Faces of Texas

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"After the Beatles, everything changed. And the war."

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- Lorenzo, pictured with his grandson, on life in the United States in the 60s. I met Lorenzo in Clint, and while his grandson played in the parking lot, we chatted. He recalled the sort of cultural revolution that occurred in the states, led, he believed, by the popular music quartet. Later, Lorenzo was drafted, like many others, and did a tour in Vietnam. When he came back, he recalled the looks that people gave him in uniform, like he was a baby-killer, scum of the earth, and he shriveled inside. Lorenzo got quiet for a moment, remembering those stares of hatred, shaking his head. The memories still burned.

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Clint, Texas

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"Does the border look secure to you?"

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- Mary Miller, seated next to husband Craige, on the security of the region. The couple gave me a night's stay at their place in Fort Hancock, and we talked for an hour before going to bed. A huge hole in the border used to exist directly behind their land, a mere stone's throw away. Illegal migrants used to cross right by their home at all times of the day. They would call the border patrol who often came too late to apprehend the crossers, long gone in a vehicle.

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A fence has since been erected south of Fort Hancock, but it is not continuous. A gaping hole now exists several miles to the west, forcing the same problems on those closest to the gap.

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Fort Hancock, Texas

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"I couldn't destroy something beautiful to accommodate mediocrity."

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- Former teacher Carmen Ganser on her teaching curriculum. A six-year LA veteran, Carmen developed a multi-media course to engage an apathetic classroom. When new requirements adopted by the district became mandatory, she elected to get out. It was too much to redesign her class, to throw out everything she had worked years to create. She went on what she calls "a working vacation," joined her father in Terlingua, and though he went back north for the summer, has lived in Terlingua ever since.

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Terlingua, Texas

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"Life. Ain't it beautiful?"
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- Jean, an Appalachian Trail thru-hiker, on our serendipitous encounter. I was sitting at the Study Butte grocery store, waiting for the heat to die down before going into Big Bend National Park, when Jean pulled up. I wouldn't have seen the Appalachian Trail decals on the back his vehicle, but he parked backwards and went in. When he came out, I asked him if he had hiked or worked on the A.T. He said one word: "Ballpahk." I stood up, mouth gaping.
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I met Jean in 2003 when he gave me a ride to Trail Days, an Appalachian Trail festival for hikers. He had hiked the A.T. in 2002 under the trailname "Ballpahk" (he's a baseball fan from Boston, MA). Jean later picked me up in Maine and treated me to a meal and conversation.
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After he said his trailname, I said mine: "Rubberband Man." Smiles all around. We gave each other a big hug and caught up on our lives.
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Study Butte, Texas
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"I didn't urinate for three days."
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- Brennan Black, a Big Bend seasonal employee, on the aftermath of his first case of heat exhaustion. Brennan, who is approaching his last semester of college at Ohio State University, wanted a break from all the people, so he opted to live and work in Big Bend National Park, one of the most remote places in the lower forty-eight.
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A serious runner, he never ran with more than a liter back in Ohio, one of the coldest, snowiest places in the USA. After moving to West Texas, he hadn't considered changing the practice and took off for an 8-mile run with his usual liter. The run went by without a hitch, but shortly after getting into his car and driving off, he started halucinating and shaking. Brennan saw the world change shape, spoke with friends and family that he knew weren't there, and started losing muscle control in his arms and hands. He pulled over to the side of the road, tried to take in more liquids, vomited, then ripped out an emergency IV (he had previously received EMT training), and hooked himself up (he missed his artery the first two times because of the shaking and involuntary muscle movements). For the next eight hours, he would stay in his car by the side of the road, waiting for the symptoms to subside.
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As you can see, Brennan's made a full recovery.
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Pather Junction, Big Bend National Park, Texas
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Books on the Edge

Don't be surprised here by the number of books. One's a comic book, another is really short, and I'm not yet done with the last one (but I'm getting there). There is a wide variety of genre and subject matter represented, and I like it that way. Enjoy.

