During our travels this summer I was digging around in my
bucket list to see what could be crossed off.
On the list were two items that had been there for a while and were well
worn from being shoved downward in the pile; Roswell, NM and Carlsbad Caverns
in NM. Actually, Carlsbad could probably
have been crossed off a very long time ago since I had visited it when around
8-9 years old. That was well before I even had a bucket list and so I kept it
on the list as one of those things to do or places to visit “when I had
time”. Well, I had time and so why not?
These two places are rather like a package deal since they
are close to each other. Both are on hwy
285 at the southern edge of New Mexico, about 300 miles from Albuquerque. Leaving Albuquerque on I40, hwy 285 turns
south just a bit east of Moriarity and provides a pathway into the most
unoccupied areas in the state. Long
stretches of two lane road bordered by barbed wire fencing on one side and by a
combination of fencing and power line on the other. Only there towns show on the map, Encino,
Vaughn, and Ramona. In reality, only one
of these is a town, Vaughn, the others are a bit less.
Encino is the first to appear on this trip. This place is located at the intersection of
Hwy 60, a cross-country road from the past era before the interstate routes, similar
to Route 66, its more well-known sibling. Hwy 60 provided a more southerly
routing to cross the USA during the early age of the automobile. At its peak Encino boasted, a newspaper, a
high school, a Federal Post Office, a motel, a hardware/dry goods store and a
train depot. Dry land farming and
livestock provided the income for this town.
However, the depression and subsequent economic failings forced the
railway to close the depot in 1965. Construction of the Interstate freeway
system in the 1960’s drove the final stake into the heart of this town by
diverting much of the traffic from Encino. The high school closed in 1982
followed by the motel and stores. The
post office, opened in 1907, remains but with a population of only
43, this would seem to be a target for congressional budget cutters.
The history of Encino includes two noteworthy items. It is
the home of R.C. Dillon, eighth governor (1927-1931) of New Mexico and the
presence of murals painted on the high school gymnasium walls by Hallie
Williams, a noted southwest artist. The
murals that depicted southwestern scenes are, like Governor Dillon, gone. The high school is in the process of being
demolished and the murals, painted directly on the inside walls, have succumbed
to time and neglect. Our need for the
speeds of the freeway to get us where we are going has focused our attention on
the destination to the neglect of the trip itself.
Just a few miles, 12, from Encino is the town of
Vaughn. Vaughn has a functional railroad
depot, however its use looks to be mainly for freight clearing and not for
passengers. There is a station with a
room for travelers to wait. Its
condition and dust train indicate that passengers are a rare commodity. The rail tracks are filled with tankers and
cars laden with crude oil from the Permian Basin wells and potash from the
mines. (more on this later) There is a hotel with café which, based on the
exclusive abundance of AT&SF trucks, owes its existence to the railroad. Two churches, one Catholic and one Baptist,
exist as does a K-12 school. The one
service that Vaughn lacks is its own police force. Sometime back the elected chief and Vaugh’s
only paid officer was indicted on drug charges and with his resignation the
town dropped its own police relying on the county sheriff. Additionally, one volunteer officer and his
drug sniffing dog provide patrol. The
drug sniffer is important for this town since it has been the center for
several large drug busts. The remote
location and sparse police coverage make Vaughn a focal point for smugglers.
The road from Vaughn to Ramona is just like the road from
I40 to Vaughn. It is two lanes of
uninterrupted boredom. The range is
fenced but the cattle herds are few and far between. The occasional hawk
resting on one of the power poles that parallel the road offers a change in
scenery. The one spectacular interruption to our trip was the arrival of a
large herd, 50+/-, of antelope. These
graceful animals moved along parallel to the highway mindful of but unconcerned
with our presence on the road. Their
attitude changed when I stopped the car to get their picture. Immediately upon opening my door the lead
bull changed the herd’s direction and led them off away from the road into the
open range area at a run. Periodically a power line will branched off and ran
into the range to feed the motors that power pumps providing water to the far
ranging cattle and probably the herd of antelope. A very few windmills dot these rangelands and
those appeared to need some repair. There are a few gates with metal signs
supported overhead. These appear to be entrances to ranches with names like
Johnsons, Garcis, and Longworth cut into the swinging metal sheets. Any dwellings that might be associated with
these signs are well beyond the sight line from the highway. These ranches are like the town of Ramona;
they exist because they have a gate with a sign on the highway, but stay out of
view.
