gradual companion piece

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  Dang Dude! Day Two:

  I wake up at sunrise in my tent. Hot, sweaty, still on my eastern schedule. Last night I had too many beers and jalapenos. My stomach burns and head aches, but it’s down to business. 

  First order is to load some film for the 4x5. The polaroid is busted, so its all gelatin from here on out. I wrestle with a dark bag and sweat in my tent, all the while cursing myself out for not during this in the comfort of my own home. John wakes up at this point and he’s not pleased with his prior alcohol consumption as well.

  We had wrestled with the wifi(!) password for the campground last night due to a lack of office attendant. We later find out that it is “See Mystery Lights”. (about the “Marfa Lights”). We check internet, have coffee and get on the road. 

  The next stop is somewhere due north. 

  I promptly put on Huey Lewis. There’s a kernel of truth in every joke, and the truth here is that I spent many days of my youth with Huey and really enjoy it. We’re going 80 through West Texas. John yells “Oh fuck” and a wild boar has come out of the woodwork. I think we hit him a little on the butt. I hear a squeal and he rolls, gets upright and runs away. No harm no foul, it seems. About 2 seconds later an addax comes out of the brush to taunt us for being humans in an automobile. The road is wild here.

  We drive north on 285 and the signs have 2 stops on the separated by about 13 miles. Carlsbad, and Caverns. We take this as a sign and head to New Mexico to go underground. 

  We get to the caverns and I buy a National Parks pass for the year. Seems like a good cause. We descend by foot into the caverns and have no idea what we are in for. The vast expanse of dank limestone and granite is like a dream world. Hours we spend taking pictures and traversing through wet trails. We take the elevator back up. The elevator attendant told us we travelled 750 down. I believe it.

  Next stop, Roswell, NM. Roswell is apparently home of some alien crash in the late 1940’s and everybody in town is crazy over it. I’m crazy over Sonic’s Cherry Limeade. Aliens are cool too. We are curious how the locals feel about a new theory that the Roswell crash was just a remote controlled Russian spy jet sent by Stalin, and full of deformed children doctored up by famed Nazi doctor Josef Mengele as a slight experiment regarding the Americans’ ferver over H.G. Wells’ “War of the Worlds” radio cast. We don’t ask and, instead, I just buy a postcard. 

  On towards Santa Fe. We are having a hard time determining whether or not to go all the way to Colorado tonight. We decide we should and I drive the late shift to Pagosa Springs, dodging deer and driving entirely too slow with white knuckles for about 2 hours. John’s dad calls him every little bit to talk about the NBA finals (They are from Dallas) and to see if we are there yet. John keeps saying his dad is bored and retired, but I think he misses him already.