Borderland
Day 1/Mile 0
Join me on a ride along the 2,000 mile U.S./Mexico border— from Dallas to Austin, San Antonio, Brownsville, Laredo, El Paso, Tucson, Yuma, and San Diego. Starting Saturday, February 5 and returning home by early March, I’ll be reporting from the road and my Sunday and Tuesday columns will report life along our border with Mexico.
Statistics: The Facts of Life and Death in Border Land.
Day 2/ Mile 218: Austin
Austin: The Incredible Shrinking Slacker
Day 3/ Mile 265: San Antonio
San Antonio: High Times and Low Water
Day 4/Mile 514: Kingsville
The theme song, heard over and over for the next 300 miles, is “She thinks my tractors’ sexy.”
Day 5/Mile 597: Yturria Land & Cattle and El Canelo Ranch: Where’s the Beef?
Day 6/Mile 678: Brownsville: Life Guard on the Rio Grande
It wasn’t until I got here that I found out that my Palm Pilot software was making it impossible for my new Kodak 215 digital camera to communicate with my laptop. Shortly after that I discovered that the Kodak 215 sucks down a set of 4 AA batteries faster than you can say “Nosferatu.”
Day 7, 8/Mile 767: McAllen: Fields of Dreams.
Day 9,10/Mile 928: Night Song in Nuevo Laredo
I spent the night of Monday, February 14th here and ended the evening sitting at the Tack Room bar at La Posada, watching couples come in for their Valentines’ Day dinner. Meanwhile, something more than 3 miles of trucks were parked on Interstate 35, waiting to roll into Mexico.
Day 11/Mile 1,015: Crystal City: All Roads Lead To Crystal City.
In which I detour to the home of the Spinach Festival and learn how things have changed.
Day 11/Mile 1,131: Del Rio
Here, I watch traffic on the main street in town. A Lexus would be out of place here. Very out of place. This is home for Ford and GM trucks. Even my beloved 1997 No Payment— a Jeep Grand Cherokee— would like a bit effete here.
Leaving and riding west all I can think of is Hunter S. Thompson:
“Faster, faster— until the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of death!” With no traffic and nothing at the side of the road, you lose your sense of velocity. It takes a conscious effort to throttle back. Then throttle back again. And again.
I didn’t realize it at the time but Del Rio was to be the last time my cell phone worked until I reached Marfa. It was also my last Internet connection until I reached El Paso.
Day 12/Mile 1,317: Marathon
At the Gage Hotel my sense of the Old West is so complete in this beautifully done hotel that I don’t want to sully the atmosphere by using my computer. So I don’t.
At the bookstore a woman tells me that the county is large enough to hold Rhode Island and Connecticut, with room left over. But there are only 10,000 people in the entire county. On the map, Brewster county includes the entire Big Bend National Park.
Day 13: Big Bend
I have more pictures than most people could stand. My suggestion: visit yourself— photos can’t convey the wonder of this place. The picture below is of the Rio Grande, near Santa Elena Canyon.
Day 13/Mile 1,475: Study Butte and Terlingua
This is like a living set for the original Road Warrior movie. People don’t live in houses so much as mechanical devices set on the dust and stone. The most common vehicle is an RV, usually towing a car and some of the cars are, in turn, topped with a fishing boat.
In the morning, I walk over to the Chevron station that also houses a small restaurant. There I am, sitting up but barely awake, wearing the same clothes that I had worn the day before. And maybe the day before that, too. Levis, a black cotton sweater, and black ropers. I look at a group of six elderly men sitting over breakfast, all dressed from a laundry bag. Suddenly, I feel— how shall I say this— over-coordinated.
Day 14/Mile 1,490: Lajitas and the River Road
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Lajitas was recently auctioned off as a “trophy resort.” Kim Bassinger was not among the bidders. This entire town is besieged by mountain bikers on the day I visit. I am told that 800 people came for the festivities and competition last year and that it looks like 1,000 this year. Rigged out with back mounted water bags, clothed in bright spandex and pointed helmets, and riding bikes like no others, the crew looks like the people from Dune on vacation.
Arguably one of the most stunning rides in America, Highway 170 follows the Rio Grande to Presidio.
Day 14/Mile 1,572: Presidio and Ojinaga: The Bridge in the Middle of Nowhere.
Presidio, according to the Texas Workforce Commission, has the highest unemployment rate in the state: 26.2 percent. It is also about as far removed as you can get— other than Ojinaga across the river, the nearest population center is Marfa, best known as the setting for the movie “Giant” and gigantic vistas of rangeland.
Day 14/Mile 1,641: Marfa: Herds of Tomatoes, As Far As the Eye Can See.
After a quick visit to the Paisano Hotel, where the cast for Giant stayed when the film was made, and lunch at Mike’s I continued north of highway 17… until I discovered the greenhouses. There, just off the highway, and looking like something straight out of the X-files or, perhaps, imported from Roswell, were the largest greenhouses I had ever seen. I clock one on the motorcycle and the odometer shows 2/10ths of a mile in length. There are four of them. I wonder what Edna Ferber would have thought.
Day 14/Mile 1,662: Fort Davis
The Limpia Hotel is the main attraction here, a restored institution that once housed Harvard faculty that were working and visiting the McDonald Observatory.
Days 15, 16, 17,18/Mile1,908: El Paso
It Exists!
I stayed an extra day and got to shake hands with the President of Mexico. The weird part is the location. He was in Juarez to dedicate the cities first waste water treatment plant, an intimidating idea when you consider that Juarez sprawls as far as the eye can see and has a population estimated at 1.2 million. So there I was, with about 300 others, breathing an amazingly redolent air, waiting for the long caravan of vans and cars that would bring Ernesto Zedillo…
A significant portion of the funds to build the plant have come from the North American Development Bank and the EPA— a U.S. investment in much needed Border infrastructure. Without it, the aquifer upon which the entire area depends for water could be ruined.
Day 19/Mile 2,024: Deming, New Mexico
Deming is less than 100 miles from El Paso but this is where my replacement tire has been waiting. I roll into Deming Cycle Center and have a new tire in minutes, along with replacement CO2 cartridges so I will be prepared for another puncture if one happens. I am thankful, once again, that my friends at BMW of North Dallas urged me to take a better kit and more cartridges than standard equipment.
Day 20/Mile 2,318: Tucson, Arizona
The trip here from Deming was fairly rough. By the time I reached Douglas, the temperature had dropped significantly and there were ominous clouds across the horizon. I bundled up with lined gloves, put a windbreaker over my leather jacket, and wore my ski mask to stay warm— in addition to using the electrically operated windshield. And, yes, it did rain, but only lightly. It all made me think about getting an electrically heated vest while I was in Tucson.
On my way to visit one of the best BMW motorcycle dealers in the country, Martin Cohen’s Iron Horse Cycle, I have a near accident and drop the bike. (That means it fell on its side.) The right riding peg broke off. They quickly installed another peg and when I went to pay for it, the Service Manager said it was a “slightly used” peg because they didn’t have one in stock. “Don’t worry, it was very lightly used.”, he said. “It came of the bike of an overweight Service Manager. I’m trying to build my Karma bank so I get the same kind of help when I’m traveling.”
Day 21/Mile 2,544: Yuma and the Road to Mexicare
High Season in Yuma! It’s SnowBird time in RV heaven. I got the last non-smoking room at Travel Lodge and was turned away from Holiday Inn. They were booked.
Before leaving I visit an RV sales lot to learn the economics of RVs and RV park living. Sandy Cunningham tells me that everything looks empty in October, as though it would be impossible to fill, but that by January every space is occupied and every hotel room booked.
One reason: inexpensive medical treatment and pharmaceuticals just across the border in Algadona.
Days 22, 23, 24/Mile 2,802: San Diego, California
The coast! Interstate 8, the highway I rode from Yuma, ends at “The Beaches” in San Diego. On the way from Yuma the landscape varies from flat farmland to massive dunes dotted with dune buggies, to massive rock piles, to mountains whose ridges are lined with soaring parasailers and hang gliders.
Days 25, 26, 27, 28/Mile 2,975: Los Angeles, California
The ride from San Diego to Los Angeles isn’t long but it is harrowing. With the exception of a minor strip through a Marine camp, the entire area is a long, urbanized, superslab with heavy traffic. Going 75, I am falling behind the general flow of traffic on five lanes.
Los Angeles isn’t part of “Border Land” but it exhibits every aspect of it. While here I visit with my younger brother, a professor of mathematics at UCLA. My son Oliver flies down from San Francisco and we talk about web design— we’ve decided this site needs a face lift and reorganization. When he leaves on Sunday to return to San Francisco, he goes to Burbank airport and is there when the Southwest flight crash lands and tangles with the Chevron station.
Day 29/Mile 3,258: Needles, California
The weather in Los Angeles is becoming more threatening and there has been heavy rain. More is predicted. I decide to leave but to take the northern path on I-40 back to Santa Fe. It’s the shorter, but colder, route. The alternative was to take I-10 and ride toward Phoenix, adding miles but being sure to miss any snowfall if it occurs. I get to Needles, on the AZ border, by dark.
The next morning is cold and ominous, witness the photo below.
Day 30/Mile 3,477 : Flagstaff, Arizona
I should have taken I-10. Shortly after leaving Needles I am in light rain. It turns to hail in Seligman. Then snow. I’ve got the heated grips going, the windshield full up, the electric vest on, and— just for good measure— a waterproof windbreaker. So my feet freeze. As I get to Flagstaff visibility is down to about 100 yards ahead. It’s only noon— but I stop here.
Day 31/Mile 3,477: Still in Flagstaff, Arizona
Snow! Lots of it. Covers my motorcycle and shuts down a Monday departure. I’ll try again tomorrow.
Day 32/Mile 3,873: The Ride to Santa Fe
By eleven AM I decide to try I-40. I brush and shovel the bike clear of snow, warm it, load my gear, and pray that the Interstate isn’t a sloppy river of snow melt and slush waiting to turn to ice. I am wearing long underwear, levi’s, a sweater, lined protective pants, a heated vest, a leather jacket, a windbreaker, a ski mask, lined gloves, two pairs of socks and ropers. Plus a helmut. Hopefully, that will be enough protection from thirty degree weather.
It is!
The ride to Santa Fe varies from bright sunshine and dry roads to patches of snow showers. Several times I wonder if I’ll be able to make it to Santa Fe. Violent crosswinds punch my head to the side and I can feel my windward fingers cooling. Then, after a bit of good weather from Grants to Albuqueque, I see an enormous low cloud system to the north between me and Santa Fe.
It’s snow showers. The last 50 miles are cold and wet. While the road remains relatively dry and without snow accumulation, the snow obscures all the signs— if I didn’t know the way, I wouldn’t know where I was or where I should turn off.
I arrive at my house in Santa Fe shortly before six, park the R1100RT next to my R100RS and prepare to return to Dallas. Without the electric vest, heated grips, and an adjustable windscreen, I might still be in Flagstaff.
Home in Santa Fe.
Total trip miles: 3,870
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Photos: Scott Burns
(c) A. M. Universal, 2000