2023 Summer Road Trip: Oliver Lee Memorial State Park: A Morning Visitor

 

2023.0805 Lizard visitor at my Oliver Lee Memorial State Park campsite. Alamogordo, New Mexico. Credit: Mzuriana.

 

I surely do love lizards. 

They are always welcome at my campsite.

The book, by the way, sucked. My God, 'twas a murderous bore. I cannot fathom why I read it to the end. I warned the campground host, to whom I offered it, that he cannot give it back to me no matter what. I warned him: It's no good. I made an ethical disclosure, in other words, respecting his right to self-determination in making a decision he might regret.

Other lizards I have loved: 

 

 

#30

 

2023 Summer Road Trip: Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, New Mexico: A Reintroduction

 

 

2012 not 2023 - My Oliver Lee Memorial State Park campsite. Near Alamogordo, New Mexico. Credit: Mzuriana.

I landed at Oliver Lee Memorial State Park the last day of July. Feeling sentimental about being here.

Twelve years ago, I lived at the campground for two weeks while waiting for the appointed date to move in to my Alamogordo apartment. 

Indeed, upon my arrival the other day, I put up the very same tent and laid out the very same tablecloth that I did in 2012. I still have the folding table and the green-lidded bin. And the coffee mug. The Playmate cooler with its handle is released somewhere in the universe. 

This go-round, I got all red and sweaty putting up my tent in the dog-day, 95-degree heat. Had to pace myself.

Before I get into some other sweaty details, I will share the glorious joy of the ever-changing drama that the park performs on its massive 360-degree living stage. 

The slide show below showcases how the light moves across the lines of the terrain, and the sunsets, the sunrises, the moonrise, the vastness of the Tularosa Basin, the folds of the mountains. 

 

It feels good to be here.

A Bug's Tail Tale

Beetle in a sotol, Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico

Beetle in a sotol. Butt out.

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico. 

The World Doth Revolve Around New Mexico

Pluto. Credit: NASA.

... and as such, New Mexico did decree Pluto a planet in 2007.

In case you missed the news from a few years back, a scientific brouhaha broke out over whether or not Pluto really was a planet, and at the end of the day, Pluto was demoted.

This was New Mexico's response:   

HOUSE JOINT MEMORIAL 54
48th legislature - STATE OF NEW MEXICO - first session, 2007
INTRODUCED BY
Joni Marie Gutierrez
A JOINT MEMORIAL
DECLARING PLUTO A PLANET AND DECLARING MARCH 13, 2007, "PLUTO PLANET DAY" AT THE LEGISLATURE.

WHEREAS, the state of New Mexico is a global center for astronomy, astrophysics and planetary science; and WHEREAS, New Mexico is home to world class astronomical observing facilities, such as the Apache Point observatory, the very large array, the Magdalena Ridge observatory and the national solar observatory; and
WHEREAS, Apache Point observatory, operated by New Mexico state university, houses the astrophysical research consortium's three-and-one-half meter telescope, as well as the unique two-and-one-half meter diameter Sloan digital sky survey telescope; and
WHEREAS, New Mexico state university has the state's only independent, doctorate-granting astronomy department; and
WHEREAS, New Mexico state university and Dona Ana county were the longtime home of Clyde Tombaugh, discoverer of Pluto; and
WHEREAS, Pluto has been recognized as a planet for seventy-five years; and
WHEREAS, Pluto's average orbit is three billion six hundred ninety-five million nine hundred fifty thousand miles from the sun, and its diameter is approximately one thousand four hundred twenty-one miles; and
WHEREAS, Pluto has three moons known as Charon, Nix and Hydra; and
WHEREAS, a spacecraft called new horizons was launched in January 2006 to explore Pluto in the year 2015;
NOW, THEREFORE, BE IT RESOLVED BY THE LEGISLATURE OF THE STATE OF NEW MEXICO that, as Pluto passes overhead through New Mexico's excellent night skies, it be declared a planet and that March 13, 2007 be declared "Pluto Planet Day" at the legislature. 

I learned this astonishing factoid at an event at Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, facilitated by the Amateur Astronomers Group of Alamogordo. I learned more stuff, too, which I will share soon, but for now, I am just laughing too much.

It's almost as good as Missouri wanting to make it illegal for educators to use the terms BCE and CE instead of BC and AD. Did that proposal ever pass? I don't know. Sometimes I just don't want to know these things.

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

Another Kind of Rootless: Semi-Permanent Park Residents

Fog in the morning, Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico

Semi-permanent park residents

At Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, I discovered a sub genus of rootless I hadn't encountered before: People who are semi-permanent residents at state or federal parks.

