Carlsbad Befuddlement
I had hitched into Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico for no other reason than I was in the neighborhood and it was famous. Well, that and being a caveman. I've always had an affinity for deep dark holes in mountain sides, but I can’t say I ever had any real intention of going there. A nice fellow named Craig who worked construction on high ways had picked me up in Roswell and even dropped me off in the parking lot. After saying our good byes I went inside the main building to see what it was all about. The admission into the caverns was $7, which seemed reasonable considering I had a $20 bill in my pocket, so I bought a ticket. According to the ticket salesman it was a good hour and a half walk from start to finish, and I had recently stocked up on food and water, so I had no interest in hauling my gear the whole way though. I approached a young man about my age working at the information counter and politely asked if he would mind looking after my pack.
“Oh, I can’t do that, it’s against the rules. But there by the wall wouldn't be a bad place to leave it. I’ll keep an eye on it from here for you, but I’m not allowed to take responsibility for it.”
“Alright.” I said. “Nobody will mess with it?”
“Nah, it should be fine.”
So taking the word of a collage kid in a red vest who couldn't grow a beard if you paid him, I parked my gear behind a large plastic plant across the room and made my way to the entrance of the cavern. There was a sign describing the delicate nature of the caverns, and that no food or drink was permitted beyond a certain point in an effort to maintain the pristine condition of the natural wonder that took millions of years to create. This turned out to be a terrible joke. The entire way was paved with sidewalk, with hand rails and benches, and track lighting in every direction. Like a beautiful and elegant woman turned into a truck stop crack whore, however remarkable this place might have once been, it was now a source of revenue for the government. Despite some interesting formations (including one stalagmite shaped giant breast) I left with a deep sense of disappointment.
As I walked up to collect my gear and get back on the Road I reflected on every cool place I had ever been, and how a place is doomed to become over run by the masses of people and bastardized in direct proportion to how cool it is. I was lost in introspection and feeling quite disgusted with myself for having the receipt in my pocket and there by being a card carrying member of the problem, when suddenly all that left my mind. I was standing in front of the plastic plant which had no backpack behind it. It was gone.
I felt a rage begin to swell up within me. My jaw was set and my fists clinched. I had lost a pack once before in upstate New York, and I’d be damned if I was going to let it happen again. I whipped around scanning the room with my eyes, but it was nowhere to be seen. I looked to the information counter in hopes that I might find the baby faced college kid with the red vest and choke the life out of him. But he was gone, and a pretty blonde girl had replaced him. Now it’s been my experience that flirtation will get one farther with a pretty blonde girl than strangling, so I took a deep breath and sauntered up to the counter, leaning against it with my best half grin. Chances were she saw what ever happened to it.
“Hi there, I left a big ass backpack right over there a little bit ago, I don’t suppose you’d know where it might have gone off to would you?”
“Oh shoot! That was yours? I’m so sorry; the park rangers have confiscated it.”
“Really? Where could I find them at? Here in the building?”
“No, they took it about a half an hour ago to their office. I can call them and see if they can bring it back for you.”
“You’re an angel.”
I gave her a wink and made for the front door to roll a cigarette and wait for the rangers. It turns out that because Carlsbad Caverns is a federal park, it’s subject to many of the regulations set down by the department of home land security. So when my gear was seen left alone after the dimwit at the counter changed shifts, it was treated the same as though it were abandoned at an airport. Obviously blowing up a hole in the ground is every terrorist’s wet dream.
As I was finishing my cigarette the park ranger’s SUV pulled up. They opened the back and there she was, they hadn't even opened her. They said it took 3 of them to get it to the truck and load it up. I smiled as I signed the receipt and threw it over my shoulder with one arm. It weighed around 150 pounds.
I had learned the hard way during an incident involving 5 rangers at the Grand Canyon that hitchhiking is also illegal in a federal park. So I didn't even bother sticking my thumb out as I started the long hump down to Silver City. I don’t know how far it was, or how high the temperatures climbed, but it felt like a long ways, and hotter than hell. The entrance to the caverns sits on top of a large hill that some might call a mountain with Silver City below it. It had the look of a town that had seen its day, and only a few places remained barely surviving on what it could manage scrape off of the tourists coming and going from the park. The view from the Road as it wound down the side was pretty impressive. Mule deer seemed to jump out of every other bush and prance away into the rocks. There were small seeps leaking from the stone outcroppings, slowly but surely eroding caves and caverns of their own. The sun was getting low and I would need to find a place to camp soon. I reached the bottom of the hill, and found an abandoned motel with stucco walls. Silver City was just ahead and no one was around, so I poked my head into a random room and found it more than inviting. Judging from the shape of the bathroom I’d have to have a word with maintenance about the plumbing, but what the hell, you get what you pay for.
I walked around the back of it to keep a low profile and dropped my pack through the hole in the wall that had been the bathroom window. I leapt through and landed with the crunch of broken glass on bare concrete. It was already twilight outside, and the lighting in the derelict motel room was dim, so I lit a candle and swept the glass away with my foot to clear a spot for my bed roll. Aside from the windows being smashed in the place had very few signs of vandalism. But the wall paper peeling up and the asbestos ceiling tiles crumbling throughout made it clear that nobody had cared about it in a very long time. The desert was taking it back.
I sat Indian style on my blanket leaning my back against the wall, eating a cold can of raviolis and an orange by candle light. It was almost romantic. I opened my journal and scribbled some notes about the happenings from the last couple of days wondering why I found it so hard to keep notes on my travels. Just lazy I suppose. I snuffed the candle out and closed my eyes stretching out on top of my blanket with the warm desert night breeze blowing in on me from the missing windows and drifted off thinking about a girl.
