E.T., Phone Home….
Heading south from Santa Fe, the plan is to follow the Rio Grande River down the length of New Mexico to El Paso, Texas, with, just maybe, a few side trips along the way. South of Santa Fe I join Interstate 25, a four-lane freeway the rest of the way to the Albuquerque metropolitan area and down the length of the state to El Paso. I resist my “inner magpie” and do not stop at the shiny objects along the way (for international readers, a “magpie” is a bird, and the shiny objects are all of the Native American casinos lining the highway!). As the highway nears Albuquerque I take side roads to go around the city. Albuquerque, with an area population of nearly one million people, long ago eclipsed Santa Fe as the largest city in New Mexico as well as the commercial and financial center of the state. It’s not a bad place to visit, just not on my list for this trip so I go around and head down the widening river valley to Socorro, my next stop.
Northern New Mexico is a rugged land of mountains and high desert plains scarred by the Rio Grande River Gorge but as we approach Albuquerque and beyond the valley widens, though there are still tall mountains reaching to the sky on the east side of the valley. We are clearly entering a dryer climate with no trees in sight except along the river bottom. The soil is not fertile as evidenced by the lack of agricultural activity. New Mexico is a poor state and the rural countryside reflects that reality. I start seeing signs that give directions to the VLA and my curiosity is piqued. I reach the town of Socorro, stop to get gas, and Google “VLA” and discover that one of the world’s greatest scientific installations is just 50 miles off the freeway to the west. Off we go to see where E.T. might have called home from…
Turning west on Hwy 60 at Socorro, the route takes us up and through a mountain range before we emerge onto the Plains of San Agustin, a flat, treeless high desert plain the is the bed of an ancient lake. It is huge, roughly 15 miles wide and 55 miles long, and is ringed by mountains on all sides. Still not knowing quite what to expect, but still seeing mileage signs for “VLA”, I turn a corner and there before me is something in the distance. In the early 1930’s Dr. Karl G. Jansky discovered that radio waves were emanating from the Milky Way, which led to the ability to develop pictures and data from far away galaxies. This technology is at its’ peak at the Very Large Array in New Mexico. Congress authorized the project in 1972, the first two antennas were operating, and in 1981 the full 27 antenna array was in operation.
Spread before me is the “VLA”, or “Very Large Array”, the most advanced radio telescope in the world. Let’s talk some science (virtually all of which I didn’t know and learned at an excellent visitor center!) Most of us do not realize that the fabulous pictures of stars and far away galaxies that we see are not actually visible to the human eye. The VLA collects and processes radio waves to create pictures, much like a camera collects and processes light waves to create picture. Radio waves are at a much lower frequency and therefore not visible to the human eye. However, the white satellite dish antennas that you see in the picture are NOT individual telescopes.
There are actually 27 individual satellite antennas arranged along railroad tracks in a “Y” configuration. They are actually moveable and can be arranged in different configurations, depending on what the scientists are looking for. Not only do the individual dishes tilt and move, but the entire satellite dish can be moved on the railroad tracks that connect the “Y”. The individual dishes are bolted to a platform but when it is time to move them a special railroad platform rolls underneath the dish, the bolts are undone, a hydraulic lift raises the dish and places it on the platform, and then the dish is moved to the new location on the tracks. The maximum span of the “Y” at its’ greatest dispersion is 22 miles. The small building in the left of the photo above (not the large yellow building, but the low, dark one) is actually a two story control center. The inside of the control building is off limits to visitors but you can access a balcony facing the “Y” to take pictures. Here’s the view from the balcony looking into the center of the “Y”. The array is so large that I couldn’t fit it all into one picture.
Each antenna gathers data which is fed to a “super computer” in the control building for synthesis and analysis. Natural radio waves from galaxies, black holes, and baby stars travel across space and are gathered by the individual antennas. The data is then fed to the “Correlator”, the large supercomputer in the control building, and then a composite picture (both visual and data) is created. As I said earlier, the full array began operating in 1981 but by 2000 the technology was in danger of becoming obsolete. The shell of each antenna was kept intact but the insides have been completed replaced and the entire complex rewired with over 3,000 miles of fiber optics. The renovation of the array was completed in 2012. An individual antenna is 94 feet tall and the dish is 84 feet wide. There was a walking tour and I got to walk right out to the base of the one in this picture. Truly amazing!
