Desert Driving

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.