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That Old Ace in the Hole by Annie Proulx was, to be brutally honest, a letdown. Her story takes us into the heart of the Texas Panhandle, a region that I thoroughly enjoyed on my trip, but doesn't quite touch the real beauty of the place. I recognized several names from the Acknowledgments, and that was exciting. But it was all pretty much downhill from there.

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Bob Dollar is paid to investigate potential sites for hogfarms, on behalf of a big corporation, in the panhandle of Texas. It doesn't sound like much of a plot (and it's not), but that's not the problem. Bob is unbelievable, a paper thin shell of a character, who never really makes the reader gave a darn about what happens to him.

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The novel is propelled primarily by speech, and I smiled more than once at the way people talked. If Proulx did one thing right, it was in imitating the cadence and word choice of people in the region, but this skill does not and cannot hold the book up. Lovers of the panhandle might find some comfort in her talent, but they will have to dig much deeper to enjoy other aspects of the story.

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Enough. The panhandle deserves a great book about its hardy population. This book is not it.

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The Tortilla Curtain by T. Coraghessan Boyle is a fast-paced and enjoyable look at illegal immigration through the eyes of an upper-middle class family in California and a dirt-poor Mexican couple who just illegally immigrated to the same area.

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There is no plot, per se. Events keep happening to each family which both directly and indirectly combine their fates. A California man accidentally hits the Mexican man with his car. Thus starts a whirlwind of related events, both understandable and tragic, distinct yet interconnected. Each man negotiates the ups and downs of his individual life, grappling with prejudice against the other and the injustices of life.

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Boyle tears into the American family with sarcastic and searing remarks, and while it made me laugh, it also seemed a little unfair. He treats the Mexican family much gentler, tries hard to make them seem normal and hardworking, which they are. But the presence of judgment against the California residents and the absence of judgment against the illegal migrant workers is highly noticeable. There are a few nasty Mexican characters, yes, but it isn't judgment. Boyle mocks his white characters and their hardships while seeming to protect his Hispanic characters from the same narrative injustice.

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I'd definitely recommend this book. Sure, a plotline was left unfinished, the ending is more poetic than final, but the story reads like a thriller. I couldn't put it down (not that I had a table) and laughed out loud many, many times. The author's prose is crystal clear, his pacing enjoyable, and as per the discrepancy between how he treats his characters, well, that's his choice.

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Tales from the Terlingua Porch by Blair Pittman is a collection of stories, maybe a lot of hot air, from the many, many characters who visit the Terlingua Porch season after season. I read this book in an afternoon and was charmed by some of its informal tales. Pittman isn't J. Frank Dobie (who is?), but you get the feel for what people talk about in Terlingua Ghost Town. You might even learn a thing or two about life. There's a Part II, as well, if you can't get enough.

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Night of the Grasshopper Mouse! by Chris Ruggia is a short, interesting comic about an aberration of nature, the cruel and unusual grasshopper mouse. Unbeknownst to me, a very small portion of mice turn into meat-eaters and attack their own kin. The comic details one such tale. This little story doesn't really target adults, but I think older elementary kids would like it.

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Coyotes by Ted Conover is a first-person account of the trials of Mexican migrants crossing the border and finding work in the United States. Conover's tales are not information heavy, but they are fascinating nonetheless. He travels to Mexico and crosses multiple times as one of the millions who do so illegally every year, using coyotes and later experimenting with the coyote lifestyle himself (briefly, I might add). He makes friends, slaves away in orchards, crosses the USA in the worst kind of vehicles, and documents all the little details along the way. He was very sympathetic to his Mexican friends back in the 80s when he wrote this book and still seems very much on the side of the men and women who just want to make a living, even if that means breaking the law. Like Boyle does in fiction, Conover puts a human face on these individuals, which to me far outweighs any bias he may have imposed on the telling of his tales. A good read.

