As you all know, we have decided to live as close to pioneer days as we can in the ghost town of Cuchillo, NM. There are 30 or so folks still working the ground, some pecan trees, and some beef. The valley of Cuchillo is deep enough to keep the curious from finding it by chance. Only going to Winston or Chloride, old mining towns can one come across this place. Warm Springs, aka Ojo Caliente, is only 20 miles by crow. Now, living in the shadow of the Chihenne reservation, at night in the hills, I listen to the voices of Baishan, Juh, Mangas Coloradas, Victorio, great and mighty men.
I look back at the childhood days of cowboys and indians, good guys and bad guys, hiking after dark alone, riding bikes with no safety crap on, etc.. Then came the Scouts and learning how they did it before all the modern bs. A compass and the stars got you everywhere. A map was a treasure. Remember how to measure a tree without climbing it or even a hill? We repeated the pledge of allegiance to the flag, gave thanks for our food, called our teachers "sir or ma'am." The Lone Ranger, Hopalong Cassidy, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, were our heroes and role models. Then comes the realization that the goodness of those days is now history. We are doomed by the spirit of indifference and self indulgence.
So then, have we escaped the present reality, as well as we are able. There is no reason in my mind to ever leave this place.
Thank God for the men we ride with here.