There are 27 satellites in the array with a 28th “spare” kept to the side so that the array can always operate. The large yellow building in the first picture is actually a “garage” that houses the repair and maintenance facility for the array.
The array is so sensitive that visitors are required to turn off all electronic equipment. There was a neat little display that showed how a cell phone, even when not receiving any service, still emitted enough radio waves to register on the computer. The location of the VLA was carefully chosen because the Plains of San Agustin are miles away from any concentration of humans and the surrounding mountains help deflect radio waves from outside Earth sources, assisting the antennas to focus on extra-terrestrial radio waves. If you think that you recognize the site, you might, as it has been the location for a number of Hollywood movies, most notably the Jodie Foster film “Contact”.
Got to say that this was one of the most interesting stops so far…., time to go back to earth, head back east on Hwy 60 and check out the village of Socorro, New Mexico.
Jornado del Muerto, “Journey of Death”
One of the greatest surprises of this trip has been the adjustment to my shockingly inaccurate perception of the Rio Grande River. One of the most storied rivers in the history of the West and of undeniable importance to the region as the primary year-round source of water for thousands of miles; I expected to see what I would consider to be a “real” river. That is simply not the case. The Rio Grande is small, flows slowly except during a flash flood, and the river bed tends to be much wider than the actual water flow. I had always thought that it was like a highway that lead the Spanish up into the heart of the continent. That was true, but I had no idea of the hardship that trip entailed…
While the river flows due south through New Mexico, the land is so rugged that the Spanish were unable to follow the river between what is now Socorro and Las Cruces. The river canyon itself is not particularly deep for most of the way, but millions of years of erosion and flash floods have created deep canyons that radiate east or west off the main river channel. This necessitated a lot of climbing up and down in extreme heat and difficult access to what little water there was in the river. The Camino Real (King’s Road) actually leaves the river at Las Cruces and travels north east of a mountain range that borders the river, before rejoining the river at Socorro. This journey, generally taking three days with no water available, was called the “Journey of Death” and the Spanish named the town at the northern end of the journey Socorro, Spanish for “help” or “aid”.
Life in Socorro has centered on the Mission de San Miguel for the last 400 years. This is no tourist town. There has been no effort to restore anything for the benefit of tourists, who zip by on I-25 headed south. The plaza is still the center of town, but, while a pleasant area, it’s surrounding by ramshackle buildings housing small businesses and the post office.
The mission was established in 1598. current mission church has been in continuous use since being built in 1626, replacing an earlier structure constructed in 1615. Do the math; this church is 400 years old! Obviously over four hundred years even the adobe begins to deteriorate so in the last decade the church has been reconstructed (as opposed to being restored). Again, this is not a tourist attraction but a living place of worship. The rededication of the church was to happen the Sunday after I was there.
South of Socorro the interstate becomes a rollercoaster. The land, treeless and dry, flows down from the distant mountains to the west towards the Rio Grande River bottom. The soil is sand and gravel and when thunderstorms occur, the rain gushes down towards the river rather than soaking into the ground. Over thousands of years canyons have eroded the plateau and so the highway goes up and down as it crosses numerous canyons, arroyos and ravines. It’s clear why the Spanish chose three days without water on the “Journey of Death” rather than take this torturous side of the river. Suddenly on our left water appears. Elephant Butte Lake is the largest lake in New Mexico and was formed in 1916 when Elephant Butte Dam was built across the Rio Grande just north of present day Truth or Consequences. Tremendous flash floods had repeatedly occurred, damaging the towns and villages down the river, including El Paso, and the construction of this dam lead to flood control over the lower river in New Mexico. Standing virtually on top of the dam the picture looks south down the river; north looks up river at the lake (note how low it is as the western drought continues in central and northern New Mexico.)
Augie and I stop for lunch at a state park below the dam and come face to face with the mighty Rio Grande. It’s probably about 20 feet wide, maybe a foot deep at this point, sluggish and dirty brown with silt. Not the stuff legends are made of….
Just south of this point is the tired little town of Truth or Consequences. Its’ claim to fame is not a Spanish heritage, because the Journey of Death avoided this side of the river. Instead the location had been known for hundreds of years as a healing location for the Native Americans due to the presence of hot springs on the side of the river. In the early 1900’s this became one of the New Mexican destinations for people with respiratory problems from the east who were looking for a better climate. A little town grew up around the springs and little bath houses were built as the “spas” of the day. Several are still in operation, but make no mistake about it, this isn’t Sedona! From top to bottom is the Fire Water Lodge (built in the early 1920’s), the Indian Springs Spa (from the 1940’s), and La Paloma (built with cabins moved to the site from the original construction of Elephant Butte Dam in 1916). The mineral content of the hot springs is such that there is none of the usual sulphur odor.
