PICTURES FROM LAS CRUCES



Las Cruces - Monday morning - The snow came down, the wind blew and winter was all around.





Burns Haselman toys -- after the winter storm. -- Bruce surveys Ken's "busy" work.


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CHRISTMAS PICTURES OF NIECE DEBBI WOODS AND FAMILY


Debbie, her mother and the girls Christmas morning, 2002











Debbie, Emily, Elena and Erin












Landon and Grandfather







ON THE ROAD






On December 2, we took delivery of our new 32 foot Allegro Bus in Ehrenberg, Arizona.

After three nights at Lake Havasu in Arizona we departed for Albuquerque, New Mexico and a visit with friends, Bruce and Gwelda Haselman. Shortly after noon Saturday morning with a blast of our air horn we announced our arrival in the Haselman neighborhood where we received a gracious welcome by our friends. Our arrival prompted a tour of our bus as well as a tour of the Haselmans' 38 foot Newmar with double slide outs. The Newmar is a beautiful coach. I was particularly impressed with the additional room that the extra 6 foot and second slide out provided.. Sigh.

We spent two nights on the road. One in Williams Arizona and a second in Grants New Mexico. En route, we toured Meteor Crater. In Grants we learned that traveling in cold weather has a down side in the form of freezing pipes if one does not employ caution. Ken left one of the cargo doors open and the next morning, the pipes in the coach were frozen. A call to our dealer gave us reassurance that it was unlikely that major damage had occurred but we did learn to respect cold weather. Once the sun warmed the pipes and thawed the ice we were pleased that we had incurred no major damage. An angel sat upon our shoulder.

We enjoyed a delightful weekend with the Haselmans at their lovely home where Bruce has added his special touch and improvements in preparation for his approaching retirement. The amount of time that Bruce has available for personal “chores” is limited but his handiwork was impressive. The backyard and pool can accommodate 100 people with outside cooking and serving facilities ample to fulfill all related food and refreshment requirements.

That evening we were joined by the youngest Haselman, daughter Kimberly and her husband, David, for a fine Southwestern dinner. We were last in Albuquerque in July 2001 to attend Kimberly and David’s wedding.

Our friendship with the Haselmans extends 30+ years. We consider their invitation to a special event as a family summons and they likewise have honored us with their personal attendance at our family events. It was a wonderful weekend with special friends and extended family. To conclude the evening, we viewed a DVD presentation of “The Count of Monte Cristo” in Bruce’s home theatre and thereafter, retired to our room with “curb service”.
Sunday was a repeat of the day before with a litany of conversation, shopping and a tour of Kimberly and David’s home as well as visit with Sean, their son. We visited briefly with Sean and his three daughters the day before but they were on their way ou so we were pleased to have more time to visit with him. We wrapped up the day with dinner and a presentation of ZORRO in the Haselman theatre.

After breakfast on Monday we secured our gear and with a farewell baruuuum followed by the purr of diesel we made our way through the streets of Rio Rancho onto the open road for a trek through the White Mountains and into the Cornville/Camp Verde/Sedona area of Arizona.

The countryside was slightly baren and desolate but for me the miles of wide open space was a welcome change from the crowded freeways and too many people of the big city. As we drove through the sparsely populated “cow towns” and villages of the high country, we discussed whether we would stop for lunch or have lunch in the coach. Driving through Magdalena, New Mexico, Ken spotted a little “café” on the edge of town that looked interesting. He suggested that we stop and I agreed. We pulled into a wide parking area that would accommodate our coach and “dinghy”. After locking the door of the coach, we started across the street in anticipation of a brief interlude and lunch with the “native” culture. We saw for the first time a sign posting the hours as 7A-130P and it was just 130P. Nevertheless, Ken checked the door and confirmed that the restaurant was closed. Our stop was for naught. We did a walk through the local store and returned to the coach. Ken inserted the key into the lock and to our surprise, the door would not unlock. Imagine our frustration, we had a key to all of the comforts of home to no avail. Ken's cell phone, our phone credit cards, road service card and all relevant information that would help us summon help were inside the coach and we stood outside key in hand. Bummer.

