Ruminating in caves

State parks are becoming my home base. Though I am in competition with the snowbirds for the best spots.

From a boondocking site, I directed my GPS to a state park in New Mexico. I pulled off the route to refuel, and the GPS pointed me in another direction. I played, double-checking the destination. Soon I was turning down red dirt roads and driving through fields of cattle, crossing my fingers this road was taking me where I needed to be. A cow stood in the road ahead and I stopped, just a few feet several of the curious animals. Luna stuck her head out the window with no fear, curious about the big smelly creatures. I stopped worrying about being lost.

I pulled in to Rockhound State Park and snagged the last spot with electric, paid a whopping $14 and began to enjoy every bit of it. With plenty of cell service and the gift of a rainy morning, I stayed indoors to write blogs, edit photos, and work. The campground was quiet as everyone cooped up in their own campers and RVs. Nearly everyone was getting the senior discount. My 84 Vandura amongst their shiny and new RVs, meditating outside of my van with my naked cat. Everyone was friendly, though maybe a little curious.

After I finished posting the last blog, I drove to the nearest town, Las Cruces, to sit at the local Starbucks and do some data entry. I was surrounded by college students, each of us with our head buried into a screen. I had planned to work the evening and pull into the Walmart to sleep across the parking lot. But after a day of work, I decided to check out downtown La Cruces. I’m a sucker for an arcade bar. I spent a couple of hours dropping quarters into machines, mostly because I kept losing. Five dollars later I finished my beer and walked out with the highest score on Digdug. I walked down the block to get something to eat before I slept in the parking lot. The busiest place on the street was a small brewery, and I wandered in and took a seat at the bar. I listened to Star Wars trivia and made friends at the bar. I was grateful I wasn’t hiding inside my van alone at Walmart. These moments are why I love being on the road.

The next day I drove the three hours to Carlsbad Cavern National Park. The drive was long and incredibly windy, but also new and so beautiful. I arrived at the visitor center ten minutes before the hiking trail into the cave would close. Frantically, I ran around, purchased my ticket and started the steep descent. In the rush I forgot my tripod, the photos don’t do it justice. The cement trail was slippery and lined with handrails. It wound back and forth and back and forth., around stalagmites and under stalactites. The light from the entrance slipped behind the rocks as I climbed down further, soon completely disappearing. The bulbs in the cave highlighted the walls and the ceiling, but the cave remained very dim. Water dripped from the ceiling into small pools, people whispered in the distance. When you finally reach the bottom of the ‘natural entrance’, you enter the big room of the cave. Like a large and winding ballroom, the trail led around the perimeter, taking about an hour to traverse. I used the time to think. and think. and think.

I finished the trail and headed for the elevators. A little caved out. Grateful I didn’t have to climb back up the way I came. I emerged back into the light. The visitor’s center sits on top of a mountain with panoramic views of the land I drove through hours before. The sun was beginning to set, and though I wanted to watch the bats fly out of the cave and I wanted to stay and watch the sunset, El Paso was calling my name. So I headed back the way I came. I didn’t regret it. I’m still here. contemplating what to do next. My plans take me to Big Bend National Park, but a big part of me isn’t ready to leave the southwest. I am trying to find a balance between staying true to my plans and being open to the present. I tend to lean too far either way. But I am practicing. Thanks as always for following along.