On the Road Again

Friday, June 6

We left The Ranch at Lakewood at 8:30 AM to beat the heat as much as possible. Stopped in Artesia at the Country Market to replenish the galley so we don't have to leave the mountain first thing. Small town grocery prices at painful. Artesia has a rich history dating back to 1590. Of course, indigenous peoples already visited or inhabited the area when the first European explorers arrived. Evidence of Mescalero and Comanche presence can be found in many places.  

Traveling west on Hwy 82 saw very few birds, Kingbirds, Mourning Dove. and Chihuahuan Raven. A few sparrows along the fence, but couldn't ID them at highway speed. The grass is tall, but extremely dry. Not much rain since the floods last September. 

Hope, NM, is almost a ghost town. Population is 105 at last count. Founded in 1884 at Badgerville because all the residents lived in dugouts, the name was changed to Hope in 1890 when the post office came to town. Two stories (legends) about the name. 

1) Residents "hoped" for an economic boom with the coming of the mail service. 

2) two residents were shooting at a dime tossed into the air  when one said "I hope you lose" and he did beat the other. 

REsidents were hoping for a spur line to connect Hope with the Sante Fe railroad running through Clovis to Carlsbad. Part of the roadbed was constructed in 1908. Legend says a British financier was was to provide the funds, but he was a passenger on the Titanic, so the spur was never completed. 

"Hope" for water?

I always thought some early pioneer woman told her husband, "I HOPE you don't expect me to live here".

Through years past, the local police office kept his patrol car parked at the gas station on the edge of town with a dummy in the drivers seat to discourage speeders coming into town. Now the gas pumps are gone. At the peak population topped 420. 

As we gained elevation, water appeared in Rio Penasco. My brother and I used to ride horses in the dry river bed near Atoka south of Artesia. The only time we saw water there was after a heavy rain in the foothills. The old gin is still standing, but the house I lived in has disappeared. The old adobe structure where we pried bullets from the walls and told tales of cowboys and stage coaches has long since disappeared from the river bank, probably swept away by one of the periodic floods. 

We arrived Deer Spring RV on Hwy 130 at 11 AM. Temperature 85° with a nice breeze. Broad-tailed hummers whizzing around Space 23, our home for a while. Looking forward to a cool, relaxing, but birdy summer