BILLY AND APACHE

After eight BILLION pounds of copper, two million ounces of gold and a hundred years of mining the COPPER QUEEN MINE now lies quiet, an open wound on the land but still somehow beautifully grotesque in  Bisbee, AZ.

Huge structures that once were used to separate/wash gold and silver from raw ore.  Not enough money in the city coffers to transform them into public swimming pools.

As I stumbled my way up a rock-strewed hill, across from the open pit mine, beyond the NO TRESPASSING signs that liberally dot the landscape, the one-man sentinel, Billy, approaches and says, "Sorry, you can't come up here."  "OK," I reply, "I'd just like to take a picture of those big cement things."  With an apology in his voice, he tells me, "Sure, but then you'll have to go."  I click a couple of pictures and then turn the camera in his direction. "You mind if I take a picture of you?"  Now were friends and he begins to tell me his story.  "My grandpa is the caretaker of this property for 44 years now and he lets me patrol in his John Deere Gator."  He continues, "My dad is a police Sargent in town, you know him?---and I'm getting a new dog today."  "Oh, what kind of dog," I ask,  forcing excitement in my tone."  "A Blue Healer," he tells me, sucking a little air into his skinny chest and standing as tall as his four foot frame could stretch.  "That's why I'm sitting here at the top of the hill, I'm waiting for the lady to bring him."

I wave off, telling him him he's a real lucky boy to be getting the best kind of dog in the world and thanking him for letting me take the pictures.  "I hope you come back some time and see me and my dog, Apache....when I get him all trained and everything."  "Apache, how'd ya come by that name,"  I ask.  "My grandpa had a Healer named Apache," and a smile stretches across his face as wide as the open pit mine he so proudly guards.

We land in Sierra Vista, AZ. for the evening, pulling the rig next to a serious rock collector.  Jackie, lover of all things rock, becomes the student and teacher Mike couldn't be happier.

Here he shows her his favorite, and most coveted prize, two star agates. Look at those hands.  No gloves for this guy.

PRETTY vs DURABILITY

An in residence goose testing the waters for one of his many-times-a-day bath. 

          Taking time to warm in the sun.

And now the fun part, preening for half an hour.

A solitary Meadowlark watches all the goose bathing activities.                                  

The fence we followed in three days ago, we'll follow out today.  Though this has been more than a thoroughly pleasant stop, the urge to move on down the road is stronger than the want or need to stay.

Pretty and pleasing in a bright, symmetrical, straight-line sort of way, but it's plastic none-the-less.  I'm guessing it'll last about a quarter of the time a good wood and wire fence would last. It is serving it's purpose, calling attention to orderly neatness...durability be damned.

A fencepost in this arid, water-starved country will last a 100 years.  It'll wrinkle and crack but the function remains, "Keep the cows in your back yard."  Pretty be damned.

EDUCATED NOSES

Second day at Rusty's, Rodeo, NV.  This is one of the nicer RV parks around the country.  The folks here have put a lot of energy into bringing it back to life after buying a pretty much run-down mess four years ago. 

In an area that once was no more than dry rocks and dusty scrub brush, a pond is now home to many geese, birds and, I'm sure, a few snakes.  Jackie's new-new lens sure brings the birds up close.

Another of the many birds that stop by the new pond for a drink and bath.  "White-crowned Sparrow"

Yep, we again biked up to the inspection station and stopped by the Border Patrol boys.  Were old hat to them now so we get no more than a bored wave.  This time I pulled over to ask the pooch handler if a picture was permissible and was given an "almost" cheerful reply, "Sure, just don't get too close to old Sneeze, (pronounced Sneeze-ee)  he's unpredictable.  I didn't need to be told that twice.

                                                               Sneeze-ee being given a drug test. 

Nothing dramatic in the sunset department today but the quiet of a desert evening is reward enough.

AND WHAT TO OUR WONDERING EYES SHOULD APPEAR

Just a little North of Apache, NM.  We left camp on Highway 9, going south for a quick late-afternoon ride.  Not long after we begun the spin, three Border Patrol cars pulled off to the side of the road.  "Hmm," We thought, "Illegals being pursued?"  Do we get to see a real "chase?"

