West Texans

For the several days that we poked around the desert investigating various points of interest, I began to conjure up a picture of the type of person that lives in this isolated, untamed, vast and barren nothingness, and chooses to live here: independent, tough, brave, enjoys wilderness areas, unaffected by temperature extremes, a loner yet friendly and helpful to neighbors, makes do with whatever is available, somewhat eccentric. 
City living with its trappings and shopping is not a high priority. Neither is conformity.

At the quilt shop that I visited, I picked up a free publication called Cenizo Journal. On the cover is a picture of a quilt being raffled next week during Terlingua's Chili Cook-Off, and the quilt was hanging in the shop. 

Paging through the magazine, I was impressed. The quality of the paper was better than one would expect for a free publication. There were quality color photos. And the articles were captivating. It was well written, featuring a wide variety of interesting articles about the area, its residents, and its interests. 

But the article that really caught my eye (and must have read my mind) encapsulates a portrait of a true West Texan... with perhaps just a little exaggeration, Texas style, for some light humor. I liked the article so much that I have taken the liberty to  transcribe it, verbatim, so that I can always have a copy, citing the author and publication of course. It will be a good memory of the time we spent in this corner of West Texas. I wish I could have met Perry Cozzen and taken a photo!
Here it is:

WEST TEXANS
     by Perry Cozzen

West Texas is not just a state of mind, it's also the western half of Texas: different climate, different elevation, different dirt, different skies, different water, different birds, different snakes, different rabbits, different stars, different smells, different winds, and different folks.
I'm a West Texan. I was  born here, and my family's buried here. If you grow up and live in West Texas you can't be afraid of much. It is truly the survival of the fittest, no place to hide. Everybody works and no one will talk to you if you don't. People pay close attention to the weather.
I was always attracted to the sorry bastards. They laughed harder, moved faster and smoother, shot better pool, had faster cars and were the quickest ones to find something going on. If nothing was happening then something got started at the pool hall around the usual themes: racing, gambling, stealing, chasing women, going to another town and always drinking.
It's been like that for years, stories get passed down, improved on and repeated.
Lots of stories about dying: car wrecks, shootings, liver failures, stabbings, strangling, suicides, beatings, drowning, and suspicious accidents. If somebody needed killing, nothing much was said about it, they just needed killing.
More drinking stories than anything else, because that can be done again and again.
Once a barmaid asked my friend if he was a minor and he said, "No ma'am, I'm a farmer." She laughed so hard we drank the rest of the afternoon for nothing.
Everybody that lives here can drink and drive and do. It takes thirty minutes to get to the closest liquor store, so we always buy as much as we can just to keep having some on hand.
Most people work for themselves: farming, ranching, fixing stuff, selling parts to fix stuff, drilling wells for oil or water, processing and selling the crops, feeding, selling and shipping the cattle, gathering oil and selling it. The only people that wear suits are lawyers, preachers or bankers. The crooks are all well known.  As I said earlier, there is no place to hide.
There is a code in West Texas that most people live by, that covers lots of things. You don't pass somebody broke down. You don't lie about some things. You don't cuss loud in public. You try your best to pay your debts. You know there are no rules about love. Try everything at least once. Don't tolerate rude behavior, men or women. Don't get caught cheating. Always help your neighbor. Don't brag too much. Don't talk about whom you're sleeping with too much. Stay pretty clean. Don't mooch. Carry your own lighter. Keep your knife sharp. Don't let your equipment run down. And don't piss against the wind.
You can pick out a West Texan in other parts of Texas. We usually have the best bluff and the best cold stare to use on dogs, boars, bulls, and threatening people. We walk and talk differently, we look different, we will always bet on just about anything, we usually drink the most and in my experience we usually end up with most of the best-looking women or men. We don't ask you how much land you own or how many head of cattle you have. We don't change too much wherever we go.
The white man's history in West Texas is pretty recent; it was mostly settled after the civil war. The Indians had hold of it until then, even after Texas was a state the second time. There are some mountains, some plains, some deserts, most of the Texas rivers start here, and there's quite a bit of stuff that nobody wants, but even that has a few oil wells.
It  borders Old Mexico, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and East Texas. We raise more cattle, grow more cotton, pump more oil, turn out more great football players, suffer the worst weather, get the least rain, drink more liquor, and there are more good women and men living here than any other place its size.
In essence we're just better people all the way around. We're smarter, prettier, tougher, quicker and meaner than most of the state. Like I said, we don't brag too much, but if you can be objective, that's the truth. West Texans can find other West Texans almost anywhere and you can bet they'll join up.
If you weren't born here it is possible to live here and be accepted, but people will always tell folks where you came from every time they introduce you to somebody new.
I am proud to be a West Texan, and I think you'll find most of us are.  You can go anywhere in the world, but you can't escape your roots, especially if you are rooted in West Texas.
(Pg 26, Cenizo, Fourth Quarter 2017, publisher -  Carolyn Brown Zniewski, editor - Danielle Gallo)

