New Mexico
Mailing a Letter From the New Mexico Desert
Polly’s tied up in the wind to a road sign that says “Pinon Creek Rd,” a road that leads from dust to more wind.
That’s how the letter started.
Traveling from Canada to Mexico with my wagon for the Lost Sea Expedition TV series, I kept in touch with friends largely through letters, occasionally a phone call. Toward the end of my voyage, crossing the parched… Continue reading
Why New Mexico Crows Keep Starting Fires
Hitching-up-time (but not much longer)
Outside Artesia, New Mexico
In coming weeks, mule Polly and I tackle the final miles of the Lost Sea Expedition. Click here to find out how you can get a piece of the voyage before it wraps up….
Fire Source: New Mexico Crow
Maljamar, New Mexico
Also, these final miles have turned up some crows with pyro-suicidal nesting habits. Click here for the flaming feathered story… Also, we have a position report straight from the wagon atlas….
California or Bust: A Mule Cart Crosses Into New Mexico
I’m a license plate watcher.
They’re pretty much the same. A bunch of capital letters and numbers over the name of the state.
YDM 840
North Carolina
That was my old black Volvo.
Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas; what you see is where you are on that shiny bit of tin whizzing away from the mule ears in front of you.
In New Mexico, they have… Continue reading
Don’t Wait for Answers You Don’t Like: Woody and the Snowy Pass
“Bernie we took a vote this morning and decided you shouldn’t leave today,” Tommy said. “There’s too much snow up on the pass. You might not make it through in this cold.” The coffee swirled to a stop in his cup. The Barn Door crew sitting around the table nodded. “Here,” Ed Turpin said, handing me a bread baggy full of pecans, “take these with you. My brother cracked them for you.”
Oh good, at least someone thought I was… Continue reading
The Pecan Picker: How a Mule Rider Found Work in New Mexico
“High Pecan Prices Lead to Thefts” shouted the Albuquerque Journal. Reading on, I learned that the poor pecan harvest in Georgia had driven pecan prices to a dollar and a half and two dollars a pound. No wonder guys were thieving nuts. My mind flashed at the state of my bank account and suddenly I got the urge.
A few of those pounds and I’d be solvent again.
Then Alan hailed me riding down his dirt road with the words… Continue reading
Crossing into Arizona: Woody and Maggie Reach the Grand Canyon State
For weeks now I’ve wandered through New Mexico with Arizona on my mind.
It’s cold out here on the High Lonesome. Most nights my tipi freezes into an ice-cream cone shape. Mornings, when I go to take it down, it won’t fit into its stuff sack. I roll it up like a six pound burrito and just cram it into Maggie’s cart. In the evenings, when I re-pitch it, it unfurls in a shower… Continue reading
How America Finds You: A Cowboy Song in New Mexico
“I grew up a-dreamin’
of bein’ a cowboy,
Lovin’ the cowboy ways…” Billy’s voice rasped softly above his guitar, out across the desert scrub.
“Pursuin’ the life of my high-ridin’ heroes,
I burned up my childhood days…”
Billy had finally found me.
This was a welcome change. For once it wasn’t me looking for the way.
People often ask me in an assertive tone “How’re you finding your way across America?”. They assume a great amount of planning… Continue reading
White Sands Missile Range – Alamagordo, NM
The White Sands Missile Range straddles the White Sands valley for almost forty miles, from Alamogordo to Organ, NM.
I rise at 2:00 AM, stuff my frozen tipi into Maggie’s cart and start out across the range.
The moon is full. As we jog along the waves of sand dunes, the mounds appear like herds of black and white Indian ponies loping at our side. I look behind at Maggie in the moonlight. It looks like Woody’s towing his own… Continue reading
I Woke in Oilfield Dirt: Pump Jack Sunrise in Loco Hills, NM
I woke in oilfield dirt this morning.
All night I’d heard whirring, clanking and coyotes in the black.
When I woke, I found Woody had found a friend.
I took their photo and hit the road.
