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End of the Trail
This statue was inspired by the experience of the Native Americans at the hands of the European settlers. We're leaving the mountainous deserts of south western USA behind now as we travel south east through New Mexico. As a kind of leftover we do get the Bisti Badlands, just south of Farmington, but these proved less colourful than the roadside scenery of eastern New Mexico as we crossed the continental divide. From now on the rivers, like us, run eastwards, or at least they would if there was any water in them.
Most of the water around here appears to be airborne, though as the day progresses more and more of it crashes to the ground in some increasingly spectacular thunderstorms. It wasn't until the end of the day, however, when we were taking in the views offered by the Valley of Fires National Monument that they caught up with us. Spend practically all day in the car to get somewhere and the heavens open up on us. It must be the Welsh in us. This happened at the scenic overlook in the Valley of Fires on the edge of the White Sands Missile Range where, if you look westwards and use your imagination you can almost see the mushroom cloud of the first ever atomic explosion which
168 Chairs
Each chair represents a victim of the OKC bombing; large ones for the adults, small ones for the children. occured nearby at Trinity Site in 1945. For our part the lightning only added to the apocalyptic ambience as we raced for the corrugated shelter at the bottom of the overlook. Given the downpour I think we can be forgiven for passing on the 45 minute boardwalk through the volcanic lava flow that seems to be the principal attraction of the monument. As much as we would have liked to we can't actually visit the marker where the atomic bomb was unleashed 61 years ago. The government doesn't take kindly to locals wandering around their secret test sites, let alone foreigners. Besides which, cover against radiation sickness is a crucial omission from our travel insurance.
When the area isn't closed for actual missile tests, something which apparently happens a couple of times a week, we can access some of the range, it being the location of the White Sands National Monument. This is a huge area of white gypsum sand dunes that can blind the unprotected eye in minutes. The expert photographer knows that the best time of day to visit such sites is early morning or late afternoon when the low sun casts shadows that accentuate the features.
Roswell Streetlight
Proof, if ever you needed it, that aliens landed near Roswell. You can see from our pictures that we were there with the rest of the mad dogs and Englishmen.
Our travels next took us through a small Apache reservation and along route 380 eastwards, escorted by the ghost of Billy the Kid who roamed these lands as a young gun. We raced past the historical marker that commemorated the murder of John Tunstall, the English rancher whose untimely demise set Billy the Kid and his band of 'regulators' (aka Charlie Sheen, Lou Diamond Philips, Kiefer Sutherland et al) on their murderous path.
The destination was Roswell, New Mexico. This place cashes in on the alleged crash nearby in 1947 of a UFO in the same way that Weston Super Mare cashes in on kiss me quick hats and sticks of rock. The town itself is spacious and clean, but at the bottom of Main Street you can't cross the street without running into inflateable aliens and flying saucers sticking out of roof tops. The opportunities for buying cheap tacky alien souvenirs are everywhere. We know because we bought most of them. An interesting hour or so was spent at the UFO museum where a compelling case supporting the
crash and discovery of four alien bodies is made. Attempts to mix with the locals that evening were as successful as if we were the aliens in town, which in a way I suppose we were. In our defense the noise of the live band providing a very sour rendition of such classics as "sweet child o' mine" didn't permit much conversation.
Next stop on our whistlestop tour is the Palo Duro State Park in Texas. Apparently this is the second largest canyon in the country after the Grand Canyon. A distant second it is too, but still a welcome relief from the flat plains we're now driving through. Attempts to relieve the monotony of driving for hours through featureless terrain with games of 'I Spy' are brief. Once you've gone through tree, road, field, sky, car and truck there's not much left to spy. The closest town to the park is Canyon where it seems prohibition still lives on. The city elders do not permit the sale of alcohol within the city limits, which means that the Big Eskimo licquor store north of town on I-27 must do a roaring business. It did well enough out of us.
Thunder over White Sands
Looking towards the White Sands Missile Range and the site of the first ever atomic bomb explosion. For those that haven't yet figured it out, travel 16 miles north of Canyon on I-27 and that's how you get to Amarillo. Of course you'll have to figure out how to get to Canyon first. We did it via Asia, Australasia, South America and Central America, but there are cheaper less time consuming routes.
Having gained temporary respite from the flat lands at the canyon we take once again to the great plains roads, passing quickly out of Texas, across the panhandle of Oklahoma and into Kansas. Our passage through this area is made noticeable by the more natural passage of feed through the thousands of cows penned in acre after acre of stockyards. We pass many a roadside picnic table wondering why anyone would want to eat food in such a 'rich' atmosphere. Fortunately the prevailing winds meant that our stay in Dodge City Kansas was relatively odour free.
We chose to visit Dodge because of its fame as a wild west frontier town. These days the outlaw element has been replaced by the much tamer agrarian element and the town itself is dominated by cattle pens and grain silos. The only shoot out we witnessed
Boys Toys
Couldn't resist stopping at the air museum in Liberal, Kansas. C was surprisingly OK about it. was the fake one put on for the visitors at Front Street and Boot Hill Cemetary tourist attraction. The original Boot Hill is still there, though populated these days only by replica wooden crosses, the original occupants having been dug up and relocated a long time ago. Although built in the 1950's, the Front Street replica of an original Dodge City street gives an impressive enough feeling of how the town looked in the 1870's at the peak of its notoriety. This is Wyatt Earp country, Earp having served as a deputy here before his famous appointment with the Clantons down in Tombstone Arizona.
This area was also at one stage the 'permanent' temporary home to a number of Indian tribes moved from their traditional lands further east as the United States expanded westward. Oklahoma, the state that borders Kansas to the south is true 'Native America' though, with large swathes of the territory assigned to the Indians in perpetuity. Obviously the natives didn't read the smallprint definition of 'perpetuity' when they agreed (or apparently didn't) to the treaties and by 1907 Oklahoma territory became the state of Oklahoma, the 46th state of the Union. Oklahoma City itself was
Valley of Fires
Bad weather approaching the Valley of Fires. created overnight in 1889. One morning it was a patch of 'unassigned' land with a population of precisely zero, by night time it was a thriving community of 10,000 souls, the result of the very sudden opening of the territory to settlement by the federal government. We wouldn't have gone to Oklahoma City if it weren't for the fact that we were meeting friends there. After a month of motel rooms, McDonalds and dubious Californian wines it was marvelous to sit in a back garden dining on veggie sheesh kebabs and fine Italian wine. A big thank you there, you know who you are.
We found the National Cowboy museum a little less than impressive, though for connoiseurs of this aspect of American life it is doubtless fascinating. It did however provide the opportunity to view up close one of the most evocative pieces of art I've ever seen. 'End of the Trail' represents the tragedy of the Native American experience at the hands of the European settlers, based on the brutal relocation of the a number of Native American tribes to this area, an episode which has passed into history as the 'Trail of Tears' (some 4000 Cherokees
lost their lives as a result of the forced removal).
Our departure from Oklahoma was marked with a visit to the very sobering memorial commemorating the victims of the bombing that occured here in 1995. In place of the federal building that was the target of this madness there are today 168 chairs, each representing a victim, large ones for the adults, small ones for the children. It is an extremely well thought out memorial and so very easy to imagine each chair's occupant sitting there watching the visitors wander down the side of the ornamental pool. The museum next door is an exceptionally well laid out and moving experience.
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