Deming, New Mexico

As it turns out, the RV Rally I told you about last week was called a Customer Appreciation Rally. I don’t know if all the people bought an RV from them or not, but there were hundreds of people. The campground was nearly full and they have some 400 campsites. There were many activities for young and old, all free. Each afternoon was a catered lunch, and each evening a catered dinner. They had set up huge tents for the affair. Two large tents for eating, one for watching TV on big plasma sets and one for entertainment, with a stage.

Local bands provided the entertainment on Friday and Saturday night. The Friday night band was called Springfire and consisted of three musicians, two guitars and a keyboard. Their music was folk and variety. The singing was not the greatest, but very entertaining. They were also comical. We enjoyed the ninety minute concert. Saturday night was a Bluegrass band called Applejack, not our cup of tea. We had filled out a raffle ticket at the beginning of the Rally. Saturday night was the drawing. They pulled names for prizes before the concert. Don’t you know, our name was pulled out of the hat. We, who have never won anything, won an Electric Tabletop Grill, worth over $130. Can you believe it? (Carolyn is grilling chicken on it as I write.) We stayed for half the concert, picked up our prize and went home.

Sunday night, October 21st, was our last night in Texas. The winds were picking up with a cold front moving through and gusting to 40-50 miles per hour. Our slide awnings were flapping and knocking with regularity. We tried to quite them by slinging a rope over top, across the awning, and pulling it tight and tying it down. It helped a little, but the awning over our bedroom slide, about three feet above our heads, kept us awake most of the night flapping and knocking loudly. It sounded as though someone was on top of the trailer stomping around. We will have to figure some solution to this problem because there is a lot of wind in the Southwest.

The next day was moving day and we headed back across the border again to New Mexico. This time we were headed to Deming, about 75 miles west of Las Cruces. The journey was only a couple of hours. We took the exit from I-10 and turned North on Highway 180 for three miles and then turned right on a secondary road. After 1 ½ miles the pavement ended and we were on a dirt/gravel road that felt like driving over a washboard. The truck, the trailer and we were all bouncing freely. That is when I thought of something I had not done to prepare for the road that I usually do.

I have a favorite wooden statue carving of Don Quixote, about ten inches tall, that I got in Spain. I keep it standing on top the window box by the sofa. Usually, I take it down and place it in the sofa cushions for protection during the move. I just knew that Don Quixote had lost the battle with the bumpy road and was laying on the floor somewhere, hopefully not broken.

After a mile and a half of this torture, we made another right turn onto yet another dirt/gravel road. At this point there was nothing to see but desert and mountains in the distant in front of us. We were driving through the open range, dust billowing up behind us like the Stagecoaches of old. Apart from the occasional steer and a few Road Runners, the state bird of New Mexico (which I fully expected to go “beep, beep” like the Looney Tunes cartoon of Wile E Coyote and the Road Runner), we saw no evidence of life. We wondered if we were going to get there before we ran into the mountain. You see a picture of the road we were on and the direction we were going in the picture above. We traveled another 5.5 miles before we finally came to our campground, Hidden Valley Ranch, around the point of the mountain. “Hidden” is the key word here. There is nothing else for miles around. You can see the entry to the ranch above.

After we placed and leveled the trailer, we went inside to see how things had faired on the bumpy road. Some cabinet doors were open, things had shifted around in the cabinets. I looked to the place where Don Quixote had always stood, and “lo and behold”, the statue was still standing proud on the window box. It had not moved an inch in all the shaking and rolling. Go figure! I guess Don Quixote is a tough old dude, after fighting all those windmills he wasn‘t about to let a little bumpy road conquer him.

All in all, Hidden Valley Ranch is a very nice place. The sites are good with full hookups. You see a picture of our trailer site above. Nice view, huh? It is quite. And why wouldn’t it be, out in the middle of the desert. The sounds are of birds and quail. Lots of quail, mainly the Gambel’s Quail and the Scaled Quail. (You can see what they look like and get interesting information on the birds at the links below.) They are beautiful and interesting birds. There are whole coveys of them around the trailer all day long. And, of course, our friend the Road Runner. They seem quite tame here. One can get within two to three feet of them, and talk to them. They look at you and turn their heads and eye you. We also see a lot of huge, big-eared jack rabbits. They are not as friendly as the Road Runner.

