Ghosts in the Desert

The crinkle of plastic wrappers was a certain indicator that the flight attendant was coming. I pried an earbud from my ear and twisted around in my seat. Sure enough, there she was, balancing a blue bin of Southwest snacks on her hip. Efficiently, she moved down the tight aisle, distributing snacks and smiles to sleepy passengers. When she reached our row, she smiled at me. 

“Oreos or pretzels?” she asked.

I returned the smile. “Oreos!”

She delivered the small, blue package into my hands. I automatically transferred it to Tyler’s tray table, trying to resist the gluten-filled deliciousness as much as possible. The flight attendant quirked a small smile. She transferred her gaze to Tyler and repeated her question.

“Could I have both?” Tyler responded.

The flight attendant grinned. “I’ll do you one better!”

She dug her hand into the bin and deposited a whole pile of snacks onto Tyler’s tray table. Pink bags of pretzels and Oreo packages threatened to spill onto the floor. We looked at Tyler’s haul with amazement. This was going to be a great day!

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Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/MYmro6K51HB4XAEd6

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February 14th, 2025- Big Bend Day 1

Our plane touched down in Texas later that morning. Our airport greeted us with warm, dry air and the wonderful atmosphere of a desert airport. Have you ever noticed that when you travel to beautiful places, their airports follow suit? In Fresno, the airport is decorated with life-size replicas of sequoia trunks, allowing visitors to experience a stroll through a sequoia forest as soon as they arrive. In Bozeman, log beams and tall windows create the atmosphere of a mountain lodge. In the El Paso airport, passengers with cowboy hats perfectly complemented the stagecoach display near the rental car counters. A large painting of cowboys and airplanes hung above a cluster of Border Patrol agents and a Mexican restaurant. Even outside the airport, yellow highway ramps and dilapidated motels gave Texas vibes. I couldn’t stop smiling. How we missed the desert!

Tyler and I fell in love with the desert on our honeymoon. The foreign sights and sounds were the perfect metaphor for the unknowns of our freshly-minted marriage. What lay ahead for us as a married couple? The big open skies seemed to symbolize a sense of freedom and opportunity. As we trekked all over Nevada, Utah, and Arizona, our love for each other spilled over into the landscapes. We held hands in Canyonlands, talked about our future at the Grand Canyon, and struggled through elevation sickness together at Great Basin. Each location, colored by our honeymoon rose-colored glasses, seemed even more marvelous than the last. It was a wonderful time. Is it any surprise to you, dear reader, that we return to the desert every Valentine’s Day? 

We spent much of our first afternoon in Texas on the road. Texas is a big state! To get anywhere, you have to be prepared to drive and drive and drive. Fortunately, Tyler and I are great roadtrippers! As Tyler covered the miles behind the steering wheel, I took up my time-honored roadtrip role: entertainment. We began with music, but as the road lengthened before us, I switched us over to an audiobook. I clutched a new camera in my hands, often raising it to snap a quick photo through the window. When we approached a small church in the middle of nowhere, Tyler indulged my request to pull over. We hopped out to take a closer look. The small, white church sat alone in a broad valley. Its blue roof featured a small cross that pointed crookedly into the endless desert sky. Our eyes took a moment to adjust when we stepped into the dim interior. The whitewashed sanctuary was intimately small. Worn wood pews lined both walls. At the front, a shaft of light cut across a rough-hewn cross to land on an antique lantern mounted on the wall. It was very quiet. When Tyler rang the church bell, its peals echoed into the wind. The distant mountains seemed to receive the bell’s summons with emptiness. There were no more congregants to come. Only ghosts remained.

The Fort Davis National Historic Site possessed a similar ghostly quality. Windowless brick mansions stood desolate against strange, stony hills. Skeletal trees guarded their walls. Their empty windows were soulless. I found myself treating the houses with respect from a distance. I was pretty sure at least one of them was haunted. The soldiers’ houses, lining the parade grounds, felt more welcoming. They neatly stood at attention, resolutely preserving the remains of the pre-Civil War fort. Nearby, the Historic San Antonio-El Paso Road cut a dusty line through the desert. This major route was the responsibility of the fort to protect, both before and after the Civil War. It was a tough job in a tough environment. The soldiers of Fort Davis encountered dangers from Native American wars, dangers from the desert, and dangers from everyday life. It wasn’t a lifestyle for the weak hearted.

We felt extra privileged when we climbed back into our car. Unlike the fort’s previous inhabitants, we had a quick, reliable method of travel. We had entertainment at our fingertips, unlike the soldiers who travelled 30 miles to go bass fishing for fun. We could find ourselves a comfortable bed and a grocery store by dinnertime if we felt so inclined. At Fort Davis, it was so difficult to transport supplies over the desert terrain that, in 1855, the Army imported camels for the task. That’s right, camels. According to the National Park Service website, the camels performed remarkably well in Texas. They were deemed “superior beasts of burden.” In fact, the only reason that camels fell out of use is because the Civil War broke out, siphoning priorities and finances back East.

Feeling immensely blessed (albeit camel-less), Tyler and I spent the rest of our evening in modern luxury. We enjoyed a Texas sunset from our car, watching the sky melt into shining pinks and yellows. We stopped for photos of wild burros and pronghorn antelope in the dusty sage. We browsed for trinkets in a local store and bought a carton of moose tracks ice cream instead. This was passed between us on the patio of our Airbnb as we tipped our heads back to admire the bright Texas stars. Country music cheerfully spilled out of a bar nearby. People laughed and sang, filling the dark night with happiness. Balancing the ice cream in his lap, Tyler stretched his arm across our chairs to take my hand in his. Happily, I squeezed his hand in return. We smiled. 

It was nice to be back in the desert.