El Paso: On Paisano From UTEP to Chamizal

On Paisano en route to the Chamizal, El Paso, Texas. July 2017.

July 2017


Get in the car! Come for a drive with me. It won't take long; we're just going to the Chamizal from UTEP, near my place in Sunset Heights. Forget the highway. We'll take Paisano Drive.

From UTEP, take a left onto Paisano to get to the Chamizal. El Paso, Texas. July 2017.

Got your seat belt on? Good! Oh, forgot to tell you, Beau Jocque is coming, too, so just open a virtual arm vein and wait for his IV push directly into your bloodstream.  Let's go:

That tall, metal fence on your right? Yes, that's our Iron Curtain Wall. Yeah, I know, you can almost touch it from your passenger seat. But keep your hands inside, please.

And don't worry: The Wall is there to keep people from coming in. It's not there to keep us from going out. Not today, anyway.


My camera is clever. It enjoys surprising me with little gifts. Like this gritty, cinema verité sort of stop-action film of part of our trip:

The silence enhances the visual experience. The rainbow and clouds stand out. As does the man walking on the sidewalk - the slo-mo. Drama. Well done, camera!

We're here.

Arrival at the Chamizal via Paisano, El Paso, Texas. July 2017.

El Paso: BSC: We Work on the Margins

November 2016


That word, sustenance. On the flyer posted on a church bulletin board. The word whispered to me on a Saturday morning in November. A source of strength and nourishment.

I wasn't familiar with BSC at the time, and when I returned home, I looked it up and, while poking around the internet, found this article by Sister Janet, one of the speakers for this Issues Night: The Face of God's Mercy at Santo Niño.

Luci, Nena, and Sister Janet. Anapra, Chihuahua, Mexico. Credit: Global Sisters Report. Photo: Peggy Deneweth.

She and other sisters and volunteers give service at the Santo Niño Project in Anapra, that colonia just on the other side of The Wall, visible from Mt. Cristo Rey. Some 17,000 hearts beat in Anapra.

Mt. Cristo Rey, El Paso, Texas.

Sister Janet and her fellows know and walk with women, men, adolescents, children there.

But I'm doing a lotta yakking when I could be sharing some of the sisters' sustenance with you. I'll paraphrase.

As sisters:

It is our job to go where no one else wants to go and do what no one else wants to do.

We work on the margins.

We try to live as though there is no border. Those of us who can cross, should cross and behave as if there is no border.

We need to tell the stories to those people in the country who don't have the privilege to live here, on the border.