As we neared the trio of vehicles, telltale signs began to appear.  This was not at all a chase, it was the birth of a quickie check-point.  We continued on,  past the beehive of activity and pedaled up the road about another three miles.

On the way back, the sun now casting long shadows,  the operation of mobile check-point was in full swing.

As we got closer, I began shooting (camera) not knowing if I would be told to, "quit with the camera, guy."

Click-click, a little further up the road.  Still no flailing of arms or anyone coming to meet us.

How close are these guy going to let us come before they shut down the photo session?

I would have kept clicking, and maybe even asked for individual portraits with the sniffer-pooch, but out of respect and fear, my better judgement prevailed.  When we got to the check-point, no one even bothered to ask us our nationality (The usual question) or even where we were going.  I guess we just didn't fit the profile of cartel drug smugglers, mules or illegals crossing the desert in search of a new life. 

We had a short chat with them, thanked them for keeping us safe and asked if they had apprehended any illegals yet.  They waved us through and said, "Be safe," without answering our probe.

I think a "Pooch and Patrol" portrait shot wouldn't have been out of the question.

Arizona

About 60 miles north of Douglas, Arizona we backed the rig off a dirt road and onto this two-track.  Hope no one decides to use it, other than us. 

Solitude doesn't find you, one must search.  We found ours about 6 miles from Portal, AZ., 60 miles north of Douglas, AZ.  The Border Patrol are extremely active in this area.  Don't know if it a cartel drug route, mules (illegals with a backpack full of drugs) or just regular illegals trying to find a large metro area to blend in and find a job.

Our location, surrounded by mountains,  thorn bushes and rocks.  Still in the high desert, 4,000 ft.  We found this spot by using the Delorme computer maps.  What's shown here is Arizona State Trust Land.  I guess it's OK to camp on but the Internet talks about some type of permit required.  Without anyone ....  no one .... to ask, we just plunked down for the night and hoped we wouldn't get roused-out.

The morning chill produced an icicle coming from the hot water heater.  Nothing serious, just a       loose drain plug.  Morning temps here have been a steady 26 to 29 degrees and warming up to      high 60's by noon.  I know my northern friends laugh at a little frozen drip when their average high is 15 degrees. 

GREEN TREES AND SNOW

Finally off the beaten path and happy as a clam, Jackie dons her rock collecting rucksack and heads for the hills.  We've found a nice BLM Boondocking spot south of Lordsburg, NM., a couple hundred feet above I-10, which is almost visible better than a mile away.

Walking stick, rucksack and rock hammer.

The sun sets behind the Peloncillo Mountains and leaves in it's wake a shifting kaleidoscope of brilliant colors.  A rare gift indeed. Look close and you can just make out the tiny dots of car lights as they inch noiselessly along the interstate.

Earlier in the day, an hour or so after we pulled into our new spot, a young kid and his German Shepherd came by the camper.  It turns out that he's a Border Patrol guy on his day off just out walking his dog.  It still seems strange that he would frequent the very place he patrols but  after all, it is a strange world.

Stephen and his pooch, Kate, are originally from a small town in Massachusetts.  To say this barren, desolate landscape, crisscrossed with desert scrub, rocks and scurring illegals has been a shock to his visual senses, would be an understatement.  He has the appearance of a well mannered young man, alert and really quite talkative.  He gives good insight to the many problems faced by the Border Patrol; Lack of back-up being of most concern to he and his fellow workers.  He tells of the Mexican police and how corrupt and controled by the drug cartels they really are.  "They, the Mexican police, sit in their vehicles by the border fence and let the illegals know (for a price) when the US Border Patrol has passed, so they can jump the fence," Stephen says, with sort of a shrug of his shoulders.  He points to the surrounding hills and mountains while saying, "This country is just way too big to try and patrol with only a dozen guys, we maybe catch one in four that come through here.  Nab one, turn him over to ICE and likely as not we'll see him again next year.  Once I got in a pretty tough spot and needed back-up.  I waited an hour and a half before anyone showed up.  Now, since they doubled the force around here, it's still a forty-five minute wait before help finds you.  The illegals travel by night, usually come by here in groups of six to ten, and when they get close to the Interstate they use a cell phone to call for a pick-up to take them to El Paso, Phoenix or Tucson.  Sometimes we get discouraged knowing more could be done with an increase of guys but I guess it's a political thing that is out of our control.  But, it's my job and I'll admit, we're paid well.....Hell, we should, it's dangerous work out here."

