If you’ve listened to NPR’s Star Date then you know it’s broadcast from the MacDonald Observatory in Texas. Located high in the Davis Mountains the road there is winding, full of switchbacks and up-hill all the way. You haven’t seen stars until you look at the sky on a moonless, cloudless night on an 8000 ft mountain in the middle of nowhere. World Class Astronomical Observatories that attract 1000’s of people get to dictate rules on light pollution to their neighbours. As the sky darkened the stars came out, the Milky Way became visible, and then even the interstellar cloud dust. It’s a mountaintop experience indeed and I was in heaven.
Next day I drove down to Marfa Airport and took to the skies. The place doesn’t look like much and if you blink you’ll miss the sign that points to what looks like just another farm gate. The dirt road that winds through dusty grass to a hangar. Everything is rather informal until Mrs. Burt arrives and takes your money and hands you the release forms. Climbing into the front seat of a glider is a delicate operation. Dual controls surround you, your feet on the rudder controls, your knees close to your chin, and the canopy when it is closed an inch from the top of your head. The tow rope is attached, the tow plane starts off and seconds later the glider is off the ground. At 1500 feet above the ground level the tow hook gets released and suddenly all is silence. Gliding at 40 knots the only sound one hears is the wash of air past the canopy. Below is a square mile of greenhouses growing tomatoes and in the distance the Davis Mountains. Suddenly we have a bird’s eye view of the world. My only regret is the fact that we didn’t fly over the mountains; we simply circled round the airport and then engaged the ground spoilers to force the plane to land. Getting unbuckled, the canopy up, and out again was equally challenging. Yes, I’d love to do it again but $112 for 20 minutes makes it an expensive thrill. See all about it here:
http://www.flygliders.com/marfa.htm
Is that plug enough for you Burt?
On Sunday I rode into town and attended Presbyterian Church. Pastor looked very different in his sober black robes and I got to hear the sermon he’d come in to print in his office the day before. In the afternoon I toured Fort Davis, or at least the tiny bit of it that has been restored. Reading the list of a trooper’s rations made me thankful for my own diet of fresh fruits, vegetables and meats. Touring the Fort involves miles of walking on Dusty compacted gravel amid adobe ruins that face the attack of time—the Fort was closed in 1891. Found a collegial friend in the person of Albert Garcia, one of the forts Parks Guides and the two of us talked shop.
On Martin Luther King Day I decided to attempt to cycle down to the Decert Cactus Research Centre and Botanical Garden. Three miles south of town I had a flat tire. It was a long frustrating walk back. After lunch I drove down and discovered the place 5 miles south of town and back a mile-long rocky gravel road. For $5 you get to spend three days looking at the largest collection of prickly plants you’re likely to ever see. The mile and a half long botanical walk leads past labelled succulents and desert tree, shrub, and flower species most of which were dormant and not flowering. The small greenhouse reminding me of the former Ben Veldhuis in Dundas.
On Inaugeration Day I headed for Alpine after visiting the Fort to pick up a Parks Pass--$80—and talk with Albert. Found the bike shop he recommended in Alpine, got gas next door at $1.79 until it opened and then walked up to Bread and Breakfast for Brunch while my tire was replaced. Recommended by two people it more than lived up to its hype. Grits, by the bye, reminded me of cream of wheat. Reclaimed my bike after finding an ATM to get cash and set off for Grand Bend National Park. The road East to Marathon went straight for 36 boring miles after I’d stopped to get my propane tank topped off. Once I headed south the road became more winding and eventually started gaining altitude. Stopping at the entrance gate visitors centre I got water and some guidebooks. Inside the park the route wound through desert hills that gave way to mountains in the distance. At one point a roadrunner crossed in front of me. I’d never seen one but that look was unmistakable even if there wasn’t a coyote after him. The park headquarters visitors centre has a large book collection and a scale representation of the entire park along with a nature walk I didn’t take.
Just getting to the Chisos Basin is an adventure all its own. The road leads up a series of challenging switchbacks that left me wandering just how the drivers got in with two forty-foot buses. The 15% grades put a strain on the engine and me. Topping the pass one heads down into a basin hemmed in by mountains on all sides. Save for a small break called the Window where water from the springs escapes there are mountains on all sides. Finding a campsite in an area where nothing is level was a challenge. Every site has a bear box for safe storage and a roofed picnic table and elevated grill. Fire is dangerous here and water scare. For once I didn’t bother to close my RV curtains. The mountains, the birds, the deer, watching darkness rise hours after the sun had disappeared behind a peak, and then the stars come out I didn’t want to miss anything.
Next morning I got a chance to see sunrise fall. Daylight came several hours before sun finally reached my RV at 10:00 AM. I minded the climb up to the visitors centre and store. Was it altitude sickness, my being out of shape, or just the thought of climbing 800 feet in half a mile. I arrived for the tail end of a talk on Bear Safety given by an old school Park Ranger who sported impeccably polished boots. His quart-sized canister of bear spray—illegal in Canada—minded me of “Sergeant Pepper” at the Conference in Quebec with his fire extinguisher sized crowd control demonstration in Quebec City. I was satisfied to spend the rest of the day wandering around the campground and filling my eyes with mountains while I took pictures. In the evening I walked up to the amphitheatre for a talk on Raptors. Otherwise I enjoyed sitting in the sun reading my guide to Big Bend Country and the Park Guide.
Thursday morning I drove up to the visitors centre to join a hike featuring a talk on mountain lions. The purpose was to introduce us to the topic, we had no chance of actually seeing a cougar—felis concolour. Panthers are allusive creatures that can cause negative human interaction though usually it occurs because of our mistakes. Travis Smith’s purpose was to teach up safe habits in lion country. Over the course of our two mile hike he pulled pictures, cougar skulls, and a binder out of his backpack. After getting lunch set out for the River Road—Hwy 170 along the Rio Grande. As advertised the route was to say the least winding and hilly. The Rio Grande is betimes wide and shallow, muddy and flat, fast running, and constricted on both sides by towering canyons. For the most part the section of Mexico we view across the river is a landscape of towering mountains—a wild untamed landscape. What is immediately evident is the effect that available moisture has on the landscape. Trees were green as were the shrubs and for the first time I saw a significant number of flowering plants. Presidio, when I reached it, had a dustbowl like appearance. After shopping at Pueblo in Marfa I decided I didn’t like its only RV Park and drove back up to Fort Davis for the evening. Alas, the Marfa Lights will have to wait.
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