We drove down to the border and crossed into Las Palomas, Mexico, about 32 miles from Deming, to look around. No tourist shops there, just the normal businesses and stores. You see a picture of the only interesting thing we saw on the crossover, a big metal statue on the street. Mostly, we are just relaxing, hiking into the desert and up the mountains. Hopefully we will not run into any Mountain Lions or Coyotes, which we understand also frequent the Ranch. We will be spending a week here. Then, we will head to Arizona. First to Benson, then Gila Bend, Yuma and Quartzsite before going on to California. You can look all those places up on your map. There will be a test later. That journey will take another three weeks after we leave here on the 29th.

Here are the links to look up for the birds. If the link cannot be “clicked” on, just copy and paste it into your Address Box:

Gambel’s Quail: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gambel's_Quail
Scaled Quail: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scaled_Quail also called Blue Quail or Cotton Top
Road Runner: http://www.desertusa.com/mag98/sep/papr/road.html

On the Border

We told you last time about the SMELL in Vado. Well, it got too much for us. I’ll tell you more about that in a minute. We tried to make the most of our time by staying out of town. Las Cruces was part of the area bought by the USA in 1853 in a deal called the Gadsden Purchase. You remember that, don’t you? The mostly Mexican inhabitants didn’t like the idea, so they moved across the Rio Grande and formed the town of Mesilla. The “old town” of Mesilla still exists so we decided to pay a visit.

Mesilla is mostly like other “old towns” in the area, a church on the square surrounded by businesses. Shops containing the usual Mexican and Indian wares. We found little of interest that we had not recently seen. The only unusual point of interest is what you see in the first picture above, the first totally brick building built in the United States. Another reason for the visit to Mesilla was to buy pecans. We had noticed thousands of pecan trees as we drove along the highway. We had seen ads for Sthamann’s pecans. It is a most interesting history about the largest pecan grower in the world. You see some of the pecan groves in the second picture. I have given you a detailed history of Sthamann’s pecans at the end of the blog, if you care to read it. I think you will find it interesting.

We thought we had seen enough so we headed back to the truck, which we had parked along a side street.
As we approached our parking location, we noticed a motor home parked on the opposite side of the street, the side on which we were walking. As we got abreast of the RV, the door was open and two people were getting out. We had noticed that the license plate showed that they were from Indiana. We said “Hi”, and asked where they were from in Indiana. “Bedford”, they said. We told them we too had lived in Indiana. This led to several minutes of conversation on the sidewalk. After awhile they said, “We are going to have lunch, have you eaten?” “No, we haven’t, we were thinking of getting a bite.” “We are going to a little restaurant we have eaten at before that has great food,” they said. So we had lunch together and learned about the life of Dennis and Hazel Moore. A most enjoyable time. And the food was good!

Now, I was telling you about the SMELL. We had planned to stay in that location longer, but we decided it was time to move after one week. We drove down to El Paso, Texas to look around for a new campground. The Texas border was only 10 miles from where we were, and we found a nice campground in Anthony, TX, two miles across the border. So we moved. We had never before found a campground like this one. Not only is it cheaper than where we had left, but the spaces are long and wide. All pull-thrus. I know that is an improper spelling, but that’s the way we say it. And that’s the way we read it in the campground directory. Not only does the campground have all the services, but they also serve breakfast and lunch at the Cantina---no extra charge. This is unheard of!

We took a run into El Paso and found nothing much special to peak our interest so we decided to cross the border into Mexico. Well, we could not drive into Mexico because our insurance won’t allow it. We had two options, a trolley called the Border Jumper which cost $12.50 each to ferry one across and back, or we could walk over the bridge. We decided to walk. We parked the truck for three bucks and proceeded to the bridge. It cost us 35 cents each to walk over and 30 cents each to come back.

