All Things Sharp and Pointy

On our last trip to this part of the world, one of our favorite places was the Davis Mountains, in the western panhandle of Texas. We found a nice state park up above the old town of Fort Davis, and on both trips found this place welcoming and fascinating. Many things in this region are named after Jefferson Davis. We were in Fort Davis State Park, north of Fort Davis, in the Davis Mountains, in Jeff Davis county, in the state of Davis…no, I mean Texas. Jefferson Davis was the United States Secretary of War in 1854, when he ordered the establishment of Fort Davis to protect the settlers and travelers in this region from the Mescalero Apaches. 6 years later, he was the president of the Confederate States that seceded from the Union. In this neck of the woods, he was more famous, and more honoured, for his role as the leader of the confederacy in the Civil War, than for his previous accomplishments working for the US of A. The decades during the middle of the 19th century must have been an interesting time, as Texas went from being part of Mexico, to being an independent nation, to joining the United States, to seceding and joining the confederacy, to once again being the largest state in the union after the war. The Texans we have met have for the most part been friendly and open, and independent, with a love of their freedoms and rights, and the great outdoors. We noted last trip that of course everyone is friendly, cuz there’s a good chance that the folks you meet are packing a gun somewhere, and in this state you can use deadly force to protect your home and belongings; but seriously, everyone waves at passing cars, and people seem willing to stop and talk, and answer questions and give advice. But most of the time, we’re encountering the folks in small towns, and maybe small town folks everywhere are friendlier. Who knows why, but we’ve grown to appreciate and enjoy most of the Texans, both Gringo and Latino, that we’ve met.

The state park has a long series of sites, stretched along a dry creek bed that runs down a valley between two higher ridges. With a little luck, and searching, you can find a spot, like we did, that’s relatively secluded and quiet. We were at the end of a cul de sac, or since we’re in Texas, a dead end, but farther up our lane we had an encampment of several Mexican-American families, and another with 8 Japanese families. It was great to see these groups of people with lots of young kids out enjoying the great outdoors, but it was also remarkable to see the difference in the two cultures. The Latinos had a mix of vehicles, all pretty showy, from a white Cadillac Escalade, to several large Chevy SUV’s, to a couple of tinted window muscle trucks. They came with an old pop up trailer, and then a long work trailer, with two tons of camping gear piled on the back. They took two sites, but all camped and set up tents in one, and used the other for parking 4 of their 6 vehicles. Soon it became a small fiesta, with party lights, food cooked over the open fire, or a big one burner propane stove, and lots of eating and laughing and noise well into the evening.. In the morning, the chaos was still apparent everywhere, but they all had a great time, they all stuck it out through the below freezing nights, and when they left after the long weekend, they carefully cleaned their site and left it ready for the next folks. The Japanese took four sites, with 2 Honda mini vans, and 2 families in each site. Actually, there were only 7 Honda vans, the 8th was an Acura minivan. Their equipment was all top of the line, and even though everyone was in tents, extension cords ran in all directions to each tent (some with little lights on their tent pegs and zipper ends on their flaps), and to electric lights strategically placed around the sight. At meal time, large rice cookers appeared, and bins of carefully packed foods came out of the vehicles. The ate somewhat communally, but at the end of each meal, everything was packed away, and the camp was returned to a pristine condition. During the days, the families would load up, and the parade of Hondas would proceed to their planned activities, leaving sites that looked like displays for camping equipment in a LL Bean catalogue. But again, they were all very friendly, and happy, and all having a great time. It was so nice to see such varied approaches to family camping, both equally successful.

Because it was Spring Break here in Texas, the park was quite full, with lots of families and kids, and probably more people in the “primitive” (no electricity) camp sites than normal. There was a big bus from a Baptist church with a load of rowdy teenagers way down at the far end, and an old white school bus, emblazoned with “Alaska 2008” on the storage box on the roof, that brought in a large bunch of scouts from a camp somewhere around Houston. There were still the normal contingency of big rigs in the pull through sites with sewage, and a lot of old timers like us filling in the gaps, but we were quite fortunate to have gotten a site at all, because by noon each day the park was full. We also were dumb lucky when we reserved. We had been away from civilization so long, that I had looked at the calendar Donna had packed, and thought we were reserving for Wednesday and Thursday nights. Actually, Donna had packed a 2009 calendar because it had pictures from PEI that showed some of the sights and snow in the Maritimes, and actually we got one of the last spaces on the busy Friday and Saturday nights. Then the cold weather hit, and there were cancellations, so we were able to extend our stay two more nights, and really settled in and enjoyed a spell of stayin’ put.

