El Paso Epilogue

The Chisos Lodge on our last morning

Daylight had crossed the mountain rims for hours but soft flower of a Big Bend morning unfolded slowly. We had no complaints with that pace. There were no more hikes or adventures in the Chisos Basin, we just showered and packed.

There was no urge to abandon this refuge – we could have spent a month in the wilds of Big Bend - but our flight departed El Paso in 24 hours. Catching the lodge restaurant during the reset between breakfast and lunch, we drove out of the Chisos Basin, taking last looks for bears, birds and reptiles.

One more Chisos shot

The looming wall of Santa Elena Canyon formed the distant horizon, the gap where the Rio Grande flows visible until we reached the guard shack and reentered Study Butte, now as quiet as its surrounding desert. The rumpled road took us through the island ranges north of the Chisos, the ocotillo thinning out as the road flattened among eroded mesas and small herds of horses. We breezed through one last passport inspection spot.

From several miles out, the buildings of Sul Ross State gleamed in the sunny morning. We exited Alpine as quickly as we entered it, skirting the city’s industrial southern end and passing Big Bend Brewing Company’s brewery, far too early for taproom hours. We rolled past a train with dozens of double-stack, multi-hued cargo containers that had just cut Alpine in two.

In this part of the world, you will hear plenty about Marfa thanks to county seat’s big name in the art world. Word of advice – don’t budget too much time for Marfa. I attributed everything be closed on our last visit to arriving on Easter Sunday – it was just as quiet on a September Friday. The dusty town has a big name but most restaurants are closed until dinnertime and there are few attractions for passing travelers. After all, the Marfa Lights don’t shine during the day. Walk through the Hotel Paisano and see its ties to the movie Giant (we did that last time and didn’t need to repeat the tour).

Aside from a roadrunner darting across U.S. 90 as we entered city limits, the lone notable event during our search for a lunch spot was a wad of cash blowing free from a woman’s hands at a gas station. The train we passed at Alpine caught us, although we soon pulled ahead again.

The inescapable train

Major road construction on the two-lane highway slowed our escape from Marfa. While we waited for the pilot car to lead us through the construction zone, the colorful train rumbled by. A convoy of aggressive cars eager to make up lost time ratcheted up the tension on the last miles into Van Horn, which greeted us with the white V emblazoned on Threemile Mountain.

Lunch arrived late. We navigated the frontage roads to find Chuy’s Restaurant. This Chuy’s is not connected to the chain. This cantina and bar opened in 1959 (23 years before the chain's first location)and became a favorite of NFL coach-sportscaster John Madden on his long drives across the country. Madden doesn’t fly and traveled in a customized bus during his broadcasting career, so Chuy's became a stop when traversing I-10. The lobby included Madden memorabilia, which Chuy’s calls the Madden Haul of Fame.

At a slow time on Friday afternoon, we were among the restaurant’s only English speakers. On our last full day in West Texas, that felt right. Since we were exceedingly hungry, the Tex-Mex hit all the right taste buds.

Even the primary interstate of West Texas lacks the wall-to-wall cars and trucks of every road we travel regularly. The Trans-Pecos is a place of giant counties and few people. I can’t say we missed the people. What we didn’t miss was the train, which we caught one last time as it chugged across flat grade in the desert. We left the rugged mountains for broader plains parallel to the Rio Grande, intimidating mountains again soaring beyond its southern banks.

Gradually the quiet, windy desert receded into the border sprawl, El Paso to the right, Juarez to the left. This arrival in El Paso did not replicate our enthusiasm at landing a week earlier. We had only low-key thoughts for this El Paso epilogue.

Small pours at Ode Brewing

We curled around the temples of UTEP. Restrictions were in place for a football game with Army the next evening. With Fort Bliss a major presence in El Paso, Army seems like a good team for the Miners to schedule. Waiting for our plane, a number of arriving passengers wore Army T-shirts and sweatshirts.

An omission from earlier in the week was remedied at happy hour. Ode Brewing sat in a small strip mall off Mesa Street, its tasting room a lively place. Ode’s first anniversary party was a few weeks away, and El Paso’s first craft brewer won’t have the market to itself for long. Too many new breweries offer little but mediocrity. That could not be said of Ode. We sampled through six beers, from Belgian white to milk stout to several hoppier entries (hoppy blonde and red IPA were both balanced standouts). We paired it with a serving of Ode’s excellent trout nachos.

One more ocotillo for the road

To avoid the crowded streets around downtown, we eagerly returned to Rim Drive and Scenic Drive Park for more high-elevation views of the conjoined cities. We stopped for a while to watch the city, only leaving when we suspected two other cars at the overlook waited impatiently to conduct a drug deal.

 Cutting back to the airport-area hotel, we crossed numerous neighborhoods that were well-kept regardless of size. I never figured out the layout of El Paso’s streets. Were we not stuffed, we could have dined at any number of institutions from Chico’s Taco to Roscoe’s Burger Inn. We could have stepped back into the city’s growing dining scene. But we rested and took stock of our West Texas week.

Across two stints bookending our week, I still feel like I don’t know El Paso. Forget the lawless town of many Westerns and cowboy songs – it’s an understated, modern town, a metropolis I want to know better. Everything lines up with our sensibilities –the culture, the feel of the border, the terrain, the cuisine, the bar scene, the people and more. It’s a friendly place that reveals itself slowly. Maybe we have not taken a deeper dive.

Becoming immersed in El Paso might take a week, a month or a lifetime. Barring an unlikely move, I doubt we will ever have that much time. However, the rugged mountains and the quirky restaurants/institutions will endure until we plot another extended stay.