200 miles and 3+ hours after leaving Albuquerque we arrive
at Roswell, self-appointed capital of UFO landings. Our interest in Roswell stems mainly from a
TV program that played on the theme that aliens had really landed and were going
to the local high school as teenagers. A
weak reason, I know, but since this city is on the way to Carlsbad Caverns it
worked for me. My expectation was not
disappointed, in fact it was surpassed but not for the UFOs. The UFO center is well done, a bit kitschy
but the story it tells about the 1947 alleged UFO crash is well presented and
the documentation gives pause to the non-believer. Newspaper clippings are accompanied by
testimonials from locals and out-of-towners vouching for strange occurrences
and seeming cover up by government officials.
I left the UFO Research Center, that’s its real name, still uncertain as
to what actually happened in 1947, I am a bit
more open to the possibility of extraterrestrial events. What concerns me most is the question that
remains—if aliens really came here and they have not come back, is it because
they judged us not worthy of another trip?
The real surprise of Roswell was the Roswell Museum and Art
Center. Surrounded by an area of
paintings and sculptures, in the middle of this building is a recreation of
Robert Goddard’s workshop. Robert
Goddard is considered by some the father of the Space Age. During the period from 1926 to 1941, Goddard
and his team launched 34 rockets and obtained 214 patents for such items as the
liquid fueled rocket and the multi-stage rocket, both integral to modern space
age explorations. His work was
revolutionary using gyroscopes and directional thrusters for controls and after
several tries, he successfully sent controlled rockets to altitudes of 1.5
miles. Despite his brilliant science
and dogged determination, Goddard was not able to garner the public’s
attention, or significant financial support for his research. The largest benefactors were the Smithsonian
and Clark University, where he received his PhD in 1912.
The lack of public support and ignorance was demonstrated by
a New York Times January 1920 editorial deriding the possibility of rockets
operating in the vacuum of space. This editorial followed by one day a Smithsonian
announcement promoting the use of rockets instead of balloons for high altitude
research. The NY Times editorial stated,
“After the rocket quits our air and
really starts on its longer journey, its flight would be neither accelerated
nor maintained by the explosion of the charges it then might have left. To
claim that it would be is to deny a fundamental law of dynamics…” In July 1969, after the launch of Apollo 11
the NY Times offered the following correction; “Further investigation and experimentation have confirmed the findings
of Isaac Newton in the 17th Century and it is now definitely established that a
rocket can function in a vacuum as well as in an atmosphere. The Times regrets
the error.” Score one for science
and Robert Goddard, PhD, albeit 28 years
after his death. NASA recognized
Goddard’s contribution in 1959 with the naming of the Goddard Space Flight
Center in Maryland, the largest collection of scientists and engineers in the
nation solely engaged in exploring our universe.
While Roswell’s fame lies in outer space, Carlsbad’s seems
to be securely bound to the Earth. Entering
town we are greeted with the sulfurous aroma of crude oil. Carlsbad sits on top
of large oil and natural gas deposits in the Permian Basin. Additionally, Carlsbad has large potash
deposits surrounding it and is the largest source for this mineral in the USA. The railroad and its sidings that runs through
the town is filled with tank, hopper,
and gondola rail cars either filled or waiting to be. No one seems to object to
the delays waiting for these train assemblages to pass through the town
intersections. These trains and the rich deposits they carry secure the importance
of this small town as a part of our energy and agriculture resources furnishing
oil, to fuel our transportation, and potash, for the fertilizer to grow our
food.
We stayed in a Best Western motel. This sprawling establishment caters to the
miners and oilmen who work in the field. The parking lot is filled with pickup
trucks, many with dual rear wheels, laden with equipment to enable working in
remote locations. Compressors,
generators, vices attached to bumpers, and a variety of toolboxes adorn the
beds of these working trucks. Company
names with “repair” “service” and “logistics” fill the side panels. The restaurant is filled with men in
coveralls soiled from days of labor.
