Marfa, Texas

The small town of Marfa, Texas was down on its luck after WWII when a useful purpose for a former military/POW camp and munitions factory, among others, stretched the imagination of the remaining population a bit too far. Marfa does have a railroad running through, but is just a bit far from anywhere and lacked other attractions.

That is until artist Donald Judd chose to invest in the place by turning a number of its old buildings into a permanent exhibition. Judd's own installation in the old munitions factory is a fine collection of aluminum cubes which are much more appealing than anticipated. Light, space, reflection, shadow and illusion were not mentioned in the brief description of the work, but certainly added something. A number of resident artists have contributed to the collection. One memorable one recreates an abandoned Lenin era, Russian schoolhouse, (pictures yet to be uploaded).


Now a cartoon in the local paper, 'The Big Bend Sentinel' refers to residents being priced out of the market as it becomes the next Santa Fe. Amusing given that my travel companions are from Santa Fe, and absolutely agree that real estate prices are nowhere near the modest bracket nowadays.


The site now run by the Chinati Foundation is spread across a many acre site with both new and repurposed buildings. It took two hour sessions in the morning and afternoon to get around and that was a just a whistle stop tour. Other sites around the town are life sized installations, an architect's office in a deco style building, a former bank to name just two.


Apart from the life sized installations, Marfa is a pretty little place with the 'grand dame' Presidio County Court House watching over churches of just about every variety and further amusement in the equivalent of the old western style rail for hitchin' horses. The line up is 4X4s today, and it seems a handbrake removes the need for reins.


The accommodation we have chosen for a spot of luxury is the old and beautiful Paesano Hotel which sits on the opposite side of the wide and always semi-deserted main street from a contemporary era opera house. After another 50 yards, the street opens out on both sides to form the square centred by the court house, flanked on one side by a Mexican style church and on another by a deco/colonial style fire station.



The hotel is obviously a popular spot with art-tourists as any of the same people on the Chinati Foundation tour are visible in the warm breezy courtyard at cocktail hour. After sampling the hotel's offering of the trip's signature drink, we head off to take up a recommendation for dinner at the Blue Havelina restaurant. Continuing with the theme, the second round of Margarita's come out a gorgeous shade of pink. Prickly pear pulp is definitely ingredient X, and as well as the best Margaritas so far, the meal is rounded off by the top voted tres leches cake. Maybe they cheated – the waiter told us the recipe uses cuatro leches not tres – but the vote was unanimous that creative interpretation by a chef is definitely allowed!

The Indian Lodge

At the end of another long drive, during which we passed fewer than half a dozen cars in the last sixty miles, the light is fading and the wildlife venturing out. I have watched Buzzards gliding – seemingly effortlessly – above the still dry, though slightly more plant friendly landscape. Fleeting glimpses of a few deer and antelope suggest that the land is not quite devoid of wild life. Time now to introduce a new species – the Havelina. Kids books in the Lodge store tell me that this is not a pig – as much as it may look like one. Just to confuse the matter further there are wild pigs in the area that look pretty much like the Havelina, which is in fact a Peccary. The shape is like a cut down version of a buffalo and a rather endearing feature is the round pink end of the long pig like snout. Otherwise, these critters are wiry black with a ridge of stand up hair down the middle of the back and not at all cute by temperament. Think buffalo and miniature bulldog cross with wild pig hair in a mowhawk and you might get the picture. They have no road sense and although they take off pretty fast when they realize they are not alone, this seems to take a while to dawn sometimes, so driving at dusk can be hazardous. Better to meet them in the car than on foot though, so I am told.

The Lodge is a beautiful circa 1930s adobe construction nestled into the side of a hill overlooking what seems to have been a wide expanse of river bed in some far distant age. Its all dried up now, apart from a tiny creek that is marked by a line of green growth in a mainly brown scrubby landscape. A hike up the hill in an already hot (maybe 85-90F) and typically dry (this area does not know humid) morning offers spectacular views and gives rise to the ancient river bed idea. The shape of the land suggests hills rising to about 500 feet either side of a broad river bed snaking its way through various bends then opening out for a straight run off into the eastern horizon. That must have bee thousands, if not millions of years ago and the river bed now hosts the camping round and various marked out hiking tracks.

