Just west of Van Horn I entered back into Mountain Zone but forgot about that when I got to the park (which was farther away than I thought from Van Horn but worth the mileage.)
This was the first park in Texas where I got snippy treatment. My Texas Park Pass wasn't good enough for entry, I had to fill out a vehicle information form, full name, address, phone number...I told the ranger I was expecting to give blood, too. THEN I had to watch a 15-minute video on the park which really pissed me off because the movie was biased against the Native Americans. The statement that "In the 1880s the Apaches just disappeared" is a gross and distasteful comment to what really happened in Frontier Texas, and one of the major gripes I have about Texans: they are at times too sensitive to their minorities and in depicting their histories.
This was the first park in Texas where I got snippy treatment. My Texas Park Pass wasn't good enough for entry, I had to fill out a vehicle information form, full name, address, phone number...I told the ranger I was expecting to give blood, too. THEN I had to watch a 15-minute video on the park which really pissed me off because the movie was biased against the Native Americans. The statement that "In the 1880s the Apaches just disappeared" is a gross and distasteful comment to what really happened in Frontier Texas, and one of the major gripes I have about Texans: they are at times too sensitive to their minorities and in depicting their histories.
The Natives didn't just "disappear," they were forceably relocated, killed, many of the women raped, and Christianity was forced on them, giving them Christian names to hide their true heritage. Disappear my ass, the Apaches' way of life, their culture and their traditions were all but destroyed. To say "...but the Mexicans were worse" is no excuse to what White Man did to the real Americans who were on this land centuries before Whittie came on board. But enough ranting...
That one comment got me so livid when I finally got to get on my hike. The movie went on about how visitors should not destroy, deface, collect, etc the Hueco Tanks habitat, all which I 100% support completely. It's bad enough when we have "Mary Phillips 1887" have her name permanently etched in the rock that was once sacred to the Apache.
It took me a while to calm down from what to me is gross disrespect for our Native Americans. I went up the trail of North Mountain, the only mountain of the three lava groups that is open to self-guided hikers, and somehow got off the trail. I followed what I thought was a trail along the perimeter, which got me down to the base of the mountain where a "Access by Guide Only" sign was quite visible. I knew from that informational movie that I could not go beyond the sign or else be fined $1000 by the Park Gestapo. I got my ass back up to the top where I came in touch with rock climbers who showed me the way back down.
There was little water in the tanks of the lava rocks. Mortars were dry and old pools were just as dry, which made wildlife scarce as well although I saw several hawks. The three lava mounds looked so out of place from the rest of the mountains around here, the distant Guadalupes and the closer Franklins.
That one comment got me so livid when I finally got to get on my hike. The movie went on about how visitors should not destroy, deface, collect, etc the Hueco Tanks habitat, all which I 100% support completely. It's bad enough when we have "Mary Phillips 1887" have her name permanently etched in the rock that was once sacred to the Apache.
It took me a while to calm down from what to me is gross disrespect for our Native Americans. I went up the trail of North Mountain, the only mountain of the three lava groups that is open to self-guided hikers, and somehow got off the trail. I followed what I thought was a trail along the perimeter, which got me down to the base of the mountain where a "Access by Guide Only" sign was quite visible. I knew from that informational movie that I could not go beyond the sign or else be fined $1000 by the Park Gestapo. I got my ass back up to the top where I came in touch with rock climbers who showed me the way back down.
There was little water in the tanks of the lava rocks. Mortars were dry and old pools were just as dry, which made wildlife scarce as well although I saw several hawks. The three lava mounds looked so out of place from the rest of the mountains around here, the distant Guadalupes and the closer Franklins.
It never warmed up today. At noon it was still 50F, and it may have warmed to 60F two hours later. It remained blustery but the snow did melt off the ground by the time I got hiking.
I banged my knees up around the rocks. I even had four cacti thorns embedded in my left knee that I could feel while walking but not while touching my pants. One was a good inch into my muscle. I'm going to be quite sore tomorrow.
Still, it was worth to see these ancient sacred rocks. I would love to come back for a guided tour by reservation only but that's only Tuesday through Saturdays only. When will I get that chance?
Another park ranger, one much more sympathetic than the first one, asked me ifI got to climb up Kivo Cave. No, I didn't even know there was a cave. He gave me a park map and showed me where to find the cave. "Up past the duck and between two trees" but there was more to that secret code than he led me to believe. If I hadn't met a family from MN/WI down here visiting their parents from NM who had a trail guide to the mystery cave, I NEVER would have found the cave. The cave was more of a giant lava plate balanced on a few sand mounds that required visitors to crawl across to view.
The pictures were unlike any I have seen of Native American art, red drawings rather than sticks like at Indian Head a few days ago.
"See, this is what teenaged Apaches did to get away from chores: they came up here to draw on the rocks rather than go hunting with Chief Dad." I was being sarcastic--although I don't see why anyone could dispute my theory of how art got on the walls here--the others didn't see the humor in that.
There are six miles of trails in Hueco Tanks and I have no idea how many I did. All I know is that my knees got knocked around quite a bit and I was hungry and thirsty when I finally called it a day at the park which closes at 6pm pronto.
I had no other plans. My vacation is now coming to a close. I drove into El Paso from Hwy 63/180 off the park and got disoriented. The next thing I knew I was on a road that led to the international bridge into Juarez, Mexico. Yikes!
I did manage to find Scenic Drive, the curvy road that offers a splendid view of EP and its neighbor Juarez, a city four times EP's size. The river isn't even visible from the Mountain, although had there been more sun the stretch of green trees along the Rio Grande would have stood out. Ciudad Juarez just spreads for many more miles into the lower hills south of the border. In a better time I would have crossed over, but the crime there is just too high for me to gamble with. I've spent three weeks in EP two years ago; there was nothing else for me to see today other than find a place to park for dinner: the Carl's JR off TX178. that will take me into New Mexico tomorrow, then on NM9 that again hugs the riverless border for 200 miles before I reach Arizona's Chiricahua Mountains, one of the most dramatic (but little visited mountain range) skylands in the Southwest. Its peaks always tell me that "Home" is just around the mountain range 90 miles away.
I banged my knees up around the rocks. I even had four cacti thorns embedded in my left knee that I could feel while walking but not while touching my pants. One was a good inch into my muscle. I'm going to be quite sore tomorrow.
Still, it was worth to see these ancient sacred rocks. I would love to come back for a guided tour by reservation only but that's only Tuesday through Saturdays only. When will I get that chance?
Another park ranger, one much more sympathetic than the first one, asked me ifI got to climb up Kivo Cave. No, I didn't even know there was a cave. He gave me a park map and showed me where to find the cave. "Up past the duck and between two trees" but there was more to that secret code than he led me to believe. If I hadn't met a family from MN/WI down here visiting their parents from NM who had a trail guide to the mystery cave, I NEVER would have found the cave. The cave was more of a giant lava plate balanced on a few sand mounds that required visitors to crawl across to view.
The pictures were unlike any I have seen of Native American art, red drawings rather than sticks like at Indian Head a few days ago.
"See, this is what teenaged Apaches did to get away from chores: they came up here to draw on the rocks rather than go hunting with Chief Dad." I was being sarcastic--although I don't see why anyone could dispute my theory of how art got on the walls here--the others didn't see the humor in that.
There are six miles of trails in Hueco Tanks and I have no idea how many I did. All I know is that my knees got knocked around quite a bit and I was hungry and thirsty when I finally called it a day at the park which closes at 6pm pronto.
I had no other plans. My vacation is now coming to a close. I drove into El Paso from Hwy 63/180 off the park and got disoriented. The next thing I knew I was on a road that led to the international bridge into Juarez, Mexico. Yikes!
I did manage to find Scenic Drive, the curvy road that offers a splendid view of EP and its neighbor Juarez, a city four times EP's size. The river isn't even visible from the Mountain, although had there been more sun the stretch of green trees along the Rio Grande would have stood out. Ciudad Juarez just spreads for many more miles into the lower hills south of the border. In a better time I would have crossed over, but the crime there is just too high for me to gamble with. I've spent three weeks in EP two years ago; there was nothing else for me to see today other than find a place to park for dinner: the Carl's JR off TX178. that will take me into New Mexico tomorrow, then on NM9 that again hugs the riverless border for 200 miles before I reach Arizona's Chiricahua Mountains, one of the most dramatic (but little visited mountain range) skylands in the Southwest. Its peaks always tell me that "Home" is just around the mountain range 90 miles away.
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