Deming to Lordsburg

A bit of a slow day today.

Up and a good breakfast of bacon, pancakes (actually just pancake) and eggs. There was whipped butter on my pancake but I never really understood whipped butter so it was the only thing left on my plate.

The plan was to head further into New Mexico and hit White Sands, although strictly speaking, it’s not sand, its gypsum. 275 million years ago, southern Arizona and southern New Mexico was covered by a sea that rose and fell and rose and fell, repeat. Eventually, earth settled down a bit and the sea became lakes.

Rain and snow in the mountains that surrounded the sea (there are some pretty impressive ranges on either side of the park) dissolved the gypsum in rocks and took it down to the lakes. The lakes evaporated, and since there was nothing to dissolve or wash away the gypsum, it stayed put. Hey presto – White Sands.

There’s a whole lot of nothing between Deming and White Sands.

On the way I’m pulled over at some kind of security checkpoint. As I’m not a US citizen I have to go to the side and show my passport and visa. I’m nervous but have nothing to be nervous about. I can’t remember the name of the place I literally just left which makes me more nervous. After a quick round of questions, I’m back on my way.

I step out of the car at the visitor centre and immediately hear the sound of jets from above. Looking up, I see two fighter jets fly over. I’m too slow with the camera – in all fairness it’s still in the car – but am confident I’ll see more later. I buy a Snickers, a V8, postcards and a dishtowel. I’m a tourist.

Once again, I’m almost the only person here.

It’s beautiful.

I drive around very slowly and take lots of photos. 

I attempt to recreate a photo Annabel took of me back in 1999.

I got back

Because I’m the only person here, this means finding something I can rest my camera on and run back and forth up dunes trying to get the right shot. It’s really hot. After a few attempts I get what I decide is good enough. It’s hot and the sand is sticking to me and getting under my clothes.

The sand is very cool. It reflects the sun instead of absorbing it. Good for bare feet, bad for English skin.

After a couple of hours I decide it’s time to head back to Lordsburg. I go to the visitor centre again to buy more water and a cherry cider, which isn’t really cider but is delicious. I’m disappointed I didn’t see any jets or a Stealth Bomber. Here is the photo from 1999. I was so excited to get this shot.

It’s almost a 3 hour drive to Lordsburg, so I put on some music and sing along loudly. Eventually, Lordsburg looms into view. I check into my room and see the giant grasshoppers again. I get a better shot.

I go for a drive around Lordsburg as it seems like a rather weird place. It is. There appears to be nothing going on, anywhere. It’s as if it’s verging on becoming a ghost town. I must be missing something.

Lordsburg used to be a watering hole between Tuscon and El Paso for Mexicans and Indians. It’s the same sort of thing today, but more of a motel hole. It has New Mexico’s first airport at which Amelia Earhart stopped. It’s very odd.

I have dinner at the restaurant next to my motel. Mexican, again. Lovely. Back in my room I sit in bed and write this.

Next up are ghost towns, Portal, Bisbee, Tombstone and the Pima Air and Space Museum (Boneyard!).

I really feel as if my trip is ending now. I’m making the turn back towards Phoenix and things are winding down. It’s an odd, odd feeling.

Alpine to Deming

I’ve just seen two adverts on TV. One, for GoPro, ripped off from a video I saw on reddit months ago (man attaches GoPro to a stick and throws it for his dog. I actually think it’s the same video so I guess there’s some kind of deal in there). The second was for the French Fry Burger at Burger King, which means people outside of the UK are finally cottoning on to the idea of chip butties. You’re welcome, rest of the world.

So, aside from that, I’m in Deming, New Mexico. I’ve never been here, and it’s a bit of an odd place. Judging from the leaflets and brochures I picked up in the lobby, it’s a real old west kind of place. Lots to do with Billy the Kid and all kinds of other stuff. On my way back tomorrow I will visit Shakespeare, a ghost town close to here.

I slept very well last night. Total peace. I realised I never took a photo of Tal-Wi-Wi so I did this morning.

The saloon

I had a bagel for breakfast which I regretted once I hit Bear Wallow Café, but it was good, nonetheless. I ate, Skyped with the missus, always nice, then hit the road. It was still raining, but still quite beautiful. My aim was to hit the Bear Wallow Café, which Arizona Highways says has amazing pie, then head down the Coronado Trail, named after Spanish explorer Francisco Vasquez de Coronado who explored this area in 1540 on a quest to find the Seven Cities of Cíbola. I’ve no idea if he found them, but apparently this road is one of the least travelled highways. So little travelled that lo – car drivers waved at each other! Well, gave a nod or a flash of the hand. I was most pleased. Bikers didn’t acknowledge me. God only knows what they do when they see each other on this road.

But first off I stopped at the café. I had, as said, already had breakfast which was most annoying as it was fantastically cosy. I ordered some pie to go, and had to choose between about 8 varieties. Eek. I went for blueberry. I never have blueberry pie. I put it safely on the seat and thought I’d save it for later. I hit the road.

Evil and tempting

I saw an abundance of wildlife. I saw a dead skunk, a dead racoon, 3 big, fat, black caterpillars crossing the road, and – amazingly – a tarantula crossing the road! Unfortunately I couldn’t stop to record proof. I could smell the pie. 

A new episode of Breaking Bad is on right now so it’s taking me a long time to write this. I can’t follow it as I’ve missed a couple of episodes but it’s very, very exciting.

Anyway, the Coronado Trail was beautiful. Hardly any cars and as green as an English garden, at least, after the miles of burnt trees. Burnt trees seem to be fairly typical. A reminder of how hot the summers can be.

Unfortunately I was preoccupied with something else to fully enjoy the ride. Extremely foolishly I thought I had enough petrol to get the whole way. I was absolutely sure I did, but somewhere along the way, I realised that I probably didn’t. This meant, frustratingly, that I kept thinking about the petrol instead of admiring the view. But I did get to enjoy it to some extent. I was also enjoying the pie smell. 

I knew I had to make it to Morenci, a town that had sprung up thanks to the copper mine nearby, before I could get petrol. I knew I’d be OK if I did run dry, it’d just be annoying. Soon enough I saw the mine, and knew I’d be OK, and anyway, I had pie. This mine is one of the largest in the US and is absolutely huge. The wheels of the trucks that you can barely seen are around 9 feet tall. That’s pretty big.

Soon after, I found a petrol station. After filling up the car and emptying me, I bought a coffee and found the next place to pull over. I changed from jeans and t-shirt into shorts and vest (it was back up to some serious heat) and sat outside to eat my deserved pie and drink my coffee. The pie was heavenly. Thank you, Arizona Highways, and thank you, pie-woman at Bear Wallow Café. 

Filled up with much joy and pie, I set the GPS for Deming and headed out. Unfortunately, I had to take an interstate route. The downside was ploughing through countryside, but the upside was speed.

Shortly after I thought I saw crabs crawling across the road. The tarmac was covered with squashed something and I couldn’t figure out what they were so took advantage of the fact that I seemed to be the only person in America and pulled over on the highway. They were giant grasshoppers. I tried to get a photo of one but it kept crawling away from me. Eventually it hopped and seemed to have some kind of fit mid-air. I guess they’re not good jumpers, hence the crawling. There were thousands of them. Stunning colours. The only photo I got is pretty crap and doesn’t give a sense of scale (they were about 2 inches/5cm long).

After just under two hours, I hit Deming. I crept along the street until I saw a motel with a pool, and found Grand Motor Inn. I asked the receptionist if it was an old building, and she said yes, it was from the 60s. Gosh. It’s a lovely motel. A pool, wifi, big rooms, a great Mexican/south western restaurant, and nice people.

I hit the pool for an hour then had some great fajitas. Now I’m in my room.

A bit of an odd day as I’ve been in the car for most of it, but I knew the destination today was the journey, and what a journey it was.

I’ve got a two hour drive to White Sands tomorrow, and then I head back the way I came. I wasn’t going to go to White Sands, but realised that I had some time to spare, and have always wanted to go back. Besides, this way I also get to revisit Steins, a ghost town, see Shakespeare, and revisit a small place called Portal, that I last saw in 1999. To be honest, the only thing I remember from Portal in 1999 was that it was the first place we came across after getting caught in a flash-flood that was big enough to cover trucks and wedge tree roots under our van. Here are a couple of pictures. It was very exciting and really, truly came out of absolutely nowhere. One minute it started to rain, then water started coming down the street. And more water. And then bits of trees and some rocks. Then we pulled over. Then the water started coming in the van - you can see how high it is - and then we abandoned the van and took shelter in someone's house. They were very nice. It was over quite quickly but was easy to see how people could get swept away. 

There's a road somewhere under that

The café in Portal also used deer feet as coat hooks. I hope they're still there. 

I’m looking forward to tomorrow. It’s going to be white, and hot.