It had been six long weeks since Dan’s knee surgery. We’d travelled to Denver for the quick procedure which should have seen him walk out of the operating room. Instead of cutting out a misplaced torn piece of his meniscus, they had to do a full repair and so the orders were no weight bearing for six weeks. It had been a hard pill to swallow at the time, but we were grateful for a place to call home during recovery and a flexible work schedule. Dan did an amazing job keeping himself sane and we kept each other in good company with Ted Lasso to keep use laughing. BUT! As soon as we got the ok from the doctor, we hit the road with Berta – our real home.
Safford Observatory
We hit the road and headed south-east with Texas as our loose target. In looking at the Atlas, I’d spotted a red dot near Safford, AZ, that showed an observatory. Knowing the theme of the trip, I steered us towards it and we found a nice camp a little ways up the mountain road that lead to it. The sun was setting and we wondered if there was any trails on the mountain and it came to me that I should just get Maddie out and ride up the tarmac the next day.
The camp we’d pegged was taken so we carried on along a rocky road and found a perch on the side of the hill that would do us. After parking and carrying on walking up the road, we found an even better spot to call home and so Dan went back for Berta while Cleo and I got some firewood together. We stood out by the fire for hours listening to Triple J’s Hottest 100, clueless as to what drugs Aussies are taking these days to make them like such music. It wasn’t really the music that was keeping us company, it was the feeling of being home again.
The next day, the idea of riding up the hill hadn’t left my head so after eating breakfast perched on a rock overlooking the valley, I left Dan and Cleo to a gentle morning walk and started pedaling up the road. I was dressed for the ride back down so felt the full warmth of the sun through my long pants, resisting the temptation to strip down and leave a layer by the side of the road.
There was zero traffic and the tarmac climbed beautifully above the rocky outcrop taking me into pine trees and at some points, very dense forest. Halfway up, I wasn’t surprised to see snow on the side of the road but I was surprised when it covered the road and I had to choose my line through it.
I passed a handful of campgrounds on my way up the switchbacks and even a small village with houses dotted amongst the trees closed up for the winter. Maybe accommodation for scientists at the observatory?
Unfortunately I wasn’t going to make it to the big building on the mountain’s ridge. After crossing over to the far side of the mountain and climbing through some fierce wind, I came upon a gate and the end of the tarmac.
I could see the observatory across the way but I’d be tackling another seven miles of dirt road to get to it. No thanks! I gloved up, put my jacket on, then started down.
The descent was hard going. The cold wind chilled me to the bone and my cold hands struggled to keep a tight grip on the brakes. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d been willing to go a bit faster but I’m a wuss, especially when there was ice to avoid.
I stopped briefly on my way down to walk across a frozen carpark by a babbling brook, happy to soak up some wilderness, then I held on to my brakes and carried on downwards. Dan had decamped to save me riding up the rocky road and was in a pullout waiting for me. With the sun out, it was a warm day for him so he was surprised to see me shivering! He loaded Maddie into Berta then we were on our way again.
Berta’s Cough
Just before crossing into New Mexico late in the afternoon, I made a slight navigational error that meant we filled up at a servo in Duncan. It was a very small town with nothing much to look at but what I really didn’t like was the look on Dan’s face when he turned the key to start Berta when we were ready to go. Nothing happened! It was the same as what had happened at the AZT, the dash lit up as if all systems were a go, but it was anything but. We checked a few fuses (just for fun) and Dan did some cable massaging in the engine bay but that didn’t fix anything. There was only room for a few cars at the servo, so I figured we’d better get out of the way. Thankfully, there was a flat piece of ground between us and an abandoned storefront right in front so we got set to push. A pair of locals soon joined Dan pushing Berta’s backside while I was upfront steering. We made it easily and I started thinking pretty positively about the “camp” we’d just made. It was flat and out of everybody’s way!
I got the code reader out and started fiddling with menus that allowed me to see what signals were being sent and received by the ignition switch. Somewhere in there after unplugging and re-plugging in a few modules, turning the key and watching the code reader’s screen, Berta coughed into life as if nothing had ever been wrong. Ha ha! Our first instinct was to find somewhere better to camp.
We played it safe and headed for the major highway 10 and picked out a rest area which had lovely spots for RVs and vans just like us to camp away from the riff-raff. We parked right at sunset, made sure Berta’s position would be easy access for a tow truck, then switched it off, hoping for the best the next day.
In the morning, Berta started right up and Dan had a bright idea to put some injector cleaner into Berta’s system – cough syrup for her cough. The next town was Deming and we went straight there to get our girl some medicine. A familiar trouble code had also been appearing since we left suggesting a blockage in the fuel system so it was worth a shot and maybe it was related to the no-start issue? She started up again so we were gaining confidence.
White Sands
As late morning approached, we approached the White Sands Missile Range. Happy to see some space-themed props at the side of the road, we pulled off the highway eagerly anticipating a visit to the missile garden and museum. Alas, we were met with closed gates to a very official-looking and still operating military base. After parking beside the entrance, I wandered over to chat with the guards and they, very officially, informed me that the museum was only open on the weekdays. Of course!
We lingered long enough for Cleo to relieve herself and to eat a biscuit, then we carried on only feeling slightly dejected.
Just across the road was the White Sands National Park. It was officially an upgrade in our book because according to our Atlas it was a mere monument, so it had been elevated in status since 2020. Knowing we had a few national parks on our hitlist this year, I was happy to fork-out the $80 for an annual parks pass. It’s something I hadn’t been an owner of in ages and I’m pretty sure Dan had never had one.
After a quick stop at the visitor’s center we drove into the small park and found the sand to be shockingly white, despite the warning in the park’s name. Had the temperature been different, I could have been fooled that we were driving on snow.
There wasn’t much in the way of campgrounds, hiking trails or otherwise, but the drive through was spectacular enough. We did our best to avoid the sheep and parked up at a quiet side of the park where we could walk on sands untouched.
Cleo was a happy dog, getting out and sprinting like a mad idiot all over the place and making us laugh. What an amazing scene this was!
The dunes were only a small area amongst distant mountains and there for no apparent reason.
We made lunch and sat at the top of a dune to eat, the cold sand squeaking between our toes. It was unlike the beach thanks to the lack of moisture that meant the grains didn’t stick to you.
With empty plates, we tried our bodies at tobogganing down the hillside without much success and neither of us could match Cleo for speed.
With Dan up and moving around like a normal person, it was easy to forget he was still in recovery so I felt a little silly after challenging him and Cleo to a race up the hill. Dan was happy just to be able to walk on a flat surface, let alone a steep sand dune!
Keeping on with the space theme, our next stop was in Alamogordo to the National Space History Museum. We didn’t have any trouble finding a park in this quiet place on a hilltop overlooking a modest town. We wandered through the rocket garden first, finding wonder in a pair of dishes that allowed you to whisper secrets to each other and a huge raptor-looking engine that pre-dated anything in current use by at least forty years.
Inside, we paid $16 for our space history experience that took us to the top of the building (three storeys), then slowly down through the exhibits. It was not a high-tech display and a lot of the gear on display would have looked more age-appropriate if it had been covered with a layer of dust.
Still, we enjoyed having a look around at the old space suits, rocket pieces and scientific instruments. They even had a genuine moon rock!
Near the ground floor things became more kid-oriented and we had our fun with it before a family caught up with us.
I left the museum feeling confused and less-informed than when I’d walked in. How many times had man been to the moon exactly? The most recent mention of spaceflight was of one of SpaceX’s early launches in 2002 so they had a bit of updating to do.
Cleo was happy to have us back and we were soon on the road again, heading into the mountains of New Mexico. We climbed up higher than we’d been the previous night and we could soon feel the cold and we saw our first ski mountain of the trip! It must have been a dry year because there wasn’t much coverage and the chairs were not moving.
As we approached a potential camp, we decided to carry on to get down in elevation though I’m not sure it brought us any warmth. We had a beautiful wide open camp down a rancher’s road and Dan got a roaring fire gong quick smart. Again, we sat by it until well after dark, sharing our thoughts of being on the road again.
The Roswell Incident
It was -14*C when I woke up. Eek! Diesel heater had been running beautifully all night. Aah.
On our morning walk, which took us into the light of the crisp morning sun, we explored a rancher’s tank water set-up then got Berta ready for another day on the road. With -14*C being the magic number for diesel gelling, I was kicking myself for not giving her an additive, but I hadn’t expected such frigid temperatures. No need to worry, she started right up.
It was Dan that said we should veer north to visit Roswell. A location unfamiliar to me, it is the site of the most famous UFO event in America’s history and wow, as we drove in, you could tell. As soon as you neared the town’s limits, it was alien-themed everything.
At the International UFO Museum, I learned all about the 1947 “incident” where three aliens had crash-landed in a field just outside of Roswell. Found by a local farmer, he’d seen the alien bodies and vast amounts of debris from the crash. When authorities became involved, the whole thing was covered up – just a weather balloon they’d said. People were paid off, lives were threatened and others mysteriously disappeared. There were accounts from pilots who had been responsible for taking the precious cargo from the crash site to Washington DC and then being sworn to secrecy.
The Research Center was like something out of a movie with endless catalogues of articles and photographs, all meticulously organized for the determined truth-seeker to find their answers.
Dan and I both moved slowly about the museum, doing a LOT of reading and pointing out things of interest to each other.
I walked out convinced. There was too much evidence and the cover-up too incompetently handled. I liked their theory that the atomic bombs dropped over Japan were the triggers that sent shockwaves into the universe, giving the aliens cause to come and investigate this strange planet, “Earth”.
We left the museum searching the skies for extraterrestrials but didn’t have any luck. After a quick shop, we carried on to Bottomless Lakes State Park to camp for the night.
Still bitterly cold, we drove along the top of a plateau, peering down into what seemed like an abandoned campsite. Not so, it was just empty. We had our pick of the sites and once we’d chosen, paid our money to the faceless post.
We jacketed Cleo up and went for a wander around the place to find out, disappointingly, that the lakes weren’t even close to bottomless. There was even a sign at one to explain how deep it was!
Being in New Mexico, we were still in the desert and we were ready to leave it behind. Always longing for trees we were. Once the sun had set, we had a quiet night in the van.
Berta’s Wheeze
We spent a cloudy day driving, crossing from the flat plains of New Mexico into the flat plains of Texas.
Our highlight was being diverted onto some country roads to get around a big crash. When we made camp it was at a park in the small town of Big Spring.
Having been couped up in the van driving all day without a single ray of sunshine, we were ready to get out and stretch so after parking up, the three of us went for a wander around the park that had it all – a golf course, pavilions, a full-on amphitheater and to my great delight, a water park with a hot tub! Dan had done his research and I was getting hyped up for some hot water but alas, they were closed for the winter.
Back at camp, Dan was keen to level the van a bit but when he turned the key, Berta was silent. I’d been thinking of going for a run and that did it. I didn’t want to deal with this. I jogged off towards the amphitheater knowing that the further away I was from Dan and his magic fingers, the more likely he’d be to find a fix. I romped up and down and left and right all over the amphitheater, pumping my lungs along with my legs having a grand old time. I was puffed by the time I ran back to the van and of course, Dan had managed to move the van.
He’d mucked around with the keys, locked and unlocked and she’d eventually behaved herself. As far as I was concerned, getting Berta running was now his department.
Armadillo Camp
The next day of driving turned propely rainy and I didn’t mind it. It was always a pleasure to be driving in the rain. We got stuck into an audiobook telling the story of the Nike company founder and marvelled at the changing weather. For one short patch, we drove thorugh thick fog that threatened to turn into snow!
As we drove south, we found our camping options limited, as they so often are in Texas. A state park it would be then and I was ready to stay somewhere for more than one night. These were huge days for us! I navigated us into Colorado Bend State Park where we drove through fog to find a near-abandoned campground that was clearly set-up for summer crowds.
We had our pick of sites and took our sweet time agonizing over which we’d call home for the next two nights. After I visited the ranger in his quiet office and paid up, I was eager to unpack my recently acquired trophy for some admiration.
We’d stopped to fill up at a Sunoco servo and I’d spotted a sweet advertising board showing an F1 car. While Dan was buying beer, I asked the lady behind the counter if they had any spares lying around. She put me onto her manager who’d been standing outside and I repeated my inquiry. While she didn’t have any spares, she started looking towards the sky and told me that if the ones on display went missing, she wouldn’t mind one bit! That’s all I needed. I got my side-cutters from the van quick-smart and detached the two boards from their post. Dan came out as I was doing so with a stern “Baby!” but I assued him I’d received permission. He was on team-Sarah then and helped me stash them in the van before driving away like we’d just robbed the place. I rationalized that we would have a shed soon and a shed wall needed trophies!
After setting up our banner for others to appreciate, we put up the awning for the rain and I did a bit of work. It was Cleo that first alerted us to the armadillo stalking our camp. Within half an hour, he’d dug up most of our site, not letting us deter him from pushing his snout into the soft ground searching for who-knows-what. Dan managed to touch his back and that made him scamper off a little but over the course of the next couple of days, we’d see a lot of the little bugger and his friends.
In the evening we went for a misty wander along the Colorado River and couldn’t believe we hadn’t known the great river ran through Texas.
We later discovered that it doesn’t – it wasn’t “that” Colorado river. Still, it was a pretty place to be.
The next day, I worked in the early hours then the sun came out for our morning walk. The ground was wet and muddy but that didn’t matter to us.
As I signed on to my afternoon meetings, Dan went off for a bike ride to give his knee a test. Of course the clouds rolled in right after he left and he was much later returning than he’d planned. Just as I was packing up camp to go look for him, he shot out of the bushes with mud flicks all over but a happy demeanour. He’d ended up on trails much rougher than he’d planned and the slippery mud hadn’t helped things. He’d babied over a lot of the trail to protect his knee but was pretty happy with how it felt.
Having worked all day, I needed an outing so Cleo and I ventured off in the opposite direction to check out the Spicewood Springs. Cleo was rapt to see our first pack of wild boar as we followed the big river and the black-furred, Cleo-sized animals ran off quicker than I thought possible.
The springs were gorgeous and the terrain nice and rugged. It was so nice to be around so much water after all that desert. I’d planned for those springs to be the end of our walk but I couldn’t help myself. As if I was getting back at Dan for making me worry, we ended up doing a near-5 mile loop so it was getting properly dark when we started back the way we’d come.
