First timer? In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-a-week blog), I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48). I call this “landing.”
I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near. I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location.
To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above. To check out some relatively recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”
Landing number 2423; A Landing A Day blog post number 857.
Dan: Today’s lat/long (30o 25.919’ N, 103o 33.413’) puts me in West Texas:
Here’s my local landing map, with my various titular towns highlighted:
My streams-only map shows no detail, but I suspect that my drainage heads north to the Pecos, or south to the Rio Grande:
My GE Hydrographic Features app shows me much more:
You can see that I landed in the watershed of Musquiz Creek; on to the Paisano Ck. (Note that creeks are labeled at their downstream ends.)
Things got a little vague headed north from here, but I found Street View coverage on my drainage pathway about 50 miles north of my landing:
And the good ol’ Texas DOT comes through again! So, Paisano Creek ends up in the Coyanosa Draw:
And here’s a shot of the Draw itself:
And, because I wanted a shot with a little water in it, here’s the Pecos (18th hit) not far from where the Coyanosa Draw discharges:
The Pecos (of course) ends up in Rio Grande (51st hit).
There’s really no hook for Alpine, but it is far and away the largest town in the area (pop 5900), and it’s also the town closest to my landing. So, here’s a little history (from Wiki):
The area had been a campsite for cattlemen tending their herds between 1878 and the spring of 1882, when a town of tents was created by railroad workers and their families. Because the section of the railroad was called Osborne, that was the name of the small community for a brief time.
The railroad needed access to water from springs owned by brothers named Daniel and Thomas Murphy, so it entered into an agreement with the Murphys to change the name of the section and settlement to Murphyville in exchange for a contract to use the spring.
The town’s name was changed to Alpine in 1888, following a petition by its residents. At this time, a description of the town mentioned a dozen houses, three saloons, a hotel and rooming house, a livery stable, a butcher shop, and a drugstore, which also housed the post office.
I wonder what was wrong with Murphyville (or, more likely, what was wrong with the Murphy brothers) . . .
But Alpine? I could find no discussion as to how Alpine was selected. I’m sorry, but the Big Bend area of West Texas is hardly alpine (meaning Alp-like, I presume) – although one of the generic definitions of “alpine” is simply mountainous.
Here’s a Welcome to Alpine shot, looking rather mountainous:
So, what about Fort Davis (pop 1,200)? Well, it’s the county seat of Jeff Davis County, so we can guess how the fort got its name. But it wasn’t named after Jefferson Davis, the president of the Confederacy; it was named after Jefferson Davis (the same guy, but before the Civil War) when he was the Secretary of War under President Franklin Pierce.
A quick bit of Franklin Pierce history (from Wiki):
Franklin Pierce (1804 – 1869) was the 14th President of the United States (1853–1857), a northern Democrat who saw the abolitionist movement as a fundamental threat to the unity of the nation. He alienated anti-slavery groups by championing and signing the Kansas–Nebraska Act and enforcing the Fugitive Slave Act; yet he failed to stem conflict between North and South, setting the stage for Southern secession and the American Civil War.
So Fort Davis is a town that was named after the fort, built in 1854 due to the “Indian Wars.” The fort (abandoned in 1891) has been restored. Here’s a GE pic by Louis Jaffe showing restored barracks:
Buffalo soldiers were stationed here. From TexasAlmanac.com:
The Buffalo Soldiers comprised one of the most interesting military aggregations in post-war Texas. On July 28, 1866, the U.S. Congress authorized six regiments of black troops to be added to the U.S. Army.
The nickname “Buffalo Soldiers” was given by Indians, who thought that the tightly curled hair of the black soldiers resembled the curly hair on a bison’s face. Since the bison was revered by the Indians, the nickname was considered a term of respect, and the Buffalo Soldiers proudly featured a bison on their regimental crest.
Lt. Henry Flipper, the first black graduate of West Point, served with the 10th Cavalry in West Texas and was stationed for a time at Fort Davis in the late 1870s.
Check out the map of Fort Davis:
Now it’s time for Marfa. Wow. I hardly know where to start, so what I’ve settled on is a .tour of internet articles about Marfa. Just reading the blurbs will give you a feel for this crazy little town.
From Vogue, entitled “A City Dweller’s Guide to a Magical, Mystical Weekend in Marfa, Texas:”
Blurb: Ah, Marfa, Texas. The small town of about 2,000 residents has achieved almost mythic status in the past five years thanks to an influx of art institutions, stores, and New Yorkers and Angelenos who have decamped there looking for something simpler. Snuggled in a vast expanse of desert, nearly 20 miles from the next town and some 200 from the nearest major airport, the place is the subject of much modern lore—people return awestruck from the tours of the Chinati Foundation, filled with wonder from the desert landscape and starry nights, and amped up on their great Instagram snap in front of Prada Marfa. Needless to say, Marfa has amassed a lot of hype.
https://www.vogue.com/article/city-dwellers-guide-to-marfa-texas
From the Vogue article (in case you didn’t click on the link), here’s a photo (by Jonathon Becker) of the famous Prada Shoe Store sculpture, located along a highway outside of Marfa. That’s right. It’s not a Prada shoe store, it’s a sculpture.
