Marfa to Roswell

"Of all paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt." - John Muir

I was up at dawn. The lonely crow of a rooster in some far flung distant farmland carried over the desert plain and pulled me from my sleep.

Katherine stirred in bed while the children, exhausted from the previous day's adventure, didn't budge from their little bunks in the back.

I sipped my coffee and enjoyed the cool morning air breezing through the open windows. It was going to be difficult to leave this place. 

After everyone woke up, had their breakfast, and washed dishes it was time to start the pack-up routine. 

At some point, after encouraging the children to wash their hands for approximately the 475th time this trip, we heard little three year old Ian utter a phrase uttered that no one ever wants to hear in an RV.

"There's a BIG problem in the bathroom."

Alarm bells instantly set off in my head, and in Katherine's.

Thankfully, the problem wasn't so big as expected - we had absent-mindedly forgotten to drain the gray tank before everyone took their morning shower, and the old dish-water and bath water had started to come up through the drain into the shower pan.

Disgusting, yes, but a quick tank drain and some heavy chemical cleaning were all that were required to solve that particular problem...whew. 

Breaking camp was easier and faster this time than the last, and faster last time than the time before. We started to get it down to an art, and within an hour the truck was loaded, the trailer was hitched, and everything critical was properly stowed.

Katherine wanted some practice driving the trailer on a straight, flat, non-busy highway - and you'd be hard pressed to find a road in North America straighter, flatter, and emptier than US90 west of Marfa, Texas - so I set her at it. 

She did fine, but you could tell there was an air of frustration there for someone who conventionally has a self-admitted lead-foot and craves the acceleration of a sports-car rather than a truck hauling a loaded down trailer.

By mid morning we were cruising westward across the Chihauhan desert, Aria gazed out he window and watched as the silver sage and juniper trees whipped by. 

Our first stop, right outside Marfa was the fabled "PRADA Marfa" - an art installation mimicking a real PRADA store, positioned precisely in the middle of nothing.

Amusing - though Aria didn't quite get the joke, and wondered why we couldn't go shopping in the shoe store. 

"Why would somebody make a whole shoe store you can't even go into?!" - Aria

 

Winding up the road, we found ourselves at the crux of US90 and I-10 in Truck Stop town of Van Horn, Texas - a place whose economy is, apparently, dominated by the sale of food and fuel to weary travelers along the busy interstate. 

After some adroit maneuvering of the trailer by Katherine, we fueled up, fed the kids and got back on the road headed north on Texas 54, this time with me at the helm.

The Texas state highways aren't quite like Interstate Highways, or even the less stringently engineered white shield "US Highway System".

A meshed network of roads that crisscross our gargantuan state's landmass, they vary significantly in quality. This particular stretch had good pavement, but many rapid changes in elevation, a constant rise and fall with plentiful low-spots demarcated by flood warnings. 

"Do Not Cross When Water is On Road" - today it was almost amusing, there wasn't a drop to be found for fifty miles in any direction.

This stretch of highway was easily the most desolate we'd traveled yet - blue highway warning markers point out that there's a solid 100 mile stretch without a single fueling station.

It was also tremendously dusty, and when we reached our destination we found both the trailer and truck covered in a fine brown silicate dust.

The northern reaches of TX54 touches the New Mexico border, and can also boast a precipitous climb to the top of the Guadalupe Mountains, the highest point in the state of Texas.

Even here, the Titan performed admirably, though the weight and the strain forced us to maintain a bit slower pace as we climbed. It was one of the only points so far that I remarked that it would be nice to have a bit more power from a heavier truck with a diesel engine. 

We reached the peak and were treated to an amazing view. My chief regret on the trip thus far is not stopping to take some photos at the apex, but the family was sleeping and I didn't see fit to disturb them.

The descent from the Texas mountains into the plains of New Mexico was telling, the state border was clearly demarcated by a change in geography and elevation, transitioning from thick brown sandstone to dusty white desert soil. 

A few more pitstops were required to fullfill children's snack and bathroom needs before we reached another desert town steeped in mystery of questionably extraterrestrial origin: Roswell, New Mexico. 

Roswell has charged into the X-files shtick full-bore, and the town is littered with alien statues, souvenirs, and associated paraphernalia. 

Katherine is in her glory  - Aria is less enthused

Even our quiet little campground - the 'Red Barn RV park', nestled against rolling New Mexico farmland, with a backdrop of a colossal dairy farm, sported a "RIP Alien - 1947" mock gravestone, and a wall mural that could just as well have been painted on the side of a 

van. 

Far Out Dude

As far as the campground itself, it was quaint, small, but comfortable and friendly. A quiet little dirt path carved through farmland behind the campground, and offered a perfect opportunity for an evening stroll with the dogs and children.

This spot was a back-in, the first of the trip. I was a bit worried as backing up a 35 foot trailer is not a skill I've perfectly mastered yet, but the owner came out and helped guide us, and we got in reasonably quickly, and reasonably straight, with a few old men gawking and stroking their chins disapprovingly in the background. 

A bit on backing in- I've backed up utility trailers and car trailers before with little fanfare, but a tandem axle travel trailer is a bit different.

First, you can't see behind you particularly well. 

Second, there's a precipitous lag-time between when you start cutting the wheel, and the trailer starts to move in the direction you want it to go. 

It's something altogether different that I'm just going to have to get used to over time. 

During the penultimate pitstop, Katherine realized that she'd dropped her phone and after we'd dropped the trailer she had to backtrack about 60 miles to recover it at a gas station in Artesia. The trip back afforded the opportunity to pull over and capture a stunning New Mexico sunset.

 

That evening, I turned in early - unquestionably exhausted from the mountain drive, but comfortable, well-fed on a charcoal grill fajita dinner, and happy. 

Today's Statistics

Distance Traveled : 270 miles (+84 miles backtrack)

Fueling Stops : 2

Longest Distance Between Fueling: 99.3 miles

Today's Song(s): 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fbt1a7dR9pE (Ryan's Pick)