How Border Security has Changed a Region

[NorthSideSox72]

A couple weeks ago, I went on vacation in New Mexico. Part of that trip was for me to spend a few days hiking through some of the remote mountain ranges of the Malpai borderlands region – the southwest corner of NM and southeast corner of AZ. The trip was great for lots of reasons, but I wanted to share one specific aspect of my experience with my fellow Busters. I’ll try to avoid partisan politics, and just report my experiences…

 

A little background. I was last in this area in 2002, when I led a small trekking party along the newly-christened anchor leg of the Continental Divide Trail (we were in fact the first group of any size to do so). We covered 75 miles in 5 days carrying all our gear and water, as we wound our way from the border, through the rugged terrain of the Big Hatchet Mountains, northwest then north across the open basin and range province to I-10. We saw only one other person during that entire 5 days – a county sheriff’s jeep, as we crossed a road. We had informed the sherriff and the Border Patrol of our trip ahead of time.

 

Flash forward to last month. My first day in the Bootheel of New Mexico, I drove down from I-10, south along a road that went gradually from paved, to dirt, to a muddy two-track. My destination was the Coronado National Forest, and the Peloncillo Mountains, just a few miles above the border. As I made my way 45 miles south of the last “town”, I saw not a single other vehicle. Just me, the strikingly beautiful Animas mountains, and a grey oak savannah. I found some trails, did some hiking (saw some enormous cat prints), and started the sloppy drive back out. A couple javelinas showed up to check out the ruckus.

 

About halfway back up the road, a Border Patrol vehicle passed me going the other way. He slowed, turned around and proceeded to follow me. After a few minutes, he turned on the rollers, and I pulled over. He was just checking me out, and said my license plate was covered in mud. We chatted a bit, then I continued on. I remember thinking, well, I guess there are a few of those guys down here after all. Turns out I was just getting a glimpse.

 

My route out of the area that evening took me to New Mexico highway 9, which I took east towards Columbus. For the latter half of that route, the highway roughly parallels the Mexican border, just a mile or two to the north. As I approached that section, I noticed another BP patrol car. Then two Humvees with soldiers. Then a pickup truck with a couple rifle-toting locals in the back. I hit the border-adjacent section, and I realized that virtually all the vehicles on the road with me belonged either Border Patrol, or New Mexico National Guard. I noticed repeatedly that I was being visually assessed by a variety uniformed personnel carrying a variety of weaponry.

 

More Humvees, more BP cars – some strolling the fenceline, others along the road. Then when it got a little hilly, I saw the spotter teams – on top of each rise was a handful of military vehicles, with some sort of crane-operated watch tower jutting into the sky. In stretches between, there were light towers with cameras of various sorts, pointed generally at the southern frontier. With the sun setting, the light fading and the surrounding mountains turning eerie shades of yellow and orange as they do down there, the whole scene was surreal. It was downright unsettling. I felt like I was somewhere I shouldn’t be. It felt like something I had never really seen in person before.

 

A war zone.

 

I reached Columbus, which is at a border checkpoint, then turned north for Deming. I had to stop at not one, but two roadblock checkpoints over the 30 miles to Deming. Even in Deming, on I-10, there were BP cars making regular appearances.

 

For all of those who wonder if our borders are being looked after any more now, after all the debate and discussion... the answer is a resounding yes.

 

I am not describing this scene to complain, or to make a political point. I’m not offended by it, nor do I blame any particular person or party. In fact, the base emotional reaction I had, after getting past the shock, was simply this: it’s a shame it has to be this way at all. It’s a shame this beautiful, haunting place has to be exposed to so much of humanity’s underbelly. It’s just a shame.

 

So, here’s to hoping our oft-incapable government can find a way to address the issue in some healthy, long term way. And here’s to hoping we can all feel more secure, and that the land of opportunity can be just that for those who are willing to be a positive part of society.