Ken walked across the street to a tire repair shop and the kind proprietors, an Indian couple, permitted him to use their telephone.After much effort, Ken was able to get through to Good Sam, our RV road service, and a locksmith from Socorro was dispatched with an estimated arrival within 1½ hours. We had no choice but to sit back, relax and enjoy the fresh mountain air. During the course of our wait, Ken had an opportunity to confer with the Indian couple who had befriended him as well as another shop owner next door.

The Indian couple had lived in Magdalena all of their life. The husband had served for eighteen years as a member of an elite Indian Fire Fighter team that is dispatched to fight forest fires throughout the country. Ken asked if the money was good and the response was, “Very good – or I would not have done it.” Ken asked if they made a good living repairing tires and they both nodded affirmatively. During the afternoon, they had three tire repairs and presumably with their low overhead, and minimal investment, that translated to an adequate living for their area. The wife revealed that she had been out of the area only once, a brief trip to Las Vegas and admitted that she could not wait to get back home. She is not unusual in her preference for her "home turf". There are many people in the rural areas of our country who, by their own choice, never venture beyond a few miles of their home and when they do, cannot get home soon enough. The mystery of strange surroundings and people they do not know is not for them. That view may be enhanced by television's portrayal of the outside world, which often paints a pretty bleak picture of who we are. At a glance city folk might be tempted to conclude that this rural attitude is shortsighted, simple, inexperienced or inferior. Conversely the rural folks tend to assume that their city brethern are shallow, insolent and lacking in core values and thus, "not their kind". . Both views tend to reflect a sense of what is important and illustrates vastly different priorities and interests. The two groups march to a different drummer. Our lifestyle causes us to share a healthy skepticism of each other and, in my lowly opinion, that is what makes our country strong. It illustrates the diversity of our people and the varying visions of what is important .

The shopkeeper at the antique book store also maintains a refuge for lost or abandoned primates.. He told Ken that he would provide oversight and care for them for the rest of their life. We like to think that these good people reflect the America that should be, never mind their educational level. Ken thoroughly enjoyed his afternoon of “working the streets” of Magdalena. We were amused when the locksmith arrived and asked if Ken was the same Ken Burns who produced the Civil War series on Public television. Nevertheless, he said that he was going to watch the Civil War series on public television that night and that he was going to tell his wife that he had repaired the lock on Ken Burns’ RV that day.

As it turned out, a screw in the molding had been placed too close to the lock. The slight incline had created stress on the molding that created preasur on the lock and kept it from moving. The locksmith removed the offending screw, cut it off, reinserted it and assured us that there would be no more problems with that lock. In the process he implored us to spend the night in the next town, Datil, just a few miles from Magdalena in order that we might enjoy the drive through the beautiful White Mountains in the daylight. We had intended to stay in Showlow Arizona that night but the locksmith changed our mind. Ken thanked the locksmith for his time and effort on our behalf and with a goodbye wave, we each went our separate ways.

The sun was alrady setting as we reached Datil. We stopped at a combination general store and restaurant where a fire in the fireplace proved very inviting. We decided to have dinner in the restaurant and after ordering, I did a walk through the country store complete with a meat market that provided the necessities for the nearby area. The lady who waited on us in the restaurant was very friendly and warmly encouraging of conversation. Born in Oregon , she had lived in California for a period of time before moving to New Mexico. She said she had everything in her house but running water. Her younger sister from Minnesota had visited her a few weeks before and asked “how can you live this way?” She replied, “this is no different than the way we were raised. We had no running water, or electricity and we got along just fine.” This response of course, caused Ken and I to recall our own youth with no running water or electricity and to relive briefly the Saturday night baths and the water boiling on top of the stove in preparation for the event. I bragged that our cook stove had a reservoir built in and after supper was served and the dishes were done, water would be withdrawn from the reservoir for the quick sponge baths that preceded our march to bed. It was at this point that I did my survey of the store and it was not until we were settled into our camp site for the night that I learned that our waitress, who had seemed like a rather nice and proper lady, had shared with Ken that “those were what we called our PTA baths”. I said, “what kind of baths?” Ken said with some degree of amusement tinged with slight embarrassment, “PTA baths”. Well, that one caught me a little off guard and I quickly reevaluated my first impression and decided that I had made a mistake. I concluded right then and there that she couldn’t be very nice to make such a comment to a stranger when his wife’s back was turned! So much for that cowtown.

