Retiring to the Frontier: Part 1

Our friends back in Southern California have said they couldn't see themselves moving out of state to someplace completely new and at first I couldn't, either.  I'd spent all but my first five years in suburban Orange County, California, a childhood, adolescence and young adulthood filled with trips to the beach, to shopping centers (and later malls), a five to fifteen minute drive to whatever I wanted or needed. Orange groves dotted the landscape between postwar housing tracts, and that was all we needed.

Moving to rural inland SoCal in our mid twenties for T's first teaching job took some adjusting. Farther from the beach, from stores and from our friends, it was now a 37 mile drive to college, where I was finishing my degree and teaching credential. but getting to Orange County was a smooth 30 minutes on a good day, not that big a deal. We liked living in our little yellow house on the hill, looking out over the citrus groves, red tailed hawks circling overhead, the manic sounds of coyotes howling and yipping into the evening darkness. We were spoiled for country living.

By the time we were ready to retire, our country life had been spoiled. Horsethief Canyon Ranch and Sycamore Creek housing developments moved in where citrus groves had been. I missed the scent of orange and lemon blossoms on my drive to work, and my 12 minute drive to work became 30 minutes, then 40 minutes, until finally I planned for an hour just in case the freeway had a problem. It took forever just to go grocery shopping, fighting the traffic, finding a parking space, waiting in long lines. Errands took hours. Cars clogged the roads. We were living in the fastest growing area in the country.  Where it had always been hot in inland SoCal, now it was also humid since the new homes had grassy lawns with automatic sprinklers watering nonstop. And I don't do hot and humid very well.

 So we knew it was time to move,  looked around, and found we could afford to live in New Mexico, a place we had visited so often it felt like home. It helped a lot to have Southern California Edison purchase our little home for a project that has never been completed.

Our new 'hood is census designated as "frontier, " which means we're far from hospitals, food sources and jobs, with around three persons per square mile.

This is the first of three posts introducing our frontier and how we adjusted to a different culture, found new people and became much more self reliant.

Election Day 2014, Country Style

Today was election day, so we went to pick up the mail at the post office and then to vote.

Our polling place is very picturesque:

It's the fire station and that metal cylinder is the water tank. The water from the tank fills the pumper truck.

At the gate where we turned in from the highway (no campaigning within 100 feet of a polling station, so she was within the rules) sat a lone woman under an umbrella who urged us to vote for her son as a write-in candidate for sheriff. I didn't take her photo because I thought it might make her nervous. Also on duty at the gate were a Rottweiler and an Australian Shepherd from a neighboring ranch who tried to herd our truck as we turned in.

So here we were.

We voted inside the fire station where they keep the trucks.

Sharpie-type pens were used to mark the ballots and then voters fed the ballots into a machine that I hope was calibrated accurately.

94 percent of our county are white. 81 percent are Hispanic or Latino, so it makes sense that the ballot would have many Hispanic candidates. The median household income is $40,000, but 88% of the population own their homes.

Some are simple:

And some are grand:

But rich or poor, voting is a big thing here, and there's usually a pretty good turnout. 

Government of the people, by the people and for the people.

New Mexico State Capitol, Santa Fe

Boyz in the Hood

This morning I drove six miles up our dirt road for coffee with a neighbor. We were going to inspect her beehives, but the weather turned stormy and windy which isn't something bees like. So we took a rain check.

 On the way home I saw these pretty boys and had to stop to say hi.

The guy on the left nickered a hello and ambled closer when I got out of the truck.

Then the pinto decided to investigate whether there were treats involved.

Sadly, I had no goodies but they didn't seem to hold a grudge.

And that ominous sky? Nothing happened!

Lucero, NM Cattle Crossing

The other day I was coming home and had to slow way down because it was a cattle convention in Lucero, the teensy village not far from our place. The cows, their calves, and a very large bull had made a break and were wandering around, but no one seemed to care.

In the 1930's there were about 400 residents in this village. Now there are about 10, maybe. Whenever I drive through, it's like I've been transported to another time.

There are more cattle than humans here. And that's just fine.

Coyote Creek Traffic

Yesterday I took a trip to ThreadBear, my local quilt shop in Las Vegas, New Mexico. I'd already been there Monday for our Modern Quilt meet-up, soon to be guild, but I had a quilt to quilt and so the Bernina spent the night there and we met up again the next day.

I will write more about ThreadBear soon, because their brand new website is up and running. They are now selling their neato fabric online as well as in their shop on The Plaza in Las Vegas. I love their fabrics, especially their Hispanic looking stuff, and want ThreadBear to stay alive and well in Las Vegas for a long, long time.

But here is what I want to show you today:

As I was driving on the dirt road which takes me to the highway, I saw some hulking forms on the road. Whoops! Cows are out, but they weren't mine, thank goodness.

