Goodbye khaki pants that I never loved but wore so many times.
Is there one word that describes this: something you dislike but you keep using again and again and again and again because you don't have something to replace it with yet and you can't justify releasing it because it is still in good condition?
If there is such a word, then I could write this post in one sentence:
I finally pitched my [insert special word] pants somewhere between Jackson, Mississippi, and Birmingham, Alabama, because their deterioration had finally allowed me to do so without unsettling the bones of my Swiss Mennonite forebears.
Goodbye khaki pants that I never loved but wore so many times.
Window Trail from Chisos Basin Campground, Big Bend National Park, Texas. September 2017.
You won't be seeing The Window on this post, even though I was on the Window Trail, as approached from the Chisos Basin Campground trailhead.
Window Trail from Chisos Basin Campground, Big Bend National Park, Texas. September 2017.
I happened by the trail head during a swing around the campground. The afternoon was moving toward dusk, and I hadn't contemplated going on this walk so late in the afternoon. Plus an irrational concern about a bear encounter still clung to me like a whiny toddler. But a young couple bounced over to the trail head and appeared to have a plan to do the hike. So I asked if I could hitch myself to their coattails, and they said yes!
They were pleasant company - living in Texas for awhile while she did an internship - but probably to return to their home grounds in a lusher climate when that finished.
A pretty trail. Somehow I'd gotten the impression it was so very close to The Window and that it was an easy peasy walk.
The section of the trail I completed (note the foreshadowing) was easy peasy.
Window Trail from Chisos Basin Campground, Big Bend National Park, Texas. September 2017.
What I didn't know was that the trail crossed over a stream. So pretty!
Window Trail from Chisos Basin Campground, Big Bend National Park, Texas. September 2017.
And those steps built into the smooth, rock shoulders! The stuff of fairy tales.
Window Trail from Chisos Basin Campground, Big Bend National Park, Texas. September 2017.
Unfortunately, there was a water crossing that I didn't feel secure about making. Didn't have the right shoes, didn't have a way to protect my camera if I got wet, blah, blah. So I stopped there and enjoyed the beauty of what I did travel over.
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.
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.
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.)
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:
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.
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.
Franklin Mountains, El Paso, Texas. September 2016.
September 2016
There are several hiking groups for the El Paso - Southern New Mexico area on meetup.com. Also, during Celebration of the Mountains, which had begun when I arrived in El Paso, there are even more group hiking opportunities.
A vibrant woman named Judy, a military veteran who is active in El Paso's quality-of-life issues, led this morning's hike, which was just behind (above) a residential neighborhood. The trail head began at the end of a neighborhood street.
Franklin Mountains, El Paso, Texas. September 2016.
Some observations from this first experience
The area terrain is scrabbly, slippy-slidey, tumble-y rocks, which makes hiking more treacherous than I've experienced in the past. This is where I learned that "easy" in one area of the country might be quite different from "easy" in another part, such as South Louisiana, where you can ride (or stand on) a horse with a beer in your hand while following a trailer with a full-on barbecue grill and stereo sound system. The elevation and obstacles on this El Paso hike were easy. Being ever-mindful of the instability of the small rocks beneath one's feet required vigilance.
Gosh darn, there were some wicked-smart, engaging fellow hikers! Knowledgeable about the flora, fauna, or geology, and so generous about sharing the interesting stuff they know. It made for much more than a simple walk.
But on my way to Raton, New Mexico yesterday, I saw a guy tooling away on a bicycle on I-25 South, hauling one of those baby carriages behind him.
As I noted here, long journeys have been on my mind lately. Today, I tried to find any online evidence of this person's trek, didn't succeed, but discovered a cottage industry on such journeys:
Bicycle Routes Across the USA, by Shular Scudamore. You can also access his blog and related information via this link.
Bike Across America offers trip reports and guidance for those interesting in giving it a go. The info's a little dated, but still interesting.
New York Times reporter, Bruce Weber, has cycled across America twice: 1993 at age 39 and 2011 at age 57. Good reading. (Google on "On Wheels: America at 10 M.P.H." and then pull up the cache versions of his 1993 entries. Alternatively, if you're actually a card-carrying NYT subscriber, maybe you'll be able to get to the archives via the links in the 2011 articles.)
Trek Travel, like The Across America North Tour above, facilitates the cross-country affairs for you - all you have to do is ride the bike. 2013 cost: $15,999.00.
The Adventure Cycling Association offers cross-country trip journals here.
Again, cycling across America is not in my plan. Noooo, I'm still fixated on mountain lions on a New Mexico trail. .... Carrying a boxcutter sounded like a good protection strategy til a conversation with one of my sisters today, who told me that another sister carries a very big, very sharp knife when she hikes in the wilderness.