I shot a satellite message off to Dan as I admired the sunset over the trees then trundled through the forest in the near-dark to get back to camp. Feeling a little scared walking in the open grass by the river, I started singing to myself and then felt bad for startling a couple that were walking ahead of me. I overtook them then quickened my steps so I could carry on singing without embarrassment.
I was glad to finally make it home to find that Dan had wandered the camp looking for me then figured out to turn Starlink on so had received my message. Enough worry for one day.
San Antonio
Ready to get back into driving, we packed things up late morning grateful that we could pack everything away dry. Our next destination was the big city and when we got into it, we’d been a bit naive thinking we’d just be able to find an urban camp near downtown. It was hard to manouevre a big blue van around the tight streets of a city when you didn’t have a plan.
When we finally figured out where we were headed, we hit the jackpot. I’d found a quiet neighbourhood with gorgeous architecture, a nice green park and crucially, a row of parking with no restrictions. Better yet, it was in the shade! Yes it was February and yes, there’d been a snow storm in the area barely a week ago but right then, it was warm and humid.
After parking up and making Cleo comfortable, we went into full tourist mode and strolled along San Antonio’s famous river walk.
We enjoyed a beer and brat a the first restaurant that had a good view, then continued on along the canals looking up more than we looked down.
We made it to Market Square where I’d seen a sign earlier promising much festivities. Unfortunately, it seemed as though the party was over (or hadn’t started yet), so we wandered back for an early night.
The Alamo
Our urban camp was successful and we woke ready for another day of touristing, this time with our trusty four-legged companion. Leaving Berta at base, we embarked on foot towards the city with the vague goal of getting to the Alamo.
We happened upon a parade pre-empting San Antonio’s annual rodeo and thoroughly enjoyed the Texan vibes coming form both the crowd and the paraders. The horse-control was astounding and the costumes colorful and bright. Cries of “Let’s Rodeo San Antonio!” rang out from every new group that passed by and I clapped at them all like a little kid.
When the last wagon had been pulled past us, we continued our trek, switching between wandering the canals and the streets until we eventually made it to San Antonio’s centerpiece – the Alamo. It wasn’t as impressive as I’d remembered it and the crowds were huge. They also seemed to want money for everything.
Needing a shady spot to sit on this hot winter’s day, we wandered inside the Alamo ground and found the perfect patch of grass to rest up and people watch a while. Just as we’d plopped down into our small camp chairs, a Texas ranger meandered over to us and when I jokingly said, “Don’t tell us we’re not allowed to sit on the grass!” he replied with, “Oh that’s fine, but dogs aren’t allowed.” What a prick. He’d stood there and watched us set up our chairs, only to wait until we were comfortable to tell us to scoot. And he did it in such a friendly Texan way too.
We found an alternative shady spot outside the Alamo walls (that were a reconstruction, not the original) and we got talking to a travelling couple who’d come over from Florida to see some baseball and decided to do the touristy stuff. They adored Cleo and swooned over her until the 1pm guns fired sending her into a shivering frenzy.
It was mid-afternoon when we decided it must be BBQ time and we found ourselves back at the riverwalk at the Lone Star Cafe which looked down onto the riverwalk.
Cleo promptly passed out at our feet and we got some good BBQ into our bellies. When dessert came, I was happy that everything is bigger in Texas!
We wandered back to our golden camp in the fading light, enjoying the evening weather and quiet nature of the riverwalk.
After dropping Cleo off in the van for a rest, we capped off our day with a round of drinks and pool at the local dive across the road from Berta. While I had my usual flashes of brilliance, Dan smoked me at pool but the drinks were the right price!
Missions Mission
With the unconventional sweltering winter heat, it had been too hot to consider leaving Cleo in the shaded van but today was slightly cooler so we had an opportunity. We took her for a long wander around the neighborhood admiring the colonial-style architecture and reading about the pioneers who’d built these homes for their families.
We got her settled then got the bikes out, ready for a mission to see all the Missions. These were early-day communities where people lived together in peace, often within walls where everyone contributed something (farming, washing, cooking, gathering, teaching, preaching) with no money exchanged. At the center of each Mission was a church. It was faith that provided the common ground amongst the people.
We rode along a bikeway that followed a poor excuse for a river and was a little overgrown in places. A nice place for a summer picnic if it was possible to even go outside in the heat? If that was the highlight it would have been a poor ride, but the Missions were impressive. They all put the mostly reconstructed and famous Alamo to shame.
The San Jose was the first, largest and most impressive community we saw with a beautiful grand church, expansive walls and archways that formed the mission’s perimeter.
We dropped the bikes and wandered the grounds, loving the brickwork color and formations, especially with some aged timber used for doors and windows.
I could just imagine the constant motion in a place like this with children running around in the dirt, women chatting by a constantly maintained wood-stove and farmers pushing a mule through the gates with sweat on his brow bringing in that day’s crop.
The place became full of color when the church service was let out, really giving the place a vibrant feel.
We carried on to Mission San Francisco de La Espada which had a more modest church and not as many rooms still standing and only the white church of Mission San Juan was still standing.
On our way back we rode past a bathhouse that had been famous in its day before it burned down of all things, then our last Mission was Concepcion with yet another grand church, this one’s bricks slightly more blackened by water than the last.
Amazing that these places still stand for us to admire with barely a crack in their walls.
We got back to the van in the mid-afternoon with only slight dribbles of sweat running down our backs and we found ourselves a happy dog. We took to the riverwalk then and despite looking for another BBQ joint, we ended up back at the Lone Star.
Escape from the City Heat
With a Rodeo coming up in a few days, we wanted to linger in San Antonio but didn’t really want to spend another night at our urban camp, especially in the still heat. It was Dan’s job to find us a camp and the goal was to be near some water. After working for the morning, we made our way up to Canyon Lake and though it was clearly the off-season, we managed to skirt around a closed gate to park up at the marina. We had a picnic table, we had shade and we had a view!
I gave up on working at midday, unable to concentrate with such a body of water in front of me and we all went down to some dis-used floating piers for much needed showers. The water was freezing and refreshing for me but painful for Dan. Even Cleo got herself a thorough wash.
We spent the afternoon sitting and watching the few goings on down at the marina, with a few boats coming and going and maintenance crews doing their thing. Of course we were taking note of the design of the shed at the base of the marina. I liked their front deck!
While I was keen to skirt the rules and stay the night, Dan wasn’t having it and rightly so, we were right next to the maintenance yard where people were coming and going. And so it was Guadalupe River State Park that became our home for the next two nights.
We had a great campsite amongst moss-covered trees and enjoyed a long walk along the river that evening. Dan illegally collected firewood and we sat out by it for a long night.
The next morning, we walked a long way along the road to the park entrance and found that our site had been booked for the night so we had to move next door. No matter, we figured we’d move in the afternoon. Of course when the campsite’s owner showed up Dan and I were both in meetings. He assured me there was no rush, then fifteen minutes later, he proceeded to park his truck next to the site with his engine running. Dickhead.
I took my time collecting all of our firewood and carrying it over to our new site and poor Dan had to manage his meeting while I shifted things including the van and Starlink all around him.
Despite that, it was a nice, quiet couple of days in a shaded forest and the place had hot showers!
