Please note: This is Part 3 (of 4) of the Border| Line series. Refer to Parts 1 and 2 for clarity and continuity.
Today’s travel would put us in 3 states. (Make that 4, if you count the state of exhaustion.) The 350 mile trek to El Paso, TX brings total mileage to 825, close enough to the halfway point, that I am happy with the progress.
We rolled northeast out of Nogales, passing through a couple of tiny, but colorful, towns on the way to I-10.
Patagonia has a population of less then 2000. Supposedly, there are several ghost towns around here, that thrived during the early 1900s mining era.
It’s 55 miles from Nogales to I-10. Sonoita was next.
Elevation was 1000′ higher here (around 5000′), and the wind was whipping. Sorry, but pictures weren’t my priority. I got gas, used the rest room and hit it.
Shortly after turning north on US-90, I spot the signage of a traffic stop, before I see the familiar overhang. Here we go again…
Although I tend to take pictures of everything, I curbed my enthusiasm when it came to border patrol.
I was surprised to discover just how many of these Border Patrol stations were around us, on the 3 hour drive from Nogales to the New Mexico border.
Once on I-10, the landscape transitioned from grasses to rocks, with the elevation change.
Within 15 minutes (20 miles?) we were through these rocks and back to flat land.
This would be Wilcox, AZ. (See the mountain monogram?) The beautiful snow-capped mountains in the background are the Dos Cabezas.
Rachel and I puzzled over these signs, as they appeared in quick succession, displaying their truncated messages.
After doing my research, they now made much more sense.
Apparently, many people are injured or killed each year in these dust storms. When combined with a thunderstorm, this front is referred to as a haboob.
Exactly 3 hours after leaving Nogales, we hit the Arizona- New Mexico line. We are halfway to El Paso!
Ninety minutes later, at Las Cruces, I-10 makes a right angle turn south, towards El Paso, Texas.
Rachel and I decide one more pit stop is in order before El Paso, and I pull off at the next rest area.
After climbing and winding a bit, I finally pull in and park the car. In the distance I see a rather large bird, perched on a rock.
The roadrunner is the state bird of New Mexico, and prefers running to flying- at speeds up to 15 mph.
To my amazement, I found this particular roadrunner was constructed entirely of recycled materials.
A closer look revealed keyboards, ironing boards, and everything in between… And lots of sneakers!
This sculpture was truly awe-inspiring, and I was fascinated! Such talent and creativity… Read more of the story:
From this perspective, I had a 360° view of the surrounding area, especially that of the magnificent Organ Mountain range, that flanked Las Cruces’ east side.
Rachel displays the patience of a saint with my endless picture taking, but I know she’s happy when I say I’m ready to blow this popsicle stand.
With 5 hours of driving under my belt, and about an hour to go, I was eager to reach El Paso, and our lodging for the nght.
Day 5: Saturday morning 7:45AM, and it is the coldest it’s been since we left Florida. If I remember correctly, it was in the 30s. Bright and sunny, but co-o-o-ld.
Last night, I read about a nearby scenic overlook that afforded panoramic views of El Paso and the Mexican border, so that is today’s first stop.
The streets are nearly deserted, as we wind our way past increasingly beautiful homes to the top of the “look out”.
There’s another one of those “mountain monograms” we’ve been seeing. E for El Paso?
Rachel snapped these with her phone, as I am driving. Note the temperature on the dashboard. 38°!!!
It’s definitely windy and cold up here, but the view is incredible. The sun glitters upon El Paso, spread out before me.
Facing due south towards Mexico, these next few pics pan left to right (east to west).
The X below my arrow is a monument in Ciudad Juarez, about 2 miles away on the Mexico side of the Rio Grande.
The Rio Grande River originates in the Rocky Mountains in Colorado and bisects New Mexico. It begins its job as the Tex-Mex border in El Paso, and gradually completes the journey at the Gulf of Mexico in Brownsville, TX.
By now, Rachel looks frozen half to death, and it’s time to go.
Having come up the west side, we exit down the east side road. The gate in the distance is the El Paso Police Academy.
As I prepared to leave El Paso for points south, I dithered over going to the border or just heading straight out. The truth is, Juarez is a very dangerous place. In 2020, there have been more than 150 deaths, mostly drug cartel related, but many against women.
