All Your Base Are Belong To Us

We had a pleasant and uneventful night in Sterling City last night. It was dark, quiet, and secluded. A few golfers showed up this morning, but no errant tee shots hit Odyssey.

Today we continued northwest on US87, stopping for 175 gallons of diesel in Big Spring, TX, where US87 crosses I-20. (Texas has the cheapest diesel we will see for the rest of the trip.) 87 took us into La Mesa, where TX137 then took us to Brownfield and US380. 380 took us into New Mexico and through Roswell, where we were decidedly not abducted by aliens. In fact, most folks in Roswell stared at us as though we might be aliens, which prompted the whimsical title of today's post.

Somewhere around the Texas line, we crossed into "the west." There is a marked change in scenery, from endless farmland to undeveloped scrub desert, and the feeling is unmistakable. Not far west of Roswell, the high plains give way to more hilly terrain, and we have been climbing steadily to this point, on the outskirts of the Lincoln National Forest (which is, perhaps, where Lincoln Logs come from). Just before we stopped for the night, we passed through the historic burg of Lincoln, NM, now almost a ghost town.

Tonight we are bivouaced at the "Double Crossing" picnic area (map). I'm not sure if that refers to the fact that a perennial stream merges into the Rio Benito here, or some more nefarious dealings of Billy The Kid, who inhabited these parts. This spot is also dark, quiet, and secluded. Tomorrow we will cross the continental divide, and should end our day somewhere in eastern Arizona.