Dixie and I hit the trails up over the ridges every morning and evening, and discovered again, that even though we were in a rather unique climatic zone, above but completely surrounded by the northern reaches of the Chihuahuan Desert, almost everything possessed some sort of natural defence in the form of pointy bits. Of course, there were the obvious wide assortment of cactus and prickly pears. You expected them the have thorns and needles. But the long tapering leaves of the beautiful Yuccas, Agave and low Sotol plants all ended in vicious barbs. The various shrubs with their cute little yellow flowers, all had thorns, some hidden but sharp, others quite long and omnipresent like on the mesquite. There was the sandpaper Oak, that lived up to it’s name, and of course, the Pines all had their needles. Then you throw in the snakes, rattlers of varied species, and copperheads too, yup they’ll poke holes in you. The badgers with their claws, the bob cats and mountain lions, the occasional bear, the coyotes and wolves; all are mammals with a bite. And then there’s the gorgeously hideous Javelinas, with their straight, razor sharp tusks, that have been known to be quite lethal to unwary dogs (they see them as one of their natural enemies, the coyote, so when the odds are in their favor, it’s goodbye dog). They’d pay visits to the campgrounds every afternoon, wandering through in packs of 5 or 6, looking all out of proportion, and with their own distinctive aroma if you were downwind. The wise put their children and pets inside at these times. It seemed everywhere you looked, there was something ready to make you say ouch, at the very least. But I guess in a climate as harsh as this, where everything animal or vegetable, was potential food for someone; in an arid, non bountiful environment, you’d better have a way to protect yourself, especially if you were planted in the ground. Fortunately, both last trip and this one too, Dixie seemed to be able to quite naturally avoid all these potential hazards, often better than I did. The only thing that she never figured out were the little sand spurs, that grew in a type of grass, and had small seeds about the size of peppercorns, but with really sharp little needles sticking out in all directions. They could hobble Dixie in a flash, as they would get stuck right between her pads. Fortunately, they grew in lower climates, so here, Dixie happily trotted the trails, dodging successfully all the potential hazards.

One trail started at Indian Lodge, a lovely pueblo styled adobe structure,, built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s. Now run by the state park system as a full service hotel, it sat at the far end of the grounds, at the top of the valley. From one of its parking lots, a trail zigzagged up the steep walls of the ravine, and then meandered along the top of the ridge, providing a view in one direction to the higher peaks and the McDonald Observatory, and in the other down onto the campgrounds below. Another day’s hike took us farther down into the valley, and then up to the lookout on the opposite ridge, that provided vistas of the broad high plain below, and the site of Fort Davis, way in the distance. The late afternoon we were there, suddenly we heard, faint in the wind, a bugle call. This was followed by the sounds of military orders being given to troops. It was quite eerie, until I remembered hiking all the way over the ridge to the Fort on our last visit, and listening to the sounds of daily life being broadcast over the loudspeakers, to add to the experience as you wandered the grounds. This afternoon, the wind was just right to carry the notes of the bugle high up into the hills, and it momentarily gave me chills, to think that 150 years ago, the Mescalero Apaches who lived in these mountains would have heard similar sounds as the soldiers prepared to do battle to “civilize” this portion of Texas. A third trail came up to the same lookout, but from a different direction, so Dixie and I got to look down on our little trailer and campsite from three different vantage points. No matter which way we looked, we always were so small, so cute, compared to most of the other rigs. We seemed more akin to the folks in the tents, than those in the 40 foot motor homes. We also seemed more attracted to the other owners of smaller rigs. We met an interesting group of people from Taos. They were members of an amateur Archaeological association I think (Donna did most of the socializing while Dixie and I roamed the hills), on a Texas adventure, visiting various sites with ancient pictographs. They were visiting Hueco Tanks, the Madera Canyon, and Seminole Canyon, to see different examples of this art, or story telling, or recording history, from thousands of years ago. Donna immediately made a connection with one lively gal, Lil, who was in a tiny A-liner; and a couple in a classic, and rare Vixen. This was another company’s venture into the RV world in the 1980s, when they built less than 400 of these beautiful pop top campers, powered by a five cylinder BMW turbo diesel. With a lovely, long window being exposed when the roof is raised, and exceptional gas mileage for the time (over 30 mpg), it’s a shame that this company didn’t make a go of it. The one we saw here in Fort Davis also had a custom paint job that added to its eccentricity, and made it even more wonderful to behold.