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(Notice the cover, by the way. This book got completely soaked in Big Bend.)

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Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey chronicles his six-month stay in Arches National Monument. I'm not actually done with this book, but I've read enough to comment a bit. Abbey is a hardnose environmentalist who admires nature and all its harshness and glory and relates more to the past than to the realities of today. It's a wonderful read (that is, full of wonder). What I like about Abbey is what Republicans liked about George W. Bush: he makes a statement or opinion and then defends it until the end of his life. (The Democrats could stand to learn a thing or two from this kind of hardlined perspective.) Abbey rips into the National Park Service, the condition of the modern Native American and cattleman, and even into his own capacity for hard work. If you want to read a book by someone who fiercely loves life and nature, who doesn't cower when he has to give a difficult-to-hear opinion, who represents much of the aggression that the rest of us lack, then pick up Desert Solitaire.

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(Notice this cover, too. On one particularly feisty night, Raisin got her teeth into this one.)

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Enjoy! Until next time...

The Marathon Border Checkpoint

For those of you not accustomed to traveling through the bottom part of the United States near Mexico, allow me to be the first to tell you that there are checkpoints. What I mean is that if you are entering the US from Mexico, there is one checkpoint directly on the border and an additional checkpoint some 30-50 miles up the road.
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Every route has a second checkpoint. There is no avoiding it if you want to visit the rest of the US. The second checkpoints operate in a similar capacity as the first checkpoint: looking for illegal crossers, scouting out drugs, weapons, and other contraband, trying to detect anything illegal.
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I have now crossed four checkpoints. One going into El Paso, one exiting El Paso, one between Marfa and Presidio, and this last one near Marathon. This story comes from the last one which I crossed twice.
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How can someone traveling on foot pass a checkpoint twice? Simple: Catch a ride with a friend who wants to make sure you get a good lunch, restock your food bag, and refill your water; then get dropped off where you stopped hiking. It seems in some ways like a bit of a cheat, but when people tell you they thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail or Pacific Crest Trail, I assure you they took full advantage of similar situations.
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So a new Terlingua friend agreed to meet me on Sunday and do all of the above. Unfortunately for us, she had contraband on her in the form of 1/4 oz of pot. Legal in California where she was a few months ago but illegal in Texas, she has yet to conform to the region.
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Claire found me on the road and took me to Marathon. Only we didn't make it. The good folks at the checkpoint had a dog who "gave indications" that there might be contraband material in the car. I got out, hoping she didn't have any, and sat on the station seats. Though I wasn't around to hear, the agents asked her if she had any drugs and she told them the truth, that she did. Some agents escorted her indoors, past my seat, and that would be the last time we each other for five hours.
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All the agents were exceptionally professional, courteous, and for the most part, pretty darn friendly. I struck up conversations with several, not really knowing what was going on (but figuring it couldn't be good), and found out some interesting things.
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None of the agents are allowed to share any opinions, personal or political. As a former Peace Corps volunteer, this seems pretty standard, but it was good to hear it. That said, one agent vaguely shared that he understood the point of view of the illegal migrant much better now that he was a border patrol agent. He didn't say anything else, but I got the feeling that a comprehensive view of the border issues would lead one away from a hardline position.
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I joked around with all the agents. It was pretty hard to get them to break their reserved demeanor, though. I had no idea that at this time they were reading Claire her rights. Shortly thereafter, one agent came out to me and told me that while they weren't charging me with anything I was still being detained. "So what you're saying is," I started slowly, "I'm a detainee?" I was really excited. "Where's my white hoody?" I added. I didn't add anything about doberman munching on my privates because, quite frankly, that would be the end of my fun.
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I tweeted a lot, read my Desert Solitaire book (I'm sure Abbey would have LOVED that.), and just waited. The wait, while exorbitant for US standards, was nothing out of the ordinary for someone who's lived in Africa. I once waited three days for a cab ride that only went 70 miles (I could've walked that in the same time.). However, five hours can kill a day, and that's just what it did.
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A deputy sheriff showed up, a real good 'ol boy who had a really jubilant attitude. When he saw my knife (a standard camping tool), he asked if the rust on it was blood. He didn't wait for an answer. "Boys," he said to the agents in the room, "we got the Rest Area Killer here!" Fun and games in Brewster County.
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The deputy sheriff then explained that he was considering giving me the same citation that he was giving Claire. Um, what? He gave the following example: "I didn't rob the bank, but I was driving the vehicle." Um, huh? I reminded him that I got picked up 15 minutes prior and that I wasn't aware of any contraband in the vehicle at that time. He reconsidered.
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Ultimately, Claire got a $300 dollar fine and a Class C Misdemeanor for possession of marijuana. I got nothing but a five-hour wait and a bad name (A day later, another deputy sheriff asked me, "Are you the one the sheriff picked up a day ago?" Great. I've run into half a dozen law enforcement officials in one day, none of them having communicated to the others that I was walking around the outline of Texas. But I get detained with someone who gets a citation, and now everyone knows about me.).
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We followed the deputy to Marathon and went to the judge's house to finish the business. The judge, operating out of one of the messiest home offices I've ever seen, was a kindly looking older woman. She signed the fifty plus pages of paperwork required to charge Claire (1/4 oz of pot, I remind you) and then gave her a receipt for payment.
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The deputy sheriff walked us to our vehicle, happy as ever. "You'd just as soon laugh as cry," he said, trying to make up for the lost day. I can't fault him for attitude. He was a gentleman until the end.
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Until next time...

