October 25 Drive to Marfa

Michael and I looked for extra passengers to split the cost and share the excitement of a road trip to a place we couldn't describe. We found Brenda, who worked in ad sales and needed a break. She was looking for a spiritual journey. Our planned ramble across Mexico offered us only a premonition of a misguided adventure. "Have you ever been there?" Brenda asked. "No," we told her. "Do you know where it is? she asked. "Kind of." We tried to assure her, "It's in Mexico -- northern Mexico." The map showed an unimproved road into an undefined area named "Parque National Barranca del Cobre," located somewhere between Sonora and Mazatlan. We left as soon as everyone could sneak away from work, around 3:00pm, with supplies for whatever we might face and 12.5 gallons of water. Just west of San Antonio, we stopped at a diner, but our confounded imaginations couldn't think of anything to order -- hamburgers, fries and shakes all around. We watched the sun set and traveled the rest of the way in true darkness never seen under Houston's bright lights. Stars appeared and blankets of lightning flashed across the sky. In Marfa, or maybe Alpine, we found a motel with a "vacancy" sign, and plastic letters on the door reading "American owned." We rang a bell on the counter. The enticing odor of curry and garam massala drifted into the lobby. An East Indian man reported, "Only one left, not always easy to get a room in Big Bend country on a pleasant Friday night." "We're going to Copper Canyon, we informed him. "That's nice -- forty dollars," he replied with a smile. NEXT PAGE