Out the door at 6:30. East to Douglas, and north. From the east side of the Chiricahuas, although I couldn't see the fire, smoke billowed above mountain tops, slid down canyons, and nestled on the valley floor. The area around Portal is burning. My eyes and throat stung.
Lordsburg, Deming. People who know of my absolute love for the mineral waters and the Rio Bravo will know how hard it was to continue east at Deming instead of cutting northeast to T or C. Stella (my RAV) almost did it by herself.
I crossed the Rio Bravo, running wide and slow, and moved through Las Cruces into Texas where the Rio was a little less Bravo and not so Grande. This is irrigation season, and the waters are sucked from the river at an alarming rate. I pulled over at the east end of El Paso for gas, then on another hundred miles and it was most certainly time for lunch. Soup, right from the container, warmed on my dashboard, along with crackers. Stretch, walk, stretch. Then . . . miles and miles of Texas.
The desert began to change, subtly at first. The grasses were different, and soon so were the wildflowers. Then the mountains faded and mesas emerged. Instead of pecan orchards in the valleys, the mesa tops were covered with windmills. About five miles of windmills.
Sierra Blanca. Coffee, stretch, walk. Van Horn. Ft. Stockton. Gas, stretch, walk. I pulled into Caverns of Sonora's campground a little after 7 local time. 650 miles. My eyes and my butt were ready to stop driving. It took the new CD with the Chieftans and Ry Cooder to get me that last 30 miles, and oh, did it work! If you don't know the music, get on down to your closest independent music seller and buy it. It's fabulous though I can't really explain it. A fusion of Latin and Irish: think bagpipes and panpipes, and you'll be close. Just go get it.
As I write this, a fawn stands in the parking lot, giving me suspicious looks. Hummers guzzle nectar, and a peacock strolls the porch of the office. A magical place and worthy of a stop. If you're headed this direction, plan to stay a day or five.
I'd tour the caverns tomorrow, but the first tour isn't until nearly 10, and by then I hope to be sitting in a riverfront cafe in San Antonio, finishing up some huevos rancheros or some other delightful dish.
The news from the Gulf is nothing but awful. To cap the geyser, workers first have to make a clean cut across the pipe. This will allow even more oil into the waters. And then, capping it may still not work. I pray for the best but fear the worst.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Headed Out Before 6!
May 31, 2010 5:30 am
"Top kill" failed. The next attempt will take days, even weeks, to accomplish and may also fail. Or, if all goes really wrong, could even make the gush worse. With this appalling news, I am ready to roll.
I've pulled the back seats from my little Toyota RAV (Stella) and created a nest, a space I'll live in until I reach the New Orleans area. Then, I indulge in a hotel - the 3rd cheapest one I could find, in a quiet residential area.
One side of the back of the RAV is set up as a bed, foam from a cot topped with cushions from an outdoor chair. The rest of the car holds my cooler, a box of food and cooking implements, cameras, suitcase, white sage, and a bag of goodies - books, Sudoku, special snacks. Laptop. Press pass. A bottle of Jamison's.
There's new screening over all operable windows. Gnats and mosquitoes be damned! I'll stop either in Ft. Stockton or Sonora, both with campgrounds. Ft. Stockton isn't quite as far as I'd like to go, costs more, and has wireless. Sonora is farther, has no wireless. But Sonora, Sonora. May have to go there. I'll be missing the Mexican border by evening.
Joined the Facebook group "I vote we plug the Gulf oil leak with BP executives." Seemed like the appropriate thing to do as I head out to visit that once beautiful area. I'm glad I've had the opportunity to see it before it was destroyed.
I think that now I am just wasting time, postponing leaving. A part of me wants so badly to be there, and the other part is so fearful of what I will have to witness, and that part postpones.
Bye, y'all, and I"ll update you next time I find some wireless.
"Top kill" failed. The next attempt will take days, even weeks, to accomplish and may also fail. Or, if all goes really wrong, could even make the gush worse. With this appalling news, I am ready to roll.
I've pulled the back seats from my little Toyota RAV (Stella) and created a nest, a space I'll live in until I reach the New Orleans area. Then, I indulge in a hotel - the 3rd cheapest one I could find, in a quiet residential area.
One side of the back of the RAV is set up as a bed, foam from a cot topped with cushions from an outdoor chair. The rest of the car holds my cooler, a box of food and cooking implements, cameras, suitcase, white sage, and a bag of goodies - books, Sudoku, special snacks. Laptop. Press pass. A bottle of Jamison's.
There's new screening over all operable windows. Gnats and mosquitoes be damned! I'll stop either in Ft. Stockton or Sonora, both with campgrounds. Ft. Stockton isn't quite as far as I'd like to go, costs more, and has wireless. Sonora is farther, has no wireless. But Sonora, Sonora. May have to go there. I'll be missing the Mexican border by evening.
Joined the Facebook group "I vote we plug the Gulf oil leak with BP executives." Seemed like the appropriate thing to do as I head out to visit that once beautiful area. I'm glad I've had the opportunity to see it before it was destroyed.
I think that now I am just wasting time, postponing leaving. A part of me wants so badly to be there, and the other part is so fearful of what I will have to witness, and that part postpones.
Bye, y'all, and I"ll update you next time I find some wireless.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Thursday, May 27`
I sit here several days before my departure to the Gulf Coast wondering what it is that has driven me to take this trip. Initially, I'd planned to drive from Arizona to Kentucky to visit my sister and her family. New Orleans has tugged at me for years, so I finally decided to take the "scenic route" to Kentucky, adding 800 miles, several days, and many dollars to my trip.
Then, April 20. TV news showed an oil well engulfed in flames. Eleven people were killed in the blast. Within days, it became clear that this was far, far more than an explosion and a fire. It was the beginning of what may be the worst environmental disaster ever seen.
My first reaction was that summer 2010 was no time to visit New Orleans. Soon, though, I realized that this was the most important time for me to go. I began contacting various organizations in the area, attempting at first to find volunteer work to do. However, they want people with wildlife training or hazmat training, and rightly so. What, then, could I do?
Write. Take photographs. Document a small slice of this disaster.
But back to my original question: What is it that drives me to do this? The only answer I can come up with is I hate the feeling of helplessness. When the World Trade Center was destroyed, I wanted so badly to do something. I sent money, but it almost seemed trivial. Then, Hurricane Katrina, and that same horrible feeling of helplessness overwhelmed me. I again sent money, but it wasn't enough. I wanted to do something.
In June 2007, driving back from Kentucky, road work forced me to take an alternate route through central Kansas, and I ended up driving through Greensburg just a month after a tornado had destroyed the town. I'd never been in the middle of such devastation. I drove through town, then got out and walked, each step becoming heavier and heavier. I ended up sitting along side of the road, weeping. I could barely breathe.
As I walked back to my car, I decided that I would not be helpless in the face of disaster, that I would find a way to be of actual assistance.
This trip to the Gulf is my first act of "doing something" since I made that decision. What I will end up doing is unclear, but at the very least I will write. I will photograph. I will document. And I will share what I find.
Then, April 20. TV news showed an oil well engulfed in flames. Eleven people were killed in the blast. Within days, it became clear that this was far, far more than an explosion and a fire. It was the beginning of what may be the worst environmental disaster ever seen.
My first reaction was that summer 2010 was no time to visit New Orleans. Soon, though, I realized that this was the most important time for me to go. I began contacting various organizations in the area, attempting at first to find volunteer work to do. However, they want people with wildlife training or hazmat training, and rightly so. What, then, could I do?
Write. Take photographs. Document a small slice of this disaster.
But back to my original question: What is it that drives me to do this? The only answer I can come up with is I hate the feeling of helplessness. When the World Trade Center was destroyed, I wanted so badly to do something. I sent money, but it almost seemed trivial. Then, Hurricane Katrina, and that same horrible feeling of helplessness overwhelmed me. I again sent money, but it wasn't enough. I wanted to do something.
In June 2007, driving back from Kentucky, road work forced me to take an alternate route through central Kansas, and I ended up driving through Greensburg just a month after a tornado had destroyed the town. I'd never been in the middle of such devastation. I drove through town, then got out and walked, each step becoming heavier and heavier. I ended up sitting along side of the road, weeping. I could barely breathe.
As I walked back to my car, I decided that I would not be helpless in the face of disaster, that I would find a way to be of actual assistance.
This trip to the Gulf is my first act of "doing something" since I made that decision. What I will end up doing is unclear, but at the very least I will write. I will photograph. I will document. And I will share what I find.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Test
This is a test to see if this blog works, how it works, etc.
I will be posting on this blog for about three weeks. The first week will be of travel across Texas and my few days along the Gulf Coast learning about the oil disaster.
After that, I'll be heading north through Vardaman, Mississippi, the sweet potato capital of the world. Maybe the universe, for all I know. Then on up to Lousiville for a little family time, then to Pennsylvania for more family and a family wedding.
Back to Louisville for several days, and then I wend my way home, through Lake of the Ozarks and the requisite stop at Truth or Consequences.
I leave Monday the 31st of May, arriving in New Orleans the 2nd of June.
I will be posting on this blog for about three weeks. The first week will be of travel across Texas and my few days along the Gulf Coast learning about the oil disaster.
After that, I'll be heading north through Vardaman, Mississippi, the sweet potato capital of the world. Maybe the universe, for all I know. Then on up to Lousiville for a little family time, then to Pennsylvania for more family and a family wedding.
Back to Louisville for several days, and then I wend my way home, through Lake of the Ozarks and the requisite stop at Truth or Consequences.
I leave Monday the 31st of May, arriving in New Orleans the 2nd of June.
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