Between our times on the slopes, or chats with neighboring campers, we unhooked the trailer and took day trips to different areas. The first day we once again drove the scenic loop around this portion of the Davis Mountains. Our goal was to visit the Nature Conservancy, that was holding a rare open house on their grounds near Madera Canyon. The Davis Mountains, as I mentioned before, are a unique ecosystem totally surrounded by desert. The higher altitudes have created what they call a “Sky Island,” in a desert sea. The forested mountains , with higher rainfall and cooler temperatures than the surrounding desert, support a range of plant and animal communities, including some species found nowhere else on earth. Started in 1997, the Davis Mountain Preserve now protects over 33,000 acres of this special habitat. Through the purchase of land, and the establishment of covenants with private landowners, they are helping to protect both the land itself, and the species that live there. They also are hoping to avoid both the depletion and misuse of the watershed, and to stop further development that will jeopardize the work of the nearby observatory by creating more sources of ambient light in this now very dark night sky. We drove down the lane that led to the large, well equipped building that is the center for this work, and were impressed by the size of what must have been a very expensive structure to build. Donna went in, and was informed that we would have to leave, because we had a dog with us, and it would disrupt the natural balance of the area. We looked at the map of the systems of roads back into the area, for use by horses, or four wheel drive vehicles, and ATV’s, and wondered about the impact of a dog as compared to a jeep full of people. We looked at the million dollar building that is only open to the public who can get there, and who know when that one special day a month is, and scratched our heads a little more. Yes, in these days when so much of the land that was once protected by the governments has been reopened to private and corporate development, it is encouraging and hopeful to see private organizations successfully protecting an ecosystem that, once lost, can never be replaced. But it did seem almost elitist, or somewhat skewed in some of their practices and policies, and we left feeling a bit put off. We did however, continue our drive around the 75 mile loop, and saw more of this wonderful part of the world. In areas, the hills are almost surreal, large smooth slopes, short yellowy tan grasses uniformly covering them, and then interspersed hither and thither, these dark green, sometimes almost bulbous cedar or juniper trees. They looked like pompoms, or green balloons, attached to the rounded hillsides. They looked like an impressionist painting, rather than real trees on a real mountainside. And then there was the Rockpile; a huge jumble of large, rounded rocks, dropped in a pile by the side of the road by some wandering giant, or maybe glacier, centuries ago. Some of the landscape was bleak, and uninteresting compared to the higher mountains we had just descended from, but then these wonderful surprises would appear around a corner, oh my, look at that.

Another day we drove north to Balmorhea, a small town established in 1906 near the San Solomon Springs. In the 1930s, there was another CCC project that created one of the largest man made pools in the US. It is huge, covering over 77,000 square feet, and is deep, clear, and spring fed at a rate of 28 million gallons a day. As huge as the pool is (and there were scuba diving classes being held in one part and you almost didn’t notice them), it would only take four hours to refill with the natural flow of the springs. While Donna stayed with the dawg (who of course wasn’t allowed in the swimming area), I donned my trunks and had a lovely swim in the 73 degree waters. Also a State Park, we toured the flat, open campgrounds and were glad we had a site back at Fort Davis; not only because of the hot, bleakness of the grounds, but also because they too were full for the week. We toured the town, with a population of 527, and saw what we could see…a number of struggling businesses, a number of closed up buildings, another town, even with a State Park and natural attraction, struggling because the interstate was now two miles away, and traffic that once went through town, now bypassed it at 70 miles per hour.

Our final day trip was just down into Fort Davis itself. This town continues to charm us and seems almost thriving. It has a wonderful library, well stocked, quite comfortable with big old leather couches and nooks and crannies to hide and read. There’s a great Pizza place, Murphy’s, that was packed 10 minutes after we sat down and order our Veggie Special, and wasn’t licensed, but encouraged you to bring in your own beer or wine to enjoy with the meal. At the table next to ours, we met a wonderful pair of traveling women from Maine; Linda and Latona. Our peers, they had taken to the road in a converted Chevy van, very simply outfitted, but more than enough to keep them happy. They had just spent a month in a fishing village on the Florida Keys, and were on their way to explore New Mexico. They also have spent some of their times taking long hikes, including the entire Appalachian Trail, and hope to be up in Canada at sometime, to hike the newly created addition that carries on to the Gaspe Peninsula. For us, they were another encouraging example of folks just going out and embracing the world, simply and honestly, not wanting more than they had, and truly appreciating every day’s gifts. We walked and drove the small downtown after dinner, and took photos of the old buildings and new shops. We later waved to L & L, tucked away in the funky RV park off main street, and then stopped into the surprisingly well stocked local grocery, and the interesting homemade fudge store, antique shop, liquor store, Wally Moon Baseball memorabilia shop, just up the road. We took back streets, and saw run down buildings and desperate little houses, were chased by dogs in fenced in yards near trailers and Pecan orchards, saw old churches, old buildings, happy faces, and the highest town in Texas, a mile above sea level. Somehow, the combination of all the small pieces in the area have created an economy that seems self sustaining, and for the second time, we realize that although it is time to move on, at another time, on a different trip, we could happily spend several weeks or longer just enjoying the slow pace, the clean air, and the starry skies, of Fort Davis.