As soon as they saw my truck, the bovine escapees hightailed it to the side of the road which I thought was extremely polite.

Some of these cows were extremely preggo and there were babies, too, so they stayed pretty close to home,  the field beyond this broken gate, I think.

Seven hours later as I drove back home, they were still out, but that's how it goes in Northern New Mexico. Eventually someone will fix that gate but it doesn't have to be right now.

Goats: Lucero, NM

Just down the road is the metropolitan area of Lucero, New Mexico, where there are more goats than people.

Bucket Bath

The boiler decided to quit last week. I tried numerous times to light the pilot, but it just didn't want to stay lit. So good bye to hot water and to our fancy-shmancy room heating.

This was after the oven decided to quit on Thanksgiving, just after we removed the turkey but before the sides were cooked. We are an adaptable family, so the microwave finished the job.

We've been washing ourselves for the past week with water heated in this bucket, wood-stove-pioneer style. I used the range to heat water for washing dishes because I am a germ phobe and need almost boiling water to ensure we are not poisoned.

We have neighbors not too far away who have no running water at all, heat entirely with wood, and have raised some fine kids nonetheless. When I took a bunch of basil to our neighbor friend this past summer, she dipped some water out of a container on the kitchen counter, filled a jar and plunked that basil right in there. No running water? No problem! So I kept reminding myself that we have it pretty danged good.

Anyway, when the propane tech came out to fix the boiler and the oven, he discovered a gas leak. Out came his RED TAG, which meant THE GAS MUST BE TURNED OFF. So no top of the range cooking, either. While the gas man was here, the electricity quit as well, so we were out of luck for heating, cooking, and now lighting and microwave.

But we are experienced campers, and Tom set up a camp stove and we rustled up lanterns, our new insulator candle holders, oil lamps, and battery powered lights to cast a gloomy glow on our dark rooms. I made Spanish rice with salad and we dined by candle light.

All was well, though, because the electricity came on later that evening, the gas leak was discovered not under the house but in a more accessible location, and it was an easy fix the next day. When I heard the boiler kick in and saw that the oven was back to its old hottie self, I almost kissed the tech's gigantic Frankenstein shoes. That guy was big!

We are, in many ways, spoiled by our easy life. People fight each other in Wal-Mart for cut rate televisions and for toys that children will tire of a few weeks after they receive them from Santa Claus. Our water comes right out of a faucet, clean and ready to use. A repairman drives 30 miles to the boonies to give us a holiday gift of hot water and an oven that works.

There are places around the world and here in the U.S. where the toys are old, used, or non existent. In Africa a mother treks miles for some clean water for her children and she can't fathom a stranger trucking fuel to her home for heat and cooking. And just up the road a mom dips water from a container on her counter to keep some basil fresh. 

So a bath from a bucket once in a while is not a big deal.

Ridin' Down the Trail

Tom recalls a children's tv show in Albuquerque called The K Circle B Ranch and its theme song:

Riding on the trail to Albuquerque,
Saddlebags all filled with beans and jerky.
Headin' for K circle B,
The TV ranch for you and me.
K circle B in Albuquerque.
Yoodle Ae, eee, ae, aeeee, aeee.....



I've heard the song so often from Tom, my musical co-pilot, that it's always there when I drive on our county road. I don't try to get rid of it, but sing as loudly as I can because that's part of the joy of driving on dirt roads, isn't it?


As I'm driving the seven or so miles of dirt road to the paved highway I may encounter elk, deer, turkeys, goats, sheep, dogs, chickens, cattle, horses or snakes crossing the road. Sometimes dogs and cattle lie in the middle of the road, enjoying the ambience.

Average speed is 15 miles per hour although sometimes I get crazy and punch it to 30 on the straightaways. On a couple narrow curves I take it slow just in case someone is coming from the other direction.

Here are some photos of what's to see on our county road, many of them shot with my arm outside the window as I was driving.

There are plenty of pine trees since we are around 7200 ft here.

This is Ernest's family cemetery. He just cleaned it up and repainted the gate and the cross.

An adobe house and bunkhouse in what's called Territorial Style architecture.

The next three shots are of old adobe buildings in the village of Lucero, established in the mid-1850's. Descendants of the original residents still live here. Much of Lucero is falling down and disintegrating, but it's part of the newly designated Guadalita/Coyote Historic District which means some buildings will be preserved and the area kept rural. Oil and gas drilling could really mess this place up, destroying the natural beauty and culture here. By being listed on the State Register of Cultural Properties, we may be saved from the problems others face if the oil and gas folks come to town.

The Guadalupita/El Coyote/Lucero areas are full of history, having been established in the mid-1850's.