Over the ridge on the far side is one of the slightly (!) strange communities that have grown out of the 'republic of Texas' idea. This group apparently lives cut off from the 'evils' of society, is God fearing and very heavily armed. An advert says an 18 acres block is for sale at just $1K per acre. The neighbours might be a challenge and visitors are not welcome. I didn't see the sign but understand that it reads along the lines of 'don't come up here unless you have very good reason to be here.' Not sure who would want to with an 'invitation' like that.

Any slight temptation to take a look is quickly dismissed in favour of a visit to the old railroad car ice cream shop and next door antique store. The girl selling ice cream is impossibly slim and pretty (think walking talking Barbie). The ice cream is plausibly delicious and the shop tells fascinating tales of past life in a remote corner of far west Texas. The reason for the name Fort Davis still stands on a site opposite the shops, as one of many historical efforts to protect the border area from infiltrators. Some stone buildings have only the foundations left standing. Others are more or less intact, as is the 'wild west movie set' aura of the place. The rest of the small town is orderly and attractive with churches of every description, long verandahed villas set against a backdrop of tall columns of rock set into sandy hills. A rock shop with a knowledgeable owner helps to explain the geology of the area which was once at sea level. This day in a very different paradise rounds off with a 'star party' at the local observatory where the 'everything big' theme continues on another beautiful clear, full moonlit night.

Waving at Mexico

Moving on from TorC, as it is known locally, is a leisurely affair. Getting up at sunrise to walk while its still cool or take pictures before its too bright seems less appealing on the third day of the holiday. Maybe because its Monday morning. Lazing horizontal watching the light change is the activity of choice first thing today. Maybe the bone dissolving massage booked in for yesterday morning by TandS is something like a reason. After an hour and a half on the table, I literally was putty in Andre's hands. His fluent, French accented English conversation can only have helped. Dreamy! After the third attempt, even my 'computer knotted' shoulders gave in and turned to putty too. Tried not to reinstate them getting used to the eeePC and into the swing of writing up the trip. I am not taking notes or recording ideas marked 'significant' and know I am losing a few good ones, so need to keep up to the task.

Its after 11am when we finally get away after breakfast back at the slightly new age-y cafe. The road south runs through more of the by now familiar, near desert landscape. Its beautiful in its own way though I am pleased to be traveling through in the flame painted Volvo at 75 mph with a tap-refillable water bottle rather than following the traditional horseback trails. Its a long long road and there ain't much in the way of shade. I imagine its a long way down before you hit water.

After a couple of hours we reach the southern edge of New Mexico where it borders with Mexico and Texas. There is both visible and sensed difference as we cross into Texas and drive on through the sprawling modern border town of El Paso. Mexico is just a stone throw away across the Rio Grande. The visual impression is of dust settled on rows of brightly coloured single storey houses like replicated lines of crowded and crooked teeth. The land is flat this side of the river and hilly over there. The low rise urban sprawl of Juarez stretches as far as the eye can see until it fades out at the foot of a mountain range on the distant horizon. This side, the expanse is multi-level bill board edged highways, flyovers and concrete commercial sprawl. The start of everything being big in Texas.

Tom used to live in El Paso, and was keen to retrace old ground and offer another adventure by crossing over to Mexico for lunch. All local advice pointed to this being every bit as hazardous, if not more so, as the crossings made by Billy and Boyd in the fictionalized world of 'The Crossing.' This border has always had its troubles, right now they are pretty serious with drug gang 'wars', people trafficking and sickeningly regular shootings, sometimes of innocent bystanders. Stacy is not keen and by the sixth newspaper report of seemingly random shootings in half as many days, the idea is put to rest. No point in living dangerously for lunch when excellent and affordable Mexican food is on offer at every second corner on 'the safe side.' So I give a silent wave to Mexico before it fades out of sight.

Today's pitstop is at Papa's Pantry Restaurant in a small town named Van Horn, where a man called Ran Horn runs a veritable Alladin's cave of a second hand & collectibles store. The unique feature of Ran Horn's stock is an extensive collection of faut Van Gogh art works produced by the man himself. Its sorely tempting to buy one, because they are truly wonderful works, but the stacked in the back room collection with no where to hang at home puts the idea on hold. That and the trip budget, not that these are really expensive.

The budget has run so far to a few op shop treasures, but nothing much else apart from lots of good food and the odd bottle of Texan wine. Another unknown region's Shiraz scores a instant hit on the vineyard front and prices are very reasonable (U$7.99.) But back to Papa's where we were at the start of this paragraph, the 'Tes Leches' challenge begins.

