The Hitchhiker

 

The stretch of highway, known as HWY 61, intersects HWY 180 North of Deming, NM in a little one-holer of a “town” called Faywood, NM. It ends at the bisection with HWY 152 a few miles North of what they call San Juan, NM. Mind you, of the three “towns,” only Deming looks like a municipality which could successfully sustain any kind of human life beyond a week of isolated camping scenario. Justin considered them “drive through blink” towns. If you blink when you drive through them, you’ll miss their very existence.

Justin Andrew Conrad. Born in Monterey, TN the year before 9/11 and now serving in an Infantry Platoon in an Armored Battalion at Fort Bliss, TX. Fort Bliss is the home of “America’s Tank Division,” 1^st Armored Division. Justin still could not understand why an Infantryman, any Infantrymen, was sent to the barren wasteland of West Texas to work their tradecraft. Every Infantryman knows this: when an 11B is assigned to a Heavy Armored Brigade Combat Team, you end up Mechanized and rarely do cool guy, Infantry things. What really happens is you find yourself, almost daily, doing maintenance on Bradley Fighting Vehicles. This was not what he signed up for when he made the choice to follow in Daddy’s footsteps. It was drives like today which gave him the space to ponder the choices he had made in life.

His intention was to make the two-hour drive from El Paso to City of Rocks State Park. Two hours is the right amount of time to get in your feels, work through the issues, and then find a resolution which will enable you to keep moving the ball forward. He could also have the radio cranked and a dip of Copenhagen in his lip and no one else could tell him otherwise. And that is exactly how the drive went. He took I-10 from West El Paso, passing through Las Cruces, NM, and finally hooked a right on the offramp to HWY 180 at Deming which took him North towards Silver City and before that, Faywood and the City of Rocks.

There is nothing quite as humbling as driving through some of our Western States and recognizing how insignificant we are compared to the immensity of mountain ranges and vast openness of the deserts. Justin understood this. It is why he loved driving into New Mexico. The openness of it all helped him breathe. It helped him dream again and what is more exciting than chasing your dreams? He recognized he had allowed himself, like so many of the other guys, to spend too much time wallowing in his situation, complaining about the circumstances of being a killer who was minimized by turning wrenches and breaking track. It was not what he had expected but it was his lot, and he determined he would better himself through it.

So, it was with a change of heart and mentality, Justin arrived at the City of Rocks. He was about two miles out of his approach when he first spotted the rock formations. They were impressive. In the middle of rolling fields, a consolidated area was the home of this City of Rocks. How were they formed? Why here? What was God thinking when He formed this bizarre landscape? God? Oh yes, Justin believed in God. He was not a tea-totaler by any stretch, but he was aware of the Big Man Upstairs always having his back on things. He stopped at the entry point and paid his $5.00 day fee to enter the park.

The rock formations were large as far as rock formations go, varying from just a few feet to a few stories in height, but the park itself was rather small. Justin decided to drive the loop and look at things from the comfort of his truck cab. If he decided a formation looked interesting enough, he would take a picture or would stop and roam for a while. On the far side of the loop, Justin made the stop. He thought, “Man, this would be a great place to do some bouldering or scrambling.” Picnic tables and fire pits were interspersed throughout the park as well which only confirmed in him what he already knew to be true: this would be a great place to bring the guys for a weekend of tomfoolery! Only a few campers were holding spaces throughout the park. Who could blame them? It was the second day of June, and the temps were already above 90.

Justin stayed for about an hour, meandering throughout the middle and west side of the rock formations then decided to head out. Knowing he could always return the way he came, he looked at his map and decided to take another route. He would head East on HWY 61 until it met HWY 152 towards Truth or Consequences, NM and the Elephant Butte Reservoir. He had never been to either one much less on the route, so the adventure looked promising. He had daylight to burn, and he thought, “Why not?”

