As we prepared to exit Texas, we had one more stop before crossing the state line into New Mexico. We turned north off I-10 and headed up Hwy 54 to Guadalupe Mountains National Park – ever heard of this one? Neither had we! From a distance, they were beautiful and severe. We had called ahead and knew already that the visitor’s center and other staffed services were closed due to the virus, but we’d been told that the campgrounds were still open, so we rolled into the Pine Springs Campground. We were greeted by a couple who were volunteer hosts (as are most of the personnel we’ve met in all the National Parks we’ve been to so far). They informed us that as of that day, no fees were going to be collected, and it was first come, first served, so to help ourselves to a spot.
The campground there was basically a parking lot with RV slots painted and labeled, no hookups. It was fine. The view was beautiful, and it was a peaceful mountain setting. There were also several hiking trails that started at the campground. We happily picked a spot to park, got our hiking gear ready, and hit the trail, heading for the Devil’s Hall.
The weather was windy, with clouds and blue sky alternating, so we grabbed water, hiking sticks, long sleeve shirts and headed out. The trail was great and led us to a turn where we started hiking up a rocky wash. As we got pretty far into the wash, it started raining.
A little at first, then the non-stop deluge. We hunkered down in a little cave for a minute to see if it would slacken off, but since it didn’t, we kept on going up. I kind of wished at this point that I would have grabbed my rain jacket…..
We met a few people who were on their way down, and one of the last couples we met as we got close to the Hall were going very slow, and it seemed like the man was having trouble walking. John thought he might be on something, but when his female companion told us that he had fallen and hit his head on a rock, we realized he was injured, and soaked, and cold. He was walking though, so we offered him one of our walking sticks, (his other hand held his umbrella), and we wished them good luck and told them they could drop the stick off at our rig in the parking lot.
We got to the Hall, and based on the way the guy had fallen, I decided not to climb the very steep, very wet, very slippery rock steps that take you up into the Devil’s Hall. John went up, of course. I took photos and tried to stay out of the rain. On our way back down, we agreed that if the couple was still making their way, we should try and help them get him out of the canyon. And there they were, not much past where we’d left them, so we all decided that John would stay with him, and the woman and I would get down to where we could call someone for help. She had told us that he was nauseated and had been bleeding from the cut on the back of his head, and it was still pouring rain and he wasn’t making much progress.
We pretty much hustled down, and no campground host was around. As we were walking to the parking lot, a park ranger happened to drive up and once we’d reported the situation, she was able to call for help, and a “litter team” was dispatched. The female companion didn’t know what that was, but I guess I’ve been around enough boy scouts, first aid & CPR classes, and maybe watched too many movies and I explained what a litter was. (It’s the basket that rescue operations put someone who is injured in to carry them out to an ambulance). She was a nurse, however, so I’m not sure why she wasn’t familiar with that term. Anyways, by the time the rescue team had arrived, gathered their gear, and hit the trail, John and the guy were only about ¾ of a mile from the trail head. He said he just kept the guy, who was the same age, talking and slowly walking.
It was a lot of excitement for a simple afternoon hike. It even kept the 5 boys who were camped near us (under the age of 10, I’d guess) completely transfixed – it was the first time I’d seen them still since we arrived. Their faces were plastered up against any available screen window in their trailer, and they absorbed the action. There were probably 6-7 emergency vehicles, some with lights, lots of uniforms, etc. We said goodbye to the couple as he was transported off to a hospital, and went to our rig for a much needed change of clothes, and a beer.
The next morning, we packed up and drove to the next area in Guadalupe and went for a beautiful hike to a pretty spring up on the side of one of the mountains. There was an old homestead in the flat land, and you could see why it had been built there, the spring provided a prolific source of cool, clear water, just like the song.
We were starting to feel the effects of people staying away, as we only saw 2 people on that entire 4 mile hike, and there were only 2 vehicles in the parking lot.
Next stop, New Mexico. We ventured up the highway, crossed the state line, and stopped at Carlsbad Caverns National Park – we HAD heard of this one, as it’s a huge, huge cavern.
Not a little cave. Unfortunately, they were limiting exposure to people, and the elevator that takes you down 800 feet so that you can walk another couple of miles on trails in the caverns was not operating, cause how can you stay 6 feet away from someone in an elevator? I get it. It’s just that to actually get down to the floor of the cavern, we had to walk over a mile of steep switchbacks, steep enough that your toes hurt in your shoes as you’re going down. And it was DARK. And wet and slippery!
Nevertheless, we did it, although once I got down there, I wasn’t really feeling like walking a couple more miles in the cavern, so we did a short loop. Also, I had carried Ryan’s birthday card down there with me, because you can mail postcards, etc. from there, like you can from the bottom of the Grand Canyon at Phantom Ranch. I dropped it in the mailbox deep in the earth, then we huffed it back up that mile of switchbacks. The cavern really was remarkable, but I think I was getting, as John called it, cave or cavern fatigue. Since there was no camping anywhere around here, we carried on up to the town of Artesia.
Artesia had groceries, so we re-supplied, and set off to find an RV park, which turned out to be a bust. At this point, it was already 5 pm, so of course I was exhausted and cranky, but after making phone calls and using all the apps I have to find camping, we were able to secure a spot in a mountain town to the west, about an hour and a half away. We drove into the setting sun, and not only did we have the DEF and CEL lights on, the fuel light came on about 30 miles from our destination. Wanna see cranky? Driving with 3 orange lights makes me CRAZY. We had filled the DEF (Diesel Exhaust Fluid) when we came out of Carlsbad, and the CEL (Check Engine Light) had been on because we had already driven way too long without filling the DEF, so while we were driving away from Carlsbad, we called ahead to Tucson and made an appointment at a Mercedes service center there to have a look when we were in town the following Tuesday. Plus, there was not one single gas station between Artesia and our destination, as it turns out. Not one.
When we rolled into our camping spot in the little mountain town of Mayhill that evening, we were exhausted from the morning hike, the afternoon cavern hike, and unexpected additional hours of driving. We were trashed. And then, after we checked in, and I turned the engine back on to head to our space, two lights had gone off and the only one left was the fuel light! It was a huge relief!!! It was such a huge relief that we stayed 2 days at that place.
Due to some technical difficulties, John’s bike wasn’t working properly. We think rain had damaged his controller display on the e-bike, and we did some troubleshooting with the company we bought them from, and they’re sending us a new controller since we’re still under warranty. This layover was meant to stop for a minute and take care of these types of things.
Another day, another National Park (tomorrow), while we can!
John & Armen On The Road 