Allez, Allez, Allez…..

•August 5, 2018 • 2 Comments


EL PASO, TEXAS – This new adventure was inevitable. I was drawn there without realizing it for a remarkable birth, or re-birth.  However, as with any great journey, the first few steps rarely foreshadow the ensuing patchwork of experiences.  So it was with this one, my path into the world of international club soccer – seeking the inspiration and emotional fan-experience of a world-class sport club to fill the void eaten away by years of Dallas Cowboy and NFL mediocrity – was destined to become a blockbuster sequel to the tale I told here several years ago:  A Border Gringo in King Kenny’s Court

It had been a wild ride, leaving behind decades of my life as a fan of the Dallas Cowboys to seek out and find another sport and a team where I could immerse myself.  Soccer (or football/futbol) was the sport, and Liverpool Football Club in the English Premier League, was the team.

Brendan Rogers-Liverpool Legends Quote

I had watched Brendan Rogers become and leave in 3 1/2 years as Liverpool’s Manager.  I saw players of all sorts recruited and stay, or leave or be traded away.  A run in 2013-2014 to the top of the Premier League Table ended in a heart-breaking loss to Chelsea FC, with the famous “Gerrard Slip“, and a second-place finish in the League a few weeks later.  The great club FC Barcelona stole our rainmaker, Luis Suarez, that same summer and a few years later poached another magician from Anfield by paying a record transfer fee for the services of Philippe Coutinho.  But, I get ahead of myself.

In 2014 I chased Liverpool FC across the Eastern United States during their International Champions Cup tour, where I saw them play in Chicago at Soldier Field beating Olympiakos from Greece; at Bank of America Stadium in Charlotte where they beat AC Milan; and in Miami, for the ICC Final against Manchester United, which we lost. Those were my first tastes of a “live” game day match, and I came away with several mementos and incredible memories. The seed had been planted.





Liam and Devin Etzold at Soldier Field, Summer 2014

Liverpool vs AC Milan-Charlotte NC 2 Aug 14

Joseph Perry (L) and David Etzold (R) with great seats for the AC Milan game in Charlotte, North Carolina during the ICC Summer Tour 2014.

2014_International_Champions_Cup logo


Everything changed when the owners of Liverpool FC hired the services of a manager from Germany by the name of Jurgen Klopp.  He replaced Brendan Rogers in October 2015, when the Fenway Sports Group (owners of the Boston Red Sox) decided a new leader of the team was needed.  Klopp inherited a mix of talent put together by Rogers since 2012, and others before him.  Some legendary players such as Steven Gerrard (710 appearances, featured in a 2015 interview on BT Sport (click here and then hit back to return): Gerrard BT Sports Interview) and Jamie Carragher (757 appearances for the club) were being replaced steadily and surely with new, young talent recruited from abroad as well as some promoted from the local Liverpool Academy.  We were in the hands of a master.

Klopp-Now I'm a Believer

Klopp the Crusader 3May2018

This particular master had taken his former Borussia Dortmund (BVB) Bundesliga team to two German club championships in 2011 and 2012 and was highly regarded as one of the finest soccer managers in the world.  Jurgen Klopp succeeded in his first season at Liverpool, taking the club to the finals of both the Football League Cup and UEFA Europa League, finishing as runner-up in both competitions.  Could I hope that this was another step along that journey towards a deep emotional fervor in sports?

The next International Champions Cup Tour in 2016 saw Liverpool play two games on the west coast of the United States, one at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena against Chelsea FC and the other at Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara against AC Milan.  My son, Liam, and I took a summer road trip from El Paso out to California to see them in person once again.  Liverpool lost to Chelsea and beat AC Milan.  It was a good trip.  That seed had sprouted and was growing strongly.


Liverpool-2  Man City-1 March 1 2015-Coutinho Celebration-label

Martin Skrtel, Philippe Coutinho and Dejan Lovren celebrate with passion….

Emotion does make the difference.  This team, this club, this “football family” of mine had certainly found their stride, and the drumbeat of that stride carried a tune that resonated deeply inside of me.  This was the emotion that I had sought.  Klopp had found a way to focus that emotion on the field, and was attracting the attention of talented players from all over the world.  He has attracted players with the potential to lift this team to the heights of international soccer, bringing new championships and trophies to this famous historic football club. The fans have responded.

