Killing Time in the City of Rocks

How to Climb a Mountain (almost) Every Day

I am a pretend scientist

and this life, right now, is my big experiment.

I’m just trying stuff to see what happens.

It’s not normal to live in a 22-foot trailer.

To be so far from everything

and everyone familiar.

It’s not normal to be a grieving parent.

It’s not normal to have no plan for your life.

But then again, people live in all sorts of ways.

I see that out here on the road.

New Mexico’s southwestern corner

Traveling in the Chihuahuan desert

you might meet a man.

He’s about your age.

His clothes and skin and hair

and truck and

dog are all the same color,

the color of desert dust.

And you might give this man some ice, because you have ice in your trailer’s freezer, and he’s hurt his wrist.

You ask him if he wants Tylenol and he says no thanks, he’s pretty good with pain. And you see he’s missing some teeth and you know from your own life, how a body can get used to pain.

He tells you he just bought a quarter acre out past Taos for nine hundred dollars. He’s getting tired of the road and it will be good to have a spot to land.

You know about that place, so you say be careful.

You say, take care, good luck. But he doesn’t need you to tell him to be careful.

You, with your perfect teeth and your ice.

City of Rocks State Park

“I understand I am changing on this trip although I can’t tell how. At some point I will look back on these months since Kiki’s death, and see an evolution. To grow and evolve, it’s all I can hope for.”

I wrote those words 14 months after Kiki died. Now, another year later, I no longer think Eric and I are on a trip. A trip means there’s a home and a life to return to. But the rest is true. I am evolving.

Our life on the road is an experiment

An experiment in:

isolation

and togetherness

minimalism

and resourcefulness

facing certain fears

and living with uncertainty.

Most of the time I love this life. The freedom, the places we get to experience, especially the solitude in nature. But sometimes I feel inconsequential as a shadow, drifting, belonging nowhere.

Would I feel adrift like this if I hadn’t lost my daughter? Eric and I would be traveling – we always planned to do this. But if Kiki was alive, my heart would still have its home, a physical location on Earth to return to, the place she would be.

Instead, she is everywhere.

My life is an experiment

An experiment in how to bear living with sadness. Try one thing. Then try something else.

Just keep trying.

This newsletter is also an experiment.

I had nothing to lose when I started writing these letters. I still have nothing to lose.

This post is an experiment.

A collage about a certain time and place.

Springtime, right now, southwest New Mexico.

Table Mountain, City of Rocks

I’m developing a personal relationship with a mountain

Eric decided he would hike Table Mountain every day during our two-month volunteer job at City of Rocks State Park. I was like, um ok, you do that.

But then I wanted to hike it too. He’s missed a few days due to insanely high winds, and I’ve missed more due to being a slacker, but otherwise it’s a daily thing.

One mountain, one rocky trail, two to three hours every day for two months. It doesn’t get boring. Every night I’m excited about the next day’s hike. Each time is different – the light, the wind, the shadows and clouds and smells and sounds. Birds and deer and signs of other animals. The quiet at the summit. A vast expanse of desert, distant mountains in every direction. We’re getting stronger.

Eric on the trail

Eric had to get new hiking boots because a javelina, or a coyote, stole one from his pair in front of our door. A cougar was seen prowling a campsite. The quail are busy nesting. A great horned owl hoots every night at dusk. Snakes and lizards are thinking about emerging from the rocks. It will always be their City, not ours.

City of Rocks, as seen from the Table Mountain trail

The Latest From Deming, NM

I haven’t given you a taco report since last year, when we were in Taos. This year’s strongest entry is El Mirador, in Deming, about a half hour from City of Rocks. The tortillas are lightly fried, forming a taco that’s both soft and crispy. The carne asada is well-spiced with the correct amount of orange grease dripping out the end of the taco. Lettuce, pico and chunky guac show up in the right proportions. We were the only ones at the restaurant who weren’t already best friends with the staff.

The town is the color of dust and not beautiful. There’s a golf course, the first brown golf course I’ve ever seen. There’s a historic downtown. It was mostly closed on a Saturday. But I’m not going to criticize, because even in just one afternoon, I found things to love about Deming besides the tacos.