Big Bend National Park

Big Bend. The name refers to the bend of the Rio Grande, but it has come to connote mountains, desert, beauty, ruggedness. I came here during my junior or senior year in college for spring break, but I made one mistake: my traveling companion wasn't really a hiker. We drove 500 miles in 10 hours and didn't hike but half a dozen miles. This time around, I didn't intend to make the same mistake.

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I hiked over 100 miles of Big Bend National Park, about 50 of those with Raisin, canoed Santa Elena Canyon, visited the Rio Grande hot springs (via car), and visited Mariscal Canyon. I drank from mud puddles, hiked through 30-40 mph winds, startled a rattlesnake, spied two bears, and climbed a vertical mile in a single 30-mile day. I washed my face with water from the Rio Grande and night-hiked up a canyon trail while shining my light into the trees looking for lions. In almost every way, I tried to do the opposite of my first trip to Big Bend, and I do believe I succeeded.

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South Rim Vista, BBNP, Day 301

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There's a lot more to say, but I'd prefer to hang on to some of it for an article. I want to add a few scattered notes, though: 1) The No-Pet-on-the-Trail Rule. Not my favorite rule, but it makes sense. Between Terlingua Ghost Town and Terlingua, I stayed up half the night thinking Raisin was being hunted by local fauna. At one point, I heard a semi-circle of coyote yelps around us, and they were close. So not allowing pets into the hot zone of Big Bend protects both the pet owner from loss and the indigenous predator population from depending on imported meat. It put me in a big bind, of course, but with a little luck, it worked out. (Thanks, Patricia and Jim of Castolon!) 2) The Desert and Water. I packed out 11 liters of water yet found myself needing more along the way. The big storm I mentioned outside of Castolon filled various spots in the desert with fresh rain water. I stumbled upon three decent water holes (clayish earth which acted as a natural cachement) in the first 20 miles. I skipped the first two but thankfully thought better of it at the third and filled up. I treated my water with Grapefruit Seed Extract (better known as GSE) which is an unofficial water purifier. It makes the water really bitter, but after seven years of using it, it's not so bad to me anymore. The desert really took it out of me, slowing some of my walking to a snail's pace, but I was able to bounce back with the water. I was most proud of finding a little water hole at the start of Mariscal Canyon Trail (I was looking). I needed it, and there it was. 3) Solitude. I didn't see anyone for 72 hours. It was during this time that I saw some of my most amazing views, drank mud water to get by, and saw two bears. It was an altogether splendid stretch.