An exceptional video was produced by Liverpool FC,  narrated by Jurgen Klopp himself, about the special nature of the relationship between the club, the players and the fans.

Take a trip to Anfield and its surrounding neighborhoods.  Enjoy this short video, turn up the sound and hit “back” when you’re done (click here): This Means More – Liverpool FC

Etzold and McAllister-Autograph Insert-San Jose 2016

David Etzold (R) and Gary McAllister (L) in San Jose, California during the 2016 ICC Summer Tour. McAllister (#21 in his day) signed a Philippe Coutinho jersey, asking “So, is Coutinho your favorite player these days?”

Klopp-The Most Important Thing-photo

As I mentioned, at the end of the 2015-2016 Premiere League season, Klopp (in his first season as manager) and his Liverpool boys had made it to the finals of both the Football League Cup and UEFA Europa League, finishing as runner-up in both competitions.  In his next season in charge, 2016-2017, Jurgen Klopp inspired his team to fourth place in the Premier League, earning a place in the UEFA Champions League competition the next year.  That was all I needed.  My dream was about to burst forth in full blossom.


It was time to go to Anfield, that famous football ground in northwest England, home of a team named after the city where it all began: Liverpool.  Founded in 1892 by entrepreneur, Lord Mayor of Liverpool and owner of the land on which the Anfield grounds had been built, John Houlding, the club is today considered the eighth most valuable football club in the world.  Liverpool also brought the world another phenomenon, this in the popular music industry: The Beatles.  It’s an ironic combination of music and sport in this English port city that is nearly 800 years old.

Songs become part of the fabric of our memories. “Strawberry Fields” is a real place in Liverpool, England and so is a place called “Anfield”. Songs have been written about Anfield and the hallowed team that plays there, in fact there is an official songbook “The Anfield Songbook” available with over one hundred chants and anthems.

One popular song in my own background, performed by the rock group Pink Floyd, was an important waypoint in my early search for the right football club: “Fearless“, the third track on the 1971 album “Meddle“, where echoes of the Kop singing “You’ll Never Walk Alone” are heard in the background.

Another, a more specifically-written fan chant or anthem, is sung at games, pubs and fan gatherings world wide:

“Fields of Anfield Road”

Outside the Shankly Gates
I heard a Kopite calling:
Shankly they have taken you away
But you left a great eleven
Before you went to heaven
Now it’s glory round the Fields of Anfield Road.

All round the Fields of Anfield Road
Where once we watched the King Kenny play (and he could play)
We had Heighway on the wing
We had dreams and songs to sing
Of the glory round the Fields of Anfield Road

Outside the Paisley Gates
I heard a Kopite calling
Paisley they have taken you away.
You led the great 11
Back in Rome in 77
And the redmen they are still playing the same way

All round the Fields of Anfield Road
Where once we watched the King Kenny play (and he could play)
We had Heighway on the wing
We had dreams and songs to sing
Of the glory round the Fields of Anfield Road

Follow this link to enjoy a YouTube version of this famous song (click here and then hit back to return): The Fields of Anfield Road

These songs build a texture to the fan experience, whether watching live or on television. Obviously, the live experience is preferable. I wanted to know that experience. Badly.

As I noted earlier, Liverpool had qualified for the Champions League tournament for 2017-2018 by their placement in the Premier League Table the season before. That tournament gathers the very best finishers from the European Leagues overseen by UEFA together in a season-long competition which begins with group stage eliminations and home-and-away matches, to a final knock-out stage. The top four, three, two or one (depending on UEFA country coefficient) teams in each European league participate in this tournament, ergo the name “UEFA Champions League”.

By mid-Fall of 2017 it was looking good for Liverpool in the Champions League competition. They had won their Group Stage and had drawn FC Porto, from Portugal, at the formal UEFA draw in Switzerland for the Round of 16 series.  Those home and away ties were to be played first on 14 February, and the second leg on 6 March 2018.  The draw was held on December 11th of 2017, and that same afternoon I looked into tickets for the second leg game at Anfield on March 6th, and any other league games either before or after that date so we could have a double helping of Liverpool at Anfield, hopefully.

Bingo!  The games are on.