ACA Heritage Pre-Rally October 25-30, Lajitas Texas

It was a blast! For 5 days we socialized with our friends, met new Alpine folks, ate, drank and were merry. And we got to tour the area where Big Bend National Park is the main attraction.

the RV Park at Maverick Ranch, with 27 coaches and a club house

Jan and Dean did an amazing job of organizing everything down to the last detail, offering suggestions for local attractions, activities, and restaurants.  Except for the usual morning breakfasts and the evening gatherings, we were free to explore this remote yet interesting area of West Texas with its colorful if not eccentric culture. I think that to live and survive out here, one would have to be either very hardy or plain crazy. Only the strong would survive in an area where the closest grocery store is 80 miles away, and serious medical issues rely on a medevac crew.
Despite being in the middle of nowhere, we were not bored. In fact we could well have spent more days as there is plenty to see, learn and experience.

On our first evening there was a barbecue dinner which we all enjoyed. Jan and Dean also planned one group dinner outing at a lodge in Big Bend National Park. The drive through the park to Chisos Basin Lodge was breathtaking as was the view from the restaurant.

enjoying dinner at the Chisos Lodge Restaurant in Big Bend NP

view from Chisos Basin restaurant towards the "Window" gap in the mountains

Jan giving Helena her top chili prize, with the judges watching

Terlingua, the next town over (a mere 12 miles away) is famous for its annual chili cook-off.  The 51st Terlingua Chili Cook-Off will be held the first Saturday in November, drawing hundreds to the area. On Saturday we held our own ACA potluck "Chili Cook-Off" in theme with this area where chili is a hot item. The manager at the RV Park agreed to judge the various chilis that the Alpine ladies made. Helena and Tina were the winners.

Of course, there is never a rally without some type of repair work going on.  Several coaches, including ours, benefited from the combined expertise, tools, and parts. Michael fixed an intermittently misbehaving jack hydraulic solenoid on our coach; Bill installed new bay door locks on our coach with his special tool; John had his cracked TV dome removed. The list goes on.

replacing o-rings on the faulty solenoid

The golfers enjoyed a golf game on what I heard is an award-winning golf course and the best resort course in Texas. Those who wanted, could go horseback riding into the desert for a more up-close desert experience.
We opted to scout out Big Bend National Park. We were there 15 years ago and also toured the attractions in the area back then. This time we spent two days in the park, which I will post about separately as there is a lot to mention.

One afternoon we had a unique lunch experience, Texas style. The restaurant was basically a trailer with a smoker, known for its smoked barbecued meats.  We ordered at the window and ate outside: a 2-meat order (brisket and turkey), slaw, baked beans, red onion rings, sauce on the side, and two slices of white Wonder Bread! The meat was tender and tasty. The Texas sunshine bright, the desert barren and vast.

desert barbecue Texas style from a roadside stand with the Lisecs

We went to visit the Mayor of Lajitas, who is a goat! Yes, you read correctly. A real goat, not a man with a bad reputation. He is also known for knocking back the beers. It was siesta time when we walked to Clay's mayoral cage to pay homage. He was uninterested in our visit but I did take a few photos through the cage bars.

Here is a link to the story behind electing a goat as mayor:
http://www.nytimes.com/2002/08/05/us/no-one-shot-the-sheriff-but-someone-cut-the-mayor-a-goat-got-it.html

Clay Henry, the Mayor of Lajitas with presumably his companion

We checked out the small cemetery that adjoins the RV Park. We noticed that one of the deceased was 100 years old.
The plaque outside the cemetery provides some background history about the area. Lajitas is the Spanish word for flagstone, which comes from the geologic formation in the area called boquillas. In a nutshell, this was home to Mexican Indians who were chased off by Native American Indians,  then in the 1890's Europeans came to establish mining companies and today it is a tourist destination for folks who want to get away.  Here is a link to a more detailed history:
https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/hnl05

boquillas rock strata

In the middle of this desert, there is a quilt shop! It is located right on the road to Big Bend so we dropped in to take a look. Marguerite, the owner, a local colorful character, was entertaining and interesting. Almost 90 years old, she arrived here 17 years ago and would not want to live anywhere else. Her shop is one big room at the front of her home, filled with locally made quilts, runners, pot holders, and various other craft items. While I was poking around the shop, she was behind her machine busy piecing her next quilt.