At Oliver Lee, there's a 21-day stay limit. Once you get to that point, you have to leave for at least six days before you can return.

I met four semi-permanent residents during my sojourn there; another gentleman was also in residence, but I didn't meet him. 

One couple, who I'll call Chet and Grace, have been living "outdoors" since 2006. In general, they work a triangle among two or three parks in New Mexico, with hotel breaks about once a month. They sold their house in an Albuquerque bedroom community before the housing bubble burst, they owned that house free and clear, so they are self-sufficient for quite a while, as long as they remain frugal. They camp in their truck. They're open to buying some property in New Mexico, at the right price, with the right vibe. They're becoming weary of the outdoor life; the cold of winters lived outdoors and the heat of the summers wear them down.

Another park "resident," a German-American I'll call Fritz, generally sticks with Oliver Lee. During his six-day exiles, he decamps to what's called the "gravel pit" down in the Tularosa Basin, within sight of the park. He has a van and a trailer. There are some security concerns down at the gravel pit, what with meth users/dealers interested in theft or with undocumented aliens who might get nervous if they encounter an unexpected camper on their path north. (Evidently, UDAs, as they're called by some here, ride the rails and get off nearby here when their train goes off to the side while another train passes.)

A park nomad I'll call Bob cycles through various parks in New Mexico that are convenient to his health care providers. He's originally from Michigan, but I think he's been in New Mexico for many years now. 

All of the above are over age 55.  Fritz is over 70; I'm not sure about Bob.

For $180, New Mexico residents can get an annual camping pass that includes day passes. Residents over age 62 pay $100. For $4 extra per night, you can get an electric site. If you were to choose a park with hot showers, flush toilets, and potable water, living the park life has its advantages in economy and simplicity.

I calculated that it cost me about $4 round trip every time I went into Alamogordo from the park. The park nomads often designate a day each week to make the trip, to get groceries or enjoy some outside socialization.

I don't know if this semi-permanent park living is common to every state and national park with campgrounds. I'm intrigued at the lack of information on this subject on the web.

Would I call these folks homeless? No. For one, all have a generally-accepted shelter in the form of a adapted truck, van, or small RV. I believe all have some sort of regular income or a cache of savings. Fritz owned his own business for many years; I assume he, at the very least, receives Social Security benefits. I believe the same is true of Bob (e.g. Social Security).  In other words, I believe they're making a free and informed choice to live outdoors. 

Some tricks of the trade



From Chet and Grace, I learned: 

• To cool down your sleeping vehicle, spray the roof and sides with water. 
• To keep ice longer, enclose your cooler in towels and wet them down.
• Consider a lantern with a 6-volt rechargeable battery instead of a propane lantern. Sturdier than the fragile lanterns with their mantles.

When I was in their shelter (and we shared some of my chacha), I had a Eureka! moment when I saw they had suspended bungee cords from the large bolts screwed into the top horizontal beam of the shelter. From the looped bungee cord, you could hang fabric to dry or tie trash bags. Aha! Until I saw that, I couldn't figure out anything to tie a line to for such things.

Another park "resident"

"Suelo" lives in a national park, as described in this article, Homeless by Choice: How to Live for Free in America.


There was a time when I thought I might buy a small camper and live out of that while traveling about North America, working on an itinerant basis. I don't rule that out in my future.

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park: Always Something Going On

Sunset at Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico

I think deserts are like swamps in that there's always something going on to maintain your interest, to surprise you. There's also that primordial, reptile-eat-reptile vibe to keep you on your toes.

Now, I like oceans well enough, but really, unless you're in the midst of a horrific storm or you're an ocean-sport person, there's not much that changes ocean-side day to day. You do get the zen, "I'm but one drop in the vast sea, " effect, which is pleasant, but other than that, there's not much new that happens.

From the park the other day, I saw a dusty devil whip itself up in the basin:  

Dust up outside Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

Dust up outside Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

Dust up outside Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

I was fortunate to be at the park around the full moon. One night, the park ranger gave a talk on moon lore, finishing up to watch the moon rise over one of the Sacramento Mountains. At first our little group thought the cloud cover would obscure the moon's entrance, then it cleared, then it covered, and then:

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

My camera, alas, wasn't up to the task to finesse the brilliance of the almost-full moon rising with the ambient light it put out in its surroundings.

This photo, though, taken a day or two earlier:

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

On the way back from the full moon program, I saw a rattlesnake. 