Scenes from Deming

We saw a gas station heavily advertising “Posole Every Day,” with many banners waving. Maybe they keep it simmering in a 50-gallon drum back there in the garage. Eric has developed his own killer posole recipe in these last few months, but we might have to try that gas station version.

The Deming Walmart is a fashion hotbed. We saw a young man casually posing against a pharmacy end-cap. His hair was 90’s skater – bleached blond under a beanie and arranged in an extravagant emo swoop over one eye. From the neck down he was all 80’s surfer, with pastel jams (jams!) and a shortie day-glo tank top. (Just fyi it was a cold day.)

There were not one but two guys in bondage pants. One was buckled up and stocking the freezers. The other was a customer, cat-walking around with bondage straps flapping. He had really good hair, an awesome black jacket with appliquéd skulls, and a face built for high fashion. He was shopping with his mom but I hope he makes it to NYC or Milan.

The best personal style of the day was spotted on a medium-sized, middle-aged employee with fully tattooed bald head, neck and face.

I followed two young women down the pasta aisle. They were in black sweats with tank tops and knit caps. One said to the other, “So hey… you like Prego? Me, I’m a Bertoli-assed bitch.”

That was when I had my biggest realization of 2025: You can stick ANY word in front of “______-assed bitch” and you have a brand-new identity.

For now I’m a posole-assed bitch, but check back with me next month.

The City skyline at sunset

Speaking of new identities,

I’m working on a new identity as someone who does NOT have a crippling fear of heights.

Two months ago, in the Davis Mountains of West Texas, I went on a hike by myself. Toward the end of the trail, I was at the top of a ridge, where the ground fell steeply away on both sides. There was a road in the distance and the cars were tiny specks, glinting in the sun. The trail continued up, through boulders, and I had to get to the summit before I could start descending to a level where I could feel secure.

I climbed those last hundred feet on my hands and knees. I was chanting out loud, you’re safe, you’re touching the ground, you’re safe. By the time I got to the crest I was in tears, still crawling. No one else was nearby, but I was embarrassed anyway, ashamed of my fear.

I’m afraid of cliffs, high bridges, mountain passes, elevators in tall buildings, the edge of the Grand Canyon and basically anything that’s more than 20 feet off the ground. This joy-sucking phobia is my enemy. But… I’m excited and hopeful. I’m having hypnotherapy and I already see results.

Looking east from our campsite

We recently went to The Catwalk

in the Gila National Forest. Just the name scares me. I don’t like catwalks!!! Or ladders!!! But I’d had my first session of hypnotherapy, and already felt braver. The Catwalk is a walkway above a river through a canyon. It’s not even that high, but the walkway floor is a grate you can see through, which I consider to be sadistic. Unbelievably, I sauntered on it like a confident cat. No racing heart, no crippling anxiety. I loved being there. It was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.

To realize I have the potential to change – that makes me happy. Hopeful.⁜

Table Mountain, our new best friend

At my job in the Visitor’s Center

at City of Rocks, I meet a lot of interesting people. This week I met a young woman who worked on the beautiful mural outside the Center. She told me it was painted by a local group called Youth Mural Program.

Silver City, about 30 miles from City of Rocks, is full of spectacular street art created by the young people and their artist mentors in this group. For a small town, Silver has an extremely vibrant art scene.

Also this week at the Visitor’s Center

I met two cool people who’d just popped over from Tucson for a visit. One of them mentioned he’d written and recorded a song about City of Rocks with his band, The Distortionists. Of course I had to immediately listen to it. It’s punky metal and it made me laugh. This natural world inspires joyful creativity in ALL genres.

We’ll be hitting the road and heading further west in a few weeks. Let me know how you’re doing, and if you’re a new reader, please introduce yourself in the comments! Links below.

Thank you for being here with me.

Love, Tina

PS: I feel like I need to add a disclaimer. The colors in these photos are so intense they look fake. But it’s the light here. The sky really is that blue, the golden hour really is that golden.

Links:

City of Rocks State Park

The Catwalk Recreation Area

Youth Mural Art Program of Silver City, NM