The next morning we made our way into Showlow, Arizona, an area of Arizona where the Mormon faith is well represented. We were amused to learn that Showlow got its name from the two men who had settled the area in the late 1800's. They both had a large ranch and were doing well but theybelieved that their opportunities were limited and that the town could not support them both. Neither, however, would agree to sell his land. It was finally decided that they would have a game of poker and the loser would sell his land to the winner. After playing most of the night, they became tired and neither seemed able to get a clear cut win. Finally, as one of the men dealt the cards he said, “the one who shows low, loses.” The other agreed. The man who lost went to another area and both men became wealthy ranchers and prospered greatly. Corny, but apparently true.

As we drove through the once beautiful white mountains, it was painful to see the devastation created by the fires of last summer. There were two major fires that merged and for miles and miles we drove through once beautiful pine forests that are now brown and bare. What a tragedy. It is amazing that more homes were not lost. Such beautiful country ravaged.
We arrived at Camp Verde shortly after 5 PM, settled in and relaxed. Dinner, a glass of wine and a game of scrabble wrapped up the day.

The next morning we drove over to Don's house, (Ken’s brother) for a quick lunch, a tour of the area complete with a visit to their recently acquired home in Cottonwood and dinner in Camp Verde. We went to a restaurant that we had visited with Ken's two army buddies, Ray Tripp and Jim Keelin, and their wives in 2000. We were reminded of Ray, who passed away in 2001, and how he had kibitzed with the same waitress (and, we believe, owner of the restaurant). Nothing had changed . The food was respectable and the locals friendly.

On Thursday we topped the day off with a spaghetti dinner in the school cafeteria as a prelude to the "Holiday" pageant at the school. Whatever the program may have lacked in entertainment or talent was made up in parental pride. Ken enjoyed the spaghetti dinner and we helped Don and Linda exercise their good citizenship and pride of community.

The next morning we met Don and Linda for a trip to Jerome and a mine site filled with antique trucks, cars, and automotive vehicles of every make and model. It is an awesome collection of tools and vehicles from the period in which the mine was operating at peak. Iin all of our years of visiting Jerome, we had never been to that particular site before. Later we drove up the gravel road for a better view of the Verde Valley below. It was an interesting day and for those who have a thing about old cars, trucks, tractors and other vehicles of all sizes, colors and kinds it is a collection must see.



The "junk yard" is one man's collection of antiques of every conceiveable make and type. A view of the Verde Valley from Jerome.

On Saturday we tied the dinghy to the bus and with Ken and Don in the bus, Linda and I followed behind in their truck enroute to Phoenix. As we were climbing a hill out of the Verde Valley Linda commented that she smelled someone’s brakes. I came alive and kept a watchful eye on the bus ahead of us, fearful that we had committed a lapse in our preliminary do’s and don’ts. When we saw some smoke coming from the tires, my worst fears were realized. Linda passed the bus and we motioned for them to pull off but alas, they did not get the message. As we got to the top of the hill, we pulled off thinking they would surely see us and realize something was wrong, but again we were ignored. Finally we reached a rest stop and motioned them off and they finally got the message.

A test of the tires revealed that they were perilously hot and we waited for the tires and brakes to cool down. Finally when we were able to test the tires and the brakes, everything seemed okay and we were off, saved by Linda’s good nose and a lot of good luck.

Once in Phoenix, Don and Linda went their separate ways while we “cased” out an appropriate RV park for the next two nights. Ken’s nephew and his family visited us in the evening for a first hand view of our travel rig. They invited us to breakfast the following morning and to a soccer game that Mike was playing in the next night.

Mark, another nephew and Mike’s brother,. with his family joined us at the soccer game and, after the game, we all shared an early “family” Christmas dinner at a wonderful restaurant. The next morning we left the RV off and returned to Glendale to prepare for the holiday. All in all our first trek out in our motor home was a success. We had gained some new and learned some valuable lessons. We should have purchased a double slide out; never leave the cargo doors open under any circumstances but absolutely not in cold weather; always release the emergency break in the “dinghy”; always consult a check list to confirm that all pre-departure chores have been performed; never be in a hurry for surely "haste makes waste". There is much to learn, more to assimilate and it's a fact, you can tell the age of the boys by the size of their
toys.