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Chisos Basin Vista, BBNP, Day 301

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Even casual views of Big Bend are like this one: vast, beautiful, perfect. This shot was taken from a paved road and was shared by all that day. However you feel about the road network (I'm currently reading Edward Abbey who has some choice things to saw about the roads of the national parks.), the natural beauty of the place will get your attention and keep it. It is a wonderland.

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Panther Junction R&R, BBNP, Day 302

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Like all trips, you need time to recuperate. Ours is no different. Even though Raisin spent most of the time eating, sleeping, and enjoying A/C, even she needed to recharge after her first few miles back. We rested and then at 5 o'clock got back up and headed north toward Persimmon Gap and the park exit.

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And we're still going.

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Until next time...

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In the News...

After that monster post, it's a small pleasure to just link to things. Below you'll find a couple of news items and links to a couple of articles. Enjoy.

I passed through Marfa briefly but made time for the Big Bend Sentinel. I had a great conversation with their staff before continuing along my way south to Presidio. Raisin was a hit too, though she was mistaken for a he. Oops! Click here for the article.

In Presidio, I found Bob Phillips and his Texas Country Reporter crew. They put up a short teaser picture on their Facebook page with a few lines. Click here to see, then scroll down.

Rewind just a bit to my trek down the southern panhandle. You can read a few more observations from my article in the Corpus Christi Caller-Times. Click here for the article.

Continue west to El Paso and Fort Hancock and my first real taste of the border. I wrote about them here in my self-syndicated column, this time in the Lone Star Iconoclast. Click here for the article.

And that's all the news that's fit to link.

Until next time, clickers...

Days Two Hundred Thirty to Two Hundred Ninety

There's really no excuse for the delay in this post, which is more or less the equivalent of two or three posts. However, the reality of hiking without a computer has made writing and blogging in West Texas somewhat of a challenge. If I have an article due, then I spend my time doing that and ultimately neglect my blog. I could spend more time in one spot, like I am now in Terlingua/Study Butte, but that comes at the sacrifice of distance and days.

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As always, here are my mileage estimates and stops with scattered journal entries. Enjoy.

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Day 230: Zero day in Muleshoe

Day 231: Highway 214, about 18 miles

Day 232: Enochs (with a short side trip to the Muleshoe Refuge), about 11 miles

Day 233: Beyond Lehman on Hwy 125, about 19 miles

Day 234: FM 769, about 22 miles

Day 235: Just outside Plains, about 26 miles

Day 236: Just beyond Plains on Hwy 214, about 6 miles

Day 237: Beyond Denver City, about 15 miles

Day 238: Outside of Seminole, about 15 miles

Day 239: Hwy 385, about 9 miles

Day 240: Andrews, about 21 miles

Day 241: Highway 128, about 23 miles

Day 242: FM 1218, about 20 miles

Day 243: Kermit, about 13 miles

Day 244: Zero day in Kermit.

Day 245: Hwy 302, about 10 miles

Day 246: Mentone, about 22 miles

Day 247: Hwy 285, about 14 miles

Day 248: Orla, about 12 miles

Day 249: FM 652, about 12 miles

Day 250: FM 652, about 18 miles

Day 251: Hwys 62/180, about 30 miles

Day 252: Backcountry, Guadalupe Mountains National Park (also started hiking on park trails), about 11 miles

