May 2, 2010 – Of Aliens and Trinitite, New Mexico – Part II

free speech to the maxIn the mountains an hour west of Roswell the lovely city of Ruidoso (elev. 6900 ft) lies nestled between golf courses open year-round and the ski hill of Sierra Blanca (elev. 11,023 ft). It was a beautiful, sunny day and we were looking for a golf fix but were told that the resort course at the Inn of the Mountain Gods Casino and Hotel was booked all day. ‘But”, said the helpful telephone clerk, with the sound of VLTs ringing remuneratively in the background, “I think they still have a couple of openings for the tournament if you’d like to sign up. Proceeds go to the Ruidoso College cheerleading squad and each team will have one of the gals swinging right along with you.” Against my better judgment we joined the scramble.

We didn’t get the head cheerleader rah-rah-sis-boom-bahing on our team. We were paired with the local pro and his two sons, aged seven and eleven, who could putt like demons. We were four under par after six holes before eventually finishing a respectable seven under 65, a tie for third. I think Eric the pro pumped a couple into the crick on the last few holes to avoid the embarrassment of winning the tourney with a couple of foreign ringers and the putting prowess of his prepubescent boys.

If you play golf with me from this day hence I pledge to emulate the courtesy extended to me by my seven-year-old playing partner Brooks who, at the conclusion of our eighteen holes together, politely removed his cap before shaking my hand. A true young gentleman.
Central New Mexico is home to some unique and fascinating geological features. White Sands National Monument, a 270 square mile inland sea of blindingly bright white polished gypsum sand, and the Valley of Fires Recreation Area, where we camped overnight above a lava flow, are easily accessible in an easy day’s travel.

And a few miles down the road is Trinity, site of the Manhattan Project, where Robert Oppenheimer and his team, to the chagrin of Albert Einstein amongst others, detonated the first atomic bomb on July 16, 1945 in a desolate isolated desert region of New Mexico. A few weeks later a B29 bomber innocuously named the Enola Gay unleashed its nuclear fury on the Japs, bringing the imperialistic intentions of Emperor Hirohito and his Admirals to a grinding halt and ending WWII. At Hiroshima and Nagasaki hundreds of thousands lost their lives. At Trinity the worst casualty was that which befell a military janitor who stubbed his toe on some enriched plutonium.

Today Trinity is off limits to non-military personnel. The nearest accessible point by road is the “Rock Shop” at Bingham, NM, about thirteen miles from the detonation site. We felt compelled to pull over when the road sign announced “Trinitite” for sale, an obvious schtick for atomic-bomb altered New Mexican dirt.

“It’s its own mineral… Trinitite is, created when the bomb blew up,” announced the proprietress of the lonely road-side Rock Shop when she eventually emerged from her trailer, simultaneously lighting a Camel’s 100 Ultra and deeply inhaling for effect. “But you can’t see none nor buy it ‘cept you first pays the $2.50 admission fee to tour the museum.” I looked at the nearly-collapsed garage and called her bluff. “We’d really like to get our hands on some Trinitite,” I lied. “How much?”

“It’s been illegal since 1972 to own, possess or gather the stuff” she confided. She looked around. There wasn’t another human being for thirty miles. “Startin’ price is $50 for a piece ‘bout this big.” She indicated the fingernail on her pinky finger. It had been a mistake coming here. I knew we should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque.

Gerry & Florence