On the road (again?)
After our traditional Christmas eve festivities, Ken and I arose early Christmas morning, loaded the car, kissed the cat, gave Terri a hug and we were off on our second trip in the motor home. On our way out of town, we stopped by Gary and Marci’s house to say Merry Christmas, enjoy a quick breakfast and with a kiss for the dog, a pat on the head for Lauren and Sean and a hug to Gary and Marci we were off in a matter of speaking.

We picked up the bus in Arizona and drove to a roadside stop between Phoenix and Tucson where we slept fitfully but “freely”. The next day we drove to Deming New Mexico where we had reserved space in a RV Park that was some 15 miles outside of town, ten of which were on a well-maintained dirt road. We must learn to read the fine print. Once there, it wasn’t bad but for sure, the only entertainment was the occasional whisper of wind, the sound of a coyote in the distance or the sparkling jewels displayed in the sky above. It was desolate but we were not alone. Surprisingly, there were 75-100 RVs out on what was once a working ranch that has now expanded its interests into a RV Park.

Next day we drove into Las Cruces for our rendezvous with the Haselmans at the Hacienda RV Park, a beautiful five star well maintained park. Once parked, Ken and Bruce attended a seminar on DPs (Diesel Pushers) while Gwelda and I relaxed and caught up. That evening we had dinner at the LaPosta Restaurant in old town Las Cruces. The meal was delightful and New Mexican at its best. We were in Bruce’s old stomping grounds and he was full of stories of his young adventures of a bygone era.We were delighted to be with them to share those memories. After dinner, a DVD viewing and dessert completed the day.

The next morning we were off to White Sands and a personalized tour of early space craft and missiles exhibited there. Bruce shared some “insider” stories about early missile tests on the range and that added to the interest and broadened our educational awareness of the space scene.[white sands]

From White Sands we drove to El Paso and walked across the border into “Tijuana incarnate”, Juarez Mexico. Ken bought two belts, Bruce bought one and Gwelda bought two blankets. I knew I would have to carry back anything that I bought, so I looked after my own interests and bought nothing. (I am not a big spender.) The shopping trip was a “piece of cake” but there was a one-hour delay at the border for return to the States. I do not do “ques” well but alas, once across the border, one has no choice. Finally, we were back in El Paso. After a stop off for dinner, our drive back to Las Cruces brought us
full circle.

Sunday was spent visiting the shops and enjoying old town Las Cruces. Monday morning we awakened to a brief but vigorous snow storm that started our day in a winterized “mode”[snow] but by the time we were ready to leave, Bruce and Gwelda to return to Albuquerque; Ken and I to Carlsbad Caverns, the sun was out, the snow melted and the day bright and cheery. With an exchange of air via horns, we bid each other goodbye with many good memories to sustain us until our next rendezvous. [rvs in las cruces]

We drove through the Guadalupe Mountains and spent the night in Guadalupe National Park. The next morning we drove to McKittrick Canyon, touted as "the most beautiful spot in Texas." McKittrick Canyon was named for Captain Felix McKittrick, a raner who moved to the mouth of the cany9on in 1869. In 1921, a young geologist named Wallace E. Pratt visited McKittrick Canyon and, captivated by its beauty and geology, began buying land in the canyon. In 1931 - 32, he had a cabin built at the confluence of North and South McKittrick. The magnificent structure, built only of stone and wood, was furnished with rough plank reclining chairs, four beds, an assortment of hammocks, and a special table to seat twelve. The cabin served as his part time home and summer retreat. It was an interesting (and tiring) trek into the “wilds”. [cabin?]

In 1957, Wallace Pratt donated 5,632 acres of his beloved property to the U.S. Government for the beginnings of a national park. His gift along with a 70,000 acre purchase from J.C. Hunter Jr.'s Guadalupe Mountain Ranch ensured that Guadalupe Mountains National Park was authorized by congress in 1966, and officially opened to the public in 1972. Wallace Pratt died on Christmas Day, 1981; he was 96 years old. As per his request, his ashes were spread over the canyon he loved. The Stone Cabin remains as a monument to this pioneer conservationist.