[kapkomet]

A couple weeks ago, I went on vacation in New Mexico. Part of that trip was for me to spend a few days hiking through some of the remote mountain ranges of the Malpai borderlands region – the southwest corner of NM and southeast corner of AZ. The trip was great for lots of reasons, but I wanted to share one specific aspect of my experience with my fellow Busters. I’ll try to avoid partisan politics, and just report my experiences…

 

A little background. I was last in this area in 2002, when I led a small trekking party along the newly-christened anchor leg of the Continental Divide Trail (we were in fact the first group of any size to do so). We covered 75 miles in 5 days carrying all our gear and water, as we wound our way from the border, through the rugged terrain of the Big Hatchet Mountains, northwest then north across the open basin and range province to I-10. We saw only one other person during that entire 5 days – a county sheriff’s jeep, as we crossed a road. We had informed the sherriff and the Border Patrol of our trip ahead of time.

 

Flash forward to last month. My first day in the Bootheel of New Mexico, I drove down from I-10, south along a road that went gradually from paved, to dirt, to a muddy two-track. My destination was the Coronado National Forest, and the Peloncillo Mountains, just a few miles above the border. As I made my way 45 miles south of the last “town”, I saw not a single other vehicle. Just me, the strikingly beautiful Animas mountains, and a grey oak savannah. I found some trails, did some hiking (saw some enormous cat prints), and started the sloppy drive back out. A couple javelinas showed up to check out the ruckus.

 

About halfway back up the road, a Border Patrol vehicle passed me going the other way. He slowed, turned around and proceeded to follow me. After a few minutes, he turned on the rollers, and I pulled over. He was just checking me out, and said my license plate was covered in mud. We chatted a bit, then I continued on. I remember thinking, well, I guess there are a few of those guys down here after all. Turns out I was just getting a glimpse.

 

My route out of the area that evening took me to New Mexico highway 9, which I took east towards Columbus. For the latter half of that route, the highway roughly parallels the Mexican border, just a mile or two to the north. As I approached that section, I noticed another BP patrol car. Then two Humvees with soldiers. Then a pickup truck with a couple rifle-toting locals in the back. I hit the border-adjacent section, and I realized that virtually all the vehicles on the road with me belonged either Border Patrol, or New Mexico National Guard. I noticed repeatedly that I was being visually assessed by a variety uniformed personnel carrying a variety of weaponry.

 

More Humvees, more BP cars – some strolling the fenceline, others along the road. Then when it got a little hilly, I saw the spotter teams – on top of each rise was a handful of military vehicles, with some sort of crane-operated watch tower jutting into the sky. In stretches between, there were light towers with cameras of various sorts, pointed generally at the southern frontier. With the sun setting, the light fading and the surrounding mountains turning eerie shades of yellow and orange as they do down there, the whole scene was surreal. It was downright unsettling. I felt like I was somewhere I shouldn’t be. It felt like something I had never really seen in person before.

 

A war zone.

 

I reached Columbus, which is at a border checkpoint, then turned north for Deming. I had to stop at not one, but two roadblock checkpoints over the 30 miles to Deming. Even in Deming, on I-10, there were BP cars making regular appearances.

 

For all of those who wonder if our borders are being looked after any more now, after all the debate and discussion... the answer is a resounding yes.

 

I am not describing this scene to complain, or to make a political point. I’m not offended by it, nor do I blame any particular person or party. In fact, the base emotional reaction I had, after getting past the shock, was simply this: it’s a shame it has to be this way at all. It’s a shame this beautiful, haunting place has to be exposed to so much of humanity’s underbelly. It’s just a shame.

 

So, here’s to hoping our oft-incapable government can find a way to address the issue in some healthy, long term way. And here’s to hoping we can all feel more secure, and that the land of opportunity can be just that for those who are willing to be a positive part of society.

I generally agree with your assessment.

[Texsox]

Welcome to my world. Areas we previously used for camping are impossible now. Too many stops along the way.

 

Meanwhile, if you are from a different country than Mexico, and can reach the beaches of Florida, you are welcome to stay. If you are from Canada and wish to stay in the US, you automatically can for 6 months, it's 30 days for Mexicans. Although Senator Cornym ® of Texas is working on changing that last inequity in the law.

 

You were lucky, you don't "look like an illegal". Imagine if you are a Mexican-American. Perhaps third or fourth generation. Your border experience would have been different.

 

You are correct, it is sad.

[NorthSideSox72]

Oh year, one other thing - there was a blimp or balloon of some kind floating in the air as well. Not sure if it had cameras or what.

 

I have to say, in a way, I was glad to see the cameras, surveillance and mobile teams. I think that's a much more practical solution, with a lot less long term negative impact, than a giant wall.