Where we were going was to Jaurez, Mexico, the largest city bordering the U.S., population about 1.8 million. The foot traffic was brisk, but the auto traffic was at a standstill waiting for customs. You see a picture above that shows the crossing back into the U.S. You may be able to see the rows of cars waiting to cross, several abreast. We crossed into Mexico without showing any ID. We had forgotten the look and feel of a Latin American country since it has been years since we lived in Latin America.

One must look down constantly. The sidewalks are broken, uneven and have potholes big enough to swallow you up to your ankles. The street was lined with shops of all kinds and “hawkers” trying to get one to enter. Mostly, on the street from the bridge, was Pharmacies and Optical stores, and people-----everywhere. We didn’t really know where we were going, but we had heard of a large Market located on 16th of September street. We walked five or six blocks, found the street and then walked another five blocks east to the Market which was in a large warehouse, filled with vendors of all manner of goods, especially jewelry and leather. We walked around, looked and even bargained a little. Nothing has a fixed price.

We walked back to the bridge, paid our 30 cents and stood in line at customs. There were five lines formed that moved ever so slowly. It took about 25 minutes to get through the line, show our driver’s license and proceed to the bridge. When we got back to the truck, we felt we had had enough exercise for the day and headed home.

Our new campground is attached to Camping World, a large camping equipment store. They are having a big RV Rally this weekend, Oct. 19-21, with activities, more food and entertainment. We will stick around and enjoy the festivities. It is almost time to go get some of that lunch, so we’ll talk to you later. Ciao for now.

I think you will enjoy the info below:
STAHMANN FARMS

Miles of pecan trees line Highway 28 on the way to Stahmann's Store. In the summer their branches spread out over the road in an arbor of green. In the winter they rest against the sky like soldiers in formation. In the fall their branches bend with the rich weight of nuts yet to be harvested and in the spring they are decorated with a filigree of green. The mature pecan trees at Stahmann Farms are always beautiful whatever the season. But seventy years ago when Mr. W.J. Stahmann and his son Deane purchased this stretch of countryside in the Mesilla Valley thirty miles north of El Paso, the area was little more than a barren wasteland of scrub, sand dunes and hidden potential.

A buggy-maker by trade, W.J. Stahmann came to the Mesilla Valley from Wisconsin, on a barge traveling down the Mississippi, keeping bees along the way. Settling first in El Paso, W.J. Stahmann raised cotton and tomatoes, built a canning plant and opened four cotton gins in the Mesilla Valley. In 1926, W.J. purchased the first 2,900 acres of what was to become Stahmann Farms in Southern New Mexico. He and his son Deane cleared the land with teams of mules and planted acres of cotton. The Stahmanns experimented with different types of cotton and Deane developed a number of new varieties that are still being grown around the world. Deane also set up research farms in Jamaica and Mexico in order to experiment with growing cotton year round and used Chinese geese to weed his cotton fields in New Mexico.

Seventy years later no one knows why Deane Stahmann decided to pull out his cotton plants and plant the first pecan trees in the valley. Some say it was his wife's idea. Others say it was the economy or the development of synthetic fabrics. Whatever the reason, he planted over 4,000 acres of pecan trees in the early 1930's on two separate plots of land, the 2,900 acre Santo Tomas Farm and the 1,100 Snow Farm. Soon the Stahmanns became the largest pecan producing family in the United States. Years later, when Deane Jr. planted 2,000 acres of trees in Australia, the Stahmanns became the largest pecan producers in the world.

Pecans are the only mass market nut native to the Americas. George Washington carried pecans in his pocket during the Revolutionary War. The nut's scientific designation Carya Illinoensis and original Algonquin Indian name paccan also reflect the pecan's American origins. Sweet, fragrant and wonderful in candy, baked goods or for just plain eating, Stahmann's pecans quickly became an American Success story.
Hollywood celebrities visited Stahmann Farms during the 40's and 50's and a pictorial of the farm was featured in Life Magazine. Stahmann Farms employed hundreds of workers and the farm itself was like a small town with houses, an infirmary and a commissary in what is now the location of Stahmann's Country Store.