After our exercise, we drove (silently, we were too tired for conversation) to White City where we spent the night (New Year’s Eve). The next morning we drove to the Caverns for a tour of that magnificent world beneath the earth. Ken visited Carlsbad Caverns with his family in 1939, but it was a first for me.I was not overly enthusiastic about descending 850 foot below the surface but in Ken's company, it is his way or the highway and there was no highway. It was an awesome experience and “mind boggling” to imagine what it must have been like for the early explorers of those caverns as they ventured into those caverns surrounded by that vast mound of darkness. [inside the caverns]






Our tour of the Caverns occupied a major portion of the day but once back at the RV Park we decided to be on our way. Been there – done that! Ken had planned on visiting Big Bend Texas and it was time to be on our way. New Year’s night was spent in the Walmart Parking lot in Ft Stockton, the accommodations of which were slightly improved over Christmas night at the rest stop. Do we know how to celebrate a holiday or not? The next morning we drove out to the Fort but it was too early for a visit so we opted to be on our way. We did not discover that we had taken the wrong road until we reached Sanderson and Ken consulted the map and said, we have gone 50 miles out of our way!

Years ago (in our youth) we would drive across country to visit my family in Indiana. We often drove all night and our audio companion was the clear channel radio broadcasts from a station in Del Rio Texas. We were about 100 miles from Del Rio and, at my suggestion we decided to include it in our adventure. To “coin” a phrase from our friend, Bruce Haselman, “we didn’t leave anything there” and I can see no reason to go back. However, when you are retired, carry your own bed and have more time than money, such adventures are worth a one night shot, if for no other reason than to give thanks that it isn’t home.

The next morning we departed for Big Bend, arriving there at 4PM. The road was good, not crowded and straight. Ken thought it was a good time for me to try driving the “bus” so I tacitly agreed. I didn’t like it but I must try and try again, until I have some level of comfort for the sake of our own safety. Big Bend is on the Rio Grand, a beautiful park with full amenities. The weather was chilly at night but a lovely 75-80 during the day. Ken fell in love with it and wants to visit again, soon. We spent two nights in Big Bend, explored the hot Springs, hiked up to the mouth of the Rio Grand where the big bend occurs and thoroughly enjoyed our two night stay! [Big Bend photos]









On Sunday we departed Big Bend and returned to the Hacienda in Las Cruces fone night before traveling to Saint David, Arizona. En route to Saaint David we ran into heavy wind that resulted in a delay of several hours. The wind was sobering and visibility limited because of the dust. What should have been a short 3-hour drive turned into twice that. Through it all, we were very happy with how the RV handled. In the Safari, heavy winds were alarming and the RV hard to handle. The bus performed beautifully and that feeling of safety reinforced the wisdom of our choice.
From Saint David we visited Tombstone and walked where the Earp’s, Doc Holiday and their comrades (good and bad) walked and of course, watched a “corny” replay of the “Shootout at the OK Corral. [image] From Tombstone we drove to Bisbee, for a first hand view of the big open pit that epitomizes Bisbee's life blood from the time ore was discovered in 1877 until the Phelps Dodge Corporation closed the Lavender Pit Mine in 1974. During that period of almost 100 years, "from a tract of ore bearing land, two by three miles in extent on the surface, by 4,000 feet deep (roughtly 4.6 cubic miles), a staggering amount of metal was produced: nearly eight billion pounds of copper, 355 million pounds of zinc, 324 million pounds of lead, 100 million ounces of silver, slightly less than eight million ounces of gold and almost eleven million pounds of manganese." A visit to the museum proved enlightening and although I don’t do museums with great enthusiasm, it was an interesting step back into history. [picture]

The next day we drove to Douglas, Arizona where thankfully, we again had the foresight not to leave anything.
On Thursday, we drove into Phoenix and on Friday climbed into the dinghy sans bus and returned home. We are awaiting our next trek out and about and you can bet that we will update you with my wordy updates about our meanderings.
Thanks for reading.

(1) Italicized print quotes extensively from the McKittrick Canyon and Pratt material contained in the Guadalupe National Park web site.

(2) Italizcized material is quoted from "Bisbee Queen of the Copper Camps" by Lynn R. Bailey.