I had hitched into Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico for no other reason than I was in the neighborhood and it was famous. Well, that and being a caveman. I've always had an affinity for deep dark holes in mountain sides, but I can’t say I ever had any real intention of going there. A nice fellow named Craig who worked construction on high ways had picked me up in Roswell and even dropped me off in the parking lot. After saying our good byes I went inside the main building to see what it was all about. The admission into the caverns was $7, which seemed reasonable considering I had a $20 bill in my pocket, so I bought a ticket. According to the ticket salesman it was a good hour and a half walk from start to finish, and I had recently stocked up on food and water, so I had no interest in hauling my gear the whole way though. I approached a young man about my age working at the information counter and politely asked if he would mind looking after my pack.
“Oh, I can’t do that, it’s against the rules. But there by the wall wouldn't be a bad place to leave it. I’ll keep an eye on it from here for you, but I’m not allowed to take responsibility for it.”
“Alright.” I said. “Nobody will mess with it?”
“Nah, it should be fine.”
So taking the word of a collage kid in a red vest who couldn't grow a beard if you paid him, I parked my gear behind a large plastic plant across the room and made my way to the entrance of the cavern. There was a sign describing the delicate nature of the caverns, and that no food or drink was permitted beyond a certain point in an effort to maintain the pristine condition of the natural wonder that took millions of years to create. This turned out to be a terrible joke. The entire way was paved with sidewalk, with hand rails and benches, and track lighting in every direction. Like a beautiful and elegant woman turned into a truck stop crack whore, however remarkable this place might have once been, it was now a source of revenue for the government. Despite some interesting formations (including one stalagmite shaped giant breast) I left with a deep sense of disappointment.
As I walked up to collect my gear and get back on the Road I reflected on every cool place I had ever been, and how a place is doomed to become over run by the masses of people and bastardized in direct proportion to how cool it is. I was lost in introspection and feeling quite disgusted with myself for having the receipt in my pocket and there by being a card carrying member of the problem, when suddenly all that left my mind. I was standing in front of the plastic plant which had no backpack behind it. It was gone.
I felt a rage begin to swell up within me. My jaw was set and my fists clinched. I had lost a pack once before in upstate New York, and I’d be damned if I was going to let it happen again. I whipped around scanning the room with my eyes, but it was nowhere to be seen. I looked to the information counter in hopes that I might find the baby faced college kid with the red vest and choke the life out of him. But he was gone, and a pretty blonde girl had replaced him. Now it’s been my experience that flirtation will get one farther with a pretty blonde girl than strangling, so I took a deep breath and sauntered up to the counter, leaning against it with my best half grin. Chances were she saw what ever happened to it.
“Hi there, I left a big ass backpack right over there a little bit ago, I don’t suppose you’d know where it might have gone off to would you?”
“Oh shoot! That was yours? I’m so sorry; the park rangers have confiscated it.”
“Really? Where could I find them at? Here in the building?”
“No, they took it about a half an hour ago to their office. I can call them and see if they can bring it back for you.”
“You’re an angel.”
I gave her a wink and made for the front door to roll a cigarette and wait for the rangers. It turns out that because Carlsbad Caverns is a federal park, it’s subject to many of the regulations set down by the department of home land security. So when my gear was seen left alone after the dimwit at the counter changed shifts, it was treated the same as though it were abandoned at an airport. Obviously blowing up a hole in the ground is every terrorist’s wet dream.
As I was finishing my cigarette the park ranger’s SUV pulled up. They opened the back and there she was, they hadn't even opened her. They said it took 3 of them to get it to the truck and load it up. I smiled as I signed the receipt and threw it over my shoulder with one arm. It weighed around 150 pounds.
I had learned the hard way during an incident involving 5 rangers at the Grand Canyon that hitchhiking is also illegal in a federal park. So I didn't even bother sticking my thumb out as I started the long hump down to Silver City. I don’t know how far it was, or how high the temperatures climbed, but it felt like a long ways, and hotter than hell. The entrance to the caverns sits on top of a large hill that some might call a mountain with Silver City below it. It had the look of a town that had seen its day, and only a few places remained barely surviving on what it could manage scrape off of the tourists coming and going from the park. The view from the Road as it wound down the side was pretty impressive. Mule deer seemed to jump out of every other bush and prance away into the rocks. There were small seeps leaking from the stone outcroppings, slowly but surely eroding caves and caverns of their own. The sun was getting low and I would need to find a place to camp soon. I reached the bottom of the hill, and found an abandoned motel with stucco walls. Silver City was just ahead and no one was around, so I poked my head into a random room and found it more than inviting. Judging from the shape of the bathroom I’d have to have a word with maintenance about the plumbing, but what the hell, you get what you pay for.
I walked around the back of it to keep a low profile and dropped my pack through the hole in the wall that had been the bathroom window. I leapt through and landed with the crunch of broken glass on bare concrete. It was already twilight outside, and the lighting in the derelict motel room was dim, so I lit a candle and swept the glass away with my foot to clear a spot for my bed roll. Aside from the windows being smashed in the place had very few signs of vandalism. But the wall paper peeling up and the asbestos ceiling tiles crumbling throughout made it clear that nobody had cared about it in a very long time. The desert was taking it back.
I sat Indian style on my blanket leaning my back against the wall, eating a cold can of raviolis and an orange by candle light. It was almost romantic. I opened my journal and scribbled some notes about the happenings from the last couple of days wondering why I found it so hard to keep notes on my travels. Just lazy I suppose. I snuffed the candle out and closed my eyes stretching out on top of my blanket with the warm desert night breeze blowing in on me from the missing windows and drifted off thinking about a girl.