Amongst the weekly events in the Eagle Mts. were shows put on by the U.S. Air Force, from Holloman Air Force Base, near Alamogordo, NM. On a different day each week, we would hear jets flying through the mountains, but we only saw a single F-15 one time, on the west side of the mountains.
We had climbed up a slope and were seated under a shady overhang, resting when an F-15 came cruising north over Red Light Bolson, about eye level with us, parallel with the mountain front.
On the LAST DAY of fieldwork, Dan and I were standing on a ridge near the eastern edge of the mountains, between two canyons leading out from the interior of the mountains. According to the topo map, the canyons were about 500 feet deep. All of a sudden, sound and movement from our left caught our attention.
Two F-15s were "hauling ass" down from the interior of the mountains. We were facing the north canyon and the first F-15 flew below us. How many common folks get to look down on an F-15 as it flies below us? Immediately after, the 2nd F-15 flew behind us, slightly higher. And away they went, across Eagle Flat and beyond. What a send-off! As we were atop the ridge, I wonder if either pilot saw us?
There was another weekly show, also on an irregular schedule, in which a single B-52 came lumbering over the highest peaks of the mountains. It seemed like it was only maybe a few hundred feet above Eagle Peak. As we never knew when either flight was coming over, the weight of the 35 mm camera was a liability. If I had a camera in hand, perhaps the B-52 was slow enough to catch, but no way on the F-15s.
On another subject, is a story I used for classes on Soil Development. When we ventured around the southwestern end of the mountains to work on Dan's SW quadrant, we stayed at an unnamed windmill and cattle tank that was "seated" on a mass of Cretaceous sandstone. I don't recall if it was part of the rim and outer slope of the caldera or if it was part of that 1/2 mile-long mass of Cretaceous rocks that fell (or slid) into the caldera.
Regardless, we quickly observed that associated with this extended sandstone outcrop was almost NO SOIL. Perhaps some wind-deposited "blow sand", with no clay for the anchoring our tent stakes. Dan slept in his tent, I used my aged four-man tent to keep our ice chests and other supplies in the shade. But there was nowhere to sink the stakes.
Finally, we found an area where cattle had congregated long ago and left behind a "soil" composed of 4 or 5 inches of well-aged, powdered, compacted cow poop. It didn't smell bad, even when it rained, but it sure was slippery. I guess we were there for a couple of weeks, with a view that included the Indio Mts. to the south.
As with East Mill, there was a water trough to which the local animals had become familiar with. It was a few yards down the hill. The first night, for well over an hour, a coyote stood in the darkness and yipped its disapproval over our proximity to its water source. After it discovered that we were neither leaving nor shooting at it, it likely learned a different access route to the trough, as all was quiet afterward.
After that site, we moved a little more west and north and camped on the slopes of a large alluvial fan, with a good westward view of Red Light Bolson. (There were no amenities, such as a well or cattle tank.)
While we were at that site, a large storm blew in (a dying hurricane?) and visited us for a few days, during which there was a constant low ceiling, blustery winds, and intermittent rain. As I hadn't bothered to fix my antenna, we were unable to access weather reports. (I don't recall if I had removed my CB radio or we just couldn't pick up any chatter.) There was a great deal of cloud-to-cloud lightning at night and during the day, the peaks were obscured by Banner Stratus Clouds (aka Draping Stratus Clouds). It was spooky but cool.
Figure 1.
After a couple of days of that, we went back to Van Horn for supplies, as usual. I don't remember if we stayed in an inexpensive motel for one night, as one of Dan's "hi-tech" tent poles had snapped (or else he sheltered in my storage tent).
On the way out, as we rounded a curve near East Mill, in 4 wheel-drive at 10 mph, my truck was actually doing a "4 wheel drift" in the surface mud on the road, fortunately, it wasn't deep and I followed my Dad's directions and made it out, though it was a bit worrisome.
No comments:
Post a Comment