Arriving at the Gila National Park, N.M.

9/16/09: I headed North from Big Bend up to I-10 and West to I-25. I stopped for fuel and lunch at a Denny's in El Paso along I-10. Going through El Paso brought back many memories of my motorcycle ride to San Diego. I thought about those steady southerly winds that effected my riding position for 200 miles, and a place known as the biggest Harley Davidson dealership in the country, and also about the basketball knee pads I'd bought at a local sporting goods store. Those knee pads had turned out to be great cold weather wear for motorcycling in the West Texas winter. At the Denny's, as lonely travelers are known to do, I struck up a conversation with the waitress. I stayed and drank coffee and blogged and went on to do my online financial chores for quite some time. But then, I had to head out. It reminded me of one of the characteristics of the traveler. I was frequently leaving a place. I always wondered if that was part of the allure of traveling. Later in my trip, I started growing fond of not leaving, and not breaking camp. Some places just get a hold of you.
I was heading up I-10 toward the exit for Truth or Consequences, N.M. That's when I called my friend back in Boston. We talked about the Gila and where would be the best places to camp. He said that finding the Visitor Center would be a great help. I promised I'd be back in touch with him when I got into a cell phone area. Heading West on NM 152, I spotted what looked like a park sign. It was a small sign on a side road that said "Park Trail". I turned around and headed down the dirt road. I may have been a bit anxious to get to the park. I traveled 6 miles on a rough and windy, dusty dirt road and came to an area marked private property. I spoke to a man who emerged from a motor home parked in a field close to the road and was then advised that I wasn't anywhere near a visitor center, but that the entire area was national park land and that I could camp anywhere I liked. I was anxious to stop and clean up and headed a little further up the road and started to make camp in a clearing by the road. Before long, I heard what sounded like gunfire, then some yelling, and then the sound of a chain saw blazing away. This was very odd as it had been a perfectly quiet area before I'd arrived. I interpreted all this as someone possibly trying to discourage me from camping. I decided that this wasn't the place for me to stay. I headed back toward the dirt road. There's a quick story here about some wild turkeys walking in the road. Are they dumb? Maybe, but I saw that they do cover for each other. The flock was walking along the trail just ahead of my truck as I approached. They realized I was there and started to break off to the right to get out of my way. The birds on the right side of the flock moved off out into the woods, but two birds didn't follow immediately. The bird to the left, remaining the closest to my path in the road, realized he was the most at risk and gave his daydreaming neighbor a shove with his head alerting him to the best path to take. The daydreamer headed off to the right behind the other birds and the other bird followed him along. It was a show I'd never seen before. It was now getting late in the day, and I came to an area with a large fire ring and the remnants of a mining shack. I set up camp and tented for the night. The next day I learned that a woman had set up camp in this shack, against park regulations, and that after repeated entreaties to leave, the park service knocked down that shack when she wasn't there. Seems a sad story.