Tower of the Americas
Leaving the forest and descending back into San Antonio, we could both feel the city was wearing on us. Urban camping is not a long-term thing, but we’d been instructed, “Let’s Rodeo San Antonio!”
We strategically got back to our town camp in the late afternoon and when Dan decided he wasn’t quite happy with where he’d parked, Berta did her no-start thing again. Not wanting to deal with it, he changed his mind and decided she was fine just where she was and we got dressed up for a night out.
We could see the Tower of the Americas from where we parked and that was our destination. We had reservations at the revolving restaurant! We booked early to enjoy the sunset and ended up with the best seat in the house – the only two-person booth in the whole joint.
It would have been a wonderful experience if not for Jarvis, our server. A tall black man with fro-hair, he was doing his best, but couldn’t read the room. After leading us to our amazing table, he bombarded us with information about the specials when all we wanted to do was be alone and take in the view. He tricked us into buying a bottle of still water and gave the impression that he couldn’t keep up with his tables. I think he knew we were imposters.
Dinner was great, and it was excellent to watch the slow sunset and then the twinkling lights of the big city below us. Before everything got dark, we were even able to make out the tiny blue patch of Berta way down below.
Let’s Rodeo, San Antonio!
We’d booked a pet sitter on the northern side of town because we could not leave Cleo in the van for even a minute it was so hot. On our way there, Berta had another complaint. The rubber of the carrier bearing that holds up the rear piece of the driveshaft had cracked. This was a part we’d only just installed before we left on this trip. What a pain in the arse. It wasn’t terminal but we couldn’t do the rest of the trip like that.
I got on the phone and ordered parts for pick-up the next day (good old O’Reilly’s), we said goodbye to Cleo at our Spanish-speaking sitter’s apartment, then hit 2M Smokehouse.
It was a BBQ joint recommended not only by the internet but most importantly by our friend Kyle who is a full-on foodie. We got there right at opening and were thrilled with our plates of meat and the humble outdoor setting on picnic tables over dirt.
Now, it was Rodeo time. We were proud of ourselves for not being sheep and finding free street parking and we were both glad to have found an air-conditioned room for Cleo to stay in. The van was sweltering.
It was my second time at this Rodeo but Dan’s first and we had a blast. There was so much to see and do, all animal-focused – some big, some small.
I still couldn’t believe how hot it was. When we sat down to watch a live-theater comedy show of life in the West, we were hunting for shade like everyone around us.
There were pig races, teens showing pigs, a petting zoo, show dogs and show ponies. This could have been a festival in itself but it was just the lead-up to the big event!
My favourite was the kids’ sheep racing. Just like they had at half-time during Aussie football, the kids were padded up and held on for dear life to the back of a sheep that didn’t like the idea one bit. I immediately thought of Heidi. She’d have topped the field.
As the sun set, we watched one last dog fly through the air and into a pool trying to catch a frisbee, then it was time for the big show. We snuck into some random seats and watched the opening ceremony and most of the show from that vantage. There’s nothing like a light show, sprinting horses and the national anthem to get me excited!
When we moved to our real seats, we had a bird’s eye view of the rodeo. Cowboys rode bucking bulls, they wrestled calves and the cowgirls raced horses. It was a brilliant showing of the things these men and women do every day. Oh, and of course, there were the kids’ sheep races.
We could have stayed for the concert after the show but it was already past 9pm and we wanted to get back to Cleo. After a wander through the carnival, we were ready to get out of the heat and back to Berta.
I stayed in the van with the engine running (being cautious) while Dan retrieved Cleo and we drove to a nearby Walmart for one last urban camp we’d previously scouted. We made sure we were happy with our position tucked away near the tyre shop before I turned off the engine. Of course, right after we’d put up our shades a security vehicle drove past and we think he told us to move on over his loud speaker. Of course, when I turned the key, Berta wouldn’t start. I got the code reader out and tried, in vain, to figure something out and in the end, we gave up and just ignored any activity going on outside. It wasn’t our best camp. Come on Berta!
Lake Corpus Christi
Our day sarted with solutions and ended with problems. Berta started up for us in the morning and we made day-camp at O’Reilly’s where Dan disconnected the driveshaft and replaced our shitty carrier bearing with a new one. We’d barely driven a thousand miles on this recently replaced part and it had already failed on us. Good thing Dan knows what he’s doing, he had us back on the road by late morning.
The drive down to Lake Corpus Christi felt long, probably just because we were on a major highway and it was a Friday afternoon. Dan was driving when we stopped at a rest area in a bit of shade. To my surprise he switched the engine off and sure enough, we couldn’t get going again. Now we were both pissed off. I got the code reader out again but couldn’t figure anything out. Berta was pissed off with us. I told Dan to call the Russians. He still had Vitaly’s number in his phone from Berta’s early days and the guy picked up on the second ring. He remembered us and was happy to try help. He was familiar with no-start issues, but had never heard of an intermittent scenario. Bugger. We talked about the starter motor and how the signal wire got its voltage from the key module then he promised to call us back after he’d talked to his brother.
I got underneath the car and started poking around the starter motor wires while Dan played with the key inside. I’d barely touched the purple signal wire on the starter motor when the engine roared to life. That was enough for me! I drove us the rest of the way to Lake Corpus Christi State Park and we were thrilled to find an available campsite that had a level tarmac pad, was within 20 meters of the water and surrounded by grass.
We didn’t have time to enjoy our new digs because we had a meeting with some shed builders and it did not go well. I’d been trying to get straight answers out of these clowns for months and this was not an encouraging use of our time. Once that was out of the way, I set my mind to thoroughly enjoying our afternoon.
Cleo and I went for a swim, we walked around the lake a bit, then we settled in and watched the gorgeous sunset.
I was up early morning on Saturday, not to get stuck into the car, but to enjoy my weekend morning. Cleo and I both walked barefoot all the way along the lakeshore to the dam at the far end where another more expensive-looking campground was situated. By the time Berta was back in our sights, Dan was outside with his coffee waving to us.
After taking my time enjoying breakfast, it was time to get stuck in. We weren’t going to continue on our trip with this no-start issue, it was time to figure it out. We turned the engine on and off a few times, then recreated the issue. Berta was in a no-start condition. Vitaly had messaged us with a few tips and Dan had spent his evening on YouTube so we had a few avenues to explore. First up, all the relays and fuses. Ha ha, as if it would be that easy.
I was liking the signal wire theory so started investigating that and I was getting dodgy voltages from the purple wire. I tried detaching the wire and checking voltage, cleaning up the terminals (ha ha, as if it would be that easy) but there was no change. One more thing to try but I wanted to go for a thinking walk first. When I came back, our neighbor Brock was talking to Dan and he’d been a certified Ford mechanic all of his life so he gave me the confidence to do what I was planning.
Armed with a pair of pliers, I got under the car to short the power cable to the starter motor. It’s a job I fear because you can easily throw sparks if you touch any part of the engine or chassis and sure enough, that’s the first thing I did. Shorting the motor did nothing. Next step, Dan got in the car and we synchronized so that he turned the key to CRANK while I shorted the motor. I counted us down, “THREE, TWO, ONE, GO!” She started right up. Dan was elated, but not me, I wanted to reproduce it. He turned her off and we did it again. Success. Now I did nothing and Dan cranked, she did not start. Then we repeated our synchronized start. Success.