It's not important to [the mothers at the Santo Niño Project] that we solve a problem; it's important that we accompany them.


~~~~~

In a time this November 2016 when it seemed every day brought new, nasty threats against individuals and groups, it was good to be in the company of the sisters.

El Paso: Border Servant Corps

The Wall, looking east toward El Paso. December 2016.

Do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly.


This is the mission of the Border Servant Corps.

I learned about the BSC by chance when I went to a 12-step meeting at Peace Lutheran Church in Las Cruces, New Mexico. There was a flyer announcing an Issues Night, to be presented by some Catholic sisters who work with people in Puerto de Anapra, just over the border into Mexico.

I saw that - hey! - the Issues Night would occur literally around the corner from my apartment in El Paso.

I'll get to that Issues Night, and others, but for now I just want to introduce the Border Servant Corps.

Border Servant Corps promotes and demonstrates justice, kindness, and humility through the intentional exploration of community, simplicity, social justice, and spirituality in the U.S./México border region.

BSC puts together volunteers-in-residence with organizations that support BSC's purpose. There are one-year volunteers and there are short-term volunteers, e.g. for the month of January or during the summer. The volunteers come from all over the United States (and can come from other countries); they live in one of two communal houses, one in El Paso and the other in Las Cruces.

Happening onto the BSC gladdened my spirit in a time of despondency following the November 2016 election.

The current administration and its modern-day Vichy collaborationists scuttle across the banquet table, biting and snarling and ripping meat from bone, dropping miserly orts to the floor for us ordinary folk, telling us we are eating cake.

The Border Servant Corps - it brings light and succor.

Do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly.

Mexico: Juárez: First Date: Going and Coming

Here, I explained you've got to have two quarters to enter Juárez and then one quarter to return to El Paso.

You've also got to have a passport or other documentation that will let you back into the United States.

I just realized that when you walk in to Juárez from El Paso, no one stops you to see if you're American versus, say, Canadian, Nigerian, Romanian, or Korean. I'm sure there are exceptions, but I never saw it happen.

Benjamin Alire Saenz, my literary cultural interpreter for El Paso, wrote about the fluidity between El Paso and Juárez. 

From Carry Me Like Water (1995): 

Driving down Interstate 10, Jake took the Juárez exit. He took his eyes off the road for a moment and stared down at Concordia Cemetery, the dead disturbed now by a freeway the locals called the spaghetti bowl. As the freeway curbed around, Juárez was straight ahead. It was so easy to get there, just get in the car, take an exit - Mexico - so easy, he thought. 

... He remembered how, sick as he was in his last days, Joaquin had been obsessed with denouncing the only two countries he'd ever known, ever lived in. "I hate Mexico," he mumbled. "I hate the United States. I hate - "

"What?" Eddie asked Jake. 

"Nothing, I was just talking to myself ... It's funny to live in a town where the other half of it is in another country."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Luz] thought of moving to El Paso - she could move there any time she wanted - it was her home, her country. Her mother had chosen her nationality for her. She had waited until she was about to deliver, then walked into a clinic. She had been born a U.S. citizen in an ambulance on the way to the county hospital. She wondered why she had to choose between Juárez and El Paso ... She could not relinquish her Juárez because her family had lived in this ragged city for generations; it was her blood, her history, her inheritance; but she could not relinquish El Paso because it was the piece of dirt her mother had bequeathed to her; it, too, was her blood; it, too, was her history ... she knew what everyone in Juárez knew, knew that El Paso belonged to them, belonged to the border, would never be like the rest of America because their faces were printed on its land as if it were a page in a book that could never be ton out by any known power, not by God, not by the Border Patrol, not by the president of either country, not by the purists who wanted to define Americans as something organic, as if they were indigenous plants ... Luz laughed. El Paso was hers and ... she would not relinquish it to any gringo or any Chicana - who was not intelligent enough to acknowledge that she was entitled to it poverty and its riches.

When I crossed back over to El Paso from Juárez on my first foray into Mexico, the United States greeted me with: a rainbow, twists of barbed wire, and two plastic trash bags.

Between Mexico and the US, November 2016.

Relevant posts

• Mexico: Juárez: First Date: Introduction
• Mexico: Juárez: First Date: Kentucky Club
• Mexico: Juárez: First Date: Murals
• Mexico: Juárez: First Date: Horses
