Oliver Lee Memorial
State Park.
Photo by Joel Bickings.

At first site, Oliver Lee Memorial State Park in southern New Mexico might seem merely a quiet, off-the-beaten-path, sun-backed stretch of the Chihuahuan Desert. The stillness of the landscape, the massive towering cliffs that form a Hollywood-like set backdrop to the Park, even the occasional, swirling dust clouds that meander through the mesquite and yucca desert might give one the impression of quiet permanence. However, a closer look reveals much more.

Located thirteen miles south of Alamogordo off highway 54 at the entrance of Dog Canyon, the Park is a repository of some of the most dramatic history in New Mexico–land disputes and murders, Apaches on the warpath and U.S. Cavalry, wagon trains and pioneer ranchers. The Park is named after Oliver Lee, a one-time Dog Canyon rancher, one-time politician, and, some even say, one-time murderer and land-grabber, who rose to become one of the most influential men in the wild west history of New Mexico.

Although Park life now is rather less dramatic than in the bigger-than-life Lee’s day, one can still come and hear the famous stories of Lee and tour his restored ranch house on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. Here one can also visit the ruins of "Frenchy’s" (Francois-Jean Rochas) cabin, where this original Dog Canyon pioneer was found dead with a bullet in his chest around Christmas in 1894, a year after Lee arrived at the Canyon. Most historians believe Frenchy met his end in a dispute over land or water rights. Sometime later, Lee was implicated in a case involving the disappearance of a prominent lawyer, Albert Fountain, and his eight-year old son, Henry, neither of whose bodies were ever found. Lee later became a primary investor in ranch holdings that covered over one million acres, stretching nearly to the Arizona border.

Today, Dog Canyon is a somewhat safer place, unless you happen to wander the 5.5 mile hiking trail from the Park office up to Joplin Ridge (a climb of over 4000 feet) in summer without sufficient water. The towering cliffs that flank this Canyon are some of the most spectacular in the Southwest. It was here in the 1880s that soldiers of the Ninth U.S. Cavalry exchanged lead with Apache warriors across the exposed landscape as they chased the Indians up the ravine. Hike into the Canyon and you will find some high desert benches thick with grasses and tree-size choya reminiscent of the old New Mexico before the coming of the ranchers and their cattle.

Chihuahuan Desert Plants. Photo by Joel Bickings.

Flora in the Park is unique to the Chihuahuan Desert and includes towering Tory Yuccas along with the slighter, more sleek Soaptree. Cactus abound everywhere in the coarse, rocky soil, so watch your step. Jackrabbits and cottontails scurry across the roads and pathways, and dozens of bird species pass through the Park in late summer on their way south. The riparian habitat around the spring that issues out of Dog Canyon is home to many kinds of birds and animals, as well.

Perhaps the most interesting element of Oliver Lee Memorial State Park today is the Desert Garden, painstakingly created by the Otero County Native Plant Society. For those desert rats who can’t get enough of the Chihuahuan ecology and want some hands-on learning, this garden is the spot. With many kinds of Chihuahuan succulents, shrubs, and wildflowers, this garden is truly a unique experience. Come in mid-to-late summer and see an astonishing number of butterflies among the many splashes of color.

With 44 campsites (18 with electricity and water; some handicapped-accessible, as well), the Park is a good base for exploring the surrounding desert, White Sands National Monument, and the Sacramento Mountains. One word of caution: this part of New Mexico can be very hot and dehydrating in the summer, and, in the spring, the strong, ever-present winds can make sleeping out under the stars a memorable experience, to say the least.

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View from Carlsbad Caverns National Park, facing the Guadalupe Mountain range.

Life in the desert is patient.  This may be your final, succinct observation if you linger long enough in the Chihuahuan Desert of Southern New Mexico.  Stay even longer, and the seemingly endless expanse of earth and sky can, in a very unique and mysterious way, be intensely comforting to body and soul – the unapproachable becomes approachable, the forbidding landscape becomes a land of enchantment.

While most visitors to Carlsbad Caverns National Park come only to see those famous underground caves, others have discovered a treasure every bit as awe-inspiring as the crystallized formations beneath this ancient Permian Reef in the Guadalupe Mountains.  This is no treasure of pirates tales – glittering doubloons and pieces of eight – but rather one that slowly, patiently reveals itself before sharp eyes and quiet reflection.  The Caverns are impressive, to be sure.  They may be the most impressive caverns in the United States.  But the Chihuahuan desert above can be every bit as impressive – not in an immediate overwhelming of the senses with the density, the lushness, the sheer abundance of, say, an equatorial rainforest, but rather in a kind of pure, overpowering solitude, in the meditative magnitude of earth and sky slowly, effortlessly permeating into your being.