About the name...

So how did a wee town in southern New Mexico come to be called Truth or Consequences? The story behind the name could easily be more romantic, but hardly more unique. Truth or Consequences is not the result of some quirky, local historic tale, but the name of an American TV game show that was popular in the 1950s. The host – Ralph Edwards - offered a deal to any town in the US that would change its name to the name of his show. His side of the deal was bringing celebrities to the town every year and making a feature of the place on the show. The small spa town of Hot Springs, New Mexico that had been growing n popularity as a local health resort since the 1920s took up the offer. The presenter kept his promise and turned up ever year until age finally got the better of him sometime in the early 1990s. So that's the story of the unusual and intriguing sounding name.

The town is small and got quite run down for a while. Low property prices and the thermal hot water table that sits just six feet below the surface and can be pumped up into most back yards attracted life back into the place. Old weather board cabins are getting face lifts by weekend residents from nearby cities, Albuquerque and Santa Fe to name just two. Hotels and apartments offer basic accommodation in characteristic New Mexican style with hot pools in rooms or fenced off in courtyards outside. Reviving businesses entertain visitors with new and second hand books, fabulous cowboy shirts, skirts and boots, chunky wooden furniture, stirrups, gun belts, hats or rocks and crystals, dream catchers and lots of new age paraphernalia. There are plenty of businesses for sale at prices to make an Aucklander gasp and think of leaving home immediately.

The prospects might be even brighter in future as Richard Branson of Virgin fame has, I am told, got consent and plans to build a Space Port less than fifty miles away. The first batch of space travelers have already committed the necessary $250K a piece for the maiden voyage, so the area may be in for a bit of a culture shock. Personally, I like the small town, whole food cafe, Second Hand Rose shop character of the town but progress rarely respects my opinion so this may be a very different place if I come back to visit again in years to come.

There are a few signs of affluence on show already. The Sierra Grande is a flash lodge run by a well known chef whose other 'place' is in Manhattan. Most of the are galleries are pretty unique and down to earth but one or two aspire to the extravagance / up market bracket. More may be on the way. I hope to have the chance to come back and see sometime. For now the idea of buying into a business for less than $100K is very tempting.

Local hospitality is another memorable feature. We are staying in one of the renovations in progress cabins borrowed from friends of T&S. It has the aforementioned horse trough in the back yard with a pump to fill it with hot spring water. An Air Stream trailer provides excellent and stylish guest accommodation in he back yard.

An invitation to dinner lands us up on the ridge overlooking the town in one direction and the 'muddy hills' and distant Mexican border rages in the other. Dinner consists of delicious Mexican style dishes of tamales, beans, wild rice and veggies fresh from the garden. Its quite amazing to see deep green silver beet, radish and tomatoes growing in soil that looks for all the world like vintage desert sand. The meal is washed down with lashings of red wine and good conversation with the owner of the Black Cat Bookshop, her partner and two black cats.

A block of land next door with a price tag below $100K looks tempting. It is the highest point around with 360 degree views that tonight includes a pale yellow globe of the rising moon.

Sunrise in ToC

Truth or Consequences, NM
Sunrise on the second day in ToC looked tempting enough to get me out of bed – off the couch to be technically correct – just after 6am. The light gets way too bright for good photos by about 9am, so I left Tom and Stacy tucked up in bed and took off for a walk round town. Its a very small town with Main St, Broadway and Austin meeting a few cross streets, a river at one end and some slowly eroding sandstone hills at the other. The river is the famous Rio Grande. though it is a bit more pequeήo than that name might suggest. During the day the bright sunlight washes out even the deep ochre yellows, pinks and blues that a mention of Mexico conjures up. At this time of the morning the rich colours are brought one by one into focus as they are spotlit by the rising sun. The air is cool, something else that does not last much beyond 9am.

The first shot of the Baptist church with the white plastic spire looks a bit cheesy but this is bible country in many shapes and forms, and I am not sure I have come across one with a plastic spire before.


The Church of God beside the work in progress cabin we are staying in has a lot more character, as well as an unfortunate leak from a swamp cooler on the roof that runs down the back of the building lifting the adobe and slowly dissolving the foundations. The phone number for the pastor listed out front is disconnected and even on Sunday the place seems almost deserted. Constant water flows are not something buildings here are built to withstand and this one looks a sorry site for more reasons than one.

