Thursday, July 10, 2008
We’re leaving Sliver City on Route 90 West. Originally, we had planned on staying two nights in Silver City and using it as a base for hiking near the cliff dwellings two hours north from here. However, with all of the rain POURING down this elevated Silver City and the significantly large valley around the city, we decided to take the locals’ advice and get out while we could. Again, the words flash flood helped us make our decision.
Before we left, we walked around the town for almost three hours. We walked on and off Main Street and hopped in and out of shops. The population seems to consist of retirees looking for a new place to live, starry-eyed 20-30 year olds who are “hanging out man,” random travelers like us, and some pretty rough looking old-timers straight out of history books on the Wild West. And, as Neil put it, “Any of them would happily talk to us for an hour or so.” We found that most often, this meant that they wanted to talk about where we were from.
The man who owned the “Hub” shop let Eleni dig into a trunk and pick something out (for 25 cents), and she picked out a necklace with a Saint on it. He visited New Jersey once as his ex was from there, and he said he wanted to stand on the car bumper the whole time because he couldn’t see the sky. “There are too many trees and they are so close together.” Then he said the bread was great, and I felt a bit awkward…I thought he meant bread as in money. I was wrong and the embarrassing moment was over soon; he said his family owned the bread store on Main Street since 1905, but it’s gone out of business. But oh, he’s never forgotten the bread from New Jersey, “they must use a different type of flour or something.”
Billy the Kid was born here in Silver City.
The co-op grocery store counter clerk asked us where we were from, and when I said New Jersey he smiled. “Oh, I used to live in Long Island. But when I got out here…this place turned my world upside down. I’m never going back. There are too many people there. Here I feel like I am really in a community.”
In the short time we were there, we understood that.
We’re leaving Sliver City on Route 90 West. Originally, we had planned on staying two nights in Silver City and using it as a base for hiking near the cliff dwellings two hours north from here. However, with all of the rain POURING down this elevated Silver City and the significantly large valley around the city, we decided to take the locals’ advice and get out while we could. Again, the words flash flood helped us make our decision.
Before we left, we walked around the town for almost three hours. We walked on and off Main Street and hopped in and out of shops. The population seems to consist of retirees looking for a new place to live, starry-eyed 20-30 year olds who are “hanging out man,” random travelers like us, and some pretty rough looking old-timers straight out of history books on the Wild West. And, as Neil put it, “Any of them would happily talk to us for an hour or so.” We found that most often, this meant that they wanted to talk about where we were from.
The man who owned the “Hub” shop let Eleni dig into a trunk and pick something out (for 25 cents), and she picked out a necklace with a Saint on it. He visited New Jersey once as his ex was from there, and he said he wanted to stand on the car bumper the whole time because he couldn’t see the sky. “There are too many trees and they are so close together.” Then he said the bread was great, and I felt a bit awkward…I thought he meant bread as in money. I was wrong and the embarrassing moment was over soon; he said his family owned the bread store on Main Street since 1905, but it’s gone out of business. But oh, he’s never forgotten the bread from New Jersey, “they must use a different type of flour or something.”
Billy the Kid was born here in Silver City.
The co-op grocery store counter clerk asked us where we were from, and when I said New Jersey he smiled. “Oh, I used to live in Long Island. But when I got out here…this place turned my world upside down. I’m never going back. There are too many people there. Here I feel like I am really in a community.”
In the short time we were there, we understood that.
In our hotel...this trip is beginning to feel like this.
This was the one remaining house after a great flood in some year I did not document for you and I won't make it up. But, perhaps a clue...just outside this house, the sidewalks had WPA 1939 imprints!
This is Slimy, the snail that was Alex and Eleni's pet for about 5 minutes until he or she or it slimed all over Eleni! Bye-bye Slimy. Alex was not amused.
The deserted bread - and we're talking real bread - shop in Silver City
We’re back on I-10. The next town on route is called Lordsburg. It’s not really mentioned in the travel guide, but it claims to have a Shakespeare Ghost Town.
Signs we saw –
“Caution – Dust storms”
Next sign, “You may have no visibility”
Further down the road, after we passed the dust threat, we read,
“Caution – high winds.”
Songs we listened to on the radio –
“Sometimes I fell like Jesse James, trying to make a name for myself”
“And we’ll raise up our glasses against evil forces saying we’ll have whiskey for my men and beer for my horses!”
“You look good in my shirt”
Things we saw from our car –
Peloncillo and Pinaleno Mountains, four trains carrying goods, not people. Tumbleweed, the rain again, cacti, and signs for Pecans, walnuts and wine!
We were going to take the more scenic route to Tombstone, which passes the Geronimo surrender point, but the ominous storm clouds helped us make our decision again.
Someone spray painted Fraggle Rock on this. It's against the law to deface these rocks, but I thought someone might appreciate this retro 1980s statement.
Truly a desert wasteland at the truck stop for a rest stop...
So here we are in Tombstone, at the Trailriders Inn Motel. The owners are originally from Stratford-Upon-Avon in England. They visited Tombstone for one night six years ago, and since that day they have been the proud owners of this motel.
We all swam, and yes, that sign over the hot tub in the back says “Tiki Love Shack.” After we had a picnic in our room, we set out walking for old town Tombstone in our raincoats.
We all swam, and yes, that sign over the hot tub in the back says “Tiki Love Shack.” After we had a picnic in our room, we set out walking for old town Tombstone in our raincoats.
The town of Tombstone closed down at 6:30 and that is just when we arrived, and it was such good timing! No one cared if the kids just ran willy-nilly up and down the covered walkways, and we all had a chance to guess what happened here. Neil and I have never seen the movie Wyatt Earp, so besides our guide-books and some signposts here and there, we didn’t have much of a grounding for the importance of this town. In 1877, Ed Schieffelin came to a nearby Fort with a group of soldiers. He left them to prospect, and his friends told him he would find his tombstone before he found silver. The joke was on them when Schieffelin found silver here and named his first claim Tombstone. Once word got out, people flocked here and the “town too tough to die” was a boomtown for 7 years. Before underground water filled the mines and made mining impossible, this violent town was the site of the battle between Wyatt Earp, his brothers and Doc Holiday, against the Clayton brothers at the O.K. Corral.But, for us, the true beauty of O.K. Corral was the playground next to it. Alex met a boy named Mikey. Together they climbed trees, captured dung beetles, and made promises to meet again tomorrow. Mikey’s family is from Arizona, and they are RVing around the state. They were just as relieved for their son to have someone to play with as we were. Neil went back to the motel with Eleni and I hung out with Mikey and Alex.
(ps - I took this photo the next AM, and you can see the clouds cleared. As they do.)
1 comment:
Dance your cares away,
Worry's for another day.
Let the music play,
Down at Fraggle Rock.
Whoever wrote Fraggle Rock on that rock is now very high up on my list of good people.
-Steve Ingui
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