Not to be left behind . . .
Dec. 18, 2012

“So here we are in the Tijuana jail.  Can’t find no one to go our bail.”

No, we are not really in jail - Tijuana or anywhere; I just have song titles popping up as they suit the situation, so actually, here we are in Midland, Texas.  Elvis’ “It’’s now or never” also comes to mind: start this installment of the blog or admit that it’s too late to do so.

Yes, I have joined Chris, the previous blog post being my sole attempt to journal our separation.  We had not made solid plans beyond Chris going to Texas and getting a job.  Would I remain at home?  Would he be able to travel back & forth or would I?  Would he even find suitable employment?

The answer is that he obtained a good job and as soon as he conveyed that information on Friday, I began preparations to leave on Tuesday, a wholly inadequate length of time for said preparations.

A house sitter engaged; Christmas packages prepared and shipped; fallen-leaf-strewn premises raked; pantry, refrigerator and freezers cleaned out; arrangements made for commitments to which I was uncommitting; a zillion other things attended to as stress levels rose to volcanic levels (many apologies to those who experienced the resulting Mount St. Helens-like explosions) - Tuesday morning and Rowdy and I were on our way, Ruby loaded to the gills.

Never one to appreciate cities or city traffic, we nevertheless rolled on through Phoenix and Tucson with ease, arriving in Benson just in time for a scrumptious lunch prepared by my sister-in-law, Pat, and a nice-but-too-short visit with her and my brother, Frank, at their winter RV haven.

I shot their portrait with Bubba by their Arizona Christmas tree, exchanged gifts and came away with a heart rock that Frank found on one of his forays into the southern Arizona desert so beloved by me and others of my Kelley kin.

Arizona behind us, we arrived at our night’s lodging in Deming, New Mexico, in good time, able to kick back and breathe after the intensity of the previous weeks and especially those last few days.  Rowdy took his role of guard of all things Wuehrmann very seriously.  Besides prowling the room’s circuit throughout the night, he made sure to peer out front the better to see danger as it approached.

Wind & dust . . .

Ai yi yi!  Beginning our second day of driving in strong wind but with a beauteous sunrise (one disadvantage to traveling alone is the inability to shoot photos and make notes along the way, thus blessedly shortening the resultant blog), the rosy clouded prairie viewed through the windshield reveals distant plumes of dust kicking across the landscape.

I swallow panic and assure myself I will be able to find a safe pullout if necessary.

Two cities traversed yesterday, two more coming right up: Las Cruces and El Paso, scary enough to this spoiled country girl but in gale-force (not sure what that is exactly but it felt that way to me) winds and legendary dust storms, I find my hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel as I hurtle at 75 miles per hour in rush hour city traffic allllllll the way through El Paso cheek by jowl with big rigs.

Finally free of the metropolitan area, I remain at alert as the wind whips across the highway.  Even in these conditions, I can appreciate that my fellow travelers are courteous and law-abiding.  Texas law requires travel in the right lane with the left lane only for passing and that is being obeyed to the letter, making for orderly proceedings.

The end in sight, Toyah, Rattlesnake Bomber Base . . .

Holy moley, there is not much out here in the vastness of the West Texas plains, but then we knew that - it still makes an impression, though, every time I encounter it. 

After I turn northward toward Midland, I see the sad but begging-to-be-photographed remains of the ghost town, Toyah, bringing back memories of a previous trip along this route; however, I cannot interrupt my pell-mell forward motion to wander anywhere camera in hand.

After much more featureless time seeing the pavement disappear beneath the car's hood,  I am relieved to see a roadside rest area that appears to have facilities (or faculties, as Dad W. would say).  This calls for sorely needed leg stretching, use of those “faculties” and munching on my lunch which is not nearly as nice as yesterday’s, consisting sparsely of cherry tomatoes and Clementines.

Inside the hangar-like building, I encounter a zealous Texas State employee who gives me an unsolicited personal introduction to why this rest area is constructed to resemble airport structures and what the structure within it represents plus quite a bit more of his newly acquired knowledge.

A highway sign had earlier pointed the way to something called the Rattlesnake Bomber Base Museum.  These edifices are designed to summon the ghost of that once-burgeoning United States Army Air Force base now succumbed to the Texas plains.  Interestingly, the Enola Gay, the B-29 that dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan, was among the thousands of aircraft mothballed there after World War II.  The building’s interior contains an accurately sized superstructure replica of that infamous plane with period photographs and information.

The Rattlesnake moniker attested to the thousands of venomous reptiles disturbed from their winter hibernation dens during the training base’s construction.  Officially, it was the Pyote Air Force Base.

Destination achieved . . .

Along about the height of the wind-borne grit storm, we arrived at the Midland RV Park and our semi-safe haven from more dust-laden air than I’ve ever seen, which is saying a lot for someone born and raised in the Valley of the Sun, renowned for its periodic miles-high walls of dust.

This was not as dramatic as those awesome displays, but suffice it to say that a person could open their eyes only the merest slits or suffer serious complications.  What an introduction!  I valiantly (if I do say so myself none too modestly) unpacked Ruby, managed not to let any doors crash open in the dusticane and at last was settled inside the rockin’ & rollin’ little snuggery to await the señor's arrival home from work.

In preparation for our arrival, Chris went all out with festive Christmas decorations.

Rowdy was hopeful about packing himself to head back home.

My first sunrise at my new home - and dust-free!