My research revealed this young woman, Teresa Aracely Alcocer, a radio broadcaster, was shot to death several days ago (Feb. 21, 2020) for her stance on violence against women and children. So sad and pathetic.
https://havanatimes.org/news/mexican-radio-journalist-murdered-in-ciudad-juarez/
Gender-based crime directed at women is called femicide. Artist and activist Isabel Cabanillas was murdered January 18, leaving behind a 4-year old son.
Protestors gathered on the bridge from El Paso to Ciudad Juarez in outrage against the slew of death and femicide.
So, enough of that. I had previously made a reservation at a ghost town in Terlingua for this evening, as a kind of celebration of the halfway point, and we headed for I-10. It was about 8:45 AM and we had another 5 hour travel day ahead of us.
The border town of Fort Hancock is about an hour south of El Paso, conveniently close to the interstate. I decided to grab a few pictures of the wall, if possible.
I found nothing remotely redeeming about Fort Hancock.
However, my research revealed this is where Andy crossed the border into Mexico after his escape from Shawshank State Prison, in the 1994 drama Shawshank Redemption.
There was a border wall, which I drove up and down, and photographed from all angles.
This is the roadway to Mexico. Not one person approached me, in the 30 minutes I spent running around there.
This, folks, is my first look at what I thought was the mighty Rio Grande. I’ll admit I was mighty disappointed.
It wasn’t until I was doing my research that it dawned on me. The Rio Grande would be on the other side of the fence. Duh!
Although it was very quiet, it was not a peaceful solitude I felt here.
The wall stretched as far as my eye could see, in both directions.
This view is east towards the town of 1700 people and the interstate.
I imagine if you could get over that mountain range, the wall would be child’s play.
I saw only a handful of houses in direct proximity to the border wall. It felt barren, lonely and dreary, even with the sunshine.
As I finished up and prepared to leave, an old couple in a small travel trailer showed up. Those were the only people I saw besides Rachel.
And off we went, in pursuit of new adventures. I-10 turns east, so we would not encounter the border again until tomorrow.
We were making good time on the interstate, until we came upon another non-border stop. This one took a bit longer.
I’d been barreling down US-90 for about an hour, in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Suddenly, cars began pulling over on both sides of the road, with people getting out.
I actually flew right past, but quickly doubled back, curious and intrigued by what I had just seen.
The following sign explains that this was an art project of sorts, funded by a grant in nearby Marfa. The door didn’t open, but the tiny shop displayed actual goods from the 2005 Prada fall collection.
The “art project” was surrounded by a wire fence on three sides. All sorts of padlocks and the like were attached.
Meet Mikenna and Ricky, a pair of love birds from Fort Worth, Texas, who had just attached their own lock.
It seems this practice began on a bridge in Paris, where young lovers would attach a lock representing their love and commitment, then throw the key in the Seine.
In 2015, more than a million locks caused the bridge’s railings to collapse under the weight of them. It’s a great story!
Another 25 miles on a loosely graveled and tarred road brought us to Marfa, patron of the artsy roadside boutique from whence we had just come.
US-90’s approach into town was rather shabby, with all the typical fixtures. Gas station, Subway, DQ… nothing to indicate what awaited in Marfa.
Although it was Saturday lunch hour, I had no trouble finding a place on Marfa’s wide main drag, Highland Ave. It wasn’t until I was ready to leave that I realized I had parked in front of a Masonic Lodge.
The following internet photo of the same building was taken many years ago. What year are those cars? Late 60s?
We browsed a couple of shops, but I would later find this tiny town (population 1700) contains 3 boutique hotels totaling 120 rooms with private baths, 3 RV parks, and a campground called El Cosmico.
White Shirt Marfa presumably sells only white shirts. I don’t know for sure, because it was closed. Where was everybody?
Ranch Candy sells boots and custom, handmade cowboy hats by Michael Malone. (Not to be confused with the head coach of the Denver Nuggets.)
I counted four gas stations, a laundromat doubling as an ice cream parlor and a bakery that sells fresh flowers. A multitude of restaurants deemed “a food Mecca” served up Mediterranean cuisine, gorganelli, carpacio, and miso porridge.
While I’m not a fan, even Beyonce comes to Marfa for the Food Shark’s “marfalafels”. Supposedly this place is crawling with the artsy-fartsy types. I couldn’t tell you- I only saw about five people.
The art gallery in the Brite Building was also closed. I would later find the Ayn Foundation hosts the ‘September Eleven’ , and other works of Maria Zerres and Andy Warhol.