The principal varieties of pecans grown on Stahmann Farms are the Western Schley and the Bradley, two varieties that yield very high quality soft-shelled pecans. The average age of a bearing tree is around fifty years. The orchard has approximately 180,000 trees with a basic spacing of thirty by thirty feet or 48 trees per acre. Today, Stahmanns produces eight to ten million pounds of pecans per year.

Driving through the orchard, one will notice that weeds and grass grow freely among the trees. Although the fields do not look as nice as they did when the weeds were cut every three weeks, this practice yields good results. Stahmann Farms virtually stopped using chemical insecticides in 1987. Today, green and black aphids are controlled with thousands of ladybugs, lacewing flies and other natural predators that live and reproduce in those ugly weeds.

Pecan harvesting is a highly mechanized operation completed in three stages. First, the fields are cleared of weeds, grass, branches and other debris. Second, sophisticated machines called shakers hold and shake specific branches of the tree, causing virtually all the nuts to fall from the tree, as well as many dry leaves and branches. During the third stage of the operation, sweepers form rows of pecans between the trees and finally a harvester picks up the pecans from the ground. Light material such as leaves and sticks are blown back onto the field by the harvester while pecans and rocks are dumped into a cart.

Cabllo/Vado

It is now the “next time”, as mentioned in our last blog. I wish I had something exciting to tell you about Caballo, NM, but what can one say about a wide spot on a frontage road next to an Interstate highway that has a population of less than 700 souls. It has a campground. It is just a stopover for us on the way South.

The nearest town of any size is Truth or Consequences. You say you have never heard of it? Well, let me tell you. Only those of you who have reached a certain maturity (isn’t that a nice way of putting it) will remember a game show of the same name, circa the 1950’s, with host Ralph Edwards. The promoters of the show thought it would be nice if a town in the USA would adopt the show’s name as the city name. Up pops the name of a city in New Mexico called Warm Springs. The city Fathers thought it would be a good idea for promoting the city, and so did the populace who voted to change the name. Thus was born Truth or Consequence, New Mexico, now a city of a little more than 7,000. It is 15 miles North of Caballo.

We must say that the views out our window have been spectacular ever since we arrived in the South West. You see a picture above of the view from our trailer. The picture shows a section of the Sierra de Los Caballos Mountains (saw-toothed mountains of the horses), so named because of the herds of wild horses found in the area. The blue ribbon of color seen below the mountain is Lake Caballo. I don’t wish to make you jealous, but what do you see out your window? We change our view quite regularly. Nice, huh?

We are now in a small city south of Las Cruses (the Crosses), called Vado (“ford” in Spanish. No, not the car, the “crossing.”), so named because it was a popular spot to cross the Rio Grande. When the owner of the campground in Caballo learned that we were going South from there, she said, “Don’t go to Vado. The smell!” Well, of course, that is exactly where we had reserved our campground. As you by now know, we went anyway.

We found out what she meant by “the smell”. For miles along the road, as far as the eye can see to the west, there are thousands upon thousands of cows, all standing at feeding racks. And hay! Stacks and stacks of hay in bails as large as the “rolled” hay we were familiar with in Tennessee. We measured six miles of cows and hay. And when the wind is blowing from the west, you guessed it, SMELL! It is like standing in the middle of the barnyard. For a farm raised girl like Carolyn….Let me rephrase that. It sounds like I am describing cat-fish. For a girl raised on the farm like Carolyn, that sounds better, it may not be as noticeable, but I am a “city boy”. Dairy is much of the industry of Vado. To avoid the smell, we stay inside or leave town.

We have been struck by the beauty of simple construction and utilitarian items such as bridges, walls and tanks, all artistically decorated in a Southwest or Indian motif. As an example, look at the photo of the tank above which was taken along the roadway in Las Cruses. This seems to be a characteristic of the Southwest, at least as far as we have seen.

