatoes). I didn't care too much for the former, but the latter was fantastic. I got the last of it, and I was glad for it. I got Raisin a scoop of barbacoa, and she was really really excited (Quick disclaimer: I'm not saying it was dog food. It was good, just not as good as the other.).
Smack in between Quemado and Eagle Pass was a little place called M&M Cafe. There was literally nothing around it, not in the way of development. I stationed Raisin in some shade and went in. It was mom and pop operation, and I greeted the woman in English. She wouldn't have it. She replied in Spanish, saying - and I'm guessing here - "Now, now. We'll have none of that in here. Why don't you speak Spanish to me?" I obliged and asked her how she was doing. She smiled and asked what I would like. Chicharron, I said. Haven't these people figured this out by now? She brought it out about ten minutes later, a single perfect taco of pig skin. The skin was crispy and mixed with eggs, and there was salsa on the side. I carefully put some aside for Raisin (if she's going to hike with me, she's going to eat pig skin). Delicious. Outside, Raisin looked at it and was skeptical at first, but in a moment devoured what I'd given her. My kind of dog.
In Eagle Pass, I foolishly filled up on camping food on the outskirts of town. I'm also wondering what happened to my infinite appetite. While I'm processing trail mix and what not, I'm keeping an eye out on every place I pass, and I've passed several. To borrow a phrase from Clerks, I feel like a salsa shark.
Anyway, we're having a good time and enjoying all this good food. Andale, perro!
Until next time...
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
In the News...
I'm at the Quemado Public Library. I tied Raisin up outside, but because of the amount of slack I had given her, she managed to slip inside to the air-conditioned room. I hadn't known this until I turned around and saw her lying down on the floor, being good, like she was supposed to be there. I just laughed and let it slide. The librarians haven't said anything yet.
If you're into Raisin anecdotes like the one above, you might like this. I wrote a Raisin article some time back for my self-syndicated column. Click here to read it.
Also, the Texas Country Reporter did a segment on me when I was hiking from Presidio to Terlingua. Click here for a blurb and possibly when the show will air in your area. By the way, I make no promises here. While I hopefully sound somewhat articulate, I'm scared I won't. It's a little nerve-wracking to be speaking off the cuff with a big camera in your face.
That's all for now. Until next time...
If you're into Raisin anecdotes like the one above, you might like this. I wrote a Raisin article some time back for my self-syndicated column. Click here to read it.
Also, the Texas Country Reporter did a segment on me when I was hiking from Presidio to Terlingua. Click here for a blurb and possibly when the show will air in your area. By the way, I make no promises here. While I hopefully sound somewhat articulate, I'm scared I won't. It's a little nerve-wracking to be speaking off the cuff with a big camera in your face.
That's all for now. Until next time...
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Seminole Canyon State Park
While this post should have some pics, I'm specifically not going to post any as they could potentially be submitted as evidence in a court of law. Oh no, you might be thinking, what's this rascal gone and done now? Not much admittedly, but there were signs saying to do otherwise, thus the picture ban.
Raisin and I showed up at Seminole Canyon State Park after hours. I had wanted to stock up on food, read a few interesting displays, get to know the park. Not this visit. So we hung out while I read a book and contemplated our next move.
As the sun approached seven o'clock, I decided to go into the canyon. Raisin was game. But the signs prohibit such action. "Canyon Open to Guided Tours Only." That's pretty clear to me. So I asked Raisin if I could guide her down, never mind that she's a puppy, and she said 'woof.' Done.
We went down the stairs to the bottom of the canyon and paused. It was pure magic.
The beauty was astounding. Pools of water, a wide canyon perfect for walking, trees, cool air. We went back several miles toward the Rio Grande. It was like walking through a wonderland, where every step provides a new picture perfect view.
We checked out the wall paintings, the reason the canyon is off limits, but the natural beauty of the place quite frankly put them to shame. We swam, played around, and as it got quiet and dark, found a nice overhang to camp in. The night was crisp, mosquitoless, and perfect.
I love this place.
Until next time...
Raisin and I showed up at Seminole Canyon State Park after hours. I had wanted to stock up on food, read a few interesting displays, get to know the park. Not this visit. So we hung out while I read a book and contemplated our next move.
As the sun approached seven o'clock, I decided to go into the canyon. Raisin was game. But the signs prohibit such action. "Canyon Open to Guided Tours Only." That's pretty clear to me. So I asked Raisin if I could guide her down, never mind that she's a puppy, and she said 'woof.' Done.