He noticed a car approaching from the West as he made the left turn onto HWY 61. Because he did not know the speed limit, Justin made the turn slow and did not increase speed so the car could pass if the driver chose to do so. He (or she) did not pass so Justin gave the old Ford some gas and moved out with purpose. Very few vehicles were on the highway that afternoon and the ones he saw were either towing campers or out for a Sunday afternoon joy drive like himself. HWY 61 is a two-lane highway carved into the rolling hills and bookended by mesas and the remnants of Mimbres River.

The houses ... or remnants of houses ... Justin drove by made him question if people still lived in them. Some were dilapidated and some were boarded up but one never knew. These homesteads were so far off the grid, a man could disappear out here and no one would be the wiser. He reckoned that in all the talk about suicide and harmful behaviors the Army has done since the Covid pandemic, he could do the same thing if he was inclined to the thought of ceasing to exist, but what a way to go. A man really would want to be isolated from society to build a home out here and despite his own frustrations with the way some things had been going at work, in his family, and in America, Justin had no intention of going out like Christopher Johnson McCandless in John Krakauer’s book Into the Wild.

Random thoughts like this were rolling through his head when he first spotted the guy walking on the side of the road. He was the first person, other than the other drivers passing by and the fireman at the fire station of some unincorporated town of which he had already forgotten the name, Justin had seen since leaving City of Rocks. Like his arrival at City of Rocks, the walker was spotted a few miles out. At first, he just appeared to be any guy out for a walk but as Justin drove closer, he saw a backpack and hiking staff. This was a backpacker. He was going somewhere. Justin's immediate thought, “Who in the hell would be backpacking or hiking out here?” As he pondered, the hitcher turned and stuck out his thumb. “Who in the hell picks up a hitchhiker out here?” Justin laughed as he considered doing the very thing.

He pulled over.

“Where you headed?” asked Justin.

“Emory Pass. Too damn hot out here right now. If you’d give me life, I’d be much obliged,” replied the hitcher.

“Door’s unlocked. I’m headed that way too. Hop in,” Justin said with a smile. “I don’t have any extra water for you, but I do have A/C so that’s a win.”

“Damn skippy, it is,” the hitcher smiled as he tossed his gear in the bed of the truck, entered the cab, slammed the door, and made himself comfortable. “Name’s Jim.”

“Nice to meet you. Name’s Justin. Two J’s out for the day,” snickered Justin.

Jim just looked at him like he was an idiot then offered a hint of a smile and chuckle.

“How long you been out on the trail?” asked Justin.

“Two days. I left Silver City yesterday morning. Had a friend drop me off where I suspect you’re coming from. City of Rocks?”

Justin nodded affirmation.

“Always wanted to hike Gila and the Emory Pass but didn’t consider this damn heat. Once I get into the forest, the shade from the trees will help me out,” Jim said thoughtfully. “I appreciate you giving me a lift, really. That sun was beating me down.”

Jim appeared to be in his early forties but the lines on his face and the roughness of his hands could have put him in his sixties. Justin was usually very astute in his observations. He had to be. He was an Infantry squad leader. Bad or improper observations could get his guys killed. At least that is what his Platoon Sergeant told him repeatedly. It made sense despite his never having served in combat. “Practice like you play; play like you practice," is what they always said, and they were right. Whoever “they” were.

As they passed San Juan, Jim asked, “You a soldier?”

“Yes Sir,” was Justin’s trained response. “11 Bravo ... Infantryman.”

“Thank you for your service,” said Jim. “I never served but I appreciate the sacrifices you guys make.”

He stared out the window for a few seconds before he added, “I don’t know how you guys do it or why you do it with the way things are going in this godforsaken country right now. I used to love being an American. Proud, in fact. Now? Not so much.”

Justin remained silent but agreed with Jim. Why did he keep serving? He hated all the indoctrination the military was forcing on him because it was run by civilians. It was not lethality the military was getting after. It was social reform. The military industrial complex had become America’s social experiment. He, like all his buddies, just wanted to shoot bad guys in the face. They wanted to be the world’s most lethal fighting force, but you cannot do that when you are forced to take diversity, inclusion, or gender equality indoctrination classes.

