Sunday, April 16, 2006
Day 13.
The drive to Brownwood had been mostly after dark the previous night, and I was excited to see cacti joining the scenery as I drove west into the desert. I really had no idea what was ahead, and I was excited when out of the blue appeared a little pump sucking oil from the ground. It was just like in the old westerns, a small see-saw crane bobbing quite serenely up and down. Before long I found myself in the heart of the Texas oil fields, the barren landscape simply littered with wells. The road had historic markers every so often and I stopped to read about the area, the "wild west", and I was travelling on what was once a stage coach route that took passengers and mail from east to west in 25 days. I didn't linger on the thought that I wasn't doing it much quicker! At one spot was an old post office called Notrees - the areas most distinguishing feature (I write this as I'm in a town called Carlsbad and I really don't want to run into Carl!). The stage coaches drivers and passengers were heavily armed as attacks from the Indians were common in this area. Another marker pointed out a rise 4.5 miles north that was a stronghold of the Indians.
We pulled into a beautiful desert park on the banks of a large lake. We swam/washed, then headed off for Midland, Texas. The oil fields gave way to a high rise skyline in the middle of the desert, and I sensed this might be an interesting place. As we drove into Midland, a sign proudly announced it as the home of G.W. and Laura Bush (apparently he grew up there). I lowered my expectations somewhat, but was not prepared for what I found:
Midland, Texas, biggest hell-hole on earth (even more so than eastern Kentucky). Where _NOTHING_ is natural. Quite probably the founding home of strip-mall America. Where women of all ages are either blond or they have chests protruding out proudly perpendicular to their body - usually both. Where men go around slapping girls butts and the girls squeal a happy acknowledgment. Where the average age of divorce is 25. Where "Days of Our Lives" hair-do's are still in fashion. Where the only bar in town with "live music" turned out to be a god awful karaoke bar. Is this Bush's vision of the american dream?
Day 14.
Seeing as I was in the centre of an oil field I decided it was time to do an oil change, and at the same time fix the electrical problems with my dual battery setup. Late in the afternoon I headed west, the oil wells giving way to barren desert, no more ranches (or at least livestock), and yucca's taking the place of cactus. Its amazing in such a vast countryside how the scenery can change dramatically at the turn of a corner. As we got closer to the Guadalupe mountains, the flat turned into beautiful rolling hill country, and as the sun set we slowly climbed up to the base of Guadalope national park.
The Guadalope mountains were once a reef in the Permian age, now home to high elevation desert flora and fauna. As no dogs are permitted on the trails and it being easter weekend, I decided I would get up before sunrise the next morning and hike for a couple of hours before the heat of the day set in. I envisaged hiking for an hour in the dark by headlamp, and then for a couple more after sunrise. As I read a notice at the trailhead warning of mountain lions in the area my courage faded with the sunlight. No bloody way would I be hiking alone in prime hunting time for mountain lions!
Day 15.
I set off in daylight just before sunrise to a place called Devils Hall. It was great being up before the masses hit the trails, and I spotted several Mule Deer along the way. Up the valley mountainsides closed in and twisted further into the mountains to Devils Hall, a spectacular gap in the mountains only a few metres wide, with high cliffs on either side. The floor is rock, with evenly terraced steps down the twisting valley. On the way back I took a detour up a track that would eventually end at Guadalope peak. On a point out in the clear, way above the carpark below I could hear a noise - was that bloody forrest barking?! I headed down and sure enough Forrie was doing her best to wake the camp, and failing that, shred the curtains in the kombi.
We drove out and the wind was insane, coming from the south we were virtually blown up into New Mexico. I had secured the poptop with extra rope inside, but we were getting blown all about on the road so I pulled over and took the dog crate off the roof rack and used the strap to secure the poptop down on the outside from rear to front.
The drive to Brownwood had been mostly after dark the previous night, and I was excited to see cacti joining the scenery as I drove west into the desert. I really had no idea what was ahead, and I was excited when out of the blue appeared a little pump sucking oil from the ground. It was just like in the old westerns, a small see-saw crane bobbing quite serenely up and down. Before long I found myself in the heart of the Texas oil fields, the barren landscape simply littered with wells. The road had historic markers every so often and I stopped to read about the area, the "wild west", and I was travelling on what was once a stage coach route that took passengers and mail from east to west in 25 days. I didn't linger on the thought that I wasn't doing it much quicker! At one spot was an old post office called Notrees - the areas most distinguishing feature (I write this as I'm in a town called Carlsbad and I really don't want to run into Carl!). The stage coaches drivers and passengers were heavily armed as attacks from the Indians were common in this area. Another marker pointed out a rise 4.5 miles north that was a stronghold of the Indians.
We pulled into a beautiful desert park on the banks of a large lake. We swam/washed, then headed off for Midland, Texas. The oil fields gave way to a high rise skyline in the middle of the desert, and I sensed this might be an interesting place. As we drove into Midland, a sign proudly announced it as the home of G.W. and Laura Bush (apparently he grew up there). I lowered my expectations somewhat, but was not prepared for what I found:
Midland, Texas, biggest hell-hole on earth (even more so than eastern Kentucky). Where _NOTHING_ is natural. Quite probably the founding home of strip-mall America. Where women of all ages are either blond or they have chests protruding out proudly perpendicular to their body - usually both. Where men go around slapping girls butts and the girls squeal a happy acknowledgment. Where the average age of divorce is 25. Where "Days of Our Lives" hair-do's are still in fashion. Where the only bar in town with "live music" turned out to be a god awful karaoke bar. Is this Bush's vision of the american dream?
Day 14.
Seeing as I was in the centre of an oil field I decided it was time to do an oil change, and at the same time fix the electrical problems with my dual battery setup. Late in the afternoon I headed west, the oil wells giving way to barren desert, no more ranches (or at least livestock), and yucca's taking the place of cactus. Its amazing in such a vast countryside how the scenery can change dramatically at the turn of a corner. As we got closer to the Guadalupe mountains, the flat turned into beautiful rolling hill country, and as the sun set we slowly climbed up to the base of Guadalope national park.
The Guadalope mountains were once a reef in the Permian age, now home to high elevation desert flora and fauna. As no dogs are permitted on the trails and it being easter weekend, I decided I would get up before sunrise the next morning and hike for a couple of hours before the heat of the day set in. I envisaged hiking for an hour in the dark by headlamp, and then for a couple more after sunrise. As I read a notice at the trailhead warning of mountain lions in the area my courage faded with the sunlight. No bloody way would I be hiking alone in prime hunting time for mountain lions!
Day 15.
I set off in daylight just before sunrise to a place called Devils Hall. It was great being up before the masses hit the trails, and I spotted several Mule Deer along the way. Up the valley mountainsides closed in and twisted further into the mountains to Devils Hall, a spectacular gap in the mountains only a few metres wide, with high cliffs on either side. The floor is rock, with evenly terraced steps down the twisting valley. On the way back I took a detour up a track that would eventually end at Guadalope peak. On a point out in the clear, way above the carpark below I could hear a noise - was that bloody forrest barking?! I headed down and sure enough Forrie was doing her best to wake the camp, and failing that, shred the curtains in the kombi.
We drove out and the wind was insane, coming from the south we were virtually blown up into New Mexico. I had secured the poptop with extra rope inside, but we were getting blown all about on the road so I pulled over and took the dog crate off the roof rack and used the strap to secure the poptop down on the outside from rear to front.
