One last shot
Monday, August 29, 2005
Moped Road Trip to Leasburg Dam State Park
Leasburg Dam State Park is located about 20 miles north of here right next to the Fort Seldon ruins along the Rio Grand. On Saturday I decided to moped up there since Cindy was going to be gone all day.
I started by looking at the road atlas to make sure I could get there. Then I started to plan what I was to take and to make sure my moped was ready to go. Like most trips I had fun planning it. I had to be able to carry everything I wanted to take on the moped so I packed and then repacked. I got along without the camera tripod and the foldup lawn chair. It would have been nice to have them but I couldn't make it happen. I planned my picnic lunch and what book I was going to take to read after I was done hiking around and taking pictures.
Saturday came and it was partly cloudy. It was going to be a great trip. I packed everything on my moped and by 8:30 am I was off. I took the same route I take to church which is between 4 and 5 miles from home. Traffic was light and I was having fun. I kept driving north alongside Interstate 25. If you would have been traveling along there you could have seen me chugging along.
About 9 miles north is the little community of Dona Ana. I stopped there for a short break. Then I headed ever north. I saw cotton fields with yellow flowered plants since it is too early for the harvest and cabbage ready to be harvested. The irrigation gates were open and the water was rushing through. Horses were grazing, the temperature was perfect, my butt was sore but I was smiling. I was having fun. I stopped to take pictures along the way since I wasn't in a hurry.
About an hour after I left home I arrived at Leasburg Dam State Park. I discovered that it actually is two sites. The main site has the park office and camping. I rode up, looked around and then asked where the water was since I had come to see the dam. Well I had to go back to where I was a short time earlier and take a different road and I would find it. I finally arrived and was pleasantly surprised. Water was spilling over the dam and in the picnic area many families were gathered to play games, wade in the river and have a picnic. I'll have to admit I was envious. The days of family picnics at Doctors Park in Milwaukee with my brothers families or my parents when they came to visit are long gone. I miss them. It wasn't that we did it so often that I miss it but simply the fact that it reminds me that our kids are far away now and those days are over. I wished I could have joined those other families. They looked like they were having a great time.
I found a table under a tree and got set up. I sat and watched those around me for a time, read my book, had my lunch then I got up walked around and took pictures. For the few hours I was there it was nice.
It was time now to head home. I repacked, checked over my moped and headed south. I ran out of gas right in Dona Ana. You should know that my tank holds less than a gallon. I had just traveled 35 miles on less than a gallon of gas. I switched to my reserve tank and drove into a local gas station for gas and an ice cream bar. It was now in the upper 90's and a bit hot on the road.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. I took more pictures and arrived home safely having riden 44 miles. My butt was sore and it was good to get home.
I started by looking at the road atlas to make sure I could get there. Then I started to plan what I was to take and to make sure my moped was ready to go. Like most trips I had fun planning it. I had to be able to carry everything I wanted to take on the moped so I packed and then repacked. I got along without the camera tripod and the foldup lawn chair. It would have been nice to have them but I couldn't make it happen. I planned my picnic lunch and what book I was going to take to read after I was done hiking around and taking pictures.
Saturday came and it was partly cloudy. It was going to be a great trip. I packed everything on my moped and by 8:30 am I was off. I took the same route I take to church which is between 4 and 5 miles from home. Traffic was light and I was having fun. I kept driving north alongside Interstate 25. If you would have been traveling along there you could have seen me chugging along.
About 9 miles north is the little community of Dona Ana. I stopped there for a short break. Then I headed ever north. I saw cotton fields with yellow flowered plants since it is too early for the harvest and cabbage ready to be harvested. The irrigation gates were open and the water was rushing through. Horses were grazing, the temperature was perfect, my butt was sore but I was smiling. I was having fun. I stopped to take pictures along the way since I wasn't in a hurry.
About an hour after I left home I arrived at Leasburg Dam State Park. I discovered that it actually is two sites. The main site has the park office and camping. I rode up, looked around and then asked where the water was since I had come to see the dam. Well I had to go back to where I was a short time earlier and take a different road and I would find it. I finally arrived and was pleasantly surprised. Water was spilling over the dam and in the picnic area many families were gathered to play games, wade in the river and have a picnic. I'll have to admit I was envious. The days of family picnics at Doctors Park in Milwaukee with my brothers families or my parents when they came to visit are long gone. I miss them. It wasn't that we did it so often that I miss it but simply the fact that it reminds me that our kids are far away now and those days are over. I wished I could have joined those other families. They looked like they were having a great time.
I found a table under a tree and got set up. I sat and watched those around me for a time, read my book, had my lunch then I got up walked around and took pictures. For the few hours I was there it was nice.
It was time now to head home. I repacked, checked over my moped and headed south. I ran out of gas right in Dona Ana. You should know that my tank holds less than a gallon. I had just traveled 35 miles on less than a gallon of gas. I switched to my reserve tank and drove into a local gas station for gas and an ice cream bar. It was now in the upper 90's and a bit hot on the road.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. I took more pictures and arrived home safely having riden 44 miles. My butt was sore and it was good to get home.