Pause long enough, let your imagination roam over the landscape, and the subdued energy of this place may remind you of a movement from some great concerto – perhaps the adagio from the Concierto de Aranjuez – pulsating around you, quietly, unobtrusively at first, then all at once overpowering in force and intensity.  You’ll recognize it in the falcon circling in the thermals overhead, lazily, almost like a kite in the sky, its sharp profile polished gold by the brilliant sunlight, until it suddenly arcs its wings and drops, hurtling earthward like a meteor.  You’ll catch a glimpse of it in the day-old skipper butterfly pausing at the century-old yucca, pausing only long enough to fan its wings in the breeze before streaking up the basin and over the next hill as it tries to catch the wind.  You’ll hear it in the whistle of the Gambels quail cautiously announcing himself as dusk falls over the land, venturing forth with bobbing head out of the safety of the thickets and into the insecure openness once again.  And if you’re fortunate enough to see the spring rains splash the land with color, the gentle merging of shape and hue and depth into a passionate beauty will soften any flinty impressions still left in your heart.

If you are simply unable to spend a week or even a few days "roughing it" with tent and backpack, a more condensed and accessible version of the Chihuahuan desert, the Living Desert State Park, is available in Carlsbad, New Mexico, a town just twenty-five miles northeast of Carlsbad Caverns National Park.  The Living Desert State Park is an indoor and outdoor self- guided tour of the native animal and plant species of the desert.  Located just off Route 285 at the north end of town, the park offers a 1.3 mile exploration of the desert biome, including sand dunes and high desert mountain areas of juniper and pine.  In fact, Carlsbad, located at the eastern edge of the Chihuahuan desert, is an excellent base if you are planning to explore Carlsbad Caverns National Park and the surrounding area.  Carlsbad has all the conveniences of a big town – fine restaurants, fast food and ice cream shops, motels and hotels, RV parks and campgrounds – with a small town feel.  (You can get your bottled water here, too, as well as a hat to cover your head – necessities in the desert in summer.)  Like in most towns in Southern New Mexico, the people are casual and friendly.

Ridge and valley landscape at Carlsbad Caverns National Park

But if you do stay in Carlsbad, don’t sell yourself short.  A night in the desert is an experience you will never forget.  The glorious sunsets, in red and purple, orange and yellow pastels seem to usher in the coming night as if they might be tucking in the earth with some glowing, panoramic blanket.  And as you watch the shades of evening drop around you, the magical landscape suddenly becomes inhabited with nocturnal creatures that have "appeared out of nowhere" – a kit fox pouncing on a fat sphinx moth fluttering on the ground; a pack rat looking for a "souvenir" to adorn his den with; a collared peccary, not a dozen feet away, noisily foraging around a patch of prickly pear cactus; the dozens of myotis bats frantically racing across the cool night sky, dipping and diving and disappearing, only to reappear again a minute later from out of nowhere.

As you fall asleep, your last image is of a billion stars overhead (in the desert, away from city lights, you can see them all) with the sound of the desert "nightlife" playing in your ears.  And in your mind, you realize that what you so carelessly regarded as a hard, empty land when you first arrived is truly a land of enchantment.

The landscape of Southern New Mexico is a natural marvel.  This is a hard land at first glance, a patient land at second, an enchanting land at third.  This is a land that will reveal its wonders if you are willing to wait.  I have never left the Chihuahuan desert without experiencing a deep sense of calm and inner renewal.  And for those seeking a respite from the speed and stress of the modern world, a few days in Southern New Mexico may be just what the doctor ordered.

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The Kneeling Nun monolith overlooks the Santa Rita copper mine, which used to bea town, and was where Spanish explorers searched for Cibola, the City of Gold. Photo by Dianna Dobbs

So you’ve decided to explore Southern New Mexico.  You have your road maps, a cooler of food and beverages, and jugs of water in the back just in case.  You set out across broad basins under an ocean of blue sky, wandering over rugged mountains rising up from the surrounding plains.  The rolling massiveness of the Cooks Range, the rocky needles of the Organ Mountains, and the lofty heights of the Mogollons inspire you. 