From The New York Times, entitled “Marfa Road Trip: Thelma and Louisa, with a Happier Ending:”
Blurb: When you escape your life at 45, as in a Thelma and Louise-level escape, you go to the desert. My best friends of 25 years joined me. We picked Marfa, the artist hub in the middle of the West Texas desert as the destination of our road trip last winter. The quirky art community was part of the reason we landed on Marfa. We wanted to fade into the weirdness of the town, with our identities washing away into the artist Donald Judd’s concrete blocks, the dry landscape and the big sky. We knew it would be the kind of place you might forget to call your family. (Indeed, it was.)
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/22/travel/marfa-texas-road-trip.html
Here’s a shot from the NY Times article by Stacy Sodolak of El Cosmico, a trailer hotel and campground:
From a Houston Culture website (It’s Not Hou, It’s Me), entitled “A Houstonian’s Guide: 24 Hours in Marfa Texas.
Blurb: This past week, I went to a little town in the middle of nowhere Texas to look at art in the desert. It was awesome. If Marfa isn’t on your radar, it should be. It’s a fantastic little art haven in West Texas, spitting distance from Mexico, that’s the perfect addition to any road trip down I-10 or trip to Big Bend State Park.
https://itsnothouitsme.com/2017/08/25/where-to-take-pictures-in-marfa-texas/
From the website, a Marfa trashcan:
From The Atlanta Journal Constituion, entitled “The Mysterious Allure of Marfa.”
Blurb: Most city slogans are kind of dumb. Even if they sound clever at first, they begin to annoy over time. I’d be happy if I never heard, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” again. Or “Keep Austin Weird.” If you’ve been to Austin lately, you know that battle has been lost. But whoever came up with the slogan for Marfa, Texas, nailed it: “Tough to get to. Tougher to explain.”
https://www.ajc.com/travel/the-mysterious-allure-marfa-texas/pqUdqAYwEDPPCCfsBdpoVO/
From the website:
From Vanity Fair, entitled “Lone Star Bohemia.”
Blurb: The tiny West Texas border town of Marfa is 200 miles from anywhere, but after the late minimalist artist Donald Judd acquired dozens of its buildings, filling them with everything from Rembrandts to light sculptures, art-world pioneers and pilgrims made it their playground. Sean Wilsey and Daphne Beal channel the mix of tumbleweeds, talent, and iconoclasm that is key to Marfa’s mystique.
https://www.vanityfair.com/culture/2012/07/inside-marfa-artists-donald-judd
From the website, with this caption: “A Union Pacific freight train whistles past a collection of cars – a 1964 Pontiac Bonneville convertible, 1963 Plymouth Belvedere, 1962 Plymouth Valiant, 1965 International Travel-all, 1967 Pontiac Tempest station wagon – artfully parked by Food Shark impresarios Adam Bork and Krista Steinhauer, on the outskirts of Marfa Texas:”
From The Dallas News, entitled “Marfa Unvarnished: Why a Visit is Worth the Epic Trek – and Why Maybe You Shouldn’t Bother.”
Blurb: You may have read, or more likely heard, all kinds of things about Marfa. That it’s super cool. That it’s a foodie destination. That it’s right next to Big Bend. That it’s completely overrated. I’m here to give you Marfa, unvarnished.
First, a few things to get out of the way: The fake Prada store is not in Marfa. It’s 26 miles out of town, but ART (with a capital A-R-T) and artifice are everywhere in town. Even the tumbleweeds look curated.
Most people you see on the street (and in the galleries and boutiques and dining rooms) look wealthy. Bearded hipster dads and tattooed moms push babies in expensive strollers. Cool-looking older couples (she with beautiful long gray hair, he with fabulous turquoise jewelry) sip espresso in front of the new boutique hotel, the Saint George. Everyone over 60 has exquisite taste.
Does it sound like I hated Marfa? I didn’t. I loved it. Friends told me to stay a day and a half, two days max. After spending three days and three nights, I still felt there was plenty more to see and do.
From the website, here’s a shot of sunset over Hotel Paisano by Guy Reynolds:
From The Huffington Post, entitled “Goodbye, Marfa, Texas.”
Blurb: When we love something we inevitably ruin it with our enthusiasm. The pleasure turns passé, the charm fades, we move on to the next shiny thing. Marfa, Texas, is a city on the brink of proving this rule. For those new to Marfa: it is a beautiful, odd, art-filled place at the western edge of Texas, three hours from the nearest airport. This is only its latest incarnation. Starting in the late 19th century, it was a rail stop for oilmen, then a watering hole for ranchers. Today, because of a man named Donald Judd, local Marfans are losing ground to transplants from New York City and Seattle, the kind of people who thought they’d never set foot in Texas.