That was good enough for me. It meant Berta was now a two-person vehicle, but we could reliably start her up if she acted up again. We were both stoked. The long term solution would be to run a wire from the ignition module down to the starter motor, but we could do that later. I couldn’t wait to call Dad and tell him the good news. Berta started every time for the rest of the trip. We kept the pliers at the ready in the glovebox but never used them. She was just telling us she needed some attention and once we’d figured out why she was having tantrums, she settled down. She just wanted us to learn that little bit about her.
Our neighbors Brock and his wife brought their chairs over to join us for sunset and we were happy for their company, especially as we were basking in the glory of our win. They were tripping around Texas stopping in at art museums and generally having a relaxing time and it was fun to hear their stories of working life and house flipping which got Dan’s attention.
Padre Island Super Bowl
After a glorious weekend, we lingered in the morning wanting to maximize our stay at this beautiful place. It was the most grass and sun and water we’d had since entering Texas. Starter-motor shorting pliers were at the ready, but we didn’t need them, Berta was eager to get going. Turns out we wouldn’t need them for the rest of the trip. She’d thrown her tantrum, we’d given her attention and worked out a solution to her problem, so she settled back down to the reliable van we’d come to know.
Continuing our trek south along the only major highway heading in that direction, our next stop was the ocean at Corpus Christi proper. It had a touristy sort of ring to the name and that was the vibe we got as we drove in. Once an industrial place with oil-looking towers dotting the horizon, the town looked quite new with many tall hotels and winding freeway overpasses. The tall palm trees made it seem like we were in Texas’ (dirtier) version of Florida.
We could see the waves just over a crest and after filling up at a servo, decided the city wasn’t worth our time. I thought I could navigate us down to Padre Island National Seashore via the scenic route but a military airport blocked our way and so we got to see the coastline twice before driving down the narrow peninsula.
We proudly showed our recently acquired national parks pass to the overweight woman at the entrance gate and when we inquired about camping possibilities she was not informative. We had a few spots to choose from and there was the option of boondocking on the beach but we decided against it. With all Berta’s recent problems, we didn’t want to risk getting stuck in the sand. Despite it being a Sunday, most of the campgrounds were not only packed, but also looked like carparks with the proximity of campers. Then it occurred to me – it was Superbowl Sunday!
After driving back and forth, we finally settled on an out-of-the-way camp which had plenty of space where I made friends with the camp host which meant we could take up two spaces and have privacy as well as an inlet-view. The afternoon’s pre-game entertainment was provided by windsurfers.
For the next hour, I used my technical prowess to get a free trial of YouTube TV so we could tune into the big game. I’m not alone in saying that it is my favourite American sporting event of the year and not because of the sport. We got ourselves settled with drinks, sat back and enjoyed the ads.
The next day we learned that Padre Island is in a constant state of gloom. The fog threatened to lift but never quite got there. I worked, then we all went on a long walk to the opposite side of the peninsula to the ocean proper. It was a shame we wouldn’t be jumping into the water, I’m sure it’s a nice beach on a sunny day.
On our last evening we did a barefoot walk as far south along the inlet as we could get and that was the end of our Padre Island experience. Now we were on our way to our main destination.
Starbase
While the thin sliver of Padre Island stretched all the way down to the Mexican border, roads didn’t travel that far so we drove back up to Corpus Christi and down again as far as America would take us.
As we drove through Brownsville, Texas you could see evidence of a large company having made a base here. There were large “private” parking lots with shuttles running to and from them and a few too many hotels than you’d expect in an out-of-the-way town like this.
We made a beeline for Highway 4 to Boca Chica Beach well aware that this road had been travelled by, quite literally, giants. The road was narrow and a little too busy for a dead-end road that lead to a State Beach. We were among trucks and cars, holding a lot of them up as we drove the speed limit. I yelled in delight at least three times thinking I’d seen a rocket but it was Dan who spotted a Starship.
Maybe that was one of the display rockets? No, it couldn’t be because it only had heat-shield tiles on its belly. We turned down an unmarked road towards it until a small Private Property sign at the entrance to Massey’s Test Site suggested we turn around. I couldn’t believe it, we were looking at a Space X rocket!
As Dan turned Berta around, I noticed the transport module staged by the site and pocketed that information for later.
Berta took us further down the main road and soon, Starbase came into view. We saw the mega bays and high bays we’d seen so many times on screens and there was the rocket garden complete with the Super Heavy Booster and Starship that first took (a successful) flight. We were beside ourselves with joy. This is Starbase!
We drove by the Star Factory and mass of temporary housing, each with its own Starlink perched on its roof and I was unable to take it all in.
As we approached the ocean, the launchpads came into view and I thought my head might explode. Berta became a spec amongst the myriad of cars, trucks and forklifts that were in constant motion around us. Though the speed was fast and constant, it was also controlled. I felt like us being there would put a spanner in the cog and cause a failure. We couldn’t park fast enough.
The road lead straight onto the beach and after watching a few trucks come and go, we decided again to play it safe and park Berta safely on the tarmac. Dan was desperate to camp on the beach but when we saw a customs officer get his truck stuck momentarily, that was the nail in the coffin. We were level, we were legal and we were insanely close to where rockets are launched into SPACE!
Needing to take a breath, I did a quick couple of hours of work while Dan sat out and just watched the goings on. Our binoculars were getting a workout! Tourists like us came and went, most with obvious rental cars and Space X branded T-shirts. By 5pm, we were the only ones in the “carpark” and apart from the campers whom we were envious of, we had the beach to ourselves.
We wandered up and down the shore, Cleo having a great time and me finding more than one jellyfish washed up on the sand.
Oh, and the launchpad towers formed the backdrop for the sunset. Amazing.
That evening, we’d gone stealth mode (just in case we weren’t quite parked legally) with the window covers up. We had the windows down in an attempt to get a bit of the ocean breeze in because it was still quite warm. I’d just eaten my first mouthful of dinner when we heard an almighty roar. I looked at Dan with wide eyes then tore the window cover off the driver’s side and scrambled to get out of the window and stand up as high as I could. There was a bright orange glow coming from Massey’s Test Site and the roar continued on and on. It shook my heart in my rib cage as I watched intently. In just under a minute, the sound ceased and the sky went dark. Ship 34 had just successfully completed Space X’s longest-ever static fire of 6 raptor engines. We were speechless.
We spent the next hour watching replays on YouTube feeling utterly privileged to have been sound witnesses to such an event. The rocket we’d seen earlier was preparing to go into space on Space X’s Flight 8 mission.
Ship 34
Still reeling from the events of last night, we enjoyed a lovely day at Boca Chica Beach. By the time I alighted from the van after a short working morning, the tourists were back. Oh, if they only knew what they’d missed!
With Mexico only 3 miles away, we figured we’d talk a walk and strolled south all the way down the coast until we hit the Rio Grande river which marks the border between America and Mexico.
Campers were situated up by the dunes for the first mile and we no longer envied them. They were getting smashed by constant wind with no views of the Launch Pad B’s construction activities.
We were grateful for the wind as swept up the sea water and cooled us down and it was a nice throwback to my childhood feeling of sand getting whipped against my ankles.
When we reached the huge river, it wasn’t quite as we expected. Mexico was a mere handful of meters away. There were people fishing in the mouth of the river where fresh water met salt and you could see their cars parked just the other side of the water.