Adobe disintegrates if the outer plastered surface is not kept up.

House and corral

 I feel like I'm entering Shangri-la. when I get here. The places here are primarily for grazing...and gazing.

This is a descanso, a roadside memorial to someone who passed away. I wonder who it was.

It's shady here, entering Lucero.

Lucero goats. A couple of dogs travel with the goats wherever they go and are fiercely protective.

Santa Rita Mission Church, originally built in 1836,  was restored in 2006.

I love my country road. Hope you enjoyed the ride!

Going to Town

I never thought going to town would be such a big deal, that lunch and a shopping trip to Wal-Mart would be something I look forward to.  But it is! Going to town means taking a 30 mile drive to Las Vegas, New Mexico, whose motto is "Where the Mountains Meet the Plains."

It's a beautiful drive and never boring because there is much to see. I'm working on a post about what's there on the 6 mile dirt road we take to get to the highway, but I need a few more shots.

Here's a sneak peak of our road. It is kept nicely smoothed by a man in a large road grader. It's a little washboardy in places, but I know just how to position the truck to minimize the washboard rumble.

This is a wide spot. There are a few narrow places where we have to pull over and let others pass. On roads like these, etiquette requires drivers to lift a hand in a kind of salutewave, showing dirt road camaraderie or something like that.

Did you know that many movies have been filmed in Las Vegas, NM including Red Dawn? Las Vegas kept this sign on the side of a building even though they aren't the city of Calumet, Colorado,  the imaginary town in Red Dawn.

Here's a shot of one of the downtown streets. They have kept the place pretty old timey looking.

It's an actual, working downtown, which is awesome. There is no mall in Las Vegas, so you can go downtown to buy clothing, eat, shop for furniture, and go to the bank among other things. Actually, there are two downtowns, Old Town and New Town. That's a long story, one for another time. Hope you have fun visiting!

Heifers From Heifer International

When we bought our Angus steers we didn't know much about how to take care of them, but our neighbors have been happy to teach us. Donald and Anita, long time residents from the local village, sold us our Black Angus boys and introduced us to their livestock growers group, started through a grant from Heifer International. I am learning a lot not only about cattle at our meetings, but about every facet of living an agricultural life.

The per capita income in our county is a little over $19,000. People here have land that may been in the family for hundreds of years, but income producing jobs and businesses are far away, with people having to commute 50 miles one way to get to work.

For many people in the area, raising animals is their main cash crop. Heifer International offers grants to communities throughout the world. It is a non-profit organization whose goal is to help end world hunger and poverty through self-reliance & sustainability.

A couple years ago Donald received a gift of bred heifers from the group and is now on his second generation of cows. Since it's mama and baby season,  Donald has been busy hauling water and hay and keeping watch over his investment. The other day I drove by the mamas and babies and spotted this mom and her new little fellow.

C'mon, little guy! Up and at 'em!

Okay, good job! Now let's go meet the rest of the group.

Hello! Welcome to our world!

I'm still waiting. Any time now. Any time.

A Big Change: Busy SoCal to Rural New Mexico

 Last year when I left Corona, California,  3793 people inhabited each square mile. Corona's 2010 population is 147,181.

In Mora County there are 3 people per square mile. The county's total population is 4,881. Our closest neighbor is a half mile away. From our house we can't see any lights except our own.

The 15 freeway, a main Southern California transportation artery, provided constant background noise, cars and trucks passing 24/7. Helicopters circled, whackwhackwhacking, monitoring the traffic or looking for bad guys.

Here the silence is deafening. At first the total absence of noise feels almost eerie. It's disconcerting hearing nothing....but wait a while and there are sounds: the wind hits the pine trees on the rimrock making them whoosh, the pines moving like slinky toys riveted to the ground. The creek trickles not too far away. Far off,  a truck pulling a trailer clanks along the dirt road. It's not much, but it's something.

The postmistress knew us right away. "Are you Bridget?" she asked, my first time picking up mail at the post office 6 miles away. We have a free post office box since they don't deliver out our way. "I have all your mail right here," she said, and passed it across the counter. I was the only one in the post office.  Saturdays can be busier and you may see several people in the parking lot catching up on the gossip for the week. A traffic jam is when people stop their trucks in the middle of the dirt road for a chat.

At the DVM, which is the motor vehicle department, I had to get my New Mexico driver's license. There was one person in line ahead of me, so I waited about 3 minutes. "Do you want a four year or an eight year license?" the clerk asked. The lady standing behind me tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "Decide after you have your photo taken," she advised. "Go for 4 years if the picture is bad. You won't have to put up with it for so long."

Good advice. The photo looked decent, so I don't have to renew for 8 years. There was no test except for my vision. I was out of there in 10 minutes.