Caverns and Mexicans and Biosphereians, Oh My

Roswell New Mexico ~ Miles Traveled: Not as many as the aliens who've come here
I've been back on the road for three days and I'm acting like I was shot out of a cannon. I've been through four states, two countries, one national park, an abandoned scientific colony, and I've traveled back in time. By tomorrow I may actually be on another planet. The heat's not going to stop me from seeing what I what I want to see, even if it did get up to 107 degrees today.

Thursday morning I jammed out of California and into Arizona, hitting Phoenix by midday. I spent a grand total of 25 minutes driving around the city, and then I was back on I-10, heading towards Tucson. When I hit Tucson, I headed South to Nogales to check out the border. I arrived in Nogales about 7:30pm, and wasn't exactly thrilled with what I found. I'm not sure what I was expecting, perhaps the United States on one side filled with fast food restaurants and wide, clean paved streets - and then there'd be a gate or fence with Mexico on the other side, full of people drinking beer and margaritas and wearing large hats. What's actually there is a weird maze of dirty, twisting streets filled with suspicious looking characters just waiting to rough-up a dopey looking gringo like myself. Given fast-approaching darkness, I decided against crossing over, and I high-tailed it back to Tucson. I was a little annoyed with myself for bolting - I felt like a spoiled kid that had never been exposed to anything unsavory who turned up his nose at the poor border town the first time he stumbled upon it. I told myself I'd try again during daylight hours as I raced away as fast as Trudel would go.

I drove until 11pm, hoping the heat would subside enough to sleep in the car, but it never did. Outside Tucson I saw a motel with a sign that said "Rooms - $29.95," and against my better judgement I found myself pulling in and paying the woman who smelled of curry. "How bad could it be?" Try so bad that it was too gross to even take a shower. There were red stains everywhere; on the carpet, on the sink, even on the ceiling. I curled up on the bed in as small a ball as possible so the least amount of my body would touch the least surface area of bed, and thankfully I fell asleep rather quickly. I woke up as early as possible and started driving before it got too hot.

My first stop for the day was Biosphere 2, about 40 miles North of Tucson. The second Mr. Biggs made the suggestion in the comments section a couple of posts ago, I knew it was exactly the kind of thing I wanted to see. Unfortunately, the Pauly Shore movie "Biodome" is probably more entrenched in the minds of the American public than the experiment itself. Biosphere 2 was concieved in 1987 as a way to see if it was possible to colonize another planet. A completely sealed structure was to be built that would generate it's own oxygen and allow inhabitants to grow plants and food without using any of the atmospheric advantages we earthlings typically enjoy. If successful, it would mean we could try and reproduce something similar on Mars and live in it. Completed in 1991, eight people were selected to inhabit Biosphere 2 for two years. Unfortunately, about halfway through the soil was producing the wrong levels of oxygen or something equally scientifically catastrophic (my mind wandered a little during the film) and they had to pump in fresh air from the outside, something which, if Biosphere was on Mars, they would not be able to do, so the thing was somewhat of a failure. The elite 8 finished their tour of duty, however, and then another group did a similar six month experiment. After that, the whole thing was leased to Columbia University to study the effects of global warming. Columbia ended it's partnership about a year and a half ago, and now the billionaire who built and funded the entire thing has put it up for sale. In the meantime, we get tours.

The oxygen was supposed to be produced by the growing of plants, and Biosphere 2 has four different regions in which this is done. Under this huge glass structure, there is a Rain Forrest, Mangrove Forrest, Desert, and Ocean. And I don't mean there's a Disney version of these things, they actually re-created and sustained all of these environments. They went to the furthest reaches of the planet to find native species, and then shipped them all back here where they still thrive today. There's an actual living coral reef in the ocean, winter blooming plants in the desert, and whatever the fuck happens in a Mangrove Forrest, it happens there too. Huge machines control the temperature and humidity and all that stuff, and the damn thing is pretty impressive. Unfortunately, my tour guide Norm was more into telling us about how the mechanics work, like which pipes the water flows through and how the air is circulated, when most of the people on the tour were interested in the human aspect of living in a place like this for two years. We peppered him with questions until his annoyance was readily apparent, and then his answers started coming in one and two word sentences. Thankfully for him, and for us, the tour was about over by then, and Norm ran away from us faster than I left Nogales the night before. We got to spend the rest of the time checking out the place a little on our own, and if you're ever in the area, I highly reccommend a visit. The tour costs $14 and it's the only way you can actually see the inside of the structure. For less money you can do a self guided thing and walk around the outside, but you don't get nearly the same experience.

Back on I-10, I decided to take another crack at Mexico. This time I would enter through Douglas, which meant a long loopy detour onto Highway 80. This also meant a trip through Tombstone, the site of the O.K. Corral and the famous shoutout involving Doc Holliday, Wyatt Earp, James Earp, the Branch Davidians, and Robert Blake. Tombstone is a full blown tourist trap; everyone who works in the old west town wears period costume and calls you "Pardner." It still has the dirt streets and old wooden storefronts of a genuine old west town, and it’s a fun place to walk around for a while.

On the drive from Tombstone towards Douglas, you don’t encounter much, and by the time I hit Bisbee I was dying of thirst. I hadn’t planned on stopping there, but I’m glad I did. Bisbee is an old copper mining town set in a kind of hilly valley. The main drag is a narrow, windy affair bordered on either side by old brick shops and buildings. It looks like an old European town set in the heart of South-Eastern Arizona. People hang out on the sidewalks and at cafes talking and communing. Very cool.