• Mexico: Juárez: First Date: Going and Coming

Juárez: Three Quarters

Border between Mexico and USA, US-bound from Mexico. El Paso Bridge, El Paso and Juárez. November 2016.

To walk into Juárez from El Paso: Two quarters.

To walk back into El Paso from Juárez: One quarter.

Looking east onto Rio Grande border between Juárez, Mexico and El Paso, USA, US-bound from Mexico. El Paso Bridge. November 2016.

Remember your passport.

View of El Paso from Juárez at the El Paso Bridge border crossing. Juárez, Chihuahua, Mexico. November 2016.

Just before you walk into Juárez, there are two side-by-side restrooms. Let's call them smart restrooms, because their operations are driven by hand gestures - to open the door, close and lock the door, get water for handwashing, soap, and paper towel.

For any germaphobes among you: They are clean.

Just before you walk onto the bridge back into the US, there are also restrooms. They are also clean.

Emerging into El Paso from Juarez via El Paso Bridge border crossing. El Paso, Texas. November 2016.

El Paso: Mt Cristo Rey

Mt Criso Rey walk, Sunland Park, New Mexico. October 2016.

October 2016

The round-trip hike for Mt Cristo Rey is about 4.5 miles, assuming you start at the large parking lot near the arched entrance.

I hiked it one October Saturday, one of a number of hikers guided by El Paso Times journalist, Randy Limbard. Mr. Limbard shared some of the mountain's (and the statue's) history, culture, geology, and geo-politics. He leads this hike perhaps twice yearly.

Mt Criso Rey walk, Sunland Park, New Mexico. October 2016.

On the last Sunday in October there is an annual pilgrimage to the summit, and as many as 40,000 people participate. The pilgrimage ties together the feast day of Christ the King and the anniversary of the monument's completion.

There is a dedicated group of Mt Cristo Rey volunteers who maintain the trail, the monument, and the trailhead grounds.

Some factoids I learned from Mr. Limbard:

1. Smeltertown.
2. When Mexico gained its independence in 1821, El Paso was part of Mexico. El Paso became part of the US as a result of the Treaty of Hidalgo in 1848. 
3. El Paso residents had the opportunity to decide if they wanted to be part of Texas (the state) or New Mexico (at that time, a territory). El Paso chose to be part of an already-established state, thus joined Texas. (Haven't found any references to this yet.)

Credit: Wikipedia

From the Sunland Park side of Mt Cristo Rey, you can see the Wall, a slim black line that pencils up and down and across the terrain into a visual infinity. There is a section, however, near the mountain, where there is a gap.

Mt Criso Rey walk, Sunland Park, New Mexico. October 2016.

There's a discongruity to have a giant Christ looking out at Texas, New Mexico, and Chihuahua from a mountain top, and the existence of an arbitrary wall to keep His children separate.

Mt Criso Rey walk, Sunland Park, New Mexico. October 2016.

The Border Patrol is visibly active on and around the mountain, as evidenced by vehicles, agents on horseback, and an assiduous helicopter.

I watched (and filmed) the helicopter for a long time, damned impressed by the pilot's skill in manipulating that machine. The copter went down very low and slow, like a sentient being, practically sticking its nose into the foliage of some trees, peering closely within. It hovered with such stillness, other than the whirl of its blades, for the longest moments, over various points of the terrain.



The trains

I filmed a singing train, ignorant while doing so, of how trains in this exact spot were (are?) regular victims, as recently as 2009, of hold-ups reminiscent of train and stagecoach robberies in the Old West.

That is, I was ignorant until I read this article from 2009: Manny's Story, by Jordan deBree. One of the threads within the story was about the train robberies, but the article was about so much more.

Other stories about train robberies at the territory between Sunland Park, New Mexico, and Rancho Anapra, Chihuahua: 

• 1995: Bandits Robbing Trains in Old West-Style Raids
• 2002: Train Robbery Sting Near Border Becomes International Incident
• 2003: FBI Agent Describes Gang Attack in Anapra
• 2011: Not about robberies, but about the train route between Sunland Park and Anapra: A Train Ride to Economic Advancement. 

Can you imagine standing on the Mt Cristo Rey trail and seeing any of these events play out right before your eyes? It would be like watching battles from the Mexican Revolution from the mountain. As people actually did back then, from various points in and around El Paso.



Rancho Anapra


Manny's Story, the article I introduced in the previous section, describes Rancho Anapra - or at least one facet of it - of 2009.

Here's how Rancho Anapra has been described by different writers:

• In the 1995 article I linked above, it refers to Rancho Anapra as: a nearby squatters camp, a cluster of cardboard and wood shanties where 40,000 people live without running water, sewers or law enforcement. It is known as Colonia Anapra. But to Mexican authorities it is "la boca de lobo," or "the wolf's mouth."