Day 253: Dog Canyon, Guadalupe Mountains NP, about 18 miles

Day 254: Park Headquarters, Guadalupe Mountains NP, about 15 miles

Day 255: Williams Ranch House, Guadalupe Mountains NP, 9 miles

Day 256: Williams Road near Dell City, about 20 miles

Day 257: Dell City Junction (by way of Dell City), about 20 miles

Day 258: Hwys 62/180, about 20 miles

Day 259: Hwys 62/180, about 24 miles

Day 260: El Paso, 35 miles

Days 261-262: Two zero days in El Paso

Day 263: Anthony, about 22 miles

Day 264: El Paso, about 15 miles

Day 265: Zero day in El Paso

Day 266: El Paso, about 18 miles

Day 267: Fabens, about 18 miles

Day 268: Fort Hancock, about 22 miles

Day 269: I-10, about 15 miles

Day 270: Sierra Blanca, about 20 miles

Day 271: I-10, about 12 miles

Day 272: Outside Van Horn on I-10, about 19 miles

Day 273: Hwy 90, about 18 miles

Day 274: Outside Valentine, about 20 miles

Day 275: Hwy 90, about 19 miles

Day 276: Marfa, about 19 miles

Day 277: Hwy 67, about 15 miles

Day 278: Beyond Shafter, about 25 miles

Day 279: Presidio, about 20 miles

Day 280: Zero day in Presidio

Day 281: River Road, about 7 miles

Day 282: River Road, 12 miles

Day 283: River Road, 12 miles

Day 284: FM 170, about 20 miles

Day 285: Just beyond Terlingua Ghost Town, 8 miles

Day 286: Terlingua, about 3 miles

Days 287-291: Five zero days in Terlingua

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The World's Biggest Muleshoe, Muleshoe, Bailey County, Day 230

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Day 232: Camped in Enochs at a cotton gin! [A trio of men approached me and inquired as to what I was up to. I told them and we shot the bull for quite some time. One of them told me to just go ahead and camp at the gin if I wanted. I told him that I didn't really like to trespass if I didn't know for sure, and he said, "Shouldn't be a problem. I'm on the board of the coop!" I love small towns.]

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Clarity, Bledsoe, Cochran County, Day 234

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Day 235: Nothing in Bronco. Chatted with old woman at store. [It's amazing how vague I can be, even when I'm my own audience. I ran out of food in the morning and hiked into Bronco hoping for some grub. The store was closed, but I knocked anyway. A squat older woman answered, and I asked about food. Unfortunately, she only took cash. So I continued my trip into Plains and knew that I'd get food in the morning. Sure, I was hungry, but a 26 mile hike on a little trail mix and a health bar is no big deal. I still chuckle at the terseness of my journal entry, though. It's a good reminder that there's usually a lot more going on than a person cares to explain.]

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Day 236: So walking out of Plains from the library, I was talking on the phone, and an older hispanic lady was walking my direction [on the opposite side of the street]. She stopped to cross the street - no cars, nothing - but didn't go because that would have put her near me. It's bizarre to be having a nice conversation with someone and to simultaneously be feared by someone else.

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Memorial, Gaines County, Day 237

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Food for Thought, Gaines County, Day 239

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Day 240: I've now read about 700 pages in 5 days, or 1000 in 15 days. That's a lot for me, far more than average. True, I'd already read [one of the books], but the other two were new. Am I tuning out my hike? [Note: I'd like to think that I'm coping for the lack of mental challenges out here. Physical, emotional, and spiritual challenges abound, but sometimes you just want a good book or puzzle.]

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Dunescape, Andrews County, Day 242

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Day 242: [An interesting side note to these Winkler County days: My brother Charlie was looking at Google maps before I entered this section and was worried by all the blank spots on the map, the blankness being sand dunes. A lot of the desert plants had grown over the terrain, but it was crazy to see a few miles of land that looked like it was imported from the Middle East. Long story short, it was no big deal, but some of the technology available to my family and friends is sometimes a little less helpful than they'd like to believe.]