Douglas is another border town, not quite as sketchy looking as Nogales. The streets actually are wide and clean, and there’s nothing around the border crossing that made me think twice about entering Mexico. I drove up to the border into the line marked “Nothing to Declare,” waited for the red light to turn green, and I was in Mexico. And I had no idea what to do. I drove around for a bit, trying to summon my high school Spanish and read the signs. Again, people were just milling about everywhere. It’s something foreign to Americans, large numbers of people just hanging out outside storefronts and slowly ambling through the streets. We confine our mass hang out sessions to malls and ball parks. There were plenty of unsavory looking characters around, and I kept getting long stares on every street on which I drove. It wasn’t like anyone wanted to kill me, but I kind of got the sense that I was unwanted and unwelcome. In my fifteen minutes of driving, I found nothing that resembled Tijuana or Puerto Vallarta or Cancun, no bar where a bunch of rowdy Americans were getting drunk and taking their tops off for “Girls Gone Wild,” so I left. Waiting in line to cross back into the U.S., a whole host of people were asking for money or trying to sell cheap trinkets to motorists. One 20-something girl noticed my California license plates and said she was from Santa Cruz. She looked like she’d been doing cheap heroin for the past several months straight, and thankfully she skipped off after I told her that that’ where I went to college. As I pulled up to the guard station, I was prepared to be fully searched – I knew I came off as a tad suspicious. I’d only been in Mexico for about 20 minutes, I was driving a VW van, and I have a shaved head, long ass goatee, and nose ring. If there was a stereotype of pot smuggler, I fit the bill to a T. The guard asked me where I was coming from, which kind of confused me, since even though I was coming from Mexico, I was really coming from Arizona. I hesitated a bit, and then stammered “Uh, Arizona…Mexico I guess, but I was only there for 20 minutes.” Okay, he said – where are you going? Again, for me, this was kind of a trick question. “I don’t really know” I answered honestly, mentally preparing for a full cavity search. Are you a U.S. citizen? Finally, a question to which I knew the answer. “Yes,” I declared emphatically, and I showed him driver’s license. He thanked me, and that was it. While I was glad it wasn’t more of a hassle to get back in, the experience only solidified the fact that border security is somewhat of an oxymoron.

I followed highway 80 back to I-10, and I was soon in New Mexico. Finally, I’d left Arizona! I’d spent a grand total of nine days in a state I’d never planned to be in for more than three, and while I’d had a great time for several of those days in the state that gave me Havasu Falls and Sedona and Oprah Winfry, it was also the place where I witnessed a horrible traffic accident and almost ended my own trip, and I was glad to be gone. As I drove at night through the desert, far off in the distance a massive lightning storm raged on and provided me an entertaining light show. I pulled into a truck stop in Las Cruces at about midnight, and I was almost instantly asleep.

Looking at the map in the morning, I picked out the only two things that held any interest for me in Southern New Mexico – Carlsbad Caverns and Roswell. If I were closer to the north, I’d would have been happy to check out Santa Fe and Albuquerque and Taos, but with Texas so close and me being so far behind schedule, I was going to make my stay brief. The quickest way to get to Carlsbad, New Mexico, was to actually go through Texas, so into the Lone Star state I went. From Eastern Arizona, through New Mexico, and into Western Texas, all the scenery is pretty much the same – dry desert and dirt. It’s not much to look at and it makes for boring driving. I jumped off I-10 and onto 62/180 towards Carlsbad, driving about 125 miles through Texas until I was back in New Mexico. I arrived at Carlsbad Caverns around noon, and it was hot. The thermometer outside the back read 103 degrees, and I was glad I was going into a cave rather than wandering around the desert.

Carlsbad Caverns is a National Park, and since I had bought a National Parks Pass at the Grand Canyon, I didn’t have to pay the six dollars to get in. The pass cost $50, and so far I’ve used it to get into $41 worth of parks. Two more and the thing will have paid for itself.

There are several options for viewing the caves – you can walk down into the main one via what’s called the Natural Entrance, you can take an elevator down into it, or you can go hiking to some of the other smaller caves. All the signs and literature say the Natural Entrance hike is strenuous and not for the faint of heart, and I debated taking the elevator, but come on. I’m 28, and while I’m not in the best shape in the world, I want to get the full experience of these places, and that doesn’t include taking an elevator. As it turns out, all the warning is just to cover their assess. Yes, it’s a long and steep walk, but it’s all downhill, and it’s only about 1.25 miles. Not to mention it’s absolutely stunning to walk into the mouth of this huge cave and then descend deep into its bowels. The first thing you notice at the cave entrance is hundreds of cave swallows flying in and out of the mouth. That’s where they make their home, and the place smells strongly of piles of bird shit. You walk down all these switchbacks, and soon you’re in these dark rooms with stalagmites and stalactites and mind blowing natural features. You’re on this narrow trail with handrails, and it feels like you’re in line for Thunder Mountain at Disneyland. There are little lights everywhere so you can see the colors and formations, and it takes a while to wrap your mind around the fact that this all naturally formed and not man made. By the time you’re done walking through the whole thing, you’ve gone a little over two miles. And while it’s 103 degrees on the surface, the temperature inside the caves stays a brisk 56 all year long. The humidity inside is also at about 90%, and it’s odd to feel simultaneously cold and damp. In order to get out, you have to take the elevator, which by that point I was happy to do. Carlsbad Caverns gets the Nathanson seal of approval.

From Carlsbad Caverns I drove north, through the city of Carlsbad where a bank sign told me it was 107 degrees, and then up to Roswell, where I ate dinner. It was still 90 at 9pm, and I knew there was no way I was going to be able sleep in the car. The Motel 6 I spotted looked almost brand new, so I took a room for $51. It turned out to be surprisingly clean and comfortable, and in the morning I’ll get up and look at aliens. From there, it’s on to Texas. I talked with someone from the Minuteman project yesterday, and he’s going to try and set me up with some Texas Minutemen along the border. That should be interesting. Perhaps I’ll get deported.