Cocoposts

Is it really camping if you haven’t forgotten something important or yelled obscenities at a tent pole?

The big loop around southeast New Mexico took three days. The first night was at Valley of Fires and the second, Dog Canyon, or Oliver Lee. On my final night I stayed in Truth or Consequences for a mineral bath.

I’ve taken up camping again and I’ve learned or relearned a couple of things. I have a tent, of course, (several) and a cute little wood stove, and padding, but still, it’s sleeping on the ground in winter. To close a trip at hot springs is more necessity than luxury.

Another thing is that camping takes practice. To do it right – to cook fresh food outdoors – requires a mobile Brigade de Cuisine. Organizing menus, food, and equipment into some manner and combination of bins, boxes, grills, fuel and coolers. Then loading and unloading all this. And doing it all in the dark.

There’s also putting up the tent (don’t get me started) and arranging sleeping stuff. Or more accurately, arranging an area where you can get horizontal and hope to, but probably not, sleep. Practice, I repeat to myself as I roll over again and again.

From Albuquerque’s fair “Far North Valley” I headed deosil, or clockwise up and around the east edge of town on Tramway Boulevard. Subdivisions now extend to the edge of Sandia Pueblo and Forest Service lands. This was Bighorn Sheep habitat in my lifetime. My father bow hunted deer in “High Desert.” Part of me suggests I not dwell on the past. I need this reminder a lot, this trip especially.

Tramway eventually hits Tijeras Canyon, the tangle of I-40 ramps, Central Avenue, and the old Route 66 eastward through the canyon. I took this slow route eastward all the way to Moriarity. Indeed, the traffic does generally slow the further you get from the city’s commuter-shed. There are glaring exceptions, of course.

Old Route 66 is appreciated by “Mother Road” enthusiasts but this isn’t reflected in the general appearance of many properties along this section east of Albuquerque. The predominant land use is whatever you want. Most noticeable and glaring is outdoor storage. Even where there are zoning restrictions, which probably isn’t out here by the look of it, this category is open season, anything goes, or just sits and sits and sits.

Another visually impactive practice is bulldozing native vegetation. It doesn’t look like there’s any hydrologic purpose. On the contrary, they’re just scraping the soil of anything holding it down. Oh, and billboards. LOTS of bulldozers and billboards. Nothing seems to impede them.

Turned southward at Moriarity after a breakfast burrito at Blakes. Headed through Estancia as the day warmed up. Briefly visited the Gran Quivera ruins, the southernmost unit of the Salina’s Pueblo Mission Monument. Remote doesn’t adequately describe this place. It was once a busy stop on the “salt trail,” for burdened people and animals carrying loads of salt from the lakes east of Estancia. Today I am alone and the visitor center is closed and locked. They’ve built a wheelchair ramp up directly to the remains of the church that is – noticeable. It was windy. I drove on.

“The Plains! Boss, the Plains!”

Highway 55 south. I picture buffalo and see a herd of antelope. The road moves down and across the plain. It turns left and right 90 degrees at smoothed out curves. It follows edges of an arbitrary 19th century grid that blankets land inhabited for millennia. It was probably surveyed in a week.

Claunch, New Mexico still has a post office. This was a pinto bean hot spot in the twenties. Both Gran Quivera and Claunch were on a NMSU road trip I took with 8 geography classmates and Professor Richard Helbock around 1978. The trip continued on into Arizona exploring old and new built places; Globe, Suncity, Arcosanti. We kept a journal. I lost mine. Undoubtedly I wrote about the visual evidence of hubris. I probably mentioned how short-term profit motives can have long term impacts that devalue places for centuries.

Sitting in my tent waiting for the full moon to rise as the temperature drops. The black rock looms over my tent site in the Valley of Fires campground. The lava is so young it looks like it could begin flowing again tonight. Birds sing in the dark on the edge of the campfire. Otherwise it’s quiet until a freight train roars through Carrizozo.

It is February 1, 2026, 130 years to the day since Albert Fountain and his son were murdered. Disappeared. Never found. Tomorrow I go the the State Park named for the man who was brought to trial for his murder but acquitted.

Carrizozo sits at the intersection of two US highways and the railroad. And at the northern end of a closed geologic basin. The town was originally called Carrizo – after a type of grass that was prolific in the basin before cows. It is also the name of a Spring and Mountain. There wasn’t much there until the railroad came through in 1899. Even then, the town wasn’t platted until 1907. It’s known for things near there, like the lava flow, the Trinity site, White Sands, military stuff galore, and ranches of some notorious people – like Albert Bacon Fall of Teapot Dome fame involving oil lease bribery – a scandal that looks comparatively minor today.

Second night: Dog Canyon – I like the sound of it and it’s another nice, well managed campground. But, as usual, I wonder what those who came before called it. They sure as hell didn’t call it Oliver Lee.

Both campgrounds were very well maintained. Sites are reserved easily online and campground hosts and staff are friendly. Everything is clean and someone even rakes the gravel tent pads like a zen master. This surface is now about the first thing I notice. I arrive at the mouth of dramatic Dog Canyon, at the foot of the Sacramento Mountains, overlooking miles and miles of Chihuahuan desert, at close to sunset. But it’s all I can do not to stare at the sharp little boulders because, as I have noted, I’ll have to sleep on them.

I walked up the canyon a little bit and went in the museum. I was told that there are plenty of Oliver Lee’s descendants still around here which could explain the glowing description of the man as a cattle rancher and business booster. At worst he’s described as “controversial” and as a “gunfighter.” The story of the disappearance of Albert Fountain and his son is available in lots of places. But not here at this park. Like Cricket Coogler’s murder about 50 years later, it remains unsolved. There was no justice served for these murders but Oliver Lee is remembered with a nice state park.

Two nights camping is perfect. Everything can be organized before leaving and after the first night. After the second night, the charm and necessity of washing dishes in a bucket wears off. I can’t get the tent folded properly, there’s soot on everything, and it all smells like smoke. I dispense with careful packing and throw all of it in the car. Things don’t fit right. What started out covered, strapped and secure, is now a ungainly pile of crap rolling around on turns and stops. It’s a “Grapes of Wrath” load rattling up the freeway. I’m grateful for tinted windows. But you can’t hide from stuff that falls out when you open your door at the gas station.

Last stop: Blackstone Hotsprings Lodging and Baths. Star Trek room with a soaking tub! Delightful closure!