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OptimImagery

  3. TRAVEL: 2007 through 2011
  4. JULY AND AUGUST, 2009. NEW MEXICO

July, 2009: NEW MEXICO III: Goose Lake

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I'm sure that the mining camps were rough-and-tumble places -- where men had to be tough to make it. But, I assume -- or at least imagine -- that some of these cabins may have been the dream homes for families. Did children one time play in this mountain-aster field while they waited for their tired, dust-covered, sweaty Dad to return from his day in the mine? Or was this a bunk house for brawling, testosterone-driven men who counted the days before they could take another day off and head into the brothels in Red River? Or maybe a young prospector was working this area, sending everything he could back east to his parents or girlfriend, dreaming of the day when he could afford to bring them out to join him?
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I'm sure that the mining camps were rough-and-tumble places -- where men had to be tough to make it. But, I assume -- or at least imagine -- that some of these cabins may have been the dream homes for families. Did children one time play in this mountain-aster field while they waited for their tired, dust-covered, sweaty Dad to return from his day in the mine? Or was this a bunk house for brawling, testosterone-driven men who counted the days before they could take another day off and head into the brothels in Red River? Or maybe a young prospector was working this area, sending everything he could back east to his parents or girlfriend, dreaming of the day when he could afford to bring them out to join him?

miningcabingooselakeroad

  • Dad and Steve make sure that the old Jeep Renegade has enough oil to get up the mountain. We are getting set to head up an old mining road, past some old long-abandoned dwellings and mines, and on up to the alpine Goose Lake.
  • Mom and Marsha make sure that we will have plenty of sandwiches and other food.
  • "Did someone say sandwiches and food?"
  • A well balanced family.
  • Yep: When it comes time to head up the mountain, our family operates like a well-oiled machine.
  • While Red River, originally called River City, has its roots earlier among fur trappers, it started to come into its own about 1870, when prospectors turned it into a boom town. The mining had pretty much played out by the early 1900's, but several fascinatinng remnants of the mining days are still surprisingly accessible and fascinatingly intact.
  • Each time I visit these places, I feel privileged to be able to experience the current state of spokesmen for a dramatic and vibrant chapter. These artifacts have seen better days, and are loosing their words with the passing time (well, some of them get more words written on them with time, but that's not what I mean). They tell of toil, of dreams realized, and of heartache beyond imagination.
  • And they tell their story right in place, where people like me can visit on a summer day, a passing spirit wandering only the now easily-accessible hills.
  • Untitled photo
  • I'm sure that the mining camps were rough-and-tumble places -- where men had to be tough to make it. But, I assume -- or at least imagine -- that some of these cabins may have been the dream homes for families. Did children one time play in this mountain-aster field while they waited for their tired, dust-covered, sweaty Dad to return from his day in the mine? Or was this a bunk house for brawling, testosterone-driven men who counted the days before they could take another day off and head into the brothels in Red River? Or maybe a young prospector was working this area, sending everything he could back east to his parents or girlfriend, dreaming of the day when he could afford to bring them out to join him?
  • These cabins are scattered, often in small groups (probably villages or mining camps), all along the route up to Goose Lake (and other places in the mountains around Red River). Each has a story. Each is a mystery.
  • DON'T PIDDLE IN THE PUDDLE, JIM!
  • That's one fine four wheel drive you've got there, Dad!
  • 1870's. No electricity. Tools available: Rough hand tools only. Your building material is all around you (no need to take your horse and wagon to Lowe's). I've gotta think it took a lot of pride in workmanship to fit these logs together in this manner.
  • The 21st Century takes a fleeting glimpse at the 19th. Notice the considerable space between the timbers. That was a bit of a mystery until Dad noticed another wall....
  • ....on which you can see how the builders cut splines which they crammed in place between the timbers and then nailed in place. Interesting technique. Thanks for pointing that out, Dad!
  • And thanks for your patience, Marsha, as you kept having to wait for me to get in and out of the Jeep!
  • Here is the first thing we saw when we got to the Goose Lake parking area. A majestic Bighorn sheep and a rather stupid (in my opinion) tourist. A few seconds after I took this, the ram did indeed act (only for a fraction of a second) like it was going to charge, and the man retreated (shall I say "sheepishly?").
  • Personally, I would rather rely on a telephoto lens to get close! I'm sure that you've seen the videos of these guys rearing back and plunging at each other, to SMACK each other head-to-head at top speed. Wouldn't it be hilarious if one would figure out that he could step to the side at the very last second and just watch the other go right on by? If the smart one always started with a cliff to his back, he could probably become the alpha male in no time.
  • Picnic time!

  • OptimImagery

    on August 29, 2009

    LOL!

  • Pam

    on August 29, 2009

    Are you sure this wasn't the start of Brokeback Mountain??!! :)

  • Jim

    on August 28, 2009

    LOL!

  • OptimImagery

    on August 28, 2009

    Yes, Jim: Thanks for not telling about the REALLY difficult times. I mean, in those really hard times I'm sure that they had to do more, with Les......

  • Jim

    on August 27, 2009

    Actually, the shack hidden in the shade was the cabin of Leslie Sprinkle. He would skip through the aster fields singing "Tra-la-la" and gathering asters. All the other minor fellas carefully avoided Leslie, lest they might be the recipient of a beautiful aster bouquet and be the subject of whispering and snickers for many coming months...

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