I am recuperating from my excursions at the El Dorado Hotel in Terlingua. I'm afraid that if I leave my room, I will have to talk to someone, and I am tired. These days, it is strange for me to be so social for so long. It seems that every year when I go out to the desert, I return home carrying more and more of its silence. So far, this trip has not been silent, besides a few brief swings when the hammock Sirens calling my name became irresistable. I went to two parties last night, and the locals can do it up right. I even had a lunch date today before I hit the road. I wonder if feeling more helpless in the face of nature makes people care more about community, and about each other. Last night's hostess said, "Out here, you've got to know where the water is." That's true for all of us, in whatever desert we find ourselves.
Staying in the teepee last night was fun, and it was nice to be out my truck so I could stretch out and not be stabbed in the side all night by a belt buckle. I felt like I was in a movie about The Doors as I watched the firelight dance on the canvas walls from under wool blankets.
Folks around here call state highway 170 "the river road." The river they are referring to is the Rio Grande. It was an amazing drive, especially for this desert-phile. The rocks would be red for a while, then black, then white, then yellow... and everything in between. I lost my stomach a few times on the roller coaster parts of it. Around Marfa and Alpine, I saw quite a few antelopes, even one hanging out with a couple of cows, but I haven't seen any this far south.
Peace, friends.
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