Texas Heights

When we left El Paso on Montana Boulevard, plastic bags blew every which way across the road, catching on the bunch grass, snowballing with tumbleweed clumps along the shoulders, collecting in the corners where page fences came together.
"The other problem seems to be broken bottles," said Andy, "and this is probably county property, so they don't have funds to clean."
"But it shouldn't have come to this in the first place," I told him. "I guess when we get home I'll try harder to maintain my own little corner of the world, since I can't do anything here."
"Goodbye Ugly!" Andy added, as we left the junkyards and oil tanks and abandoned trailers behind. "There isn't much worth saving here."
Thirty miles outside El Paso, we encountered Border Patrol with a Want Ad sign for agents. This stop, more elaborate than previous ones, asked more questions: Where are you going? Where are you coming from? What is your business? Are you both American citizens? The dog strained at his leash but didn't react.
"They were Hispanic and had on bullet proof vests," said Andy. "Did you see how big and bulky they looked?"
"And they also never responded when you said, 'Good morning.'"
"Well, being polite and personable like me is not part of their job!" He grinned.
West Texas is cattle country. Ranches spread thousands of square acres of grass. As we drove east, mesquite and creosote and dagger yucca, past bloom with their huge dry flower spears, popped up close to the road where they could capture extra drops of spray from passing vehicles when it rained. "It's getting drier," said Andy, as we got closer to Guadalupe Mountain. Just southwest of the mountain, a dried out lake bed magnified the morning sun. Salt deposits here caused controversy in 1877, sparking the Salt War. "That was the only way to preserve food then," said Andy. "Salt was a valuable commodity." The buildings within a few miles were all abandoned today. "Things change," said Andy.
It takes a tremendous amount of energy to smelt bauxite in electric furnaces to make aluminum but much less energy to recycle the aluminum. "A Scout troop could make some really good money," said Andy. "All they would need to do is comb the highway for cans at 40-50 cents a pound. It's only around 12 cans per pound."
Guadalupe Peak towers over the landscape, the highest point in Texas. "That's impressive," said Andy, "and they have done a wonderful job of cleaning up the wayside. When we drove through in 1974, these rocks were spray painted black."
Three trails in the Guadalupe Mountains National Park provided exercise during the day. In the morning I zipped my jacket and wrapped a scarf around my face. "It's not THAT cold," said Andy. He was partly right. By afternoon I tied the jacket around my waist but watched him in just a sweatshirt shiver once as the wind picked up.

The Piney Nature Trail climbed up and down a mile through desert, riparian and mountain plant zones, identifying such native species as bear claw grass, banana yucca, rainbow cactus, Texas madrone, oak mistletoe and alligator juniper. Preserved here are remnants of the buildings from the Butterfield Overland Mail Station, predecessor of the Pony Express and Transcontinental Railroad. Located at 5,534-foot Guadelupe Pass, the Pinery was the highest station on the 2,800-mile Butterfield Route. The company, in operation for two and a half years from September 28, 1858, promised delivery between St. Louis and San Francisco in 25 days and never broke its contract. For the wild experience of the trip and 40 pounds of baggage, a one-way passenger paid $150. For 10 cents a mile, "way passengers" rode outside, if they could find a place to hang on.
A traveler needed a Colt pistol, food to be eaten without cooking and plenty of courage and fortitude for the grueling trip. As we walked, I thought about our cross-country travels. Courage, maybe. Otherwise, there wasn't much comparison.

Our second trail, a 2.5-mile loop, climbed 400 feet to a riparian oasis and woodland surrounding Smith Spring. In the 1930's ranchers built a pipeline to pump water up the canyon. Now the peaceful ponderosa grove shelters a gurgling brook that disappears down the limestone escarpment. For many years, Mescalero Apaches camped below the spring so as not to contaminate the water.

From the top of the hill they could easily spot military patrols as they entered Guadalupe Pass. Other trail sections took us past Manzanita Spring, used by the Smith family for irrigation, and green rocks, an area of 265 million year old volcanic ash compressed during the Permian Period under inland ocean water. The trail ended at the Frijole Ranch of the early 1900's. "I could live here," said Andy, as we checked out the different varieties of apple, pear, cherry and crab apple trees. At the confluence of two springs, the ranch had a consistent water supply in the desert. "Smith picked a wonderful location," said Andy. "I wouldn't mind calling it home.

Our final trail, the one-mile Nature Trail in McKittrick Canyon, wound through the desert near the Canyon Information Station and climbed a couple hundred feet for views of the escarpment. Everywhere sotol, lechiguilla, agave and Engelmann prickly pear grew in abundance. Grasses brushed our legs as we followed the narrow path along the rocky hills; we stepped around the cholla. "I wouldn't want to be walking this in warmer weather," said Andy. He was thinking about rattlesnakes. The rocks provided prime habitat.

Overhead two hawks circled, hunting for dinner. I wished I knew enough about birds to identify them. I guess I said it out loud.

"Watch where you walk," warned Andy. "This is rough terrain, and you could trip." He was right. I refocused.
Two more short walks in Carlsbad National Park helped us get oriented for cave explorations underground tomorrow. We followed the limestone cliff to Walnut Canyon viewpoint and another trail to an ancient Indian shelter. As the sun went down, so did the temperatures--down to 20 degrees. It was time to head inside.