We’d seen customs officials driving up and down the beach constantly, but this just seemed too easy. We dipped our toes into the river water and made sure Cleo got wet to cool her down, then we trundled back, now walking into the wind.
Not long after we got back to camp, a thick fog descended over Starbase to the point that we couldn’t see the launch towers.
We lingered a while, then decided it was time to make a move. We’d been paying attention to Nasa Space Flight’s YouTube chat and the Highway 4 road closure announcements and it seemed highly likely that Ship 34 would be moved from Massey’s back to Starbase later that evening.
I hatched a plan. We drove back to Massey’s to look for the transport module. If it was gone from where we’d seen it parked, then we could be pretty sure Ship 34 would move that night. The transport module was nowhere in sight. Eek!
We took one more tour around the base, just driving around aimlessly to see what we could see. Everything about the place is impressive – the factory, the housing, the constant movement.
Dan found us a camp a few miles the other side of Massey’s so we head there to post-up. We were on the road at shift change because there was a huge line of cars ahead of us, all waiting in line to show their passports at border control which must be the worst thing to encounter at the of a regular work day.
Dan had nailed it, we had the wilderness viewing area parking lot all to ourselves and were completely out of sight.
I took Cleo out for a quick look at the sunset, then I made dinner as I watched the Nasa Space Flight channel. For the first time ever, I participated in a YouTube chat to try find out what was happening.
When the first cop car drove past with its lights on, the anticipation started growing. Then there was another, and another, and another. This seemed to be too many cop cars for a rocket move and the YouTubers seemed to agree. We later found out that there’d been a shoot-out between border patrol agents and illegal border-crossers.
Once the flashing lights had stopped moving past us, I decided it was time to make a move. It was just past 8pm.
We didn’t have to go far to see what we’d been hoping for. Ship 34 was at the end of Massey road accompanied by flashing lights waiting to make her turn onto Highway 4. It was still rolling to the end of the road by the time we parked a good distance away.
Thinking she’d immediately turn onto the highway, I half-walked, half-jogged towards the cop cars to see how close we could get. I had my phone light on and pointing to the ground so we didn’t startle anyone and when the cops noticed us approaching, they approached us and asked what we were doing there. I explained that we were fans and they immediately dropped their guard and became disinterested in us.
Ship 34 was right in front of us. I couldn’t believe it.
There was a lot of standing around by the cops, customs officials and what looked like a few Space X employees and it soon became apparent that Ship 34 wasn’t going to turn onto Highway 4 right that minute. We walked back to Berta and drove her right up to the intersection and parked eating our dinner and watching the goings-on. This was insane. Two regular people and a dog should not be allowed this close to a spacecraft that is due to fly to space in a matter of days.
Nearly an hour and a half later, the standing around suddenly ended and people were mobilizing. It was nearly 10pm and I’d never been more awake in my life. We were both out of the car and looking upwards at this monster of a machine start moving along Highway 4.
I was mesmerized. At some point Dan put his jacket on me because the fog had brought the cold but I just couldn’t take my eyes off this rocket. I could see the payload door, I could see the joints between the heat shield tiles, I could see the valves and pipework that delivered fuel to the vehicle. What I couldn’t comprehend was its size. This was the biggest, heaviest rocket that had flown into orbit.
Us and a photographer were the only fans in sight. His name was Shaun Gisler and Dan found out that he did work for Marcus House, the Aussie man on YouTube who gave us our updates every Saturday morning. Again, I couldn’t comprehend talking to another human being I was so engrossed in what I was seeing.
The transport module was being controlled by a single human being walking leisurely beside his payload with a simple control panel slung around his neck. As she moved away from us, an entourage of police vehicles and regular traffic followed in her wake and the fog made it seem like a beacon shining bright into the night.
Dan drove us back to camp and I was proud to help out the Nasa Space Flight Team by informing them of Ship 34’s movements. Their cameras were blind in the fog and what a feeling it was to be thanked by space nerds on a global scale!
Less than four weeks later, Ship 34 left Launchpad A atop a Super Heavy Booster and disintegrated in orbit in a dazzling display over Turks & Caicos due to a fuel leak. We’d heard her, we’d seen her. Thank you, Starbase.
Skirting Mexico
Starbase had been the focal point of this whole trip and with Berta’s issues, we hadn’t known if we would get there. We decided that she’d done what she had to put us in the right place at the right time. Had she run like a top, we might have been at Boca Chica days earlier and missed all the excitement! Thank you Berta.
We were now essentially heading back to Phoenix but had one more stop to make – Big Bend National Park. It wasn’t far as the crow flies, but since we had to skirt the Rio Grande and Mexican border it took us three days.
We were stopped at multiple customs checkpoints, including the one that Space X employees were getting stuck at and gratefully I only had to show my expired Green Card and piece of paper once.
We had one not-so-nice camp which may have felt that way because it was cold, foggy and deserted but Cleo enjoyed it because there were wild boars to get excited about.
Our second camp was windy but exceptional as it looked out over Amistad reservoir bordered by white rocks. There it was warm enough to swim!
We just couldn’t figure out Texas weather. It seemed the time of year just didn’t matter.
Having stayed in our fifth State Park, we were kicking ourselves for not buying the State Parks pass at our very first camp at Colorado Bend thinking we’d be free camping most of the way. Not in Texas! We did manage one free camp at a nice highway rest-stop. With the foggy conditions, we didn’t mind being couped up inside for a night.
Big Bend
Dan took over the driving in the town of Marathon as we turned south for our last deviation towards Big Bend National Park.
We were determined to make the most out of our National Parks pass and it was hard work booking campsites! Since the huge park bordering the Mexican border is 40 miles away from anything and there was no such thing as first-come-first-served, booking us a spot was essential. It was only as we left the last town that my phone went ding and a campsite became available. With that booked, we had ourselves a three-night stay in the International Dark Sky park.
I’d checked out an information board in Marathon and was delighted to find I could download a GPS-prompted audio guide that would tell you interesting things about the park as you drove through it. Yes please! Geeves, as we called him, narrated our drive down and down into desert cactus and mesas propped up against the horizon.
He made me laugh when he said, “If you like your deserts barren, you’re sure to love Big Bend National Park.” Who likes barren deserts?!
We stopped in at the Dinosaur Information Center, thinking of Nick and how he’d probably tell us how the fossils on display were all fake but that the history or paleontology in the area was real.
The further down we went, the more barren things got until we finally reached the Rio Grande. In no rush to head to our campsite, we ventured towards the river and the Rio Grande Overlook. Within minutes of hitting the short trail that took us down to the river, there were Mexican trinkets for sale laid out on the ground with small tins to put money in.
We made it to the bank of the river and I put my feet in quick smart. The water was nice and cool and only came up to the middle of my shins at the deepest point. I walked straight across and (illegally) into Mexico. I tried to encourage Dan and Cleo to follow me but neither of them were game. Probably smart.
It was late afternoon and we were in a canyon so we parked up at the next trailhead and left Cleo to relax while we explored the Boquillas Canyon.
It was a pretty walk along a sandy path that lead us to a wide open canyon with only a trickling river where a small family of wild horses were enjoying themselves. It was a nice spot to start our stay in Big Bend.
