Don't Mess with Texas

2 December 2009

On the penultimate leg of this journey now, heading ever east from Arizona to New Jersey. We've acquired a car from David's parents, which is very luxurious and I imagine stylish if one is 60...it's a Toyota Avalon, kept pretty much mint by Jim & Sandy, and certainly as posh as we've been in the last year. If you see Arizona tags on a 2002 Avalon, and a blonde who looks to be contemplating how best to apply a skull to the hood of said car, somewhere on the road between Tucson and Philadelphia, that'll be us.

Left Green Valley and the in-laws behind on Tuesday morning, allowing about three weeks for our cross-country ride. Obviously I'd like to do this for real and spend a good month or so, but even we will eventually run out of time. Also, the German mother patiently waiting in NJ takes Christmas seriously. Very seriously. It's not optional.

Green Valley isn't actually remotely green, but they do grow pecans in massive and geometrically precise orchards. Then through the desert down to Tombstone, of Gunfight at the OK Corral fame. Tombstone seems to exist solely by exploiting this 3-second battle between Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, et al in the 1880s—there are myriad ye olde saloons, ye olde time photo studios, and western wear shops. Also, it appears to function as a magnet for middle-aged men who sport long hair and full-length coats as they vent their inner Marlboro Man. Still, wooden sidewalks sound really cool when you stride along them purposefully, even in new ballet flats.

Bisbee, the next town along, is home to the Queen Mine, an enormous strip copper mine ripped into the earth just outside town. The town itself is all boutiques and boutique hotels and hippie artists selling crystals and is extremely pretty. Thence to Douglas, border town and home to a lovely orange fence to keep the Mexicans out. Clearly this is working slightly less than brilliantly, as evidenced by the hordes of Border Patrol trucks scattered absolutely everywhere down here. They pull you over and ask if you're American, and off you go. You have to wonder just how many illegals they round up this way. Do only the stupid Mexicans cross the border?

There's some immense desert here, lots of driving along roads with no other cars in sight for ages and ages. Similar to Australia. The road in Cochise County offers a monument to the spot where Geronimo surrendered to some white soldiers who braved the Apache stronghold in 1888, thus ending the last 19th century Native American armed rebellion in US history. Said monument is mainly about the courageous white guys--but in a landscape so empty of human impact, still interesting.

New Mexico, Land of Enchantment, is next on the itinerary. We're just cutting across a bit of it, through Hidalgo, Grant, Luna, and Dona Ana counties. Again, prettttttttttttttttttttttyyyyyy empty. Dramatic and beautiful in a stark sort of way. But vacant.

At the border with Texas, we left New Mexico and entered the Lone Star State at El Paso. There's a military base, a university, and a good sized city here, fenced in by the snowy Franklin Mountains. The welcome sign used to read 'Proud Home to President George W Bush,' but they've stuck green tape over that bit now. Take that as you like. Across the Rio Grande (it isn't grand) is Juarez, Mexico. You can cross via bridges (don't drive, your car will be stolen) into this city of 2 million. This mix makes for a culinary city—El Paso is well known for the best Tex-Mex food in the world, and we likes our Tex-Mex.

L&J's Cafe is a little place next to the city cemetery, locally known as 'The Place Near the Cemetery.' Texans do call it like it is. Super friendly service of a sort not known in the rest of the world, and amazing enchiladas with some sort of red chili sauce El Paso is known for. The world over. Universally. If you ever find yourself in the arse-end of Texas, find this place.

Today we stopped at about 70 historical markers. My favourite features a blurb about the San Antonio-San Diego mail pony express, also known as...wait for it...the Jackass Mail. Seriously. I love Texas.

It snowed in El Paso yesterday, and the countryside around it was gorgeous today with the right kind of snow—the kind that's only on the grass and you don't have to walk through it or drive through it or touch it or anything. We motored on the secondary road, route 90, which runs roughly parallel to the border, through crappy little towns with nothing in them except closed bars and 1950s motels. Liz Taylor, Rock Hudson and James Dean filmed Giant in Marfa in 1955; the hotel they stayed in is a 1930s gem. Went to the post office to get stamps—was greeted with 'Howdy,' no irony involved. Awesome.

Through about a million miles of striking and empty country, we stopped at the Pecos River high bridge. This is, believe it or not, the highest road bridge in all of Texas. We were impressed, but that may have been partly because we hadn't actually seen anything else all day. David climbed up on the cliff edge over the Pecos gorge, which of course freaked me out. Boys are dumb.

Pulled into the thriving metropolis of Del Rio (pop. 35,000) this evening, home to a man-made lake, Applebee's, Chili's, several hotels, and our Motel 6. Having gorged ourselves on Mexican to the point that we are approaching even our limits, we opted for Rudy's Bar-B-Q and gas station. So delicious...the plates are waxed-paper, the décor tends toward football-chic, but the brisket is tender and beautiful. Plus Wednesday is $1 beer night. Brilliant. Not so the quinceaneros gowns in the local
mall...shudder.