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Bottom-left Corner of Texas Panhandle, Winkler County, Day 242

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Unidentified Object in Bag of Peanuts, Winkler County, Day 242

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Day 242: [I bought Spanish Raw Peanuts from the Ellis Pecan Company in Andrews, Texas, but took the picture a day or two later in Winkler County. I found the above object in my bag, and it was a little disconcerting, to say the least. I wrote the company and received a pat answer, that it was probably a root or something. I don't claim to know what this is, but it's hard, really hard, and I find it difficult to believe that it's a root. That said, I have to take the company's word while I'm out here and look into more thoroughly later. I like their product, but if I find out that this is something less benign that root matter, I am going to be one unhappy camper.]

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Lined Up, Loving County, Day 246

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Tan Lines, Loving County, Day 249

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Day 249: [I realized my farmer's tan was intense when it looked like my feet were put on. Had to share.]

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Beginning of the Day, Reeves County, Day 250

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Roadside Minutiae, Culberson County, Day 251

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Guadalupe Peak, Culberson County, Day 252

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Guadalupe Mountains National Park, Culberson County, Day 252

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Day 254: Might have camped at Pine Top Campground, but there was a loud obnoxious family there. Kids out of control. I was 3.6 miles from headquarters with the sun 30 minutes from setting, and I went for it. Arrived at night. Found an M&M and a Rice Crispy wrapper on the way down. Hmm...

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The Cairn Sentinel of El Capitan, Guadalupe Mountains National Park,

Culberson County, Day 255

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Sunset from Williams Ranch Home Porch, Guadalupe Mountains National Park,

Hudspeth County, Day 255

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Day 256: When I made it to the main road, I entered the world of sand and dust. The wind had started back in the dunes, but out on the road, the conditions got nasty. It's not the big granules that do it; it's the little ones. They cover everything and make it hard to open your eyes. And the little ones are never-ending. They're on my hands as I write this, on the notepad, on my mat, shirt, hair, everything with the possible exception of my mouth, but when I eat or drink, that will be another casualty.

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Looking Back, Hudspeth County, Day 257

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Oasis, Cornudas, Hudspeth County, Day 258

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Sunbather, Hudspeth County, Day 259

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Day 259: Checkpoint. Chatted with two officers; both reluctant to talk about border.

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Western Corner Marker of Texas, El Paso County, Day 263

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Checkpoint, El Paso County, Day 266

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Mission of Corpus Christi, El Paso County, Day 267

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Enter the Raisin, El Paso County, Day 268

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Day 268: Made it to Fort Hancock... with a dog! I found a small, dark, and dehydrated terrier mix puppy in Fabens, and she put her stock in me. I fed her a little peanut butter, then trail mix, and loads of water. She was tick and flea infested - no telling how long she's been out. She walked with me, complaining along the way until we reached Clint. She was begging for food from everybody, not yet attached to me. I got her some rice and chicken (after a conversation with my cousin Cat) and she ate well. I call her Raisin d'Etre, or Raisin for short.

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Day 271: I met I guy earlier named _____. He drove me to the courthouse [in Sierra Blanca]. Kind of a nut. Talked about black ops, having two PhDs, knowing the president. I just let him ramble.

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Cloud Cover, Hudspeth County, Day 272

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Beware of Fish, Hudspeth County, Day 272

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Hiking for Love, Culberson County, Day 273

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Day 273: [I found this little popsicle cross beside a roadside marker made by Carol Cruise. Ms. Cruise, wearing a prosthetic leg, is walking around the entire United States. She started in 2002 and is hoping to finish this December. She is a reverend and is reminding people of God's love. Notice that her odometer stands at 8,592 miles. By now, she's in central Texas.]

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[In Van Horn] people kept complimenting Raisin, and she ate it up. One woman gave me a leash! She had a spare and was heading to Arizona. She thanked me for "saving another one."

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Day 275: Took a break under a train trestle. NOT the most peaceful place when the train rolls by at 40 mph.

