Earl and I have been in Terlingua 24 hours and what a time we've shared. This 24 hours feels like time suspended and we are filled with 'moment to moment'. We are staying at Posada Milagro, or rather at the home of a friend of Earl's from long ago. They reconnected on Facebook last fall and he found that she works in L.A., lives in Terlingua and operates a bed and breakfast or what might be better called a petite hotel called Posada Milagro. Her home is a series of small stone buildings with several casitas (we're staying in one), a cottage with a tub, another small building with a walk in tiled shower and sink and two 'outhouses.'
Outhouses, yet there is wifi and running spring water. The stone buildings, the walkways, the walls, are all hand made with recycled stone and tile on the side of a hillside that looks toward the distant Chisos Mountains of Big Bend and on to distant mountains in Mexico. It's a magic place and I wish she were here right now to tell us more about this place and the life she leads. But she's off in L.A. right now.
The mountains, the light, the air, the place, are all spectacular. Hard to believe I've stayed away from Big Bend country for over twenty years. We woke at 9:00 and were down at the tiny coffee shop for breakfast at 10:00.
Really good coffee and burritos stuffed with potatoes and chorizo or in Earl's case, eggs, bacon and cheese. After breakfast we wandered through this ghost town, stopped at the store, which is a fine store with hard to find items like cotton Peruvian shirts and pounded tin frames. We indulged.
We walked further up the hill to the village church and then back down to Leaping Lizards, a shop where Earl found the silver work of one of his long ago students. The woman who owns the shop actually lived temporarily in a bus on a plot of land below a house that Earl and his former wife began to build twenty years ago. The woman has since built her own adobe dwelling, paints watercolors and has settled, marking 25 years in this 'end of the world' place in Texas. Terlingua feels much different than Marfa.
It's not high art and chic-chi-ness. It's still an almost invisible town covering a rocky hill town where stone buildings stand without roofs and the roads are gravel. You can hear your feet crunch on that gravel and hear a pick up truck from a long distance away.
It's quiet here. Not many places were you can hear 'quiet.' This is one of them. Tomorrow we head to Big Bend and a specific trail, at the end of which we will spread Jack Boynton's ashes and say some good by prayers. Enough said. Here are more photos.
The Rio Grande River is down there. Not much water. Earl says they'll be much more when the winter snows melt in New Mexico. Nevertheless, this is a site to see from high up on a hill top on the road between Terlingua and Presidio.