The Saturday before the Tuesday night home game against FC Porto, Liverpool were scheduled to play Newcastle United FC at Anfield. That would be a great game, as a previous manager named Rafa Benitez, who took Liverpool to glory on 2005 in Istanbul, would be up against his former club on their home ground!  We could see two home games in less than four days!

Tickets to each game were purchased on-line. The first game, through Thomas Cook Sports, included “hospitality” along with the good seats in the brand new Main Stand.  That meant access to a pub within the Main Stand called “The Anfield Beat”, where we could order food and drinks and enjoy some live music before and during the game.

For the second game, the important UEFA Champions League match against FC Porto, I stretched and purchased from a qualified re-seller two seats on the second row of the KM Section of the newly-named Kenny Dalglish Stand, near the famous Kop End.  The Thomas Cook package for Newcastle included hotel accommodations at a Hampton Inn by Hilton in Liverpool near the Queen’s Dock plus entrance to the Anfield Beat.  The other vendor only offered the second-row seats, but what seats they were!

I booked complementary nights’ lodging at the Crowne Plaza Liverpool City Centre after the Newcastle game and including the night of the FC Porto game.  Liverpool was now covered, we’d arrive on a Friday from London, stay three nights at the Hampton Inn and then move to the Crowne Plaza for Monday and Tuesday nights.  We could take the train back to London on Wednesday morning after that Porto game.


London became our entry and exit base of operations to England.  I wanted to arrive with plenty of time to spare on each end of the Liverpool experience, so that Melinda and I could enjoy London together.  Each of us had been to London before, on a trip with one of the children, but never together. This would be our trip, our adventure!  It would be a good to start the journey on our 34th Wedding Anniversary, February 25th, 2018…a Sunday.  We booked flights, first to LAX on Southwest Airlines, then the next day to London Heathrow on Virgin Atlantic via their new Boeing 787-9 “Dreamliner” and Premium Economy seats.  It was a sweet flight.  That gave us three full days in London before we caught the Virgin Train to Liverpool out of the Euston Station on Friday.

The first snow flakes were beginning to fall around London when we landed and exited the plane for customs and immigration checks.  A car and driver waited for us and whisked us downtown in a black Mercedes. The snow was beginning to fall harder and stick as we pulled up at The Montague on the Gardens Hotel, near the British Museum in Bloomsbury.  It was unusual to see snow falling and staying on the ground in Greater London, a thrill ran up my back as we stepped out on the white-covered sidewalk and were greeted by the doorman with his snow-speckled great coat. By the time we freshened up, changed into cold-weather gear and headed to the British Museum, it was a virtual blizzard. Incredible!



The media didn’t need to exaggerate when they described the storm that descended on London the day we arrived.  It was quickly referred to as “The Beast from the East“.       I was glad that we had packed properly for such an event as this.  Nothing could deter the excitement of the adventure, in fact, it added to an already stellar trip.  Besides, the underground was nice and warm and dry.



We enjoyed The Montague, a quaint boutique hotel with fine food and gracious hospitality, part of the Red Carnation Hotel Collection.  The tube was nearby, just on the other side of Russell Square.  We were within walking distance of many of London’s best sights. Needless to say, the snow storm gave us a great excuse to stay indoors and really dig into the British Museum.

On Friday, 2 March 2018 we checked out of The Montague and took a cab to Euston Station.  The weather reports were dire for the northern and eastern portions of England, several trains had been cancelled and the storm was still pounding the country.  Our Virgin Train to Liverpool was on time, thankfully.  While milling around the great lobby of the rail station, I ran into and talked for a moment with Ian Ayre, former chief executive officer of Liverpool FC and soon-to-be-named manager of the newly-formed Nashville MLS expansion team. He was in good spirits, but admitted to having to catch our train to Liverpool because his earlier train was cancelled.


Ian Ayre, former CEO of Liverpool FC and newly-appointed chief executive officer of the new Nashville MLS team.

This was our first experience with a Virgin Train.  I had booked First Class seats, which were reasonably priced, for the trip to Liverpool.  The service was excellent, food decent and the trip long enough to enjoy the scenery zooming by and stretch the legs in the snack and beverage car. During one such leg-stretch, I happened upon an ex-Liverpool player, now pundit for SkySports in England, Jamie Carragher.  He was immersed in paperwork, sitting alone in his First Class seat in the carriage behind ours,  focused on the upcoming game he’d announce at Anfield, so I only said “hello” and shook his hand.  Cool…Ian Ayre and Jamie Carragher, both in one morning!