Marfa is full of curious things, and the Ayn Foundation is one of the most curious. https://glasstire.com/2010/12/15/ayn-foundation/
Marfa had a weird vibe- nothing I could put my finger on or point to, but it jangled my nerve endings.
I’ll admit I got a little bit obsessed researching this town. Especially after I read a deeply disturbing article entitled A Battle for the Soul of Marfa.
Marfa is described as curious, quirky, weird, nontraditional, and idiosyncratic. I would add puzzling, unsettling, and maybe, even a tad sinister. If Morley Safer features it on 60 Minutes, he’s got to have something, right?
My thoughts of Marfa dissolved like sugar in water, as I took in the beauty that lay before me, on that drive to Terlingua.
I was able to identify this as Elephant Mountain in Alpine. Snake alert…
Santiago Peak’s elevation is 6521′. No snakes here…
I think the vertical white stalks are some sort of century plant, although I could not verify. Anyone know for sure?
It was a fun drive, with all the up and down and winding around. I can’t imagine it getting old, but I’m sure it must.
Coyote Crossing. I snapped this beauty right before the turn for the Terlingua Ghost Town. Verified with internet photo below.
Shortly after turning onto SH-170, we saw the sign for Terlingua. Halleluyah! I was so ready to get out of the car.
I wasn’t prepared for all of the people milling about, and cars parked everywhere. As instructed, I went into the General Store to retrieve the room key.
We were in the Perry Mansion, atop the hill overlooking the tiny town.
It was so charming and rustic. I thought we might get hokey and contrived, but this was not staged for an “experience”.
It can be risky to reserve a room sight unseen, but this one surpassed my greatest expectations. Check out the other rooms at the link below.
View of our “back yard” and private parking area. We could walk to town in less than 5 minutes. Rachel refused to walk up in the dark, and I couldn’t blame her.
We quickly settled in, and headed back down the dusty road to look around. It wasn’t the first time I wished I had scheduled more time for this adventure.
As we wandered around, the late-afternoon sun drenched everything in golden light.
These are re-purposed LP records. You’d have to be at least 40 years old to remember playing them, although I’ve heard they are making a comeback.
Vibrant color and beauty were everywhere. I much preferred this brand of art to that in Marfa.
Back when the mining industry hit a huge boom, Terlingua had a population of 2,000 people. Today, it’s about 60.
Very evident were the ruins and remnants of small stone houses belonging to the mercury miners.
Facing a long wait for dinner at the Saloon, Rachel and I ventured out for a bite in the neighboring town. We intended to be back in time for the sunset.
Forgetting how quickly it happens, we raced back, but my contribution is feeble. Tomorrow’s another day.
The burlesque show at the Starlight Theater this evening didn’t interest us, but it did explain the crowds. I doubt I could have made it to 10 pm. My bed felt like a cloud.
Day 6: Hoping to redeem myself, I ventured out early for the sunrise. Yes, it was cold. But it was even more beautiful…
By the time I got back to the room, Rachel had showered and packed. I quickly did the same, and we were ready to take on a new day.
Last night, this lot was filled to capacity, but we have the place to ourselves this morning…
I’m happy to be able to take these colorful photos. This porch was covered with people when we got here yesterday.
While we wait for the breakfast place to open, Rachel is channeling her inner centaur.
This one is going on my refrigerator…
I’m very grateful I’m not driving this car to Brownsville.
These shops are just so colorful, I couldn’t resist some pictures.
I could probably sell a few of these in Polk County.
The cemetery is more than 135 years old, still in use, and overlooks abandoned mine shafts, with stunning views of the Chisos Mountains.
Mercury mining in 1903 wasn’t a healthy occupation. If you were lucky, all you lost were your teeth. Read about some “quicksilver” memories.
There were many Greek Orthodox-style crosses. I wonder where that influence came from?
Above: Martin Zamarron 1882-1937. Below: Kathleen Grace Barrett 3/8/1993- 2/16/97
While it would not be my cup of tea, November 2nd is a big day here. People come to visit their dead family and friends, as explained in the short video below.
Terlingua has many lodging options. Teepees, tents, adobe huts and everything in between.
Rachel and I are ready to head south to Lajitas, where we hope to see the Rio Grande up close. Del Rio is our destination for this evening.
Terlingua was so much fun. I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have.
Ride along next, as we complete the 8-day journey from San Diego to Brownsville, with visits to Piedras Negras in Mexico, Laredo, TX, and other colorful places. Hugs, MH