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Street Jesus, Marfa, Presidio County, Day 277

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Country Art, Presidio County, Day 277

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Day 280: [Bob Phillips and his Texas Country Reporter crew showed up in Presidio. I spoke with Bob about recent developments in his life (he got married two years ago), and we chatted about my hike and Raisin. I spent the bulk of my time with one of the producers Mike and the cameraman Dan, both really nice fellows. The show comes out in mid-July.]

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Mary, Redford, Presidio County, Day 282

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Day 282: Found a church in Redford and got water... later found out that it tasted like rubber because of the water hose. Ahhh!!!! [I lost two liters to this mishap and lucked out by finding a water hole in Closed Canyon, shown two pictures below.]

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View from the Ruins, Presidio County, Day 282

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Closed Canyon, Big Bend Ranch State Park, Presidio County, Day 283

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Another Roadside Attraction, Presidio County, Day 283

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Day 283: [Annie sent me a book called "Smile While You're Lying" by Chuck Thompson. There's one line in it that haunts me: (paraphrased) "We revere what we destroy, but we destroy it first." The teepee rest stop seems to illustrate this perfectly.]

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Contrabando Set, Presidio County, Day 284

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Day 284: Strange to visit the Contrabando movie set after already having seen it three days ago [with the Texas Country Reporter crew]. Maybe I'll watch Streets of Laredo. [Contrabando was a B movie set in the old west, filmed about 20 to 30 years ago. They abandoned the set which was later adopted by the park service. It's kind of neat in its own way, but a bizarre sideshow to the area. There are only a few buildings, all constructed for the purpose of making one movie and later adopted by other movies. It's not real, and yet people, myself included, stop to investigate it.]

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Found a camping spot called Rancho Topango. After mild negotiations, I secured an indoor place and shower and hard-boiled eggs for $13. I didn't know what to expect [when I showed up]. When I started calling out "Hello? Hello?", no one answered. Then I found an older fellow sitting down looking at me. I said, "Hi, how are you doing?" and he continued to look at me saying nothing. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, and he cut it off before it became weird. "What can I do for you?" he began.

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Ghost Town Art, Terlingua Ghost Town, Brewster County, Day 285

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Terlingua Local, Brewster County, Day 285

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Day 286: I arranged with Greg and his maintenance man Mike to do some work for a river trip... only not immediately. [The trip has kept me in town for several days now. I just went yesterday on Day 290.]

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Art for Sale, Terlingua Ghost Town, Brewster County, Day 287

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Day 290: [Beautiful day. There was a group of about ten of us and two guides, and we hit the water by nine o'clock. We canoed up Santa Elena Canyon. The water felt great, and the upper body exercise was good for me. There were five kids in the group, and they kept us adults in check, fooling around in the water, jumping off rocks. There was one boulder in particular that stood just a bit back from a large pool of water. The kids were afraid to jump because of the distance, but I went for it, hitting my legs against the shallow bottom. I warned them, but it was too late. Several more went for it, enjoying the challenge and scariness of it. I love being an instigator.]

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That's all for now. Until next time...

Raisin the Dog!

Say hello to my little friend.

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I found a little dog on the outskirts of Fabens, Texas on the morning of May 22nd, and I decided that she would be my birthday present. She was small, dark, and dehydrated, so I called her Raisin. Upon further reflection, I named her Raisin d'Etre, a pun on 'raison d'etre,' a reason for being here.

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Raisin is little and very cute. She chases butterflies and barks at antelope and beetles. When I caught a butterfly in my hands and let it out in front of her, Raisin wagged her tail. In the morning, Raisin wakes me up by licking me, and I like to think she's excited about the day, though she's probably just hungry.
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Raisin is headstrong and likes to get her way, but we are learning about one another. This is a tough hike for her, and she gets worn out pretty quickly (Although on some milder days, she's surprised me with how much she's walked. Her one-day record is around 19 miles!). In the short time we've been together, she's grown on me, perhaps me on her too.
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Enjoy the pictures.
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Until next time...