9/25/14 - Well this has been an interesting few days. I visited the dinosaur tracks before I left Clayton. The tracks were more pronounced in the daylight, and I imagined an historic beast towering over me as he slogged through the mud. Hardened over thousands of years, the tracks bore traces of an ancient spirit of the Earth. I ventured along a trail down the man-made spillway from the lake. The trail was rocky and then swampy as it wound through the downgrade. Two mule deer watched me. One large, with a lumbering step, and one small, tagging along with mother. They ignored me, but made haste to avoid after I moved on. I returned to the bus to load up. I met the County Sheriff making his rounds with his partner. Their territory covered 150 square miles of land, mostly prarie. It's a rock strewn land of boulders and stone.
Windy and I made our way into town for shopping and fuel. Preparations for the boondocking adventure into the Kiowla National Grasslands included mostly dry goods that would not need to be refrigerated. My plan was to live off the motorhome's propane and battery power, and having only an electric refrigerator, I was limited to using the generator, (and more gasoline), to keep things cool. I knew that periodically powering up the fridge would be adequate to keep things fresh. I need to temper the use of resources.
In town, I went to the tourist information center to use the Wifi for making email communications. While there, I was informed of the road washouts down in the grasslands, and strongly discourage from attempting passage to Mills Valley. But I was strongly encourage to visit the Capulin Volcano National Monument.. It was much closer, and offered a trail to the bottom, as well as well as trail around the rim. The pictures the host showed turned me. I made my communication efforts and headed out of town. It was already 3 p.m., and about the time I should have been making camp somewhere. The heat was strong as we headed northwest, but the generator-powered air conditioning made the going easier. What I've later found to be elevation sickness, of the carburetor kind, caused a hot running motor, and a straining as we made our way up the 2000 feet of elevation change. At one point, we stopped and let the motor cool down. We were within 10 miles of the Capulin RV Park when I started looking for a boondocking alternative. After all, I was set up to camp without a water or electric hookup, so why should I camp in an RV park for $30 dollars? The alternative became clear. A trucker was stopped at an historic marker, and there was room for bus as well. We backed her in, made dinner, and watched an remarkable sunset. Little did I know that the trucker had stopped due to a shredded tire, and was waiting for a service truck. The help came at 11:00 p.m. The service truck parked between us, and left the diesel motor running just outside my bedroom window. Then he started his compressor, and powered up his air tools. There's a sharp contrast to running air tools oneself to work on your machinery, which I was carrying as well, and having someone outside your window running the air tools in the middle of the night. I peeped through the blinds and watched briefly as the mechanic wrestled 5 foot long tire irons to remove the damaged tire from the wheel. I knew the process approached completion when the whining air gun spun the wheels lug nuts back onto the truck. Whirrrrring - pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. 10 lug nuts and the service truck was on its way. The trucker didn't leave and I fell back to sleep comforted that I wasn't alone on the side of the highway. I awoke after a great sleep to find the trucker gone. I fixed a pile of bacon and eggs for breakfast and made my way into the town of Capulin. It must have been just before the turnoff to the volcano when the dashboard of the bus seemed to explode with the rickety whirring sound. What could that be? It was a totally new sound and being it was coming from the dashboard, I tried to imagine what the moving parts were in that area. Only the speedometer had a cable that could possibly be making noise. I missed the turn and after a short time, pulled over and opened the dashboard and disconnect the speedo cable. Spraying the cable throughly with 3 in 1 oil stopped the racket. But it wasn't until I was 5 miles past the turnoff that I knew I'd have to turn around. I also noticed that one of my tail lights was out, and did a quick repair there. Finally, I got to the National Monument.
A national scenic area is different from state run areas. There is a formality to each of these compounds. The signage has an efficiency, and there is little variation in how the park has been kept up. The Capulin Volcano is the same. The staff was cordial, efficient, and not so warm. I'm not sure why the national areas have such formality amongst the staff. Just being part of the National Parks Service could be why. It is a huge organization. But I just don't know. I arrived before the staff and started on a short nature walk. Then I let Windy take a walk on the leash. Windy likes to explore new areas, and he seems to be getting used to venturing out the door expecting something different each time. Since he always sleeps in the clothes closet while the bus is rolling, I can't imagine how he simply bolts out the door into the unknown. Once, I mistakenly let him out too close to passing traffic and he dashed back inside. But usually he's a brave soul, trusting that the world outside is either a new parking lot, or new campsite. Slowly, he's becoming accustomed to travel. When the visitor center opened, I purchased the day pass, and also the, "American the Beautiful" pass for 80 dollars. It will allow free entry into any national area for one year. We drove to the volcano's rim on a winding, narrow road. The length limit for RVs is 26 feet, and the bus is barely over that. There are no guardrails, and the drop was at least 1000 feet. I paid careful attention. Parking, leaving Windy, and hiking down the paved path to the core took only 5 minutes. The whole area is filled with volcanic debris. There's much overgrowth, but I learned that the result of lichen growing is what allows the growth. Green, yellow, and gray lichen coat much of the rocks emitting a mild acid that breaks down the volcanic rock creating dirt, allowing the plants to grow. From the bottom, I could see some other visitors at the top of the rim. I called out, "Hello up there!" The woman called back, "Hello down there!" I'd heard them talking as I started the decent saying that there was nothing to see down there that was not visible from up at the top. I thought, "I'm glad I get to do these excursions before my energy starts giving out." Talking to them back at the top the gentleman of the group said that he was 84 years old. Ok, that's plenty good reason not to hike down. They were acccompanied by a young man with prosthetic leg, whom has visited 390 of the 400 national scenic areas. That was his mission: to visit all of the national parks. I found that moving.
Windy and I had lunch and moved on. Dinosaur tracks, volcanoes, what next? The closest park was to the north. Less than a two hour drive was Sugarite State Park. The maps and GPS confused me and I stopped in Folsom, a very small community with a local museum of antiques. There was nothing outstanding, just a large collection of old stuff I saw an old dentist's chair, and all i could sense was the pain othere's had had in that spot. Ugh! I did get good directions without having to go very far out of my way. I was crossing Johnson's Mesa. After climbing 1000 feet a huge open area of flat grassland opened on both sides of the road. Far off were mountainous areas, but this elevated, almost desert-like grassland was like nothing I'd seen before. I passed Johnson's Mesa Church.