A major tour for us in the area was to White Sands National Monument, about 50 miles northeast of Las Cruses. Here is found 275 square miles of white sand dunes rising 20 to 30 feet (that’s a 2 or 3 story building) above the Chihuahuan Desert floor. The brilliant white dunes are always changing and growing. You see a picture above, which can in no way capture the beauty one sees with the eye. Perhaps you can see the two people walking on the dunes in the distance. The great thing about this park is that you can engage the dunes. They can be played in, slid down, hiked over or just admired. We had a picnic at one of the many special sites in the dunes along an eight mile drive carved out of the sand. The dunes are located in part of the White Sands Missile Range where secret weapons are tested and the first atomic bomb was exploded back in the 1940’s.

How did these white sands get there? I’m glad you asked. The sands are actually gypsum. The mountains surrounding the desert have sections of limestone, which as I understand, contain the elements of gypsum. When the melting snow and rain wash over the mountains these elements run down the mountain. Gypsum is water soluble and collects in a wet-weather lake at the foot of the mountain, called Lake Lucero. There is no outlet for this lake so what collects stays. When the lake dries up the gypsum forms into crystals. These crystals are very fragile and bits break off in the wind and tumble across the ground. Over time, these grains formed the massive sand dunes. The crystals are clear, but as they bump into one another the surface of the crystal is scratched. The scratches cause the light to reflect differently and appear white to the eye. It is the only such existence on earth. It would not happen without the dry conditions and the right amount of wind. An amazing place to visit.
Tune in next time, boys and girls, for a new true adventure. Who knows where we will be or what we will find. Be sure to not miss the next episode of two, some would say crazy, people pulling their house around the country.

So, as I was saying before the move, we hoped to get to lower altitude and warmth. So we headed south on I-25 toward Santa Fe. When we got there we found that the altitude in Santa Fe was 7,000 feet. Raton Pass, which we had just left was over 7,000 feet. For all the difference we changed in altitude we could have used a ladder. But, we kept on going to Espanola, and the altitude dropped to about the same as Denver, CO (5,280 feet). Good! One aim accomplished.

We set up in our campground and met our new neighbors while doing so. Bob and Laura, no last name. I’m sure they have one, but we don’t know it. We said we planned to go to Taos Indian Pueblo the next day. So were they. The next day our new friends left early. We didn’t. We left a little later, but we both met the same fate.

Taos Pueblo is only one of the eight Pueblos in northern New Mexico. It seems that one is going in or out of a new Reservation all the time. Pueblo (“village” or “people” in Spanish) is the living community of Native Americans on the Reservation. They have such names as Tesuque, Pojoaque, Nambe, Santa Clara, O’ke (sometimes spelled OhKay), San Lldefonso, Picuris, and of course, Taos. It seems that each one has it’s own Casino. The Pueblos are a foreign world of sovereign nations with their own languages, traditions and customs. Taos is the oldest and has been continuously inhibited for centuries. The language of Taos is Tiwa. So you can see why we were eager to visit it.

We arrived at the Pueblo gate a little after 11:00 AM. We were met by a sign saying, “Pueblo Closed”. A young tribal member on a bicycle wearing an orange safety vest rolled up to our truck window. “The Pueblo is closed because we are preparing for a ceremony tomorrow. We will be open at 1:00 PM. You can come back then.” The ceremony to come was a celebration of the life of Geronimo. We had driven 50 miles to get here. We decided to wait. So, we turned around and went back to the town of Taos. There was an Arts and Crafts Fair going on in Kit Carson Park, so we paid it a visit. Enjoyed viewing some great local art…paintings, jewelry, wood carvings and various objects of local creation as well as visiting artist from around the South West.

We ran into our campground neighbors at the fair. They, too, were waiting around for the 1 o’clock hour to arrive. We were all in the same boat, so to speak. We found a place to eat at a local restaurant then headed back to the Pueblo. We were met by the same young man on the bicycle. “We’re not open yet, but you can park over here,” pointing to the parking area at the Visitor Center, “but stay in your vehicle until we open.” We parked and stayed put. Soon the parking area was full. Either the other people were not told to remain in their vehicle, or they didn’t listen. Everyone else was milling around outside. Since it was now 1 PM, we joined them.

