Pickling Our Way Through New Mexico

 A bosque means woodland in Spanish. Ecologically it is a "gallery forest found along the riparian flood plains of stream and river banks in the southwestern United States."  The most notable bosque runs along the Rio Grande in New Mexico and includes the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Reserve south of Socorro, NM. It is an inspired place. After miles of the scrubby creosote-only, God- forsaken landscape north of Truth or Consequences, we turned off on the little gray Highway 1. As we approached the Reserve a wide valley of orange colored shrubs, reeds tinged with green, mesquite trees and cottonwoods came into our view. It really did look like a bosque!
We stopped at the Visitor's Center, looked at the informative displays and talked with an employee to learn that of the 18,000 or so sand hill cranes that winter there every year, the last 1000 of them had flown off the day before and had not returned.
Cranes or no cranes, we unhitched the Mini and drove the tour that loops around the reserve just to enjoy the beautiful silence and to see whatever else may be enjoying this water habitat.
Besides meadowlarks, phoebes, hawks (red tailed and sharp shinned,) we came upon a gaggle of snow geese.

 After reconnecting to the Pickle we drove east out of Socorro on #380. Our destination was Valley of Fires BLM Campground about 60 miles away. That distance consisted of some major elevation changes, meaning a whole bunch of climbing before the descent to 4600 feet at the campground. The incline was gradual. Michael kept driving at about 65 as we chatted, not paying too much attention to the Pickle as it putzed along,  until I thought I smelled antifreeze. Michael slowed down and we could hear the radiator boiling. By this time we had descended the highest pass. Flat land stretched out in front of us. He pulled to the side of the road, came to a stop and just as he did we heard a very loud noise. Quickly he turned off the engine. We looked at each other and thought the same thing: Trouble... Big Trouble.
And then... the realization dawned, along with the full noise of the 2 F-16 jets flying directly over us. White Sands Missile Range was a few miles to our south and we happened to be sitting in a what must have been the flight pattern for that afternoon. While  we waited for the engine to cool down, and M investigated the steam  under the hood, we  were treated to a few more deafening fly-overs. Practically a Blue Angels air show and we had ringside seats!


Wouldn't you know? The Pickle ran just fine after cooling down. We finished our descent driving through a wide valley of black lava rock to Valley of Fires Campgrounds.  Its name comes from the lava flow that occurred there 5000 or so years ago, bubbling up from fissures in the earth and rolling through the valley.  As years went by, soil blew into the cracks of the lava rock.  Yuccas, sotol, and creosote plants sprouted and grew. Juniper tree seeds took root, creating an unusual landscape of black rock and desert vegetation.

This Bureau of Land Management campground surprised us with its amenities (hot showers and electricity) and its natural beauty. The campsites are perched on the ridge overlooking the Valley of Fires. Included in the Senior Golden Pass price of $9.00 for a night of camping was a spectacular sunset and a morning walk on the  paved Nature Trail. It wound down into the lava valley giving us a close-up view.