I made it as far as Deming, New Mexico. Between Fort Stockton and Deming, I bet I stopped every half hour for a food break, a potty break, I forgot to shut something or turn the fridge to DC, or something caught my eye and I wanted a picture of it.
Traveling through west Texas after the Hill Country looks like this. Miles and miles and miles and miles of nothing. The view was better from inside the van than from down on the ground.
Many of the bridges in New Mexico had paintings
This is an overlook I stopped at. The left picture is
looking out over the parking lot and highway. I had to climb up this hill for the view. You might be able to judge how high up I was by looking at the Van of Discovery which is nearly dead center of the picture. You can barely see the roof. The picture on the right is looking off the other side of the hill.
I don’t remember what state I was in when I saw the Holsteins. I have a tendency to site-see out the right side of the van, so I barely ever know what is going on out the left side. I was listening to a book-on-tape while driving and was pretty much immersed in the story when I smelled this horrid stench. There was nothing out in front of the van or to the right, so I looked off to the left. Across the highway, as far as I could see, were Holsteins – milking cows. Acres and acres and acres of cows on top of each other – in feed stalls, in milking stalls, in pens. The farm was immense and, as I traveled, determined that there were three farms altogether. I wouldn’t doubt if there were a trillion cows between these three farms. OK, maybe a couple of billion, but certainly far, far more than a thousand. The average New England farm has a few hundred cows. I was quite surprised to even see milking cows out here. The west is known for beef steer, not milking cows.
The book-on-tape I was listening to I picked up at Cracker Barrel. I had wanted some crackers to eat cheese with and figured I could pick up some kind of fancy crackers in the food section of the Cracker Barrel. When I couldn’t find any, I asked one of the clerks. He couldn’t find any either, so he asked someone of higher authority. He said he might have some in the back, but when he returned, he said, “I guess we’re going to have to change the name of the store. This Cracker Barrel has no crackers.”
Because I made so many stops this day, I barely got to a campground before the sun set. Tonight’s stay was at the Rock Hound State Park in Deming, New Mexico. The exit before I had to get off, there was a tourist shop that had billboards for miles along the highway. One billboard said that they had fresh, homemade cookies. That caught my interest which is why I decided to stop and take a look. It was a typical western tourist shop and I really wasn’t interested in anything except the cookies, of which I purchased eight.
Rock Hound State Park was about five miles off the highway exit. Below are lots of pictures. The rest of the evening was spent setting up, walking Hope, having dinner, and then crashing.
The Florida Mountains
Isn't this the cutest little house you've ever seen?
Sunset at Rock Hound State Park
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