May Exist in New Mexico

California, through Arizona, and into New Mexico

I leave Borrego Springs with directions from Marge for a scenic route over Box Canyon Road to Route 10, but I get confused. Now looking at the map, I think I was at the right turnoff, I either didn’t go far enough down a dirt road or didn’t realize the road was actually a road and not just a driveway.

But it’s just as well; I am eager to get through Arizona as quickly as possible, and get some distance under my tires…maybe just to prove I can. I have it in mind to get a hotel room on this night, and quit battling the wind.

It’s funny how things start looking familiar, having only been on Route 10 once before, in the other direction.

When I do pull over to try to book a room, I don’t like the options I see. So I pull up the iOverlander app, and start looking for a campsite. Skyline Regional Park, just outside Phoenix, seemed like a reasonable bet. I called and learned that I needed to go in person to see if anything was still available, so I hustled along and managed to get the last site (after another call to verify that it would be okay for me to take an accessible site).

APRIL 22, 2022 - BUCKEYE, ARIZONA

Nearest Fitzlabs City: Avondale, AZ. “For high emissions, Avondale's climate in 2080 will feel most like today's climate near Buckeye, Arizona. The typical winter in Buckeye, Arizona is 2.2°F (1.2°C) warmer and 35.1% drier than winter in Avondale.”

So right off, we are seeing some weird stuff with the Fitzlabs model. First of all, I did not intend to travel from one place (Borrego Springs) to it’s closest predicted conditions city (Buckeye, AZ), but that’s just what I did. Also, I don’t know why Avondale merits its own model, as I’ve never even heard of it. But when it gives me Buckeye, AZ, again, I don’t know what to think. For what it’s worth, the Phoenix prediction is to be most like Esperanza, Mexico: 0.7°F (0.4°C) cooler and 165% wetter. Overall, these predictions for desert regions don’t seem as dramatic as other cities. 

Whatever the case, I again can’t believe my luck at finding this place to stay. Amid the campsites stand many stately Saguaro Cactus and smaller cactus species. As the sun sets over the picturesque park, I find that I’m completely unable to pound in a stake anywhere that it’s level enough to lay the tent’s groundsheet. So I put the hatch tent on the car, hoping that the wind won’t be as bad as Wind Wolves and Anza-Borrego. It wasn’t…we have a peaceful night among the Saguaro, and the wind lessened as the night went along. Somehow silence is even more silent when the Saguaros stand watch under the stars.

The silence doesn’t last long; hikers begin arriving before sunrise. I don’t mind too much; I’m eager to get going. I’d planned to do some work before leaving, but there’s no Verizon signal, and in my rush to get to the campground, I’d forgotten to refresh the ice in the cooler. So after a wet-wipe bath in the car, coffee and breakfast, I break camp pretty quickly. But before we leave, we need a selfie, right.?

With the Saguaro in Buckeye, AZ.

Liesl is so good; she’s getting better at not barking at every single passerby. The desert is hard on her, though. There is always something sticking into her tiny feet, bugs (that I can’t see) bother her, dust in her eyes, and I see her scratching at itches for almost the first time. Nothing seems to be genuinely wrong. It just seems like she’s much more of a lap dog than hit-the-trail dog. She operates at a lower elevation than the rest of us and hazards are numerous. She is willing and faithful, though.

I’m glad we stopped just short of Phoenix that night; there are a couple of complete highway closures on Route 10 in that area, and even on a Saturday morning they are annoying. Finally we are out of it and the traffic subsides, and we’re on the big sky sort of interstate again.

Liesl seems unhappy riding, and I piece together that it’s probably the sun that’s bothering her. I beg her patience and promise to do something about it as soon as I can, and try to rearrange the windshield sunshade and a cloth to block as much as I can, and drive on, guilt-ridden by my sad-eyed dog.

Hush little baby, don't you cry
When we get to Tucson you'll see why
We left the snowstorms and the thunder and rain
For the desert sun, we're gonna be born again

-Chrissie Hynde and The Pretenders, going in the other direction; Thumbelina

And when we do get to Tucson, we take another break, for gas and a visit to the O’Reilly auto parts store. There, Liesl gets more treats from friendly strangers (her emotional support animal doesn’t feed her) that perk her up a bit, and I get a reflective bubble-wrap windshield shade that I can cut up. With it, I extend the sides of the rat-weiner’s passenger-side palanquin, and we get serviceable shading. She settles into a deep nap for the rest of the afternoon.

We cross the state line into New Mexico, festooned with signs warning of possible dust storms. “Dust Storms May Exist”. Further along, “Gusty Winds May Exist”. I wonder at this existential phrasing. Is it the result of a single sign writer? A team? Were there meetings? Debates over “may exist” vs. “are possible” or other variations?

There are winds, but no real dust storms today. New Mexico feels great. It’s beautiful. Yellow blossoming trees, lacy greens, dry golden grasses, pink mountains, and wide-open skies. Occasional red-tailed hawks appear in those skies, and what must have been a Swainson’s Hawk, with its dark primary feathers and lighter body.

APRIL 23, 2022 - TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES, NEW MEXICO

Nearest Fitzlabs City: Las Cruces, NM. “Las Cruces's climate in 2080 will feel most like today's climate near Casa Grande, Arizona. The typical summer in Casa Grande, Arizona is 12°F (6.6°C) warmer and 35.5% drier than summer in Las Cruces.”