Back at the van, Cleo had been alert to the wild dogs that seemed used to roaming the carpark for tourist scraps and we talked a while with an older couple who’d noticed the Starlink dish on top of Berta.
As we drove through a very packed campground, we felt quite entitled to know that somewhere there was a post with our name on it. Sure enough, we had an assigned space and it was a great spot with some privacy and a modern shelter.
The night became cool quickly and we ventured down to the river (which seemed to always be within 50 feet of you) to watch sunset then spent the evening gazing up at the stars from our comfy chairs. They weren’t kidding about this place being a Dark Sky Park.
Night Springs
I took Cleo on a tour of the campground in the morning where the dark sky had been replaced with a bright blue one. We hung out a camp a little with Dan and Cleo in full retirement mode and me in work mode.
With our “chores” out of the way, we de-camped and ventured over to the Boquillas border crossing – the only place within Big Bend where you could officially cross into Mexico. I’d decided I wasn’t up for it but figured I’d stay with Cleo in the van and work while Dan went over for a taco.
As we approached, we were met with a closed gate and I incredulously whipped out the National Park newspaper and discovered that I’d read it wrong. Closed on Mondays – bugger! Secretly I was relieved but Dan disappointed to miss out on the adventure. Two more cars had made the turn towards the crossing while we were there so we weren’t the only ones to misinterpret the NPS.
Without a camp to go back to until the afternoon and more to explore, we ventured over to the hot springs which I’d frequented years before. The sun was high but thankfully we were able to park Berta so Cleo was shaded and we resolved to make it a short trip. After downing some lunch, we walked the short way along the creeping river to the spot and saw many people walking back dripping wet.
Being a warm day, a soak in a hot bath wasn’t really what we were looking for but it was the thing to do in Big Bend! There were a couple of parties already in the water but plenty of room for us so we got ourselves in. Barely shin-deep the water was plenty warm. The really enjoyment came from jumping into the cold water of the flowing river, then switching back.
When more people came, we busted a move, not wanting to leave Cleo for long and to give others some space in the tub.
We still had an hour or two to kill before re-camping so we took our chairs across the river by the boat ramp to sit in the shade. I waded over with our picnic gear while Dan guided Cleo over. The boat ramp was busier than we’d thought and we overheard multiple people commenting on how what we were doing was illegal since we had crossed over to Mexico. We’d only done it because it was the shady side of the river!
Back in the campground, we settled in at our new camp (of course you could only get one night at a time so people were always moving about like us). I finished my work day while Dan did some van clean-up then took Cleo for a long walk. We wanted her to be tired out for the evening. I’d concocted a plan to go on a night hike to the springs so we could enjoy the stars during a soak. It was only under the cover of darkness we’d be able to do such a long hike so Cleo didn’t overheat in the van. As usual, Dan was game.
It was 4 miles there and 4 miles back. As soon as Berta was fully shaded by the trees crowding around our camp, we bid Cleo goodbye and were off. We were wearing next-to-nothing because even as the sun went down, it was still plenty warm but we carried jackets and head torches for the journey back.
The desert landscape was pretty as the sky turned different colors and we were soon climbing high above the Rio Grande to appreciate its glossy appearance in the fading light.
The trail was easy to follow and as the stars came out, our chatter and the sounds of our footsteps on rock were the only sounds.
We pulled our head torches out when we came back down to river level and neared the springs. Rock turned to sand and we soon heard voices in the dark. It was not the secluded soak I’d been hoping for, but we found ourselves a corner and settled down with our eyes looking up.
There was some light talking amongst people in the pool, but in general, it was a nice quiet atmosphere as if we all knew this was a sacred time that needed to be protected. Of course everyone else around us had driven to the trailhead and walked the short way we’d been earlier in the day but we’d seen nobody else on our trek.
Our bodies had been submerged nearly half an hour when a new party arrived and we took that as our queue. We dried off and set off into the darkness. Both of us had hiked under a full moon before in Southern California, but with no moon out tonight, we were in the proper dark and it was a little unnerving. We were honest with each other about our fright and happy to admit we wouldn’t be game to be out here alone. The desert is a scary place when you can’t see it!
We were careful to put our feet down safely, knowing that an injury would not be ideal and our head torches lead us safely back to camp. We could see Cleo’s eyeballs shining at us as we approached the van – sitting at attention in the driver’s seat as always.
No Mexico for You!
For our last day on the east side of the park, Dan was determined to get his tacos! Unfortunately we met the same fate as yesterday with the closed gate. Again I pulled out the NP newspaper and stopped trying to make sense of it. The border was just closed. The Mexicans didn’t want us in their country!
Disappointed and disgusted, we departed for the west side of the big park, with Geeves narrating every twist and turn through the barren desert. In the middle of the park, we stopped in at the visitor’s center, shop and campground to have a sticky beak and found every trailhead carpark full. Good thing we weren’t interested – it was another hot day so Cleo was our excuse.
With an impending meeting, we decided to treat ourselves to lunch at the lodge and sat out on the patio to enjoy the sunshine and a burger. A rare thing for us, it was a nice touristy thing to do while everyone else was sweating it out on the trails. We took Cleo for a short wander through the cabins that lined this main part of the park and found them to be quaint, though surely out of our price range and interest. At least they were shaded by huge manzanitas and other dry-leafed trees!
Dan drove us onwards towards the west side and we stopped at a scenic overlook so I could take my meeting. Dan had the land all the way to the horizon memorized by the time I was done and we could just enjoy the rest of the day. This side of the park had more rock formations than the east so the descent towards the river was a different experience to the past couple of days.
Knowing we wanted to venture into another canyon without Cleo, we stopped in at a boat ramp where we found some shade to hang out a while. I got into my bikini in an attempt to bring Cleo into the river for a cool-down and a wash but there were cows about so she couldn’t relax. There was one other couple in this otherwise deserted part of the park so we set our chairs up in the middle of the carpark to read and relax.
When the sun fully went behind the great walls of the rock before us, we drove a little ways to the end of the road, parked Cleo up and ventured into the Santa Elena Canyon. It was barely a mile and this time, Mexico wasn’t represented by a sandy beach, but a towering wall of rock.
My imagination drove me to see horse-mounted warriors appearing at its edge baring bow and arrows and hollering threats.
It was a pretty walk that took us above and alongside the river and eventually into it.
It was nice to experience the place in the fading light though we were too early to see the sky change color within the canyon.
Now it was time for our last camp in Big Bend. Another lucky snag thanks to campsite alerts on Recreation.gov, we had a great site that pointed us in the right direction so that we could sit outside and see the stars above the brush. Having worn barely more than a bikini the last few days, by evening we were in our down jackets and by morning our full-on winter kit!
McDonald Observatory
During one of my recent “work days” I’d found out that we were bound for another observatory on our way back through Texas. While their night-time star gazing tours were sold out (months in advance), I was able to book us in for a tour of the observatory, their main telescope and a sun tour, whatever that was. This is Star Trip!
After a freezing cold walk through the quiet campground and some early morning work, we left our camp and left Big Bend. It had been a wonderful place to visit despite and because of its barrenness. The stars had been the ultimate highlight. It was a good three hour drive to the observatory and it was a relief to have green back in our lives. We were gaining in elevation so not only was there green stuff on the ground but in the trees as well!