You’re an idealist.  But no matter how romantic your impressions may be, no matter how much the bright sunshine makes the expansive scenery glitter, the chances are what you won’t be thinking about is a fortune in gold.  As you gaze out over the enchanting vistas, odds are you won’t be imagining a long, trailing caravan of Spaniards and Indians trekking over ridges and basins in search of a golden legend. 

That is, unless you are among a small group of modern-day treasure seekers looking for Spanish gold that has been lying beneath the mountains of Southern New Mexico for over four centuries.  The search for this fabulous treasure began in the year 1540, when the flamboyant and single-minded Captain General Francisco Vasquez de Coronado journeyed under the intense New Mexico sun in a suffocating suit of military armor with over three-hundred Spanish soldiers and civilians and a thousand Indian bearers and servants in tow.  Their objective was the Seven Cities of Cibola, a fabled land rich with gold beyond all imagination.  Along with his remarkably large entourage, which included a thousand horses and pack mules and a herd of cattle to slaughter and eat along the way, Coronado left New Spain (now modern Mexico) under the guidance of a Franciscan priest, Fray Marcos de Niza, who claimed to have witnessed a shining, golden city in present-day New Mexico.  According to most historians, Coronado’s expedition was an utter failure, and Fray Marcos is considered to be one of history’s great liars.

However, over four-hundred and fifty years later, various scenarios are still being offered to account for the fabulous wealth that may lie hidden somewhere beneath the mountains of New Mexico.  Over the years, a number of amateur historians and treasure hunters have suggested different locations around the state as the probable or likely repository of the gold.  Today, one organization, a company called Codebreaker Enterprises, run by two of these contemporary treasure seekers, is promoting the theory that the wealth described by the much maligned friar is lying beneath the rocky soil of Grant County, New Mexico.  The crux of this theory is that the seven cities were actually seven caves.  Pointing out as evidence petroglyphs in the Deming area (allegedly carved by Fray Marcos and company) and similar markings in the hills around Pinos Altos, the treasure hunters claim to have discovered crosses carved in rocks dated to 1540.  They believe these carvings to be an as yet unbroken code that will eventually lead them to the gold.  In Silver City, they have opened a small museum where, free of charge, anyone can scrutinize the evidence that they have accumulated.  (Codebreaker Enterprises currently has its own website, as well.)  They even offer a guided venture, called the Codebreaker Tour, which may convince skeptics that it is entirely possible that the Spanish gold lies within the borders of Grant County.

Now before you dismiss this theory out of hand, consider a few facts.  For one, New Mexico is a very mineral-rich state.  Nearly two-thirds of all the value of goods produced in the "Land of Enchantment" comes from mining and mineral products.  Not only does New Mexico have the largest reserves of uranium in the United States and immense deposits of potash, but gold and silver have been commercially mined throughout the state.  Secondly, mining is a major industry in the southwestern corner of New Mexico, including around Silver City (which name was founded upon the discovery of silver there in the 1800s), located in Grant County.  Although silver is no longer mined in the Silver City area, several huge copper mines are in operation, including the Phelps Dodge Open Pit Copper Mine, which excavates eighty million tons of rock out of the earth each year.  In nearby Lordsburg, one can find agate; around Summit, desert roses; near Hachita, zinc and gold; in the Animas Mountains, manganese; and in Silver City, turquoise (along with the silver and copper).  To this day one can still pan for gold in Pinos Altos, in the mountains north of Silver City.  So perhaps there is more to Coronado’s famous trek into New Mexico in the 16th century than just a few dusty documents in the hands of the historians.

Even if you can’t quite swallow the story of a lost fortune in gold, but you are interested in the physical and geologic beauty of New Mexico, the southern part of the state can make your time spent here an enjoyable and enterprising one.  In Rock Hound State Park, in Luna County, for example, just southeast of Silver City, you’ll find that a good shovel, a sturdy back, and a keen eye are all you need to collect a variety of semi-precious stones and minerals.  For three dollars you can hike into the Little Florida Mountains and take home all the agate and opal, jasper and quartz you can find (limit fifteen pounds).  You may even come across some of the lovely flow-banded rhyolite.  To get to the park, drive south from Deming for five miles on Highway 11, then go east another six miles on Highway 141.

If after you have collected to your heart’s content you still want more excitement, you may want to drop in at the Codebreaker Enterprises Museum, 617 Silver Heights Blvd., Silver City, New Mexico.  And if you feel really adventurous, you may want to take the Codebreaker Tour to the archaeological and historical sites that pertain to the land of Cibola .  Who knows, you may even be the one to stumble across a fortune in lost gold.

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