White Sands Moonlight Mass
A few weeks ago Cindy & I went with two of Cindy's co-workers to White Sands National Monument on the other side of the mountains about an hours drive from here.
Each year the Bishop of the Catholic church here in Las Cruces hosts a "Mass" (worship service) out at White Sands when the moon is full. It begins with a picnic and is followed by music and worship. It was very nice. I'll show you some pictures that will help you understand the setting.
There were many people gathered for this event. Kids were running up and down the dunes while parents sat around and visited. As it got darker you could see a steady stream of lights from cars coming into the park. The lights of Alamogordo, a town close to 20 miles away were clearly visible. The full moon came out but so had the clouds so we didn't see the full moon until it had risen above the clouds while we were driving home.
It was a nice event. The Bishop had been suddenly called away to China so he wasn't there after all.
Each year the Bishop of the Catholic church here in Las Cruces hosts a "Mass" (worship service) out at White Sands when the moon is full. It begins with a picnic and is followed by music and worship. It was very nice. I'll show you some pictures that will help you understand the setting.
There were many people gathered for this event. Kids were running up and down the dunes while parents sat around and visited. As it got darker you could see a steady stream of lights from cars coming into the park. The lights of Alamogordo, a town close to 20 miles away were clearly visible. The full moon came out but so had the clouds so we didn't see the full moon until it had risen above the clouds while we were driving home.
It was a nice event. The Bishop had been suddenly called away to China so he wasn't there after all.
Old West Connections
A short time ago I paid a visit to the Masonic Cemetery here in Las Cruces to see if I could find the gravesite for a man who played an important part in the history of this part of the world.
At various times in his 57 year life he was a buffalo hunter on the Texas plains, a Texas Ranger captain, a rancher, a sheriff in Dona Ana county where Las Cruces is and an El Paso customs collector. Do you know who he is yet? He probably is most famous for being the man who shot Billy the Kid in July 1881. His name was Patrick Floyd Garrett.
On February 29, 1908, Garrett and a cowboy named Carl Adamson had started for Las Cruces in Adamson’s buggy. They traveled south from Garrett’s ranch, along the eastern side of the San Andres Mountains, to the crossing at San Augustine Pass. The San Augustine Pass is where highway 70 passes over the mountains to take you to White Sands and Alamogordo. Well they turned west, down the slope of the mountains, toward Las Cruces. They could see the community in the distance, perhaps ten miles away, in the valley of the Rio Grande.They encountered a man by the name of Wayne Brazel, riding horseback. Garrett began arguing with Brazel. Presently, Adamson stopped the buggy. Garrett got out and turned away to urinate, the last conscious act of his life. Brazel blew his brains out.
All this happened just north of town near the Alameda Arroyo. After reading about him and discovering his connection with Las Cruces I just had to track down his gravesite. After doing some research I rode my moped to the cemetery and looked until I found where he lay.
It may seem strange to some but I find it fascinating that I am living in the shadows of the Old West.
At various times in his 57 year life he was a buffalo hunter on the Texas plains, a Texas Ranger captain, a rancher, a sheriff in Dona Ana county where Las Cruces is and an El Paso customs collector. Do you know who he is yet? He probably is most famous for being the man who shot Billy the Kid in July 1881. His name was Patrick Floyd Garrett.
On February 29, 1908, Garrett and a cowboy named Carl Adamson had started for Las Cruces in Adamson’s buggy. They traveled south from Garrett’s ranch, along the eastern side of the San Andres Mountains, to the crossing at San Augustine Pass. The San Augustine Pass is where highway 70 passes over the mountains to take you to White Sands and Alamogordo. Well they turned west, down the slope of the mountains, toward Las Cruces. They could see the community in the distance, perhaps ten miles away, in the valley of the Rio Grande.They encountered a man by the name of Wayne Brazel, riding horseback. Garrett began arguing with Brazel. Presently, Adamson stopped the buggy. Garrett got out and turned away to urinate, the last conscious act of his life. Brazel blew his brains out.
All this happened just north of town near the Alameda Arroyo. After reading about him and discovering his connection with Las Cruces I just had to track down his gravesite. After doing some research I rode my moped to the cemetery and looked until I found where he lay.
It may seem strange to some but I find it fascinating that I am living in the shadows of the Old West.
Monday, August 15, 2005
At the Races
August 13, 2005
It is Saturday night. Tonight there would be a great deal of noise and excitement all because of Legends, Wing Sprints, Super Stocks and Street Stocks. My good friends Ron & Vern know what I’m referring too. My friend Gene and I were going to the races. It was the Travel Centers of America sponsored races at the Speedway of Southern New Mexico. The track is a ¼ mile dirt oval.
It was also a dark and stormy night. Well actually it was not dark yet and the storm clouds hadn’t produced any rain but they sure looked threatening.
In the parking lot at the Speedway moms & dads unloaded their kids from backseats, bikers parked their cycles, pickup trucks with drivers in cowboy hats with their girls in jeans and t-shirts all started the walk to get tickets and choice seats. The action was about to begin.
