Passing on El Paso, winding thru the Guadalupe Mountains, on the way to Carlsbad

That Thursday afternoon, we continued to drive south, as google maps directed us past El Paso and then farther east in order to get to Carlsbad, where we planned to spend the next two nights.  We had been listening to quite a few audiobooks throughout the trip but every once and awhile, we'd enjoy the relative silence of the yaris, sans narrator.  Sometimes we talked, discussion a myriad of topics, some relevant and some not so.  Every once in awhile, we'd tune into a local station.

If we could find one we liked.

Or find one at all.

Somewhere in that stretch of New Mexico, before we crossed into the corner of Texas and hit El Paso's sprawl and congestion, I attempted to tune in a station.  Any station.  I hit the "seek" button on the yaris's radio and it sped thru the low range of 89 to the upper range of 107 and then looped back to the 80s and zoomed up to 108 and the third time through, I switched the radio off.  I'd never been in a location that did not receive FM radio signals.

I might have gotten a little anxious, but I knew that our car had plenty of gas, that it was early in the afternoon, and that we were on a route that would connect to major highways.  I'm not sure why the idea of being lost in the desert, in a place where radio signals didn't reach, would have caused me to freak.  I'm more likely to lose it surrounded by chaotic crowds who are all loudly cheering the home team on, come to think of it.

When we crossed into Texas, I picked up my first state map since entering Arkansas on the first day.  I also stopped at the large bulletin board and gawked at the map posted under the Plexiglas, marked with a red star and the obligatory "you are here" label.  For Jerry, I traced out our upcoming route, east of El Paso, there is a wide open expanse of very little population.  El Paso is the closest I've ever been to the Mexican border, which prompted a discussion of how we really ought to secure our passports, since mine has expired about twenty years ago and Jerry's expired about a year or two ago.  We've no concrete plans to go international, but we might, and it's a good idea to be prepared.

At one point, Jerry and I turned to each other and cracked up laughing, neither remarked on why, but I would bed that it was due the very tall sign post that held a huge yellow billboard sized business sign that proclaimed "Homes for Less".  At the base of the sign grew the scraggly weeds that also covered the fenced in lot.  In the middle of the lot stood a small guard shack, vacated and alone.  They most have sold out of all the homes for less.

We both decided that we have no urge to return to El Paso, and were glad to leave it behind, following along the highway that would gradually arc north back into New Mexico.  But not before we passed many, many ranches.  Quite a few had enormous elaborate entrances.  Rarely did we pass another vehicle or see any other people.

The afternoon was hot and hazy.  Jerry wondered if the fires in Montana could be the cause.  I turned to gaze at him, "well," I said rather slowly, "being that Montana is here, at the northern edge of the US", I waved above my head at the car's roof, "and we are here, at the bottom, literally within spitting distance of Mexico," I waved with the other hand at waist level, "AND there's an entire mountain range called the "Rockies" in between" I glanced back at him, "I really doubt the smoke from the fires in Montana is causing the haze we're experiencing here in New Mexico and Texas.  But, I could be wrong.  After all, a butterfly's wings can cause a tsunami."

Then in the middle of the wide open space, orange traffic cones redirect traffic {one vehicle, us} into a rather large complex along the road.  Jerry wondered why we needed to stop at the weigh station, and I reminded him about the border patrol that was on the map, back at the Texas Welcome Center.  We pulled up to the large STOP sign, allowed the multitude of cameras to scan our vehicle, and then pulled forward when the border patrol guard wearing a bullet proof vest with "BORDER" stamped across the chest {and back} waved us on.  Jerry turned his attention back to the path in front of him and gave a little wave as he picked up some speed. "STOP STOP STOP," I shouted, turning toward him as the BORDER guard reached for his hip holster while using his other hand in the palm out, fingers splayed "stop" gesture.  Jerry tried to apologize to the guard, explaining that he thought he was motioning us to continue and go on.  The guard, having heard this many times before, nodded his head and asked us if we were both born in the USA and were we the only two in the vehicle.  Jerry can be rather hard of hearing at times so when he turned toward me with a questioning look, I answered very loudly from the passenger's seat.  The guard ducked his head down so that he could peer at me through the driver's window space, "there's no one hiding back there?" motioning toward the suitcases, pillows, and cooler.  "Nope," I said.  Then I thought, 'that's like asking if anyone packed your suitcases without your knowledge'; but wisely I kept that thought to myself.  "Well, alright then, go on through," the guard said, stepping back from the vehicle.

I settled back into my seat and we rolled on.  At some point, I realized that my brain was getting fuzzy and my eyes felt gritty, I'd been staring off into the distance, wondering why there were mountain peaks looming out of the sky, just hanging there, perched on nothing.  I remarked on this to Jerry.  I don't think he heard me.  A few hours later, I realized that the lower body of the mountains were blending into the darkening sky while the peaks were a light yellow, almost white.  They were the Guadalupe Mountain Range, the highest point in all of Texas.  Crossing thru the foothills, the highway winding and curving thru the base of several mountains, crossed us back into New Mexico.

Just a bit further down the road was the sign for Carlsbad Caverns and then half an hour later, we were in the town of Carlsbad.  We followed the directions I'd written out the night before, drove through town, and turned off into a subdivision.  The sun had long since set, but we had no problem finding our airbnb for the night.  The small family greeted us and recommended a place for us to eat, a nice Italian restaurant downtown with outdoor courtyard seating.  That sounded great and we turned to the front door and I said, "oh my god, is that a hairless cat?"

Why, yes, it is.  I'd heard of them, seen pictures of them online, but had never actually seen one in person.  But I was hungry and the hairless cat would have to wait.  The various snacks I'd picked up on the other side of El Paso had long since left my stomach.  All of the snacks were by a company called Marinela, these were products of Mexico, but distributed by a company called Bimbo Bakeries USA, in Horsham, Pennsylvania.  I laughed til I cried.

More on Carlsbad, Carlsbad Caverns, the hairless cat, and the rest of our trip tomorrow.