I've posted Joybell's email in the help forum under the thread of the same name.
Joybell's original emailseems like anyone can post a short post, but not long ones.
I made 3 attempts to post Joy's entire story. One was copied from her email. The second was from a copy of her email I made, & the 3rd was a complete re-typing of the email.
Anyway, here's her email with the whole story ..................
Hello Sandra, This is so weird. The thread "Joybell's American Adventure Last bit" accepted one post from me and then won't again. I've asked Joe again - he said to get back if necessary. He'll be in bed by now. Tried logging out and posting but that didn't work either. Did on another thread. So strange! Also tried posting smaller bits but that didn't work either. Anyway here's the next bit I was trying to
post - if you have the time to give it a go. Thank you for the offer.
...........................
We get to Socorro before dusk, in time to walk around and take a look at the town. We find a shop with old advertising signs painted on the sides. They are about "Owl Tobacco", the sort you bought in small bags with draw-strings. I remember them from cowboy films. Cowboys pulled the bag shut with their teeth, so that they had one hand free to roll the cigarette. You've seen film cowboys do it! Around camp fires, on horseback, playing poker. Hildebrand says it can't be done - rolling that tobacco into the paper one handed. It was difficult enough with both hands he says. Coarse cut and dry. Not like the finer stuff that came in tins and stayed moist.
We leave Socorro early making for the old Highway 66. I note that the wildflowers, that are just starting their most magnificent display, are being mowed down from fence-line to fence-line. There are none behind the wire on the grazing land, of course. We do manage to out-run the giant mower and see them in glorious carpets, just South of Albuquerque. There'll be no time for them to set seed before they fall. The other sad revelation is that the Wildlife Refuge I've been watching for seems to be on the bare, dry side of the 8 lane Interstate. The riparian strip between the Interstate and the Rio Grande, where there is good cover, lots of wildlife food, and all the water, is signposted - "Game Reserve"! We turn off on Route 66. Traffic is light and the scenery is lovely. Hildebrand has been this way before traveling Route 66 became a nostalgic thing to do. We'll be alongside the Santa Fe Railroad again soon. I'll miss the railroad when we have to go home.
We turn off, in the early afternoon, to visit El Morro and the Ice Cave. We are within another lava flow now. It's older than the Malpais we saw before. We should really have given ourselves weeks here, but then we could have spent weeks at most of the National Monuments we've been to. Weeks with our Mudcatter friends too. We spend a while chatting to the ranger, discussing eco-systems, wildflowers, and animals and then we make for the Ice Cave. It's on private property so that the entry fee is rather more expensive than a National Park. We do get to climb another volcano as well though and buy interesting rocks and fossils at the little shop.
From the outside the Ice Cave is unremarkable. Very much like the lava tubes back home. As we descend deeper and deeper into the heart of the volcano, we find ourselves in a unique and special place. Because of the altitude, and the angle of the lava cave, cold air is trapped permanently deep inside it. There is a moss-green frozen lake with an ice wall behind it and icicles attached like stalactites to the roof. We are alone down here. Ahead of the tourists as always. We stand, in silence, on the lowest platform for some time and then climb back into the sunshine. Back on the trail again up to the top of the volcano. It's easy going because the road has brought us a good deal of the way up already. The view from the top is down, down, down into the crater. The sides are steep and almost bare except for a few trees valiantly clinging wherever there is a root-hold. We walk the track until we reach a sign that says, "Do not go beyond this point". I'm surprised they need the sign. Beyond the gate, to which it's attached, the track falls away into the crater. The sides are sheer and you can't see the bottom. Hildebrand takes a photo of me nonchalantly preparing to open the gate and walk through, and then we hurry back to the car park.
Good luck and thanks heaps. Regards, Joy
Well, it works just fine to add it to Sandra's post, but it doesn't work to post it in a new message..
-Joe Offer-