Arriving in Liverpool at the Lime Street Station, we hired a cab and were shuttled to the Hampton Inn by Hilton, down by the docks south of the City Centre. Right across the busy main arterial with five names adjacent to the dock areas: New Quay, The Goree, Strand, Wapping and Chaloner Street. Settling in and getting our bearings on a drizzling/sleeting afternoon, we opted to grab a taxi over to the Albert Dock, where restaurants, pubs and shops had re-gentrified the old warf’s warehouses. What better time to visit The Beatles Museum, I couldn’t imagine.  First day in Liverpool, dreary outside weather, curiosity about the Fab Four’s history in this, their hometown….vamanos!






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Nearby was a cozy pub where we ate a light dinner and enjoyed some drinks.  Lots of people from foreign lands were there, some Danes sat next to us curious about the Americans who had come to see a Liverpool game, like they had. The difference was that they hopped over on a flight that cost $100 each way and took an hour. We had significantly more time and money invested in this particular adventure.

Saturday, we went by Uber to Anfield for a tour.  The good news was that I was able to retrieve my lost cell phone from the driver who took us there!  The damn thing had slipped out of my overcoat pocket on the drive over.  The bad news was that Melinda sacrificed the last half of the Anfield Tour to go meet that Uber driver outside the gates and retrieve my precious iPhone.  She was not allowed back into the Tour after exiting.  What a sweet wife!







Then, there was time to explore the outside grounds of Anfield.  I especially wanted to find a memento from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, a simple greeting from a big fan on the Border with Mexico, from the Pass of the North. The stone that I ordered had been part of the remodeling of the Anfield grounds associated with the construction of the new Main Stand, in an area now called Anfield Forever. Searching it out, I finally found the stone with Melinda’s help under a tree near a Memorial Bench dedicated to the most famous of Liverpool Legends, Bill Shankly.  Wonderful.




More exploration in the Anfield Liverpool museum and around the grounds….



The game against Newcastle United on Saturday night was good, Liverpool won 2-0 and the hospitality and seats were exceptional.  Thank you Thomas Cook Sport…and Anfield!







End of a great day….and a reminder… You’ll Never Walk Alone!

The first night’s game at Anfield was now behind us.  Great memories and emotion are still pounding through our veins.  What a team, what a family!

A couple of days of sightseeing in and around Liverpool awaited us before the second night of soccer…what’s called “European Nights” at Anfield.  To relax and see the country side we enjoyed a new BMW X1 rental car and tried to quickly learn the nuances of driving on the left side of the road – with a steering wheel on the right side of the car!  Wales beckoned. We responded.














It was the roundabouts that did it for me.  I got used to the left-hand lane, and even the right-hand steering wheel, but going clockwise around a roundabout, rattled my nerves. There were several of them on the hour and half drive out of Liverpool to Conwy, Wales. What a gloriously preserved castle and walled village.  Right out of a storybook.

We returned to the Liverpool and the hotel, changed and headed out to Anfield for the last of our home games for the trip: a Champions League Round of 16 second leg against FC Porto. We had won the first leg in Porto by a score of 5-0, a real crushing blow. This was the first “European Night” at Anfield in a while, and the natives had been brewing up a surprise for us.  Stay tuned.


The tickets worked, and our seats were awesome. From the second row, we could see the perspiration on the players as they were almost within touching distance.




Sitting next to us, on Melinda’s right side, was a young man with a heavy Liverpool accent.  You can see him in the image captured from the television broadcast of the game above, just to the left of Melinda.  He had a damaged leg in a cast and had to use crutches.  The stewards seemed to know him as they helped him down the steps to our row.  As the game progressed, this young man started singing a rhythmic fan chant, starting softly but quickly gaining strength of voice, over and over he sang those words.  The lyrics were absolutely indiscernible because of his strong accent.  His singing was echoed by a growing group of voices from the Kop to our left.  That didn’t help.  I could pick up a word, or two, maybe even a piece of a refrain, but the whole chant was “Greek” to my ears.  However, Melinda decided to record it for later…and proceeded to pretend filming the scene on the field with her iPhone as our young man went through an entire rendition of the song.