As they passed San Juan and made the right onto HWY 152, Jim woke from his doze. A beater of a truck was in front of them and “Road Work Ahead” signs greeted them in their turn.

“Great! This is gonna suck,” Justin said annoyed.

“Ah - I'm in no real hurry and this A/C feels just right,” replied Jim with a smile.

Fortunately, the beater truck made the next left. Justin accelerated to gain back some time as the road, which had recently been covered with still sticky black tar pavement and no center line, as marked by numerous signs, began its steady incline. The gradual ascent to the pass, which sits at 8,166 feet according to iMaps, reminded Justin of his time at Fort Carson, CO when he would drive HWY 50 through Canyon City and Cotopaxi on his way to Monarch for some skiing or Poncha Springs, right outside Salida, for some craft beer at Elevation Beer Company. That was always a good time.

While El Paso sports the wonderful Franklin Mountains range, which divides the city into East to West, this stretch of NM highway was reminiscent of one of Justin’s anchoring memories of his time with the 4^th Infantry Division. Good times, indeed. The road twisted and turned. The mountains on the side seemed to grow ever higher. The traffic on the highway was almost nil. At some point, a deer sashayed across the road and Justin slowed down enough to anticipate more deer entering the scene, but none did. All the while, Jim sat shotgun in a stoic silence; almost like he was pondering something of great importance and was not aware of the ever-emerging beauty of the landscape.

“What’s on your mind, Jim?” asked Justin.

“Ah - nothing really. Just thinking about life,” was Jim vague reply.”

“Everything alright back home?” Justin followed up.

“Everything’s fine, man. Just reflecting. Just anticipating my path beyond Emory Pass. Got some things to sort out on this hike. I’m fine. Just working through some of them now,” Jim answered a bit harshly.

“Sorry, man. Don’t mean to get into your business. Just seemed like you’re deep into yourself ... gets me concerned when my guys do the same thing,” replied Justin and followed it by asking, “Ya know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” retorted Jim sounding more than pissed off. “Look, I appreciate you asking but I ain’t one of your boys. I’m a grown-ass man and I gotta work through some things in my head so I’d appreciate you just letting me do that ... NOW!”

“Sure, man,” Justin said as he rolled his eyes, hugged the highway, and turned up the music a little bit louder.

They eventually passed a sign notifying all drivers “Emory Pass Vista: Ahead.” Justin anticipated a turn at some point and sure enough, not two minutes later, he made a left on the road which took them to the overview. As they rolled into the parking lot, they were greeted by a unisex bathroom. You might be familiar with the kind which parks build for their guests with minimal function: a steel urinal, if one’s lucky, and a steel or plastic stool for your business. If you are really lucky, you might have a working faucet to wash your hands. There is often a sign reminding guests not to throw litter in the tank as litter is difficult to remove when cleaning. Justin thought, “What’s harder to clean up here: the litter or the shit?” And he laughed as he considered the question.

The truck parked, both Justin and Jim got out and stretched before Jim began unloading his pack and walking stick.

“I’m gonna go take a leak really quick then look at the overview,” Justin told Jim as he turned towards the facility.

“Gee - thanks for telling me,” Jim said sarcastically while he adjusted his straps.

“Asshole,” Justin said under his breath.

Justin finished his business but did not get to wash his hands. He exited the facility and saw no sign of Jim. The only other people at the overview were an older couple taking in the sites.

“Excuse me, Sir ... Ma’am,” Justin asked, “Have you seen a hiker up here? I gave him a lift up here. He was just here.”

“No. It’s just been us up here until you came out of the bathroom,” replied the man.

“Are you sure? He was just with me,” Justin persisted although in a manner which conveyed his concern.

“We may be old but we’re not crazy, son. Nobody’s up here except you and us,” said the women with more than a little concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m fine. It’s just ... maybe he already hit the trail,” pondered Justin.

“Well, we were up here when you pulled in and you were the only one in your truck, so I don’t know what you’re asking. Are you sure you’re alright?” asked the man, now being held tightly by his wife.