I had never been to the races before and wasn’t sure I would like it. Ron & Vern have seen the Daytona 500 and races in Toronto and Elkhart Lake and had told me about racing but nothing prepared me for the experience.
The evening began with an invocation by a local pastor and the singing of our National Anthem. Then the cars took to the track and the different heats began. Wing Sprints started the evening out. If I remember right they do not have batteries or starters so they had to be pushed by a pickup truck to get moving. They looked like big go-carts with spoilers. They may have looked funny but they sure were fast. Those cars drove bunched together around the track until the flagman gave them the green flag. Then the action began. Each car jockeyed for position on the inside lane. The straight–a ways are for speeding up while the corners are for slip sliding away. There were some small accidents (one roll over, a few flat tires, one car t-boned another car that had swerved sideways, a few cars scrapped against the concrete wall) but no one was really hurt. The cars were traveling a 100+ miles per hour when they could and the noise was deafening.
In most races involving maybe 8 or 10 cars doing 8 laps the drivers managed to keep things together so the race didn’t have to be stopped. It was when the final two races of the evening took place that all the trouble began. Imagine 30 cars doing 20 or 30 laps on a ¼ mile track all going 100+ miles per hour. Accidents are going to happen. The yellow flag, which means slow down because there is a problem so the race is temporarily on hold, had to be used twice on the 1st lap alone. A few times they had to stop each car. Remember that the Wing Sprints had to be pushed by a pickup truck to get moving. After the problem vehicles were removed from the track 20 some cars had to be pushed to get started and this happened twice. It seemed to take forever but they finally managed to finish the race.
Whenever the Blue WC2 (Wild Child) Street Stock car drove I watched it closely. The reason I watched that car particularly was because that driver was an 11 year old girl named Mercedes Harris. She didn’t usually win but she always finished. She comes from a racing family where her dad and her brother also race. I wonder if she will pass her drivers test when she turns 16?
It was a thrill-a-minute evening. The rains came during the last race so we didn’t see its conclusion yet it didn’t dampen our spirits at all. I know I will go to the races again. Now I understand why people can be so passionate about racing cars and their drivers. The noise and the excitement are intoxicating.
It is Saturday night. Tonight there would be a great deal of noise and excitement all because of Legends, Wing Sprints, Super Stocks and Street Stocks. My good friends Ron & Vern know what I’m referring too. My friend Gene and I were going to the races. It was the Travel Centers of America sponsored races at the Speedway of Southern New Mexico. The track is a ¼ mile dirt oval.
It was also a dark and stormy night. Well actually it was not dark yet and the storm clouds hadn’t produced any rain but they sure looked threatening.
In the parking lot at the Speedway moms & dads unloaded their kids from backseats, bikers parked their cycles, pickup trucks with drivers in cowboy hats with their girls in jeans and t-shirts all started the walk to get tickets and choice seats. The action was about to begin.
I had never been to the races before and wasn’t sure I would like it. Ron & Vern have seen the Daytona 500 and races in Toronto and Elkhart Lake and had told me about racing but nothing prepared me for the experience.
The evening began with an invocation by a local pastor and the singing of our National Anthem. Then the cars took to the track and the different heats began. Wing Sprints started the evening out. If I remember right they do not have batteries or starters so they had to be pushed by a pickup truck to get moving. They looked like big go-carts with spoilers. They may have looked funny but they sure were fast. Those cars drove bunched together around the track until the flagman gave them the green flag. Then the action began. Each car jockeyed for position on the inside lane. The straight–a ways are for speeding up while the corners are for slip sliding away. There were some small accidents (one roll over, a few flat tires, one car t-boned another car that had swerved sideways, a few cars scrapped against the concrete wall) but no one was really hurt. The cars were traveling a 100+ miles per hour when they could and the noise was deafening.
In most races involving maybe 8 or 10 cars doing 8 laps the drivers managed to keep things together so the race didn’t have to be stopped. It was when the final two races of the evening took place that all the trouble began. Imagine 30 cars doing 20 or 30 laps on a ¼ mile track all going 100+ miles per hour. Accidents are going to happen. The yellow flag, which means slow down because there is a problem so the race is temporarily on hold, had to be used twice on the 1st lap alone. A few times they had to stop each car. Remember that the Wing Sprints had to be pushed by a pickup truck to get moving. After the problem vehicles were removed from the track 20 some cars had to be pushed to get started and this happened twice. It seemed to take forever but they finally managed to finish the race.
Whenever the Blue WC2 (Wild Child) Street Stock car drove I watched it closely. The reason I watched that car particularly was because that driver was an 11 year old girl named Mercedes Harris. She didn’t usually win but she always finished. She comes from a racing family where her dad and her brother also race. I wonder if she will pass her drivers test when she turns 16?
It was a thrill-a-minute evening. The rains came during the last race so we didn’t see its conclusion yet it didn’t dampen our spirits at all. I know I will go to the races again. Now I understand why people can be so passionate about racing cars and their drivers. The noise and the excitement are intoxicating.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)