Here, for the first time, you can watch the first voice of this song recorded on March 6, 2018 in Anfield “live”!  This rendition is pretty raw compared to what is now an incredibly famous anthem for the club, sung in pubs and during games from Liverpool to the steppes of Russia: “We Conquered All of Europe…Allez, Allez, Allez”.

A side note here: Jurgen Klopp, in an interview earlier this year, said that he thought this anthem was an “old classic” brought out of the cupboard for this run in the Champions League in 2018.  He had no idea then that it was a brand new addition to the fabric of songs, chants and anthems in Liverpool’s long, storied history. Now he knows, like we do!  We’re never going to stop….

I feel blessed to have been there to hear it first sung at Anfield that night. The lyrics still haunt me, lift me…enchant me.  This fellow’s voice will be with me always. YNWA

Watch it here:

The lyrics are here:

Microsoft Word - We Conquered All of Europe-Liverpool Fan Song-M

What can I say?  I’m amazed to have witnessed the birth of this new creation.  This anthem, this hymn, was created and practiced in the pubs along Walton Breck Road, in the Anfield neighborhood of Liverpool in February and late January 2018.  It has become an internationally known anthem for the club in just a few months’ time, evoking all the history, hopes and dreams of the club’s fan base around the world. It will last far beyond my lifetime and bring hope to many future Liverpool fans.  Remarkable what music does for the soul.  This club, my club, is rekindling old embers that had nearly died.

Enjoy a few recent videos of crowds singing this anthem, the emotional force in these captured moments is amazing:

Jamie Webster – Official Vocal Track – Allez, Allez, Allez

We Conquered All of Europe – Bar Crowd

Jamie Webster surprised by Jurgen Klopp – Allez, Allez, Allez

We Conquered All of Europe – Kiev, Ukraine

Allez, Allez, Allez – Kiev Pre-UCL Final Fans

Liverpool went on to beat Porto FC in the Round of 16 by an aggregate score of 5-0 that night of March 6, 2018. We watched from the second row and will never forget. YNWA

Manchester City was drawn as our next opponent in the Quarter Finals. We dispatched them in due course with an aggregate score of 5-1 and moved to the Semi-Finals.

FC Roma was then drawn for our Semi-Final match of the 2018 Champions League, and Liverpool went through to the Finals with a 7-6 aggregate score over their Italian opponents. The aggregate score total was a UCL record.

The final match of the 2018 UEFA Champions League Tournament was held in Kiev, Ukraine on May 26, 2018.  Real Madrid beat Liverpool 3-1 for their 13th Champions League title. Liverpool were runners up. My faith is undaunted.

Allez, Allez, Allez…..



Abacos, Bahamas Sail: 40th Sewanee Reunion Trip

•September 24, 2017 • Leave a Comment
(You may click on any small group of photographs to pull up a full-screen version)

Google Maps

MARSH HARBOUR, ABACOS, BAHAMAS – The thick humid tropical air hung heavy as a warm wet blanket around me as I stepped off the twin-engine Silver Airways flight from Orlando onto the tarmac of the Leonard M. Thompson International Airport at Marsh Harbour, Great Abaco Island – on the northernmost archipelago of the Bahama Islands.

Silver Airways

Forty years it had been, more or less (other than possibly a ten-year reunion or two in between), since I had seen some of the men with whom I was about to spend a week sailing the Sea of Abaco.  The last time we spent as much time together we were students at the University of the South, in Sewanee, Tennessee and the year was 1976.

I had left the high deserts of the Southwest the day before, spent the night at the Hyatt Regency at the Orlando International Airport, and caught the noon flight to Marsh Harbour. It was the best connection I could make traveling all the way from El Paso, Texas to the northern edge of the Caribbean Sea.

Getting used to the intense humidity and the tropical heat was the first order of business for this “Desert Rat”. It had been 15 percent humidity and 90 degrees in West Texas yesterday.  Today the tropical heat soaked me with 92 percent humidity and 95 degree temperatures as I made my way into the terminal and through customs, the “feels like” temperature was 108 degrees. Move slowly and find shade, I thought.

Get me to the boat and the water!