“Yes Sir. I said I’m fine, but this is crazy. I picked up Jim, the hiker, outside of the City of Rocks about an hour or so ago. He’s been with me ever since! He was headed up this way to hike up to Sawyer’s Peak or Cross-O Mountain ... or at least that’s what I thought he was gonna do,” said Justin with increasing anxiety. He just could not understand what had happened to Jim.

“Son, you might want to take a little break. You seem a little disoriented,” the old man finally said.

“He might be experiencing elevation sickness, honey,” the women chimed in, and they both nodded their heads with concern.

“I’m fine. I promise. I’m just going to wait here a bit and see if he shows up again. Thanks for your concern,” Justin said and tried to hide his anxiety with appreciation.

“We’d be more than happy to wait with you for a while just to make sure you’re alright, if you’d like,” said the woman.

“No thank you, Ma’am. I’ll be fine. You two go on and enjoy your day,” Justin replied with a smile as he sat down on the North facing rail. “Just blows my mind,” he whispered under his breath.

The old woman headed towards their car, but the old man hesitated. He approached Justin and asked, “Mind if I sit with you for just a moment?”

Justin gestured to the man to sit, and he did.

“Son,” the man said with apprehension, “I didn’t want to say this in front of the wife, but it sounds like you’ve seen our son, Jim. We’ve been coming up here for the last 10 years hoping he’d come home.”

Justin looked at the man with bewilderment. “What are you saying?”

The old man labored through the next few minutes, “Back in 2014, our son Jim came back to Deming after serving in the Air Force. He was a pilot. Damn good one too. He flew special missions. He didn’t talk about them much but what he said wasn’t good. He’d brought death to a lot of terrorists in Afghanistan and Iraq, but he also killed a lot of civilians. Collateral damage, you know. Killing which couldn’t be avoided in the operations they were running. Anyway, he came back home different ... like most boys who go out to do such work. They never come back the same. They lose something of themselves when they take another life. We all do. Jim knew that when he was young and shot his first deer. He was excited for his kill, but he also lost his innocence in taking the life. You know what I mean?”

“I understand although I have yet to be in combat, Sir,” replied Justin.

“Well ... like I said, our boy, Jim, came back and wasn’t the same. He stayed more isolated than he ever had been. He used to be the life of the party. When he came back, he could give two rips about the party. He was just different. Then one day, he packed up and told us he was going for a hike up in the forest. He told us he was going to try to find himself again. Said a man could walk into the Gila and never be found if he didn’t want to be found. Obviously, we were more than a little concerned and we made him promise to give us a day and time to meet him here, at Emory Pass Vista, so we could know how he was doing. He said he would and then he took off. That’s the last time we ever saw him.”

Awestruck, Justin said, “That was ten years ago! Do you think it might’ve been him who I gave the ride?”

The man answered, “I doubt it. We’ve been coming up here every year since that day on the anniversary of the day he said he’d meet us. Sometimes, we come out more often, but we’ve come to the realization, we’re not ever going to see him again. He was right ... a man could walk into these forests and never be heard from again. Never be found even if he had the mind to not be found. I don’t say this out loud, especially around my wife, but I think Jim just decided he’d had enough of this life. Maybe he just wanted to disappear. I don’t know. It still breaks my heart, but I don’t know what else to do. I’ll keep bringing Maggie up here so she can live on some hope, but I don’t think we’ll ever see him again. If a man wants to go, he’ll make up his mind and none of us can do a damn thing about it.”

Justin, sitting on the rail with his head in his hands, bewildered, rubbed his eyes and started to ask a question but when he opened them, neither the man, the woman, or their car was in the parking lot. Excitedly and quite disturbed, Justin jumped up and began running around the parking lot looking for any trace of the three strangers he had just encountered. Not a trace anywhere! He looked at his phone. He knew he had taken a snapshot of the couple looking out over the display board and into the valley. Quickly, he scrolled to the picture he thought would assure him of their existence. He focused. He spread the shot with his fingertips. No couple. No man. No woman. No Jim. Nothing.