West Texas
Turning east in New Mexico, I headed towards West Texas. When I checked the route, I noticed I would pass right by Santa Fe … may as well make a stop. There was an old Catholic Cathedral in the center of town that was a reasonable target. When I pulled up, it was indeed beautiful, with a lovely prayer garden on the side. A little research had indicated that although the materials of the building were adobe-like, the interior was Romanesque. I was anxious to have a look – but every door was locked. Terrible. The main square in town was a block away. I grabbed Rosie and walked over. Again – disappointed. I am sure at one time it was beautifully quaint, but now it was just the usual tourist trap. Rosie and I split a wonderful French pastry and hit the road East.
When you drive into West Texas you are overwhelmed by the flat. The only thing rising are windmills, hundreds of them, often to the horizon. My destination was Palo Duro Canyon, the second largest canyon in the United States. There were two attractions to this place for me. Thanks to the CCC, you can park at the bottom and explore the terrain. When I arrived, however, a large storm had arrived a few days earlier and washed out the trails. No exploration for me. But the second attraction was in full force. At the bottom of the canyon the walls block all the light from above – not much to begin with. You are left with a wonderfully dark sky. I ran into Amarillo to grab a tripod – thank God for Walmart, the savior of campers. On this one I was not disappointed. My Samsung phone has an astrophotography setting and using a 3 minute exposure, I captured this ….
It was hot in the bottom of the canyon during the day, and with nothing much to do, I decided to work my way South to Abeline. As I passed through the small towns that popped up along the route, I had to wonder what had happened. The surrounding miles looked to be productive, with wind and agriculture, but the downtowns were nearly abandoned. They all looked like the downtowns from “The Last Picture Show”, but the theaters no longer had movies, and the kids had left. Even downtown Abeline was desolate at 9:30 on a weekday morning – I had to drive out the highway to find breakfast.
I came to West Texas to visit an old buddy mine, my longtime broker in the Futures markets. He has moved to Texas, part of the dispersion caused by the move to electronic trading. He’s a hunter – and he has hunting rights on 10000 acres near the small town of Aspermont. I met him at Hickman’s, the place to be in Aspermont. The lunch buffet was open, and everyone was in camo. It was hunting season.
You just cannot imagine the vastness of this space without seeing it live. Mesquite, scrub cedar and brush, few over 6 feet tall, covers the dry landscape. In that are deer, elk, mountain lions, coyote, wild pigs and …. rattlesnakes. Lots of rattlesnakes. My buddy shares the rights with about 8 other guys, one of whom reported that he had killed a rattlesnake on the road with a rock. It was in the back of his truck. These guys were either fearless or crazy. I had been promised a cowboy dinner on the fire. Did he deliver ..
I woke up early the next morning. The hunters were all heading to their blinds to see what they could see. I had spotted a small rise the night before, with convenient phone poles to lead me back should I get disoriented, so I decided to drive the van there and set up to watch the sun rise. Rosie stayed in the van — smart dog that she is. The sun was just beginning to glow in the East … it was perfectly quiet. Then one coyote yelped, and instantly, I was completely surrounded by the sound of coyotes. They seemed to be everywhere, close, and invisible. Turn your volume up and listen …..