Judd, a native of Missouri, died of cancer in 1994. But his legacy lives on in the one-stoplight city he made his home. An artist who came to define American minimalism, he left the energy of early 1970s Soho in search of an asset he considered better than paint on a flat surface: in his words, “actual space.” He was a doer and a thinker — an artist who started his career as an art critic. He looked like a slimmer, kinder Hemingway. Perennially bearded, shimmering between sleek and gruff. The type who could build a table and just as easily analyze its aesthetics.
https://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/02/02/marfa-gentrification_n_6593540.html
A shot of “Judd’s legendary sequence of concrete blocks, on the Chinati property south of Marfa:”
And another trailer from Los Cosmico:
Moving along (but staying in Marfa), check this out from Wiki:
Apart from Donald Judd and modern art, Marfa may be most famous for the Marfa lights, visible on clear nights between Marfa and the Paisano Pass when one is facing southwest (toward the Chinati Mountains).
According to the Handbook of Texas Online, “… at times they appear colored as they twinkle in the distance. They move about, split apart, melt together, disappear, and reappear. Presidio County residents have watched the lights for over a hundred years. The first historical record of them dates to 1883.
Presidio County has built a viewing station 9 miles east of town on US 67 near the site of the old air base. Each year, enthusiasts gather for the annual Marfa Lights Festival. The lights have been featured and mentioned in various media, including the television show Unsolved Mysteries and an episode of King of the Hill and in an episode of Disney Channel Original Series So Weird. A book by David Morrell, 2009’s The Shimmer, was inspired by the lights.
The Rolling Stones mention the “lights of Marfa” in the song “No Spare Parts” from the 2011 re-release of their 1978 album Some Girls.
Really, the Stones? Of course, I checked out the song. It’s about a love-lorn guy driving to visit his girl. My guess is, he starts in California (although not mentioned); then:
I take the 10 to Phoenix, be in Tucson by the afternoon
Get some shut eye in Benson [on I-10, about 40 miles east of Tucson] and a bite at the greasy spoon
And now for the Marfa part:
Took a turn off 90 [actually, onto U.S. Rt 90], I should have stayed on the interstate [I-10]
I was lost in the real, my map was kind of out of date
I saw the lights of Marfa, I guess it was a scenic route
When I had to change a tire, I’m glad I wore my western boots.
And then later in the song:
When I got to Sonora, the sun was shining in my eyes
With the air-con busted, the windshield full of flies
In just a few hours, you’re going to fall in my loving arms.
Here’s a map of the road trip so far:
And then, he had “just a few hours” to get to his honey. My guess is San Antonio:
OK. So here’s the song, with the words following:
Your daddy drank himself half to death when he was 39 years old
But I hope you don’t think I feel like a father to you
But I want to tell you I miss you so much, you’re a thousand miles away
I’m at the wheel of my car and I’m coming on home to you, yeah
Lonely hearts, they’re not made to break
I got no spare parts, got no oil to change
Honey, I ain’t accustomed to lose
If I want something bad enough, I always find a way to get through
If I want something bad enough, I always find a way to get through
I take the 10 to Phoenix, be in Tucson by the afternoon
Get some shut eye in Benson and a bite at the greasy spoon
Took a turn off 90, I should have stayed on the interstate
I was lost in the real, my map was kind of out of date
I saw the lights of Marfa, I guess it was a scenic route
When I had to change a tire, I’m glad I wore my western boots
Lonely hearts, they’re not made to break
I got no spare parts, got no oil to change
Honey, I ain’t accustomed to lose
If I want something bad enough, I always find a way to get through
Honey, I ain’t accustomed to lose
If I want something bad enough, I always find a way to get through, yeah
If I want something bad enough, I always find a way to get through, yes
When I got to Sonora, the sun was shining in my eyes
With the air-con busted, the windshield full of flies
In just a few hours, you’re going to fall in my loving arms
I’ve been so hot to see you, I set off the fire alarms, yeah
Lonely Hearts, they’re not made to break
I got no spare parts, got no oil to change
Honey, I ain’t accustomed to lose
If I want something bad enough, I always find a way to get through
If I want something bad enough, I always find a way to get it, baby
If I want something bad enough, I always find a way to get through
If I want something bad enough, I always find a way to get through, yeah
Lonely hearts, they’re not made to break
I got no oil to change, yeah
Lonely hearts, they’re not made to break
I got no spare parts, got no oil to change
A quick personal story: My son Ben was visiting while I was doing the above Marfa write-up. I showed him the picture of the pink trailer at Los Cosmico, suggesting that he’d enjoying staying there. His response was that he might be going to Marfa to visit his old college buddy Phil Boyd, who bought a house in Marfa. Phil was a Pittsburgh native (he and Ben both went to Pitt) and a “punk blues” musician, the lead guitarist of the band Modey Lemon (check ‘em out on YouTube if you’re inclined). He moved to Austin because of the music scene, but lo and behold, ended up in Marfa.
I’ll close with this, from Jeff Lynch photography, a shot of a storm over Fort Davis:
That’ll do it . . .
KS
Greg
© 2018 A Landing A Day