New Mexico to Texas

The next day I headed back to the Turquoise trail and rode south to the Bottomless Lakes. 

They aren’t really bottomless but were named that by early explorers/drovers who were unable to reach the bottom when they dived in. It was a picturesque area with extensive infrastructure for picnics and camping. I met Joe there who was a riding enthusiast and he offered me half a Subway sandwich and talked about Harleys and life in this area, and how he wanted to spend time camping by the lake to get away from the city.

Moving on, I took backroads to a town called Mountainair. The route was open farmland and foothills of the range where Albuquerque sits. It was good riding through pleasant temperatures on single lane roads that had little if no traffic. It’s so nice to get away from the big highways and traffic. I wanted to take a couple of gravel roads but they were either dead ends or headed the wrong direction for me, so still a bitumen pony at this stage.

As I headed south the temperature was rising. I stopped for a look at the 400 year old Spanish ruins of Gran Quivira 

then for lunch at a small town along the way that I couldn’t find later on the map. 

It was a quaint little place with five local ladies serving and one elderly lady who took a shine to me. I started talking with another group of people at the table next to me, from Carrizozo a little to the south, and the woman gave me some tips of what to see. The only thing her husband said was “Good luck with that” and a shake of his head when I explained I was heading into Mexico.

My delicious home-made soup was delivered by the old dear and she told the woman at the other table not to talk to me while I was eating because I needed my strength. A bit of a giggle between us and I ate heartily.

Thanking everyone, I left and headed towards Carrizozo. On the way it was still a bit chilly and Ziggy turned 50!!

Despite the tips, I was heading to Roswell to make up my own mind about aliens! I passed through Lincoln, the last escape of Billy the Kid. It was a cute little town with a museum, so I stopped in to catch up on my American history. 

Some interesting wooden structures exist along the way

I arrived just on dusk in Roswell and as with most adventure riders, I have a policy not to ride at night. I rode through town to get a feeling about a place to stay, and ended up returning to the outskirts and grabbing a cheap motel.

The next day I headed for town and a breakfast of sorts before taking in the UFO museum. 

I’m not such a big museum goer; they are often overpriced and not so impressive. This fitted the category, although was only $5 entry and they minded my helmet! It was interesting looking at the first hand stories of UFO sightings from 1947 

and I’m happy to subscribe to the conspiracy theory that the US Government covered it up. Love a good conspiracy theory!!

On my way out of town I stopped for a photo with the Welcome to Roswell sign. A guy named Aaron came over and said that he heard a BMW pull up and had to have a look. He explained that he has an 1150GS and has a special spot for bikes in his RV park across the road, it was a shame I stayed at the other end of town. Sometimes the gut feeling doesn’t work as I had turned back only a few hundred metres before arriving at his place last night.

What's the chances of aliens in Roswell??

Moving on, it was already early afternoon, so I was aiming for Fort Stockton in Texas. I rode south and the landscape opened up with the hills flattening out even more. 

It struck me that since leaving LA there had been a brown and dry landscape, the air was dry and there was precious little greenery. There were trees along the way but the diversity was not high and they were similar looking pine-like trees of varying density. The grass beneath was brown. They were mostly in tussocks and there was a real deserty-arid feel to the landscape.

As I approached the Texan border, I experienced the acrid smell of aromatic hydrocarbons (What th'???). Imagine the smell of that old petrol tank that has oxidized and gone ‘off’. That was the smell in the air. I noticed some metal tanks in groups of three with a taller cylindrical tank next to them, and I realised these were mini oil refineries. 

The landscape displayed many of the distinctive oil pumps shaped lake a large wedge, resembling the bird on the edge of the glass that dips its beak into the water.

The area resembled the many mining areas in northern Western Australia, the windswept flat landscape, dust blowing in the distance, large machinery and trucks ever-present. The land looked sad. The wind increased and carried the smell of crude oil across the land and amazingly there were still cropping paddocks with long irrigators in the mix.

I arrived in Pecos and stopped briefly to remember Judge Roy Bean, the hanging judge, and enjoyed the replica of his old office. 

As it had warmed up, I looked for an RV park and was informed by two roadhouses that there was not one in Pecos. Eventually I was directed to one where I set up tent on a lumpy strip of dried, clumpy grass in between RVs and caravans owned by the oil drillers and support workers. A dusty old mining town!

 I packed up quickly the next morning and left at nine, later to discover that the time zone had changed when I arrived in Texas so really I left at ten. The road to Fort Stockton was more of the same oil extraction country so I decided that it was time to go to Austin and visit my friends.

 Originally I hadn’t given much thought to the trip in America, just that I would land in LA and spend a week getting to Austin Texas. Along the way though I discovered things that I just couldn’t pass up and it has taken my nearly three weeks to get here, yet I still feel I have not even scratched the surface of what there is to see and do just in this southern part of the country.

 So now I decided I had had enough of the dry mining country and moved onto the I10 and motored to Austin. I covered 400 miles (680kms) in my biggest day of the US trip. I arrived late afternoon and met up with my friends who have lived here for years.