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Sunset on Maxwell Scenic Drive

Big Bend National Park is one of the grand places we have gifted to ourselves as a nation. Maxwell Scenic Drive captures much of the flavor of Big Bend starting in the middle of the park and ending near the sheer vertical cut in the escarpment known as Santa Elena Canyon. Unfortunately watching the sunset on Maxwell Scenic Drive is an experience few people will ever have.

The park is tucked far out of the way in remote West Texas along the international border. Few visitors ever venture here which means you are likely to have the whole place to yourself during most of the year. With about a thousand square miles of hiking, biking, mountains, rivers and desert to explore unique experiences can be found everywhere. What you won’t find are artificial lights at night because the park is a dark sky preserve or lots of tourist amenities. This is quiet and pristine country.

I get to the Bend as often as possible and miss it as soon as I leave. It is just one of those places you never forget.

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Duck and Cover

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Flash Dance – Duck and Cover

When I was a kid the U.S and the Soviet Union engaged the people of the world in a game of nuclear brinkmanship. As Americans we were proud of our side. Ours were Nukes for peace.

Unfortunately I lived downwind from those above ground weapons tests; ‘Shots’ they were proudly called. No matter, the government said we were safe. How could we be so naive as to believe that? It was the times I suppose.

In school we were taught everything we needed to know when the attack came. We learned the dance of life called Duck and Cover. Always remember if you see a flash in the sky Duck and Cover. Hug the curb or hide under your desk until it’s safe to find shelter. Find shelter? It was so simple. Any grade school child knew what to do.

In the mid-century our goals and enemies were clear. We were masters of the world. The red star, whether it was planted in the East or off our Caribbean shores was what we had to fear. It was a simple binary choice, us or them.

All we had to do as citizens was remember which door to enter.

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Time of the Spirit

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Sometimes it seems in another lifetime or maybe a dream I lived years in New Mexico. I was a young man then. Up for the challenge and easy on meager resources.

My days were spent exploring Northern New Mexico and Southern Colorado by motorcycle. It was the best way to feel harsh spring wind, smell the air across the mesa and the sting of high altitude against my face. Exposed to the elements was my way to absorb hard reality and spirituality in equal measure.

In the evenings I would ride across the river to the West mesa. In those days the beautiful petroglyphs were unprotected. You could sit next to them and think about people who made such wonderful things. As the sun faded the skies would light up above Sandia Crest with distant lightning but no sound.

Once out on the mesa during a violent thunderstorm a hole opened in the clouds and intense sunlight a few yards across illuminated where I was sitting. It was as if the finger of God had reached down. Who would believe such a thing could happen?

More than twenty years on I picked up a camera. No matter. New Mexico is embedded in my soul in a perfect way no photograph could ever capture.