Cocoon

Clubhouse porch at The Ranch

It would be easy to laugh at the residents, the citizens living in the 118 sites of this rv park called The Ranch.  The 30 or so we met easily averaged 75 years old  and they assembled cheerfully for “happy hour” in the clubhouse where the tables were decorated with crocheted faux candle holders with wisps of cotton as a flame and the happy hour beverage was coffee.  Soft drinks were available for $0.50 and ice cream bars were a $1.  Popcorn was free.  One woman introduced herself by her given them but then confessed that she was “Ding-A-Ling” for the day, the leader of the meeting as she handed out candy canes.  Agatha, sitting on her walker, told us that this was the first time she’d be out of her rig for 4 days, fearing that the high winds would cause her to fall.  She hasn’t been too steady since her stroke 3 years ago but today was determined to get out.  Jane admitted having recently had her 70^th birthday and her 85 year old husband was back at the rig making dinner.  His recent heart attack hadn’t slowed them down much and he still did all the driving of their rig.

This is a park owned by an RV club called the Escapees.  We’ve been members since the beginning of our RVing and it was the Escapees who held the boot camp where we gained enough knowledge to be dangerous.  Among other things, the Escapees own several RV Parks where members can lease long-term lots and stay for extended periods, even years.  If they aren’t in residence, their lots can be rented out to transients like us.  It’s very inexpensive, as little as $50/month for the long terms folks, plus utilities.  Many lots have small cabins on them for additional living space and built-in ramps and stairs for getting up into their rigs.  We rented a site for 2 nights for $35, less than half of what we pay in many RV parks.  It was our first Escapee park and it was an interesting experience.

If I were 30, or maybe even 20 years younger than I am, I might be scoffing at this tiny, hokey community.  They sing happy birthday at Happy Hour.  A keyboardist plays Christmas carols as the group assembles and they take a vote if they want her to continue to do that every afternoon.  They update the group on Margaret who apparently has been ill and now would welcome visitors but preferably in the morning and a get-well card is available for signing.  They hug everyone, including us.  And they have visitors stand up and tell the group about themselves.  They ask for volunteers for the Christmas Eve potluck and gently, teasingly push an older gentleman into being the next day’s Ding-A-Ling.  When someone says they’re leaving the next day, the group sings “Happy Trails” to them and when one woman gets agitated and distressed for no apparent reason, they gather around her soothing and helping her calm herself.

This a picture of how some are surviving, even thriving, as they age.  It’s a tiny community, easily less than 150 long term residents.  They are living in their RVs in the middle of scrubby desert in rural New Mexico.  They probably have families somewhere but have chosen to make this group their family.  They apparently look out for each other even as they have disagreements and disputes.  Our very elderly neighbor explained that he had to shut off his yard light after 8 years because of a complaint. 

Chuck parked next to a long-tern resident

I look at this with some fear and some comfort.  What circumstances would bring me to a place like this?  And if it happened, would I fit in and not be discomfited by the hominess and homeliness not to mention all that hugging?  Yet we talk often about ending up in a communal setting, “The Compound”, full of friends, good food and wine.  What is this Escapees park but that dream realized for these people who had nothing in common initially except that they were nomads and now have settled down together.

As for touring, we drove to Carlsbad Cavern this morning, hoping the reportedly broken elevators were fixed.  Without them it was a 3 hour walk down 750 feet and then back up again.  Sadly they were still not working and we agreed that neither of us was up to the hike so we contented ourselves with touring the visitor’s center deciding we’d maybe hit it on the way back home in spring. 

Visitor Center model of the cavern.  Note the little Visitor's Center building way up high and the long drop into the caves.

Then off to an early dinner in Artesia, NM, 15 miles north of our campground.  The food was outstanding and they had a good wine list with some really good New Mexico wines.  

Green chili bacon mac and cheese and a house salad to push the cheese through my arteries.

We’ve found wineries in every state we’ve visited I think.  Funny how that happens.  There’s much less petroleum odor here despite the many working derricks we see.  It reminds me of my days working for Abbott Labs when we’d drive by the manufacturing plant and get an unpleasant whiff of antibiotic fermentation.  Our bosses were always quick to remind us that it was the smell of money.  Same situation here.

Tomorrow on to Las Cruces, NM.  Stay tuned!