Bavaria 46-Sea Fever

My father taught me to love the sea. We shared this poem by John Masefield (“Sea Fever“) in our later lives together, on and around the water.  I learned to sail because of him, in spite of being a so-called desert rat: born and raised in the high Chihuahua Desert on the banks of the Rio Grande.  The summer of 1967, my parents packed me off to Charleston, South Carolina to live with my Godfather, Addison Ingle, and his four sons in the Battery neighborhood of Charleston Harbor…learning to sail at the Carolina Yacht Club, a historic sailing club right in the heart of the Battery.

It worked, and I’ve sailed as often as I could ever since….from those Charleston dinghies, to Sunfish board boats, to a Cal 20 on Elephant Butte Lake, to Dad’s Catalina 36 in Newport Beach, California. I’ve sailed in the oceans off Hawaii, Sweden and Norway, Florida, Texas, Southern California and Baja California (Mexico).  I’ve sailed lakes large and small.  This adventure in the Abacos would top them all, I was sure.

Rio Grande River Race2 - 4 July 1970

My father, in the striped pants, steers a fine course threading the sand bars of the Rio Grande in our Sunfish sailboat.  Note the daggerboard raised to slip over the shallows.

I was excited to get to the boat and see my mates! The taxi ride was pleasant to the Harbour View Marina, where Mike Graham kept his beautiful 46-foot Bavaria sailboat.  Many of the chauffeurs from the airport use large SUV’s, used to large groups of travelers.  The roads are tiny and traffic flows haltingly through the single traffic-signaled intersection in town, Marsh Harbour has a tension like the mixture of crazed first-world dropouts and third-world island homies ought to have.  Hold your breath as oncoming traffic approaches, or you turn at an intersection, though.  This island nation has British roots, so driving is on the “wrong side” of the road!

There would be seven of us on this trip, plenty of berths and deck room for all on board the “Luna Sea“. Before we shoved off, provisions had to be gathered, and two groups were appointed to secure those: one to the liquor store across the street from the marina, and one to the nearby grocery.  A few stayed on board to help Captain Mike get the boat ready for the trip.

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The crew of the “Luna Sea“, a 46-foot Bavaria owned by Mike Graham (back left), getting set to shove off from Marsh Harbour. The author is on the right.

For some reason, I was appointed to the liquor-run team. It was there where I had the shock of my life. We only had to cross the street in front of the marina and walk a block to the Jimmy’s Liquor Store.  Good thing we had a crew to watch out for each other!  Cars drive on the left in the Bahamas (British roots)…thus, crossing a street requires a bit of focus for those of us from America:  Look right, look left, look right again!

As I stood in the middle of the store, talking to a man who encouraged us to buy a couple of cases of a specific brand of Bahamian beer, a shout from the door pulled my head to the left with a jerk “What the f**k!  Where did you get that ink on your leg?

Frozen in his tracks, jaw slack, was a stunned young architect from San Francisco named Peter Colling.  He just happened to stop by Jimmy’s to pick up some beer on his way to the remodeling project he was doing on his house over in Elbow Cay.

We both stood there, staring at each other’s legs.  Stunned silence reigned. It was weird. There, on each of our calves, was the same tattoo: the Liverpool Football Club logo, albeit his ink was a bit larger than mine and included the five Cup Championship Stars across the top. The back story is longer than space I can provide here. Suffice to say, Liverpool FC is everywhere in this world! This was definitely a fan moment to document:


The booze tab, which we split between the six drinkers amongst the crew, was around $400 for the eight day trip. It included a good measure of rum, gin, vodka and plenty of beer, Bahamian beer (Kalik or Sands)…hydration being the key concept. Our skipper had advised us the boat was full of leftover wine from his son’s recent wedding at the nearby Firefly Sunset Resort across the bay in Hope Town, where we were heading that afternoon. We were well stocked.

The grocery tab was about the same as the booze tab. It included some steaks to go with the anticipated lobster and fish we were hopeful of catching and grilling. Breakfast and lunch repast was aimed at easy fixing. Plenty of bottled water and mixers were needed, as well. The tab could have been much greater had we not planned to eat at several good restaurants in the marinas and towns on the Cays making up the Abacos during this trip. There is an abundance of fine dining on these islands, I found.

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Luna Sea tied up snugly for night’s berth.