I am beginning to realize these little desert towns tend to look “tired”. There are no lawns in front of houses, lots of “natural” landscaping which is native plants (i.e. weeds, for the most part), sand and rock. Some people mow their native landscaping, most do not. Downtown Truth or Consequences has little retail other than second-hand shops. Not much glitter in sight…
Perhaps the most interesting thing about Truth or Consequences is how it got its’ name. The original name of Hot Springs, New Mexico, was changed in 1950 in response to a radio contest. One of the most popular radio shows in the 1940’s was a show called “Truth or Consequences”, hosted by Ralph Edwards. On the air since 1940, the show decided to celebrate its’ tenth anniversary by having a contest to find a town that would be willing to change its’ name to Truth or Consequences. After a nation-wide search Hot Springs was selected and on April 1, 1950, after a vote by the people, the name was changed. A Fiesta was held and Ralph Edwards broadcast a special show right from Truth or Consequences. He maintained a relationship with the town for the next 50 years and Ralph Edward Park is a spot of greenery along the Rio Grande just east of the downtown area. Such are the events that make history!
After leaving Truth or Consequences and still heading south, I get the itch to dump the interstate and take another little side trip. So I leave the interstate at Hatch, the self-described “chile capital of the world” and stumble onto another little piece of Americana, Sparky’s hamburger joint. You can’t miss Sparky’s even if you wanted to – it sits at the corner of the main intersection of this little town and the shiny sculptures dominate the intersection. What can I say? I had to stop (you know how I’m attracted by shiny objects, even if it’s not a casino!) and can heartily recommend the green chile burger. Here’s my homage to Sparky’s! (P.S., that’s not the real Colonel Sanders sitting on the bench, it’s a statue…)
I particularly have a fond spot in my heart for the Texaco sign. At one time my dad ran a Texaco gas station in Billings back in the early 1960’s. “You can trust your car to the man who wears the star” was the jingle of the day!
Shortly leaving Hatch on Highway 26 and striking west to Deming, New Mexico, I realize that I am truly in the desert. Within miles of leaving the interstate and Rio Grande I climb a few hills and then the landscape opens wide before me. Virtually flat with only the faint grey-blue of the mountains on the western horizon, this is truly the northwestern edge of the great Chihuahuan Desert, which stretches from the interior of northern Mexico into the border states of Arizona, New Mexico and Texas. For 50 miles I drive until a smudge of dark on the horizon announces my next destination, Deming. Deming is truly in the middle of nowhere, about 60 miles west of the Rio Grande in the middle of the desert.
Deming is located in the Gadsden Purchase of 1853, when the United States bought land along the bottom of current New Mexico in order to provide a route of the southern transcontinental railroad (the mountains further north in New Mexico had proven to rugged for construction), The Civil War intervened, but after the war the railroads surged west. The Silver Spike was driven here in 1881 to commemorate the joining of the Santa Fe and Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe railroads, creating the second transcontinental railroad in the United States (the first being farther north between San Francisco and St. Louis). The town of Deming grew up around the railroad with a burst of activity that quickly leveled, but left a small downtown area of historic buildings.
Again, like most of the desert towns I’ve been through, it looks a bit tired. The buildings are weather-beaten, yards natural, the only spots of green grass of any size tend to be parks, or in Deming, the area around the historic county courthouse (seen above.) As i leave town there’s a bit of a surprise. Out here in the middle of nowhere I find six nice RV parks along the interstate. Turns out that Deming is a favorite winter destination for Canadians from the Ontario area. Who knew? Doesn’t seem to have a lot to do, but at least there’s the sun! I have to say this doesn’t rank up there with my most exciting side trips, but it did give me a real feel for the desert. I get back on I-10 and head 60 miles east to Las Cruces, the second largest town in New Mexico and only 40 miles north of the El Paso metropolitan area. I am staying at an RV park roughly halfway between the two cities. As the desert continues around me, just before Las Cruces there is a viewpoint that overlooks the much wider (now) Rio Grande Valley with the ever-present eastern mountains looking over the town.
Next up: Las Cruces
Post a Comment