A bright pink apartment block that caught my eye yesterday looks more appealing in this light. I wonder who Ruth is. Her name is painted crudely on an upstairs door.

A quick circuit of the town pauses in front of the Xochi bookstore with an invitation to take a picture of a passing stranger. He looks pretty harmless. I smell a story and no threat, so as usual since the end of film and beginning of digital photography, am happy to oblige.

Turns out I have just scored a meeting with a treasure hunter. Someone mentioned a local legend of Spanish gold buried in the hills around ToC, so its a great opportunity to get the goss from someone who clearly believes the tale to be true. I've got all the pictures I want, so happily give over half an hour to hearing his stories. He reckons this would still be an Indian town if Geronimo had not left to go and perform ceremonies in another area, and been arrested because the Sheriff misunderstood the purpose of his trip. His son Iron Horse founded the first Indian school in the county and a young Indian was unintentionally rewarded for stealing a horse when he met the famous Apache in jail and learned the location of the buried gold from him. He talks fast this treasure hunter!



The tales got whackier after that – there was an alien body with fins, a tail and a bald head, the captured crow of an Austrian queen, meetings with the rich and famous and the best picture of a flying saucer ever recorded. The flag on the spaceship and regulation movie/cartoon sounding design were rather disappointing, but I suppose one can only apply so much imagination to these things! Not caring whether it could be interpreted as falling for a pick up line or not, I accepted his offer of a coffee at the BBQ and grill cafe that had a queue at the door by five to seven. Whatever else he might have gone away thinking, I suppose having an audience for half an hour was well worth the price of the bottomless mug of bland brown liquid he parted with. Insignificant against the value of the gold bars he was about to unearth for sure.

Walking into the novel

A work mate lent me Cormac McCarthy's 'The Crossing' because it is set in the area of the US I was about to visit. A canned sardine space on the economy flight from Auckland thus expanded out into the vast empty plains of the New Mexico / Texas / Mexican border. I followed sixteen year old Billy and his captured pregnant she wolf on their ultimately fruitless journey towards the mountains. Accompanied him on every hazardous step of the lone trek back to a destroyed home, and on again into Mexico with brother Boyd to hunt down their father's killer. People that fed and looked after the near starving brothers along the way without needing to be asked were the ancestors of the self same people I was about to meet.

The arrival queue at LAX was long-ish and kept being shifted so that no matter where I started, I ended up at the back of a line. This was for efficiency, I learned, as another flight was due in right behind us and immigration get nervous if people get to mix with others they didn't arrive with. No big dramas though. Signs on the front of the immigration desks advise newcomers and workers alike that this is the face of America. Its pretty friendly if my fairly limited experience is anything to go by. The conversation is light as my fingers are digitally printed and my eye similarly scanned. The Scottish accent scores yet another hit, as I learn the large (do they come in any other size?) middle aged officer's ancestors hail from Oban. I happen to have been there with my nearly eighty year old parents less than six months back, so the 'welcome to the United States' is even a little warmer and more personal than usual. I have heard of more troubled experiences at these borders but only second hand so far.

The transfer to domestic for the flight on to Albuquerque is equally hassle free and I hook up with Gary, Ian and Lorraine in terminal 7 where we splash out on local beer and cocktails even though it's still only 11am in New Zealand! We soon split up again as they head off to Las Vegas and Flagstaff. I am glad of the direct flight to New Mexico where there used to be a minimum of one stop over and a few more hours of the journey.

I touch down to find Tom in the bookstore and Stacy driving round the block. The car with bikes strapped on top is to high to get into the car park. A quick getaway has us at the Owl Cafe at San Antonio, NM well before 8.30 last orders for green chile cheeseburgers. The Owl is like a movie set western bar, and there really is a guy in blue jeans, cowboy boots and spurs sitting astride a wooden bar stool. The barista is a chatty Latina, and relics of the past life of this small south western town are posted all over the walls. An instant and welcome shift to local culture is complete after the hour plus drive on down to Truth or Consequences where the promised soak in a horse trough awaits. The detail I have yet to fill in is the hot geothermal spring water pumped up into the trough in the back yard of the borrowed cabin where we will stay for the first two nights. That and the balmy, full moonlit night.