I get a hotel room in Truth or Consequences, a place on my list. It’s an uneventful hotel re-group and work stop for the night.

Truth or Consequences is in fact named after the radio show that became the TV show. It used to be known as Hot Springs, NM. Alas, most hot springs frown upon attending rat-weiners, so I put the idea of visiting one out of my mind.

Here, Liesl is plagued by caltrops—puncture vine—with tiny fruits that can puncture a bicycle tire. She soldiers on bravely, probably wondering why I am putting her through this horrible trip. (Though, anywhere, as soon as I make a move to go to the car, she still starts twirling and dancing and insisting to climb into her new improved palaquin.) 

There’s not much happening in small towns in New Mexico on Sundays…sometimes on any day of the week. The small grocery store is open, though, and I stock up there before heading to Magdelena, where there are no grocery stores at all. The checker insists on unloading my cart for me; my groceries are placed into bags by the bagger who then pushes my cart out to my car and hands me the two bags and two gallons of water. Liesl growls at him but he thinks she’s cute anyhow, once her head pops over the top of her improved sunshade.

We head for Magdalena, up route 25 along the Rio Grande river valley. My eyes are happy. We turn right at Socorro and begin a long climb up a gently sloping plateau. It’s not surprising that a writer who’s love for Mongolia shines in his work would like this landscape as well.

“North of there, the first ramparts of the Gila Country, the ten-thousand-foot-plus castellations of the Black Range, began to rise up on our left, miles and miles away across creosote-bush flats. They were alpine and toothy and looked as though they had glaciers on top—real mountains. Across the river on our right, so far away we had no idea of the scale, were more and different ridges, rosy dinosaurian backbones, low, desert, barren. When we saw an eagle turn over the empty road we stopped in a kind of ecstasy and got out to stand on the roadside to breathe and turn in circles and wave our arms. What was this place?”
- Stephen Bodio, Querencia

APRIL 24, 2021 - MAGDELENA, NM

Nearest Fitzlabs City: I think altitude comes into play too much here to make a really good comparison. Distance-wise, it’s Albuquerque or Los Lunas, but Magdelena is about 3000 feet higher: “Los Lunas's climate in 2080 will feel most like today's climate near Juárez, Mexico. The typical winter in Juárez, Mexico is 10.4°F (5.8°C) warmer and 28% drier than winter in Los Lunas.”

I’ve wanted to visit Magdalena ever since reading about the area in Bodio’s Querencia. The descriptions of the landscape and of the people who lived close with animals—hunting dogs, falcons, and rattlesnakes—captivated me. I had a feeling I would love it, though the harsh climate and altitude would likely be too much for this flatlander.

I reserved an AirBnB house for two nights here; I didn’t want to fight the wind in the high desert. This area isn’t affected by fires at the moment, except for some haze. But I needed another good work stop to get ahead a bit, and there seemed no reason to force myself to rough it…there will plenty more opportunities for that.

Before checking in, I decided to drive past Magdelena and visit the Very Large Array (VLA), a radio telescope observatory that was iconic to me in the 80’s when I thought I was a budding astronomer. The drive out was beautiful, long straight empty highway through a green, gold, and blue high desert of low evergreen trees (juniper, I think) and scrub.

The VLA is nicely populated with cows and pronghorn antelope. I let Liesl out for a romp and some photos.

A small part of Very Large Array. It is indeed very large.

Then, back to town and a stop at the only gallery that was open. There really isn’t much to Magdalena; it is somewhat known as haven for writers and artists who like it that way. My rapture over the landscape spills forth into a fit of consumerism and the purchase of a tile retablo by Grace Maria Garcia Dobson.

Off to find the AirBnB, up a long road and past a sign that we are entering the Cibola National Forest's Magdalena Ranger District. I find the house quite easily, the door code works, and Liesl and I walk into a shabby little house that fills us both with renewed joy. It’s perfect. If you saw it on a realty site, you’d see a thousand bad things about it, but it’s perfect for us today. Simple, shabby, blissfully quiet during the day. A nice propane fireplace. Fenced yard of the rock-and-dirt-and scrub variety that is typical here. Utterly peaceful and completely private.

I noticed the altitude with some light-headedness and headache; drank more water, tricked Liesl into drinking more herself, and added some electrolytes to mine. Was relieved that that’s all it took. The elevation at the house is just over 7000 feet.

Dogs barked in the night. I listened to them, trying to understand their communication; they were clearly signaling to each other. I go back to sleep, and wake in the morning from a disturbing dream, and sob with relief that it was only a dream. More opportunity for some good inner work.

Liesl paid the night dogs no mind—she was tired after running around, through two big rooms with rugs for lots of traction. She seemed to understand we were taking a break from the car, and was happy for it.

She was also happy to go out with me for a bit this afternoon. We visited a different shop, today the only one open, of antiques and a fellow who seemed happy to have someone to chat with. I drove down washboard roads to visit the one nearby eBird hotspot, the Magdalena Waste Treatment Ponds, where Liesl and I walk and admire the White-Faced Ibis—pretty much all that was there of interest in the high afternoon sun. There are plenty of interesting birds around, though I am not birding aggressively. Mostly I get my work done and then do whatever I feel like. And, of course, drive…there will be more of that tomorrow.

It’s been a good couple of days. Tomorrow we are on the road again—Santa Fe and Taos.