•  A Sister of Charity, in this 2014 article chose a neutral description, referring to it as: a small Mexican border community called Anapra, located to the west of downtown Ciudad Juarez. The 2002 article linked above calls it: the Ciudad Juárez suburb of Colonia Anapra, across the fence from a similarly named neighborhood in Sunland Park.
• The author of this 2011 New York Times article refers to Anapra as: a concrete jumble of hillside shanties. 'It’s the poorest area in Juárez,' Uranga said. 'And it’s the easiest place to pull labor.'

When I looked out at Anapra from the side of Mt Cristo Rey, I only knew that it was "a colonia," described as such by Mr. Limbard with a sweep of his arm in its direction. A two-word description of a community of children, men, and women.

It's uncomfortable to me how thoughtlessly I can glance at something I see, in this case, Anapra. An extra on the stage that lay before me as I went on a pleasant Saturday hike. A part of a view.

The fact is, history continues to unfold in front of our eyes:

July 29, 2016, from El Paso Times: 
A body believed to be a man was found on Mount Cristo Rey by undocumented immigrants attempting to cross into the United States, officials said. The body was found shortly before 6 a.m. Friday about midway up the mountain, Sunland Park Police Department Chief Jaime Reyes said. The body has been brought down from the mountain. The immigrants found the body and reported it to U.S. Border Patrol agents, Reyes said. The body was located off a trail near an arroyo. Investigators believe the body may have been on the mountain for about two months, Reyes said. An autopsy will need to be done to confirm the person's gender, how long the body had been on the mountain, and the cause of death, Reyes said. No information on the status of the undocumented immigrants was provided Friday morning.

September 30, 2016, from El Paso Times:
A U.S. Border Patrol agent was injured when he fell down a ridge during a fight with an undocumented immigrant early Friday on Mount Cristo Rey, officials said. The agent hit his head on a rock when he and a man that he was trying to arrest both fell down a six-foot ledge during a struggle after agents found group of undocumented immigrants on the mountain in Sunland Park, officials said. ... The group of undocumented immigrants was found with the help of an infrared camera on a helicopter from U.S. Customs and Border Protection's Air and Marine Operations.After the agent was injured, the helicopter used its spotlight to help other agents find the man, who was taken into custody after being stunned with an electric shock, officials said. Agents on horseback helped detain the rest of the group. The man, whose name was not released, faces a possible charge of assault of a federal officer. The case is being investigated by the FBI.

Border Patrol Erecting New Fence in Unwalled Area of  New Mexico [Sunland Park and El Paso area], August 2016, Deming Headlight.

It's not like I can act on every thing I see, or paralyze myself with a generalized wringing of hands that is of use to no one. The word namaste as used most times has about the same spiritual gravitas as "God bless you" for a sneeze, but I like a meaning for it that I once saw written: The spirit in me bows to the spirit in you.  I'd at least like to see a person and a place with that acknowledgment, and not just as a backdrop on my personal movie set, which is too often the case.


A slide show of the walk up and down:

#30

Columbus, New Mexico, Part 11: School Kids

On the left, Mexico. On the right, U.S. Look at that --> same sky is over both.

I didn't envision a Part 11 for Columbus, New Mexico. Hell, I didn't think there'd be a Part 2 when I first arrived at this dusty little town.

But the Washington Post published a thoughtful article today about the kids from across the border who attend school in Columbus: Children Cross Mexican Border to Receive a US Education.

In my view, this is a good investment for the local, regional, state(s), and our bi-national futures. The children grow up to be adults and likely will live in the U.S. - we need adults who are well-educated and who will be self-sufficient, productive members of our society.

Columbus, New Mexico, Part 5: Raids

Statue of Pancho Villa in Puerto Palomas, Chihuahua, Mexico. Across border from Columbus, New Mexico.

Columbus is famous (the term being relative) for two historic (the term being relative) raids. 

1916: Pancho Villa

Jack Thomas, deputy sheriff, and other officials sensed “something in the air,” said Bill Rakocy, Villa Raids Columbus, N. Mex. Mar. 9, 1916.  “They had noticed strange Mexicans in town—many ‘friendly Mexicans’ became silent and some left town.”  Juan Favela, a local ranch foreman, complained that “the air was bad.”

Thus begins an an engrossing story by Jay W. Sharp, in DesertUSA, about the March 9, 1916, raid of Columbus, New Mexico, by Pancho Villa.

I particularly like this next excerpt:

In spite of the omens, however, the 400 citizens of Columbus, New Mexico, three miles north of the border town of Palomas, Chihuahua, believed themselves generally secure in those pre-dawn hours of March 1916.  They had followed, of course, the violent conflict in their neighboring country, where revolt against dictatorship and the federales (government troops) and land monopolies and the subsequent struggle for national power would claim nearly a million lives, some six percent of Mexico’s total population at the time.  They knew, too, that Pancho Villa’s marauders had pillaged along Mexico’s northern border, raising the specter of attack at Columbus.  Still, the citizens felt secure because they thought the U. S. 13^th Cavalry Regiment, dispatched by Commanding Officer General John “Black Jack” Pershing from Fort Bliss, El Paso, Texas, to the nearby Camp Furlong, would protect them.  They felt safe because they could scarcely believe that Pancho Villa would take the risk of crossing the border to challenge a U. S. community and military encampment.

I invite you to read the above a second time.   

It reminds me of something a survivor of the Rwanda genocide told me, when I asked her what she and her family and friends had thought, when so much violence was occurring in the rural areas of her country - weren't they afraid that it was going to reach them? Her reply has always stuck with me, that it seemed far away to them, it didn't feel as if it could reach them in the city. (And, of course, it did.) And, too, she and her family felt some protection from the French - not only were she and a sibling employed via the French Embassy, there was a belief that such a strong ally would not let such horrors visit the country at large. And she lived in a neighborhood where Hutus and Tutsi folks had resided together for years, all friendly.

It reminds me of El Paso, USA, and Juarez, Mexico, in the recent past, two cities immediately adjacent, but in one there were thousands of people being murdered each year in the late 2000s, and in the other, fewer than 20.

It brings to mind a book that had a big impact on me, The Graves Are Not Yet Full, in which the author confronts readers about discounting mass killings in some countries as being "just tribal; it's been going on for centuries and there's nothing we can do about it" (and I will add - "just druglords killing each other and it's only criminals getting killed.") The author, Bill Berkeley, argues that greed or the desire for power/control is always behind mass violence, and there are always those who benefit, and we need to look at who benefits.

And it's a reminder, generally, of how some of us have the luxury of taking for granted our safety and security. Indeed, we feel entitled to such security, without even knowing we feel entitled.

Anyway ... read the story about Pancho Villa's raid on Columbus - it's superbly written.

And here's some surreal stuff about the whole Pancho Villa thing:

In Puerto Palomas, Chihuahua, just over the border from Columbus is this sculpture:

Generals Pershing and Villa in Puerto Palomas, Chihuahua, Mexico

It depicts a fictional meeting between  Pancho Villa and General Pershing - shaking hands! Pershing hunted Villa for about a year in Mexico, to no avail.

Or how about the deal Villa struck with a film company that paid Villa $25,000 in exchange for access during his forays.

Pancho Villa as shot by Mutual Film Company. Credit: Smithsonian Magazine

2011: The Arms Raid

Credit: ColumbusNewMexico.com

I think the hat pretty much tells the story.

But if you want more details, go here. It involves helicopters, several federal agencies, and lots of lights and law enforcement vehicles at night. The indictment here. Some guilty pleas here.  The owner of the gun store in Chaparral, New Mexico, was also arrested and convicted:

From July 2010 until February 2011, Garland sold 193 Kalashnikov-type assault weapons and 9 mm pistols to six co-defendants, including Eddie Espinoza, former mayor of Columbus, New Mexico, and former village trustee Blas "Woody" Gutierrez.

Garland allowed those "straw purchasers" to falsely state on federal forms that they were purchasing the firearms for themselves, even though he had reason to know the weapons were headed to people in Mexico.

 Prosecutors last year said Garland, in facilitating the purchases, "was furthering murder and violence at epic levels in Mexico, all for a quick buck."

They said that between January 2010 and March 2011, the conspirators used their positions to facilitate and safeguard the trafficking of around 200 guns worth about $70,000, to Mexico.

Some of those weapons were later recovered at drug busts and implicated in murders in Mexico, where some 55,000 people have been killed in cartel-related mayhem since 2006.

Source: Chicago Tribune, Gun Dealer Gets 5 Years in Prison in U.S.-Mexico Gun Case



...and here I am on Part 5 on Columbus, New Mexico, and there's still more to tell, despite the fact there's virtually nothing there. It's crazy, I tell you.

Columbus, New Mexico, Part 3: The Wall

Wall between U.S.-Mexico, Columbus and Puerto Palomas

Wall between U.S.-Mexico, Columbus and Puerto Palomas

Wall between U.S.-Mexico, Columbus and Puerto Palomas

Wall between U.S.-Mexico, Columbus and Puerto Palomas

Wall between U.S.-Mexico, Columbus and Puerto Palomas