So less than 24 hours out of Auckland, I have switched worlds. Stepped back, it appears, a hundred or so years to where sheriffs may no longer mosey around on horses but still wear Stetsons and boots. Single storey adobe buildings line two parallel main streets. Just a few others cross at right angles. Hills behind the town look copied from one of many painted deserts around the area and a murky, narrow river meanders through. Kids loll around the dusty riverside in beat up utes and tourists wander in 90 degree heat with nothing much to do. We finally spot a place that looks likely to serve up a cold beer to round off the day. A large extended family from El Paso tells there is no bar and insist on us sharing their beer and stories. The hospitality and the language tell I have walked into the pages of the novel.

The new toy

Bit the bullet and stumped up $600 for an eeePC so I can have really portable computing. It weighs less than 1kg and would fit into a medium to large pocket. I do have a bag full of so many cables that I have already earned the nickname śparky´ but apart from that I am well impressed. The memory card from the digital camera is in the usb card reader, I paid the (extortionate) $10 for one hour wireless access at the airport (some places have it free - not broadband challenged NZ) and logged on to this site no problem! Just because i can. Not because there is anything interesting to report at this stage.

Just because can, here are some pix taken about 10 minutes ago before Ian, Gary and Lorraine went early to the gate. Their flight is one hour late so we had plenty time to catch up here and will probably meet again at LAX in the United departure area. They are going on to Las Vegas and Flastaff Arizona. I am going straight to Albuquerque, New Mexico then by road to Austin where we will meet again.

Small hitch encountered. Photos are too big to upload to blog and experience does not permit downsizing without trusty Mac and iPhoto software. Managed to get them up on Flickr so here is a link instead. Not that they are anything really worth looking at! As I say - I am just playing with my new toy!

Next stop LAX.

A tent in sub-zero!

Tom's last great idea was, I have to say a surprisingly good one. We arrived after dark and cooked lamb chops on the barbie. Ran to the loo in plummeting temperatures. Tempted to stay close to the gas heater. Didn't get to see how stunningly beautiful Chaco Canyon is until the morning. Here it is, complete with ancient rock etchings. Lots of pottery shards in the river and restoration going on.

Blog revival

Time to revive this blog. I have done quite a bit of moving since the trip to Ethiopia in late 2007 – Singapore – Scotland – England – Australia – and home to NZ in between times of course. Nowhere on these travels have I felt the urge to tell tales to the three (plus/minus) watchers I know set up an rss from this site. But who could resist writing the story that follows from this email from my mate Tom in Santa Fe, NM?

"The car's tuned up. I have reserved places to stay -- a private house in Truth or Consequences, a country lodge in Fort Davis, Texas, near an astronomical observatory, and then the Hotel Paisano in Marfa, Texas, where Elizabeth Taylor, James Dean and Rock Hudson stayed while making "Giant" in the early 1950s. We have a tour lined up in Marfa of an over-the-top, avant garde, conceptual art exhibit in two large Quonset structures that once housed an ammunitions depository. Then to Austin on the 22nd. We will make at least one stop to run across the border for lunch, either at El Paso/Juarez or Del Rio/Piedras Negras.

If we can get away from the Albuquerque airport quickly on the 17th, we can make it down to the Owl Cafe (at least an hour to the south) on the edge of the vast Jornada del Muerto badlands in time for a dinner of green chile hamburgers (arguably the world's best) before they close at 8:30 p.m. Then it's another hour and a half to Truth or Consequences where we can soak in the horse trough and get massages the following day. I suppose you'll be pretty jet lagged, but don't worry, relax, we'll take care of you. This is going to be so much fun."

YEE HAH! I WANT TO STAY IN THE HORSE TROUGH!!!!!!!!!!

The wonderful man (Tom) who arranged all this is the very same one I picked up hitch hiking just south of Aberdeen Scotland in 1977, lost touch with for 25 years then camped out with in sub-zero temperatures in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. He managed to persuade me and Stacy this was a good idea. Doubtful we were, dead right he was! I will not doubt him again. Not when it comes to travel plans anyway.

So this time we are ‘chasin the blues’ from Albuquerque New Mexico to Austin and San Antonio Texas.

‘We’ being Mr Gary Harvey himself & Ian Thompson of Gary Harvey Band fame and Ian's wife Lorraine.

Photos and travel stories to follow soon.