We all started assembling at the window where we were to register for $10 each. If one wanted to take pictures, that was an additional charge of $5 for each camera, or cell phone capable of taking pictures. We happened to be third in line. Good show! We waited. Others began to gather and the line grew long. More vehicles were crowding in the area. That is when a jeep with flashing lights and siren showed up. It pulled up alongside the line up of visitors. A tribal policeman jumped out wearing a ball cap, t-shirt and jeans. He addressed the crowd in a loud voice. “Listen everyone. We are not registering here. You will have to get into your vehicles and go to the field down the road and park,” pointing in the direction from which we had just come, “you will be registered down there, and a shuttle will bring you back here.” Everyone began to hustle to there cars.

We were not so sure this was going to work for us. Everything seemed so disorganized that we decided to pass on the visit to the Pueblo. As we were driving out, some of the visitors were already walking back toward the Pueblo. No shuttle was in sight. As we passed the field where the parking was taking place, a sign was in the middle of the road, facing the new approaching visitors, that said, “$10 Parking,” Was this just a ploy to get additional fees for parking? We decided we would rather spend our time taking photos of the Sangre de Christo (Blood of Christ) Mountains and the Rio Grande River on the way back down the mountain. We stopped numerous time. You see here a picture of the Rio Grande (Big or Grand River) . It really doesn’t look so big, does it? That’s the way rivers go. Remember the Arkansas River in a previous blog?

The next day our campground neighbors were getting ready to leave for other parts. We discussed our experience at Taos. When they heard that we didn’t stay, they said we were smart. It was total chaos. There was no shuttle. No one at the “parking field” was registering visitors. When they got back to the pueblo, the registering center was still closed. They paid nothing to enter or park. They stayed a little while then left. So it goes!

We spent our last day in the area looking around the Art Galleries in Santa Fe. The next day, October 1st , we left for Albuquerque. It is only about a two hour trip, so we had a leisurely breakdown and drive. We arrived at our new campground, Enchanted Trails, about Noon. We set up in our new spot, had lunch and relaxed for the rest of the day.

The next day we ventured into the Petroglyph National Monument on the outskirts of Albuquerque. The Park has more than 20,000 images pecked in stone. Some are recognizable, as is the human form in the picture above, others are more mysterious. We climbed the hill in Boca Negra Canyon covered with black lava rocks on which the images were carved. Long ago people discovered that chipping away the rocks’ thin “desert varnish” (created by sunshine on the rocks for centuries) revealed a lighter gray beneath and left a lasting mark. Archeologists estimate that most of the images were made 400 to 700 years ago by the ancestors of today’s Native people. Some images may be 2,000 to 3,000 years old. It was a most interesting experience to be able to see them up close and even touch the images.

We spent most of the second day in Albuquerque visiting the Old Town section of the city. By the way, the city was named for the Duke of Alburquerque of Spain who financed exploration in the area. You may notice that the spelling includes an “r” between the “u” and first “q”. The spelling dropped the “r” over time. The city was founded in 1706 and follows the traditional Spanish pattern of a central plaza and church surrounded by homes and businesses. Today, the businesses are numerous art galleries and shops offering American Indian crafts and jewelry. The fabled Route 66 runs through Old Town.

For us, the highlight of the trip to Old Town was coming across the musicians, pictured above, playing in one of the plazas. We stopped to listen and enjoyed the music of guitar and pan flute. We noticed that they were selling CD’s of their music. We went up to check out the CD’s and then discovered that the musicians were from Ecuador, South America. Well, the rest of the conversation took place in Spanish. Some of you know that we lived and worked in Ecuador for a number of years. The musicians, Hernan (there is an accent mark over the “a”) and Arturo (Herman and Arthur, for those of you who don‘t know) are from Riobamba, a city in the area where we had lived. As the song goes, “It’s a small world after all.” We bought three of their CD’s and enjoyed them on the next leg of our journey.

It is now October 5th and we are in Caballo (Horse), New Mexico, about 175 miles south of Albuquerque. We’ll tell you about our experience in this area next time.