Notwithstanding one's political, economic, and social arguments for the wall, we must never forget that the cement blocks, the bars, and the barbed wire are designed to control human behavior, to separate people.

Columbus, New Mexico, Part 2: Drug Running

Columbus, New Mexico

One of the reasons I chose to live in New Mexico for a year was to learn more about our border issues with Mexico. I placed on my New Mexican to-do list a visit to all three of the state's international border crossings, and a few weeks back I did my first one at Antelope Wells.

Before I came to New Mexico, I came across this CNN article, On the Border: Guns, Drugs -- and a Betrayal of Trust. Here's the lead: 

Mayor Nicole Lawson is only 37, but her hair is already turning white as she tries to keep this border town corrupted more than a year ago by Mexican cartels from falling deeper into financial ruin.

The article evoked all sorts of visceral responses on my end related to man's inhumanity to man, injustice, corruption, political expediencies, and just the banality of acts that result in evil, such as Americans who smoke pot and say it harms no one - but they don't take care to investigate where their supply comes from and who dies or who is enslaved in the drug industry through threats to their family's lives. (I don't give a shit if you use pot - I do care if you are supporting the drug cartels - and murder - by consuming product from other countries.)


Aiee, I could rant on, but... enough for now.

Based on this article, I had certain expectations of what I'd find in Columbus, New Mexico. I sort of expected to find a town under siege, a border crossing that carried the possibility of risk, and I even made a point of letting key individuals know where I'd be on this particular weekend visit.  

Sure enough, I found drug running. It was rampant and completely in the open.

Yes, there is a steady stream of senior citizens flowing over the border from the U.S. to the drug stores in Puerto Palomas, taking advantage of lower prices for their prescription meds. While in town for their weekly or monthly or quarterly visit, they often enjoy a margararita or a beer, and lunch, at the Pink Store.

Antelope Wells, New Mexico: The End of the Line

Highway 81, near Antelope Wells, New Mexico

I like the name, Antelope Wells. Graceful animals. Water. A small oasis.

Antelope Wells is one of the border crossings between New and Old Mexico. It's the smallest port of entry between the U.S. and Mexico. It's also the southernmost point of the Continental Divide Trail.

View Larger Map


There's not much between Antelope Wells and the nearest town. There's very little traffic, and I'd estimate 85% of the vehicles on the road are Border Patrol.

As always, I like to see the mountains in the distance, framing the broad plains. Below I consider the hitchhiker:

 

 
Did you see him? Oh, I will miss the humble, hard-working soaptree yucca when I quit New Mexico.

I hoped I'd see evidence supporting the existence of this sign, but I only saw cattle, ravens, and a roadrunner or two:

Highway 81 between Hachita and Antelope Wells, New Mexico

I did see a helicopter sitting daintily in a road pull-out, along with several other vehicles. Not Border Patrol - an energy company, I believe; don't recall the name. Later, on my return from Antelope Wells, the same copter made several trips to/from the road turnout, seeming to come and go over a nearby mountain range.

Highway 81 between Hachita and Antelope Wells, New Mexico

Eventually, I arrived at the end of the road - the edge of the United States. It was confusing which way to go to cross the border. I was presented with a fork in the road. A painted line seemed to direct me to the left, where stood the spanking new border facility, consisting of a large building, a tollbooth structure and a raising/lowering arm that keeps a vehicle stopped at the booth til the driver fulfills whatever border-crossing things s/he needs to fulfil. But straight ahead was a small building, with plate glass that had been broken and was now taped, and which looked like an abandoned service station. But the Stop signs were facing toward Mexico, it seemed. I saw no signs of life.

This was one of those moments where, if you had someone in the car with you, you'd say, "Huh, what are we supposed to do here"? "What do you think we should do"? You take heart in the other person either affirming your befuddlement or taking charge, pointing in one direction, and saying, "Go that way." Because I was alone, however, I just stopped and asked myself these questions.

I went left toward the new complex. When I got to the Stop sign, I stopped. There was also a sign that instructed drivers to STAY STOPPED until given the authority to move forward. I saw the arm thingie up ahead, in its upward stance. Although I felt very stupid, STAYING STOPPED, I again considered my situation. Go? Stay? Back up? I looked over to the dilapidated, abandoned-looking squat structure that I'd eschewed. Still no life signs. Was the border just sort of open this afternoon? It was getting close to lunchtime. Maybe you get a free pass between noon and one?

