Road Trip v.2 (Part 12): Carlsbad and Texas, and What's Next

Is it just me or do those cavern walls
form a monster face?

I was a little sad to put Roswell behind me. It was unexpectedly the most cozy and comfortable place I had visited. Nobody could ever have guessed that Roswell of all places would be the homiest stop of all. Those aliens were on to something. Two hours away, Carlsbad Caverns would be the last stop on the trip. I arrived late enough in the morning that I couldn't take any of the guided tours through the caverns, which are slightly more expensive but seemed worth it for a more rigorous spelunking experience. Instead, I did a self-guided tour through the main area with most of the large formations. The Big Room loop was a paved trail through almost 1.25 miles of cave. The path was an easy walk so I was surprised to hear it would be an almost 1.5 hour trip. It took me over 2 hours. A lot of gape-mouthed staring and picture-taking slowed me down considerably. Many formations were still living; active dripping water drops, forming stalactites and stalagmites, were difficult to see in the dim lighting but easy to hear. Several park rangers were wandering about and often offered interesting information on some of the formations, illuminating activity you might have missed with their flashlights. The caves were lit as much as possible with hundreds of lightbulbs. Backup generators help prevent total darkness if there was ever a power outage. I would be curious to go on a more intimate tour someday and ask for the lights to be shut off to "see" what total darkness feels like.

Eventually the pathways, formations, and puddles in the caves started to look like cartoon monsters. At each turn, I started to name creatures . I would look down at each picture I took and see a menacing face I hadn't seen before. That was my signal to get back to surface-level before I lost my mind. 

After adjusting to the blinding light of the sun, I started out on desolate New Mexico and West Texas roads. Southern New Mexico and West Texas were a beautiful mix of rocky hills and flat cactus-filled dessert. My directions had me going down a county road for 16 miles from the Caverns. The road had no lanes and went through faux civilizations that the signs referred to as "villages." To me they seemed more like rusty truck graveyards. I choked on some trail mix at one point and wondered when my body would be found out there, if at all. Driving into West Texas leads you through a few reasonably sized towns, so at least getting stranded without gas wasn't a concern. I just filled up in every town no matter how far I had gone. The road led me parallel to the Mexico border just as the sun set. I couldn't focus on the lovely sunset over the hills because I was too fascinated by the Border Patrol trucks staked out on dirt access roads every few miles. The border is intriguing to me. Yet, I have an irrational Yankee-Midwest (Midwankee?) fear of it. My first thought when I looked at the Atlas: "I sure would like to get north of the border near Comstock before it gets dark, so that I don't accidentally drive into Mexico." It took me at least a few weeks in Del Rio to resolve the fear of unintentionally ending up in Mexico. Yes, my brain recognized how stupid and mildly xenophobic the fear was. Just to be clear, you cannot accidentally drive across an international border. My rational side always realized how impossible that would be unless you take your car off-roading, run through fields, or ford the Rio Grande. All roads lead to checkpoints. The cars with Mexican license plates I see at Wal-Mart didn't accidentally end up in Del Rio and decide to pick up some Sam's Choice cookies while they were here. You have to cross the border on purpose.

I believe those hills yonder belong to Mexico

I suppose it's the natural reaction toward what you don't know or understand. When I first heard about Del Rio, I was excited to embark on an adventure in a random place I would have no reason to visit. I would usually, however, get an unenthusiastic response from others when I would describe it as a place where I can see the lights of Mexico from our apartment patio. "Oh, uhh, have fun with that," people would say, accompanied by a half-serious joke about getting killed. You only run a real risk of death here if you are a deer.

The border: not scary at all on this side. I get that.

In case you didn't know, West Texas is really beautiful and friendly, and Del Rio is very safe. It's actually East Texas that's the stereotypically scary and unattractive part of the state. I blame it on Louisiana. In fact, being in small towns along the Louisiana border is probably exponentially more dangerous than the U.S. side of the Mexico border, at least if you carry some pigment in your skin like me. West Texas is actually an extension of the lovely landscape and friendliness of the Southwest. I really like West Texas. To me, that was the bigger surprise.

Nothing says Merry Christmas like
holiday lowriders in your parade

Christmas parade in surprisingly
cute San Angelo

I was won over on my first night in town when Tad took me to a greasy-spoon diner and the drive-through beer barn called Easy Access. Then again, I'm easily pleased. Since then, we have explored other areas in West Texas. Maybe it's just the excitement I get from the towns' Christmas displays, but I've enjoyed each place we've seen. Towns in this part of the state have a charm that is similar to what I love about small-town Kansas. The only problem is that everything here is so sooo far apart that it can get isolating and difficult to get much accomplished.  I can get restless at times, but I'm glad to have this experience and an opportunity to spend time with Tad after six months of being in far corners of the country.

Now that the epic trip is over, what's next on cheese front you say? That's a damn fine question. I'm only half-sure of that myself.  Stay tuned for more random cheese musings and updates in the next few weeks on my next moves. I planned to spend a month here until New Years, visit family in Omaha, and then try to get back into action. I'm already starting to feel rather useless. There is a possibility for an east coast opportunity at a retail cheese shop in the summer. Until then, I would like to get some retail or additional cheesemaking experience in Texas. Once Tad's year in Del Rio is over, we'll look for a final destination. Depending on where that is and what would work there, I might have to adjust my cheese goals. As I mused in a previous post, I'm starting to recognize the necessity of adjusting to where life goes and relinquishing some control over it. I, for one, certainly did not anticipate it taking me to a border town. But here I am!

Welcome home!