Meals are large portions; salad bar plates are no different in size from
the dinner patters. From our booth along
one wall, we can see these workers silently eating. Weary from their time in the field dinnertime
is for eating, not talking. In addition
to the workers, there are a few other couples, like us older and most likely
retired. Some have the Carlsbad Cavern
brochure open, obviously planning for tomorrow’s adventure.
The Best Western offers a ‘free’ breakfast. While
this enticement is meant to lure travelers to stay the night, it really only
works or those who have children, do not travel a lot, or workers who are
traveling on a per diem allowance. This
motel’s array of breakfast food was slightly better than some others we have
partaken. Scrambled eggs, sausage,
biscuits, pancakes, gravy, grits, mixed fruit and two juices were all
appropriately served and heated or chilled.
I believe the motel saved money on dishware by buying only one sized
plate, large. This is surely appreciated
by the mechanics and field workers who use the motel.
As I mentioned before, Carlsbad Caverns are a late addition
to my bucket list. I have a vague
recollection of a family trip to the caverns when I was probably around 9 or 10
years old and since it is only a dim memory another trip was certainly in
order. We qualify for the Senior Pass
offered by the National Park Service.
This lifetime pass, available to those over 62, was sold to us by
another “senior” who worked at Montezuma’s Well in Arizona. At only $10, it has paid for itself many time
over including this visit to the Caverns.
The first thing I learned about Carlsbad Caverns is that
they are not actually located in Carlsbad.
It is 20 miles from the city of Carlsbad to the entrance gate for the
Park; form the gate it is an additional 7 miles to the visitor center. Once at
the visitor center, there are two ways to get into the cavern itself. There is a 1.5 mile trail that provides
access through the bat cave area. No,
no, not the ‘bat cave” but the actual home of a large colony of Brazilian Free
Tailed bats. These mammals can be seen
during the evening hours leaving for nighttime feeding on insects. The other option, the one we chose, is an
elevator that carries you 750 feet vertically underground to the floor of the
cavern. We were there in the off-season
and so we encountered very few other visitors on our walk around the main area
in the cave. There is a well-marked
trail, about 1 mile long, around the
perimeter of the big room. This is the self-guided
tour and it took us about 3 hours to complete the trip, including time for
pictures and just standing in amazement at the
array of stalagmites, the ones growing up from the floor, and stalactites, the ones growing down from
the ceiling as well as cascades of limestone and gypsum that look like frozen
rivers. The growth, or lack thereof, is
dependent upon the weather at the surface.
Recent droughts have stalled the steady creep of these natural wonders. Recognizing the thousands of years in their making, just standing in front of these aged mineral
deposits gives pause to consider their steady growth and development in this
hidden cave while turmoil and chaos effected changes to the Earth above.
Carlsbad Cavern is only one of several hundred limestone
caves in this area that were formed by an inland sea over 200 million years
ago. More recently, just a few thousand years ago, American Indians lived
nearby leaving evidence of their lifestyles and culture in nearby encampments.
Spanish explorers traveled this area in their quest for gold and treasures in
the 1500’s. With Mexico’s development
into a separate country and its fighting
the territorial expansion of the United States expansion in the late 1840’s the exploration of this area was limited. Mexico lost their southwest holdings in 1850,
and the New Mexico Territory was created by the US. The jostling for land
supremacy was followed by pioneers settling into the area. The occupation and fencing of prairie land
previously occupied by native Indians provoked violent and bloody wars that
lasted until the late 1800’s. US military power, continued development and
settling of the New Mexico Territory resulted in it becoming a state in 1912.
Leaving the Carlsbad Cavern’s visitor center we stopped at an overlook to
survey the Chihuahuan Desert.
This expanse of desert and range land stretches several hundred miles
from inside Mexico to the middle of New Mexico. From this overlook we can see
into Texas and follow the meandering course of the Pecos River. It is easy to imagine the thoughts of early American
Indians and subsequent European settlers and as they stood looking at the
territory available to them. Clean fresh
water to drink, fertile land to farm, abundant wildlife to hunt, the gods have
provided a heaven.
The road is a merciless mistress; luring with
promises of new and better sensations.
Adjusting my seatbelt, I turn the key and move the transmission into
drive. Turning on to the highway I press
on the gas and speed to new horizons knowing, hoping, I will not be
disappointed by the Greek god of travel, Hermes and his bride Peitho.
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