I decided to proceed. I drove past the STAY STOPPED sign, went by the raised arm, drove by the abandoned-looking structure with the taped plate glass, and on into Mexico. OK, then! I was welcomed into Mexico by sign, specifically El Berrendo.

Border between Antelope Wells, New Mexico, and El Berrendo, Mexico

I saw one Mexican Border Patrol man approach from ahead of me, and then another man emerged from a small building to my side. I rolled down my passenger-side window. "Hi!" I said. We both exchanged some inanities, and then he asked what I wanted to do - continue or what? I said I thought I'd just turn around. And he said OK. And then I asked, "Is there a bathroom"? And he directed me back over the U.S. line.

And, by the way, this is the first thing one sees when crossing over into the U.S.:

Border between Antelope Wells, New Mexico, and El Berrendo, Mexico

So I did a 3-point turn and nosed back over the border to the dilapidated building with the taped plate glass window. And now I saw some action. A U.S. Border Patrol came out of the building and we went through the formalities. Another man came out and I gave him my passport, which he took into the little building. The first man asked me if I've got any weapons, drugs, or fruit. I allowed as how I'd brought an apple with me for my lunch. He asked to see my bag and I showed him and he looked into it. I noted wryly that it had come from Walmart. (And I was thinking that the apple had probably been imported from Mexico, but I didn't think it would add anything to our conversation to say that aloud.)

Border between Antelope Wells, New Mexico, and El Berrendo, Mexico

 
The Border Patrol noted that because they'd seen me go over to Mexico and come back, that the apple was OK, but otherwise, bringing back fruit is illegal.

Border between Antelope Wells, New Mexico, and El Berrendo, Mexico

The legalities completed, I asked my final question: "Do you have a bathroom"? And, you know, they did. Right inside. (Which experience reminded me, happily, of another bathroom on another border.) And there was a jar of candy on the counter. And the Border Patrol offered to give me a passport stamp.

Antelope Wells, New Mexico, passport stamp

Overall, a pleasant exchange.

On my way back to Lordsburg, I stopped at the Continental Divide Trail sign-in stand, which is about 30 miles north of the border.

Continental Divide Trail near Antelope Wells, New Mexico

  
I added my name to the bottom.

Continental Divide sign-in list, 30 miles north of Antelope Wells, New Mexico

(Again, I recommend The Walkumentary, a documentary about a group's 2006 hike from the beginning to end of the CDT.)

 

Continental Divide Trail near Antelope Wells, New Mexico

 

On my way back to civilization, I spied a cowboy.

Cowboy, Highway 81 between Antelope Wells and Hachita, New Mexico

I pulled off the road for my packed lunch - a sandwich, some Cheerios, and an apple. Watched that helicopter come and go.

Along a stretch of Highway 81 is a wide river of silvery grass.

And this looked to me like a painting in motion:

When I arrived at the crossroads of Highway 9 and 81, where Hachita sits, I followed 9 to 113 and went up north to Lordsburg. I saw a crowd of tumbleweed refugees. I know they're rather a menace, but they have a beauty.  And endearing character, too.

A crowd of tumbleweeds, Highway 113, between Highway 9 and I-10, New Mexico

I passed an abandoned winery, too.

Defunct winery, Highway 113, between Highway 9 and I-10, New Mexico

Defunct winery, Highway 113, between Highway 9 and I-10, New Mexico

A satisfying day.

Alamogordo: Art and Dirigibles

There was a watercolor & landscapes painting workshop at Oliver Lee Memorial State Park yesterday morning.

I'm not a painter, but how can one live in the gigantic artist colony called New Mexico and not at least make the attempt?

First, Charles Wood, the naturalist-presenter, showed some samples of his work, judiciously pointing out his good and not-so-good work.

Charles Wood, Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico. October 2012.

There were three of us students. We started with a blank canvas.

Charles Wood-led painting workshop, Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico. October 2012.

Charles walked us through a process of painting - mixing colors, perspective for things in the distance versus medium distance versus close up, some brushwork techniques, and creating shadows and foliage.

My finished oeuvre:

Charles Wood-led painting workshop, Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico. October 2012.

There are some things I liked about my work and some things I didn't. It was a fun activity.


On my way to the park, I'd noticed a speck of something in the sky, just perched, as it were, in the air. It made no rational sense. Wasn't a balloon, a plane, or anything else I could guess. While we painted, I looked over my shoulder to see it was still there, and it was, so I asked Charles about it.

A dirigible. A border-watching dirigible that the Border Patrol puts up on good-weather days.

Aerostat blimp being used for border patrol. Credit: Wikipedia