There's a lot of bird life in the park. On my last morning at the park, a gaggle of five or so birds, robin-like, but a dusty color, hopped into my site. One jumped atop a tire, another onto my car, and then another ambled right into my living room. I chatted hospitably with them until damned if that bird in my living room didn't hop up to my open camp box and proceed to nose about like a neighbor looking through my medicine cabinet. "Hi, you, get out, all of you now"! I called, clapping my hands. The nerve.

Considerable flora and fauna conducting their business in the park. From wikipedia:

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park is home to mammals that are typically found in the upper Chihuahuan Desert. They include Collared Peccary, Ground squirrels, Mule Deer, Black-tailed Jackrabbit and the Desert Cottontail. These are prey to predators like American Black Bears, Cougars, and Bobcats. American Badgers, North American Porcupines, Raccoon, White-nosed Coati and several species of bats and skunks are also found in the desert of the park.^[2] Two species of rattlesnakes are found in the park, Western Diamondback and Black-tail. Several species of lizards, skinks, geckos, turtles, and non-venomous snakes can be found in the park. The Texas horned lizard, which is threatened by loss of habitat, pesticides and development in Texas and Oklahoma, is thriving in the park. The horned lizards are legally protected in the park and throughout New Mexico.^[2] Known amphibians found in the park include salamanders and toads.^[2] The park is also home to birds such as Turkey Vultures, Red-tailed Hawks, Mourning Doves, hummingbirds, warblers and wrens.^[2]

One of my human neighbors likes to feed the neighborhood skunk on the premise that it'll keep the rodent population near the campsite in check. I'm not a big fan of that sort of thing because I think it creates problems for park visitors or the animals themselves down the road. The "road to hell is paved with good intentions" and all that.

But the same neighbor told me of the tarantula who maintains a hidey-hole in site #14. This tarantula greeted two campers on their picnic table the night they arrived.

Speaking of tarantulas, back here I talked about the 5 Secrets of Great Travel Photography. One secret is to take your camera everywhere you go, even if just down to the corner market in Rustavi. Or if you're at the Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, even if you're just walking the 300 steps up the road to the latrine. (Yes, I counted them.) If I had remembered that rule, I would have had a great shot of a tarantula up close.

In a desert environment, water, of course, is a prized commodity. So when I finished with some dish water or had leftover water from making coffee or for my oatmeal (cooled), it made sense to me to toss it where it would so some good, alongside a thirsty plant.

Which got me thinking about which plants would benefit from the water windfalls. Am I attracted to a certain plant, and if so, why? For its size? Beauty? Perception of need?

Reminded me of an article I read awhile back on the human-driven natural selection process of poppies in ... let me see if I can find this article ...  yes, but it was the snow lotus and not poppies. Here.

So: Was my attraction to a particularly attractive little cactus near my campsite a factor in my giving it water that it wouldn't otherwise enjoy, and furthermore, that other, less seductive plants did not receive? Over time, if other people have the same urges, will cactus become ever cuter, as the ones with cute genes get the water?

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park: My Temporary Home

Hello! Thanks for dropping in to my temporary place in the Tularosa Basin!

(And between you and me, I'm happy you've only got the two legs.)

Let me show you around.

So here's a pretty good view of the campsite shelter. Not all the sites have them, but they're a must to keep the sun at bay and also protect me from the rain, although a fellow camper said when the rain hits really hard, there can be veritable creeks running right through the living room.

The tablecloth there? Every day, a hummingbird stops by and re-confirms that, no, these aren't real flowers. I bought this tablecloth in the Yukon more than 15 years ago when my daughter and I took a road trip to Alaska.

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park near Alamogordo, New Mexico. September 2012. Credit: Mzuriana.

Here you can see a view of the Sacramento Mountains behind my site. 

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park near Alamogordo, New Mexico. September 2012. Credit: Mzuriana.

And here's my living room. The table I bought from friend Jackie at her garage sale when she moved to Tennessee. That Playmate cooler figures prominently in my road trip pack list.  The plastic trash bag affixed to my chair - the campsites are bereft of places to attach things like trash bags, clotheslines, and the like, though I did learn of one trick from a fellow camper. More on that later.

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park near Alamogordo, New Mexico. September 2012. Credit: Mzuriana.

This is the view from my dining table: the Tularosa Basin.

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park near Alamogordo, New Mexico. September 2012. Credit: Mzuriana.

Since I've been in the area, I've seen six tarantulas, a rattlesnake, and other ominous-looking critters.

This visitor just barged right in without asking. We agreed that if I left it alone, it'd leave me alone.

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park near Alamogordo, New Mexico. September 2012. Credit: Mzuriana.

On the way back from a ranger talk, I saw this long rattlesnake crossing the road.

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park near Alamogordo, New Mexico. September 2012. Credit: Mzuriana.