We took bets on who would spot the observatory first and I won, seeing white blobs on top of a hill and calling it. The campus at McDonald University was quite big with big and small white blobs all over. Our timing was impeccable and with this new cold air, we were happy for the sun because it would keep Cleo warm in the van. Inside the visitor’s center, I checked us in for our tours and we were given multiple stickers to wear proudly on our chests.
First was the sun tour and what a cool, unexpected experience. It took me back to SSRL where I was surrounded by awkward scientists and theorists because our presenter was just that, in the most charming way. He introduced himself and launched into his talk about the sun and within minutes, he had the huge ball of gas up on the screen! Using a telescope dedicated to just this purpose, we were looking directly at the sun.
Our guide talked about sun flares and the reasons why you could see them during a full solar eclipse and was able to tell us how many “earths” tall they were (between 2 and 3 earths). He explained sun spots and how they change over time and why. It all made sense at the time, but it is lost on me now. It was a brilliant showing and after sticking my hand up a bunch during question time, I left feeling like I had a more special relationship with the sun.
Our next tour guide that would take us around the facility reminded me more of me as a duty operator at SSRL. He’d obviously been a part of this place for many years and he was comfortable in his environment. We walked the grounds with him then drove after him to a couple of different sites on the campus. The highlight was seeing the main telescope which was very SSRL in its age and even more so with the interior color scheme.
Not only did our guide move the massive telescope, he also moved the roof! This piece of equipment was in use every night for different research experiments but if it was a cloudy night during your scheduled time, tough luck.
Our last stop was the most modern telescope at the site that was still under construction and of a completely different construction than the big oldie. Here, our group was gathered in a room to listen to our guide and we were facing the glass entrance doors we’d just come through. Thanks to Berta’s size, we’d parked right out front and both Dan and I could barely contain ourselves once we got a look at Cleo. There she sat, looking at the point she’d last seen us with enough intention I her face to bring us back out of sheer will. We had to move to a different part of the room to stop ourselves giggling like little children. Out guide had been fantastic and we didn’t want to show him any disrespect.
We left McDonald feeling much more intelligent than when we’d arrived and also younger thanks to the laughs Cleo had afforded us.
We made an early camp that night and went to sleep with a whole lot of new information rattling around in our brains.
Oh, Berta
That was the end of our sight-seeing. It was Thursday and we had a flight to catch on Monday. Time to get back to Phoenix.
I drove for a change as we took the major highway west and into El Paso. It was here we’d planned to take a minor highway that followed the Mexican border but some major roadworks and a navigational error (probably caused by me not listening to my navigator) meant that I missed the turn off. I’d also been distracted by the large city of Mexico we could see from the raised highways. El Paso and Ciudad Juarez were like one big beating heart – with two halves.
Turning around to get to that minor highway would have taken us twenty minutes out of the way and back through the roadworks so we decided to press on, figuring it was a sign – we weren’t meant to go that way. How right we were.
About a dozen miles outside of Las Cruces, New Mexico, Berta was making noises at us from the rear. No change in the drivability but there was an old road off the highway so I turned off and we investigated. Dan found a loose brake dust cover on the rear left so we figured that was the problem. He pulled off the loose bits he could and we carried on.
We barely made it another mile when serious noises started, the dash lit up and I lost power steering. On top of that, a truck behind me started flashing his lights. Bugger. There was nowhere to stop now so I pulled off the highway as far as I could, then we both got out on the passenger side to investigate properly. As if it was just a loose dust cover.
The whole serpentine belt had destroyed itself and wrapped itself around everything at the front of the engine. The speed and sound of cars whizzing by us was terrifying but I barely noticed them. My Berta was hurt. I plunged my hands into the mess and started untangling what I could while Dan watched the traffic for my safety. I was distraught and kept saying, “my poor girl” as I tried to clear up the mess. When I’d got most of the broken pieces of rubber out of the way, I knew she’d be ok to drive without all the accessories but we’d likely need to stop for cooling since the fan wiring was broken. Did I mention that we’d left the cold weather behind and it was hot again?
Dan took over the driving and muscled at the steering wheel to get us into Las Cruces while I researched the closest O’Reilly’s and Autozones. The temperature light came on a few times but it never persisted so we did ok with temperature, not having to stop on the highway again. We pulled into a Shell service station on the edge of town which was our first viable option. We needed to stop and figure things out.
Able to take a breath now, we were safe in a big city where we could get help and source parts. Imagine if we’d been on some random highway near the Mexican border?! We had a spare belt, but that didn’t help us. One of the two idler pulleys had destroyed itself – that’s what caused the belt failure. We both went into full-on sourcing mode. I called the closest Mercedes shop (in El Paso) while Dan googled around Autozone and O’Reilly’s to see who could get their hands on an idler pulley. I even considered taking a $120 Uber from Las Cruces to El Paso at one stage.
Both of our favorites came through with Autozone having a pulley in stock and O’Reilly’s able to get one the following day. After scouting out both locations on Google Maps, we ventured the few miles over to Autozone and found our camp for the night. It was a lovely spot out the back of the shop and as always, the employees didn’t mind us being there one bit.
The rest of that day, we focused on getting everything apart and cleaning everything up. Bits of belt had found their way into all parts of the engine bay and it was a mess. Of course it was just a simple part replacement but we had to remove the small front belt which was a real pain in the arse until we figured out a good way of doing it and there was the fan wiring to repair. We got lucky on that front that the connector hadn’t been badly damaged. Nothing a few cable ties and gentle pin bending couldn’t fix. We went to bed optimistic.
Yeah, Berta
We were up early with Dan taking the lead mechanic’s role while I got my work day in. Now armed with two idler pulleys, we replaced both and felt special because now we had a spare. There was lots of swearing and grazed knuckles involved to get the small front belt back on and the fan wired in a satisfying way but by noon we were ready to turn the key. She started right up and everything spun the way it should. Yeah, Berta.
Of course we’d been on the phone with Dad throughout the whole ordeal and I was excited to inform him of the good news. After verifying that we’d fixed the problem, I cleaned up and went back to work while Dan buttoned Berta up properly. It was nice to have had the time to go everything one more time and make sure we were ready to rock and roll.
Dan is obviously Berta’s favorite so I stuck my arse in the passenger seat and us three best friends were Phoenix-bound yet again. We hadn’t thought about it when setting off from our trusty Autozone carpark, but once we’d gone 100 miles, we didn’t want to stop. We hit major traffic when we came upon a truck that had tipped over and thrown all its cabbages out of its prom so that gave me an opportunity to exit the vehicle and take Cleo for a walk while Dan and Berta crawled.
We stopped very briefly to fill up after crossing into Arizona and despite it being dinner time, we still didn’t want to linger. We didn’t even let ourselves listen to the radio or a podcast for the first two hours. Our full attention was on Berta and willing her to get us to the finish line. The sun was setting as we approached the bustle of Phoenix and I commended Dan on his endurance to drive for nearly 8 hours straight. Cleo had kept herself upright that whole time too. What a champ.
We parked it at Deb’s house at 8:30pm and group-hugged in celebration. Thanks Berta. Of all the remote places we’d been on this trip, she only coughed and wheezed when we were in range of civilization and gave us the right heading for when she properly puked so we could get her back on track. She’d brought us closer to the sun and stars than we’d ever been and let us stand within reach of a rocket that went to space!
24 Jan – 21 Feb, 2025