He and Kate continuted down the rock strewn road, Kate sniffing the bush and Stephen lost in thought about....maybe home....green trees and snow.   

LAST HOSTILE ACTION.

New Mexico and American flag on lookout hill at the Pancho Villa State Park Columbus, NM.  This is where Pancho was first spotted on his way to raid Columbus.

Headquarters for Camp Furlong. 

General John J "Blackjack" Pershing chased Pancho Villa down into Mexico in this 1915 Dodge Brothers touring car.  The 10,000 troops sent here by President Woodrow Wilson never did find old Pancho. 

Can you imagine changing oil on a 120 degree day.  Oh well, at least it would have been in the shade.

Our government spared no resources in the 1916 chase.  And the Air Force was born.

"The Jenny" was used for reconnaissance.  A far cry from the "Stealth Bomber" of today.

RECLAIMING

The tracks have long been pulled-up and only the raised RR bed and a few cement bridge supports remain.     The southern-most tracks were pulled many years ago and now nature is slowly taking back it's beauty.

On our bike ride west of Columbus in the late afternoon.  Deep solitude and absolute quiet set the scene for  communing with the Tres Hermanas Mountains.

Elongated Pad of the Cows tongue Cactus.

                                                                        Blind Pear Cactus.

THORNY SITUATION

Another day in Columbus, TX with the Spirit of Pancho Villa.

The Roadrunner, aka Chaparral Cock, is fast enough to snatch a humming bird in mid-flight and has the daring to sustain his diet with rattlesnakes.  Here this male has found a tasty insect and is taking it to his mate with hopes of gaining her "favors."

                                                                     Prickly Pear Cactus.

                                                                   Teddy Bear Chollo Cactus

Wilted brown flowers and remaining yellow fruit of the Fish Hook Barrel Cactus.

                                                                 Fishhooks guarding the fruit.    

                                                                     Purple Prickly Pear

                                                                          Buckhorn Cholla

 

 

CHASING PANCHO VILLA

Pancho Villa kicked-but quite handily in 1916 here in Columbus, NM after his payment for arms was not honored by a local "businessman." General Pershing pursued Pancho but had  little success.

Not much seems to have changed, in almost a 100 years, except the equipment.  Staring out over the border, high in the sky, just outside of Columbus is another piece of the "Billion Dollar Boondoggle," the virtual fence that doesn't function as advertised.  Who won this war?  Would you believe Boeing Corporation? 

Chasing Pancho Villa in a 1916 armored tank proved about as comically and costly ridiculous as our 2011 Virtual Fence.

Our neighbors Bob and Molly here at the Pancho Villa State Park.  Bob's from the Twin Cities of Minnesota where, as he says, "The snow was the only thing that kept rising, it sure wasn't the real estate market.  Prices were off by 40% and with miserable summer sales and no selling in the winter, me and Molly here just decided it'd be better to be poor in a warm place....so here we are."

Retired Professor Jacques from Quebec, Canada.  "I was the president of the professors union, taught classes for 8 months and vacationed the rest of the year.  We were paid well, respected as professionals honest to our trade and a no-nonsense approach to those in the union that did not perform. No fooling around, you violate your union oath and bang, you lose your job.  That is why the union is strong in Canada, both sides of the contract respect and live by the agreement," So says Jacques, retired at 53 with 75% of his working salary. 

Gambel Quail worry not about virtual fences, unions or real estate, they just keep pecking along, happy when they find a bit of food and a drop of water.