When I first arrived at my campsite, I found these four pennies on the picnic table. In case they were somehow maintaining order in the universe, I left them on the table, though I did rearrange them in a fashion more pleasing to my eye. There's a lesson in there somewhere.

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park near Alamogordo, New Mexico. September 2012. Credit: Mzuriana.

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park: I Am a Wuss

From motel to campground

I spent two nights in a motel in Alamogordo, then hied off to Oliver Lee Memorial State Park to camp until I found an apartment. Do the math: $10 per night at the park versus $50 per night at the motel.



Site selection

Site selection. Oh, so many variables that one must weigh: 

• View from site
• Proximity to toilet - not too far and not too close
• Proximity to water and, less important, trash containers
• Shade
• Level ground for tent
• Site prettiness
• Site privacy
• Proximity to neighboring campers

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico

I did a few turns around the campground loops before settling on a site with a magnificent view of the valley below the park's highlands, in addition to the view of the mountains on the opposite side of the valley. My chosen site faces west, for a front row seat to sunset theater.

An important factor in the Oliver Lee campground is that some sites have shelters and some do not. It was essential that I have a shelter site, and that took priority over all else.

Cougars!

Before I set up camp, I went over to the pay station, popped money into the envelope for my campsite, then went into the park visitor center.

First thing I saw: A sign warning that cougars are active in the area and how to (and not to) react if one should come upon a cougar. And to not hike around dawn or dusk. Or run. Because that might attract them.

I tucked that information away for future reference.

Jessica 

Walking into the visitor center, I remembered Jessica Terrell, who worked with the New Mexico State Parks agency after she left Missouri. I considered asking the park employee at the center if he knew her, but didn't. Maybe I will before I leave the park.


Setting up camp

My tent isn't difficult to set up, but it's painstaking, so I got to it. I tried to fit it unerneath the shelter for maximum shade, but it wouldn't quite fit, so I settled for it being next to the shelter in a way that the doorway opened into the shelter.

My campsite, Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico

Blood! Cougar! Chacha!

And then, of all things, while I was in the midst of setting up the tent, my nose began to bleed. Not a little bit, but a lot. Holy shit! What the hell? I think the air has been so dry it just did a number on my nose.

But it was bleeding so profusely, there were actual drops of blood on the gravel in the shelter!

Human blood! In a place where "cougars are active"!

So I took time out to deal with this crazy nosebleed, even going so far as to stuff kleenex up my nostril (TMI?) so I could finish with the tent business. But it soon became sodden with blood. I uttered the F word numerous times and took time out to let the damn thing subside. 

Finally, it did, and I finished setting up the tent.

And, now, what to do about the blood? Right near my tent? In a place where "cougars are active"?! And I'm the only camper who actually has a tent because everyone else has a camper or an RV?  And will they even hear me scream when I'm attacked by a cougar in my tent, while they're watching TV in their impenetrable RVs?

Scuffing gravel over the drops surely wouldn't foil the scent. No, I needed something stronger.

Got it. I pulled out my Georgian chacha and poured some on each drop of blood. This would work, wouldn't it? I let the chacha soak in thoroughly, then dry, and then I scuffed gravel over the drops.  

Front row seat of sunset from my campsite, Oliver Lee Memorial State Parks

The wind! Outside my tent!
  
The moon was so bright and almost full, I didn't need a lantern at my site. Beautiful. I listened to music. 

Came time to go to bed, and I snuggled into my tent with my kindle.

It was very windy outside. The tent shuddered and flapped and whooshed. Under the shelter, various things made small noises as the wind ruffled them. The zippers on my tent door shook loudly. I tried to ignore them, tried to stop imagining large animals huffaluffing and snuffling about outside.

I tried some cognitive reality mumbo jumbo on my head, to no avail. The wind was freaking me out. Really, it all started with the cougar thing. 

I said, "I will not go sleep in my car. I will not go sleep in my car. I will not go sleep in my car."

But then I said, "I'll walk up to the bathroom and then think about sleeping in the car, but I'm not going to sleep in the car."

So I climbed out of the tent, and began walking up to the bathroom, around the bend an up the incline, when "Huff!" I heard, like a deep cough. A couger cough. From the brush. And I heard the movement of the brush. And then something move back into the brush.

I turned around, and walked quickly back to my site ("do not run") and got into my car, and drove up to the bathroom, relieved myself, drove back to my site, retrieved my sleeping bag and pillow from my tent, and slept in my car.

They say that the most intelligent and imaginative people are the most susceptible to phobias. I can take comfort in that.

My campsite view at Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, New Mexico