We went down the stairs to the bottom of the canyon and paused. It was pure magic.
The beauty was astounding. Pools of water, a wide canyon perfect for walking, trees, cool air. We went back several miles toward the Rio Grande. It was like walking through a wonderland, where every step provides a new picture perfect view.
We checked out the wall paintings, the reason the canyon is off limits, but the natural beauty of the place quite frankly put them to shame. We swam, played around, and as it got quiet and dark, found a nice overhang to camp in. The night was crisp, mosquitoless, and perfect.
I love this place.
Until next time...
Thursday, July 8, 2010
A Hostel in Marathon: La Loma del Chivo
Raisin and I walked into Marathon, Texas, population roughly 450. Having seen and experienced dozens of small towns about this size, there was no reason to expect anything out of the ordinary. However, West Texas has a few tricks up its old dusty sleeves, but we didn't know that. Not yet.
.
After walking into town and sharing a few treats at the Burnt Biscuit, we headed for the library. I got some work done while Raisin took a nap outside (Just for the record, she hates libraries for the simple reason that she must wait outside.). From there, we hit the grocery store, The French Grocer, and while choosing cans of beans and bars of Snickers, our fates would become intertwined with the Hill of the Goat.
.
A man named Daniel Eaton noticed I was traveling (with a huge backpack, it's hard not to.). He was nice enough and recommended I check out a hostel a few blocks away, even offered to drive me. He told me its name fast, then repeated it slowly: "La Loma. Del Chivo." I declined the drive but made it out there anyway.
.
This is what I saw:
. . .
. . .
. . .The fairyland quality of this place is the first thing that hits you. I could see the bright colors from several blocks away. We didn't find anyone at first, and because I'd had a short conversation with Ali on the phone, Raisin and I made ourselves comfortable in the above abode.
.
There's a lot of construction going on. I have taken a couple of shots of places that are pretty much done, but many more cool buildings are on the way.
.
The owner and manager do not call it a commune, but as far as definitions go, it basically is. Three people live and work there, 20 hours a week, in exchange for a monthly stipend and all rent and utilities paid. Their job ranges from welcoming clients, answering the phone, working in a garden, managing building projects, and general clean-up.
. . .
. . .The above building is a bathroom. Just an FYI. If you want to put on a princess dress before entering, that's up to you.
. . .
. . .
. . .This is Mike. Give him a good look over. He's probably the smiliest, laughiest person of the three, and for good reason: he lost much of what he had spent his life earning in the economic crunch and has made a home here at La Loma. He has three dogs, his own place, and contributes by doing lots of stone and building projects.
. . .
. . .
This is Ali. She greeted me on the phone and made me feel at home before I even got there. She's not actually sitting in La Loma in the picture (she's in another wonderful place in town, a B&B called Eve's Garden), but she is an animal lover. (Her dog Piper runs all over La Loma and played a sort of Big Brother-Big Sister role for Raisin.) Ali is a total sweetheart and loves the quiet of West Texas, a stark contrast from her native Houston. She's figuring life out from the safety and security of a small town, and even invited her best friend Brian from Houston to experience some of the same.
. . .
. . .
This is Jerot. I'm not even sure I'm spelling his name right, but I know it ends in a 't.' He too is figuring out what comes next in life, but for the moment, he's doing great. His dad and brother came out to visit him and after his dad left, Jerot was charged with taking care of Logan. Logan turned 16 while he was there and thoroughly enjoyed his visit.
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .This is Ali. She greeted me on the phone and made me feel at home before I even got there. She's not actually sitting in La Loma in the picture (she's in another wonderful place in town, a B&B called Eve's Garden), but she is an animal lover. (Her dog Piper runs all over La Loma and played a sort of Big Brother-Big Sister role for Raisin.) Ali is a total sweetheart and loves the quiet of West Texas, a stark contrast from her native Houston. She's figuring life out from the safety and security of a small town, and even invited her best friend Brian from Houston to experience some of the same.
. . .
. . .This is Jerot. I'm not even sure I'm spelling his name right, but I know it ends in a 't.' He too is figuring out what comes next in life, but for the moment, he's doing great. His dad and brother came out to visit him and after his dad left, Jerot was charged with taking care of Logan. Logan turned 16 while he was there and thoroughly enjoyed his visit.
. . .
. . .This is Billy, La Loma's new mascot. It makes sense, obviously, to have a goat, but it makes even better financial sense. I think it's a ride-off.
.
I had a great week and already miss it. I shall return, hopefully to some of the same faces, in the future.
.
.
Until next time...
. . .
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