Tomorrow we head off. On Wednesday we will all gather in New Braunfels for the ACA Heritage rally where several more Alpines will join us. There are about 500 miles between Lajitas and New Braunfels. Several in the group will drive straight there. Others plan a stop at the Sonoran Caves. We are heading to Fort Stockton for a day, and then Fredericksburg on Tuesday.

The Lajitas Leg - Day 6

Today was the last leg to our final destination in Lajitas, a short 112 miles further.  We all seemed to stir later than usual this morning. With the time change, it was still dark at 7 AM which may be the reason. 
We took our time and eventually pulled away around 10, traveling in convoy, back on Rt 90, east bound. 

It turned out to be the most scenic part of the drive so far. 

We continued along Rt 90 to Alpine (yes, there were at least 11 Alpines driving through the town of Alpine!), where we turned south on Rt 118. 

The topography changed and became more interesting, with its peaks and outcrops of various shapes and heights. The vegetation also changed and the landscape looked green and lush even though we were still in the desert. 

It felt like we were driving along the ridge of a mountain, twisting our way over and through. 

We descended making our way between tall layers of cliffs, surrounded by vast and empty desert.

 It looked desolate and forbidding. 

Going through a dip in the road, we noticed our first water marker along the side. We had driven through a wash and the marker indicated the height of the water rushing through could be from 1 to 5 feet deep. 
That must be a torrent of water to reach a height of up to 5 feet. So when road signs warn you not to cross through water in the road, it's for a reason. 

And so we continued further and further south into the heart of the arid Chihuahuan Desert. I began wondering where on earth we were going...

Each mile we covered seemed more and more remote. I could not picture a resort in the area or why one would even want to build one here. Not to mention why people would want to call this area home.

Maverick Ranch RV Park happens to be in the middle of nowhere but also happens to be a first class place with a first class golf course. 

We arrived soon after midday, all 11 coaches in a row, checked in then got ourselves parked and set up. 

The rest of the coaches continued arriving throughout the afternoon, and by 5PM we gathered in the club house for the start of the rally. With 27 coaches present, we knew we would be having a great time for the next four days, catching up with folks we knew, meeting new folks we had not yet met, and exploring this remote yet picturesque desert. 

The Texas Trek Day 5

Day 5: Las Cruces to Marfa, Texas - 248 miles

We left under sunny skies and continued on I-10 for the next leg of the trip. Less than an hour later, we left New Mexico and entered Texas, the Lone Star State, making our way through the sprawling city of El Paso. 
There was major construction along the interstate and many new overpasses being built. I noticed that the bridge supports had stars on them.  I also noticed that El Paso seems to like fancy overpasses, of which there were many. A lot of thought and design goes into road construction here. 

We continued traveling in a southeasterly direction for another 40 miles, the terrain arid, flat and dusty, with distant mountain ranges flanking us on either side. The highway ran alongside the international border with Mexico to the west.

Then the highway turned due east and crossed the Sierra Blanca Mountains. 

 On the other side, there was more varied vegetation. Yuccas seemed to dominate the landscape.

 We crossed into Central Time Zone, losing one more hour.

We stopped in Van Horn at Pilot Flying J to fill up, then continued south along Rt 90 until we reached Marfa 73 miles later.

our view through the windshield

We continued on to the Marfa Lights viewing area located about 9 miles east of town.

Eleven Alpines gathered here with great hopes of catching a glimpse of the famous Marfa lights that night.  Marfa has become famous for its phenomenon of paranormal lights that appear on occasion along Rt 67. Here is a link to the Wikipedia article: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marfa_lights

Alpines with Marfa Lights viewing area specially constructed for folks to come and watch the show

After it turned dark, we waited and watched. The Schierholtz and Figges who were staying in other RV Parks stopped by to say hello.  We had a perfect viewing spot from inside our Alpine and also walked to the viewing area later, bundled up against the cold wind. Other cars had pulled in and hopeful couples were huddled under blankets on the benches gazing into the dark distance. But there were no lights, other than the headlights of distant cars, and they did not dance or morph into different colors.
We eventually headed back to the warmth of Alpine and to bed. It was pitch dark and quiet, except for the occasional rumble of trains passing by. 

This plaque at the viewing center explains the Marfa Lights mystery, which to us will continue to remain a hidden mystery: