Lordsburg to Tombstone

Today was a mixed bag.

Woke up after falling asleep in front of the TV. Slept around 9 hours. Had no idea I was so tired. It was a good rest.

Quick shower and I’m off to breakfast only to find it’s grey and rainy. Oh well. There go my plans of lounging by the pool for a couple of hours. I have a small breakfast (small bowl of cereal) as I’ll be off to Portal Café later and can fill up with some good grub them. After my incredibly restrained breakfast I have a Skype then hit the road.

I’m a bit down. I’m sad the trip is coming to an end, and somehow the weather just makes it worse. I don’t even mind the rain so much, it’s just so grey. Never mind. I’ll visit two ghost towns, then the café, and then head on to Tombstone – it’s all good.

I’m not sure how to get to the first ghost town, but I suddenly come across signs and soon I’m on dirt roads and on track. I pull up in a deserted parking lot only to find a sign on the gates telling me it’s closed. Huh.

That’s a shame. I’m looking forward to seeing Steins even more though as it’s one I had already visited back in 1999, when we came across it by pure chance. It’ll be fun to see it again. So back on the road for a 15 minute drive. I turn off and see a sign. I round the corner and boom – it’s closed. Big locks on the gates (weren't any gates last time) and a ‘beware of the dog’ sign. That’s a bit of a kick in the face. I drive around a bit and then head off. Not much else to do. This means I’m hours ahead of my schedule. Oh well.

As I head towards Portal the rain clears up and there’s blue sky in the distance, but it doesn’t lift my mood much.

Once again there are grasshoppers all over the road. Hundreds of them.  Different ones this time, but just as - if not more - messy. 

I’m literally just thinking about the tarantula I saw and wondering if I just made it up when I spot another one! I slow down as again, it’s just me in America, and pull over. I take a photo but quickly as (of course) there’s a truck coming. I get out of the middle of the road and see him fly over it. I walk back to find it all curled up and very much dead. Well, still twitching. Poor thing. Still, I got my photo. I’m pretty pleased. I see a few more softly walking across the road and do my best to avoid them.

Minutes later, I see a rock in the road. But it’s moving. It’s a turtle! My God! The wildlife adventures I’m having. Again, I pull over, and rescue it like I should have done the tarantula. It hides in its shell and I look at the little face, legs and tail all curled up. It’s cute (seeing the photo now I realise I have my hand in focus and not him. Sorry). I plonk it down on the side of the road it was facing and hope it just wasn’t turning around to wave goodbye.

Hello

I feel that my ghost town failures have been replaced by nature adventures. I am pleased. On to Portal.

A little while later I see a woman rescuing another turtle from the road. I want to stop and tell her about my turtle but I don’t.

After a short drive towards the mountains, I see signs for Portal. I pull over and look forward to a good second breakfast. The first thing I see as I walk in the door is a sign hanging from a chair in the doorway of the café saying ‘closed’. What the… The woman lets me use the toilet and I buy a Pay Day (Snickers without chocolate, as far as I can tell). I’m back to being a little grumpy.

I’ll be very early in to Tombstone. It’s OK, but there’s not that much to do in the town and I have two nights planned. I thought I’d only really have tomorrow.

I get back in the car and head back on the road.

An hour and a bit later I pass through Bisbee and wind up in Tombstone. I check in –my room is ready early – and the extremely friendly owner and I talk about the grasshoppers. Apparently they’re not that normal. They’ve only had them this year and last. Odd. They’re a monsoon thing. She gives me a map of the town and says I’ll have to let her know how much its changed since ’99.

I walk around. It’s horrifically naff but also very cool. Take away the tourists, the plastic, the kitsch, and the neon; you’d be in Tombstone of 1877. It was a silver mining town, and is of course famous for the gunfight at the OK Corral. By the 1950s, Tombstone was a ghost town until the decision was taken to restore it. I’m sure Hollywood helped.

There are a lot of people walking around in cowboy costumes, who have random shootouts on the streets, and the gunfight is re-enacted every day at the OK Corral. As I said, it’s naff, but good fun.

I go to the Birdcage Theatre, where ‘soiled doves’ (ladies of the night – you know) would entertain men, and performances were held. There are bullet holes all over from drunken cowboys and fights and many of the items are in their original places. It’s pretty damn cool.

Those pesky kids

Last time I was in Tombstone, we drank a lot and hung out with the locals. I’ve no idea how long we spent here. One night, after copious amounts of beer and Wild Turkey at Big Nose Kate’s Saloon, I had to go home early due to intoxication. I was dropped off and fell off the back of the truck (literally). The next thing I know, it’s morning and Annabel tells me how she and our new friends went out of town and shot Magnums. I was very, very jealous. Bloody alcohol.

I head to Big Nose Kate’s, which looks very different from last time, and I walk up and down the streets. I take a little tour around during which we’re told about where people like Doc Holliday and the Earp brothers lived and drank. I visit the courthouse and the gallows, and head to the museum only to find it’s closed due to ‘slow times’. I realise that half the properties are either for sale or for rent. There are hardly any people here. I hope it’s because it’s a Tuesday and school has started again.

She loves her catWant

I buy a Sarsaparilla and sit under a tree in the park. The sun has come out and it’s really quite cosy. I head back to the motel and can’t help but notice a bazooka in the window of a shop. I stop and look. Apparently you can rent guns and go shoot stuff. I go in.

Two big guys in there chat to me about England and Scotland while I look at grenade launchers, Tommy guns, automatics, semi-automatics and all kinds of very real guns. It’s weird to see them just sitting there. The guys are nice but I can’t help but think how odd it all is. I’ve passed a lot of guns and ammo shops, and seen a good number of cars with pro-guns slogans pasted on them. It’s just a bit strange for a Brit to see.

I make my excuses and head back to the motel to get some washing sorted, then realise it’s actually only 4 and not 5. Damn time zones. I’ve no idea.

I go for another wander then end up back in Big Nose Kate’s for a pint. For dinner at the Crystal Palace I have ribs. Outside there is a great sunset but I didn’t bring my camera and my phone camera is wonky.

After I’ve eaten half a cow I sit outside for a bit. It’s very, very quiet.

I go back to my room and put on a shirt – no shirt, no service (actually it’s just chilly) – and go back to Big Nose Kate’s. The place is all but deserted. There are 6 OAPs sitting around a table and a couple of guys at the bar, separate. I join them. There is a band. An absolutely awesome band. The youngest member must be pushing 65. Sax, piano, slide guitar, guitar, electric organ thing, and a couple of others. I order a big Grand Canyon IPA and regret it because it’s huge. It’s not a pint, that’s for sure. But I accept the challenge and sip it slowly while the band plays covers of Johnny Cash, Elvis, Carl Perkins and others. It’s wonderfully lazy and slow. I head out side and look up at the clear sky. There are stars everywhere. I didn’t bring my camera and knew I’d regret it, but I’m here tomorrow too. I’m the only person on the street and as I look down, it’s not so hard to think of the old days. The electric lights are gone, the people gone and the noise gone – bar the old time country coming from Kate’s. I lean on the horse-tying-up-bar (I’m pretty sure there’s a more accurate term) and imagine the Wild West. I hear footsteps coming from further down, and a lone woman dressed in denim, boots, and a cowboy hat passes me with a little ‘howdy’ as she heads out into the dark. I’m happy. I head back in to finish my gigantic beer and look around at the rather loud but well meaning paraphernalia from the good old days. It’s a good place.

I leave, but wish I could have stayed with a friend or two.

I’ve always wished I could do this trip with Annabel again, and I’m confident we will. I always wanted to do this trip, but honestly never thought I would, and yet, here I am. I’m so, so, so happy to have done it and to be here. And I’ve still got a couple of days. Annabel tells me via Facebook that she’s jealous, and I can imagine how she feels – I’d be sick to the stomach if she were here and I was home – but I tell her we’ll do it together again, and I mean it.

I’m looking forward to the next couple of days, but I’m also looking forward to getting home and finding out what I’m going to do for work. I’ve thought about it quite a lot over the past few days and an idea is brewing, an idea I’ve had for a couple of years. We’ll see how it pans out.

Until then, I’ll enjoy the west. Tomorrow I will head to Bisbee and then Boothill Cemetery to look at graves and stuff.  

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.