Hope Town Inn & Marina


New free-diving scuba scooter available for rent in Hope Town.

There’s a fabulous view over the island from the top of a historic lighthouse built in 1864 on the hill behind the Hope Town Inn & Marina, where we stayed the night. The Island we are visiting is called Elbow Cay (pronounced “Key”) and this lighthouse is named for the reef off-shore in the Atlantic Ocean which deserves a wide berth:

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Elbow Reef Lighthouse from 1864 still operates with kerosene lamps.

The walk to the lighthouse and an ascent up the narrow old spiral stairs to the platform at the top is a mandatory part of any visit to Hope Town and Elbow Cay.




Fred Owen and Mike Graham atop the Elbow Reef Lighthouse




Unique handle on the small door at the top of the Elbow Reef Lighthouse.



Dinner would take us across the harbor, in a water taxi we caught right by the Marina and then to a golf-cart shuttle ride, to the renowned Abaco Inn & Resort...perched on a ridge on Elbow Cay overlooking both the Atlantic Ocean and the Sea of Abaco.


Famous Abaco Inn & Resort on Elbow Cay.



Windy deck overlooking the Atlantic Ocean from the Abaco Inn.                                                          (L to R) John Upperco, Mike Graham, Dudley West and Fred Owen.


Sunset across the Sea of Abaco from the Abaco Inn, where we sail tomorrow!

Time to sail.  The next morning, we left Hope Town Harbor for the string of cays that run southeast to northwest along the Abaco Reef.  Destination, Green Turtle Cay and the Bluff House Beach Resort & Marina. A stop for some snorkeling was in order on the way, so we anchored near some large coral heads in the most beautiful crystalline water I had ever seen!

I discovered that the water color is affected by the underlying bottom composition:  above green “pastures” of seagrass, the water has a greenish hue; over white sandy bottoms, the impossible light blue hue rules; past the reefs in the deep shelf of the Atlantic, the water becomes dark deep blue. One can easily see fifty feet the water is so crystal clear!




Mark Harbison enjoying the sailing from the cockpit of the Luna Sea.


John Upperco and Buddy Dortch appreciating the shade.




Diving the Coral HeadsDave-snorkeling

We arrive off New Plymouth, Green Turtle Cay, and anchor in the bay.  The Zodiac is our shuttle to and from the pier, easily boarded off the beautiful swim platform that lowers from the stern transom of the Luna Sea.  On shore, we have a few things to pick up, there’s a grocery and hardware store right up the main street off the dock area. Also, a convenient pub with some shaded chairs on the front porch.  New Plymouth was founded in the late 1700’s by “loyalists” to the British Crown, who were escaping the Revolutionary War in the Colonies…what would later be the United States of America.

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Raymond Leathers and Buddy Dortch enjoy the shade while on shore in New Plymouth Town.


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The author and Fred Owen stop by the famous “Miss Emily’s Blue Bee Bar” for a gallon jug of her world famous Goombay Smash!

Back to the Luna Sea, we weighed anchor and took a short cruise along the coast to a protected cove on the northwestern end of Green Turtle Cay, where you will find the Bluff House Beach Resort & Marina and the Green Turtle Club .  Follow those hotlinks to the websites for those establishments. The Green Turtle Club website even has a live webcam!

We had reservations for rooms that night at the Bluff House, some of us stayed onboard the boat and some stayed in a couple of beach-facing rooms.  Though I was becoming acclimated to the heat and humidity, being on the water most of the time helped, and it was always nice to have dockside hookups for the A/C in the Luna Sea’s cabins.



After checking into the marina, we welcomed Mark Harbison safely on board.  He finally had arrived a day late via a re-routed flight to Fort Lauderdale, a next-day flight to Marsh Harbor, and an accident in his taxi to meet the ferry ride to the crew awaiting him on Green Turtle Cay.  We settled into our accommodations both on board and in a few beach front rooms at Bluff House.  Shortly thereafter, the whole crew now together, gathered on the beach for a Sunset Appreciation Party…just us, the beach, the Sea of Abaco, and the sunset!




Bluff House Beach Party

Sunset Appreciation Party, Bluff House Beach, Green Turtle Cay, Abacos, Bahamas 2017.          (L to R) Mark Harbison, Mike Graham, Fred Owen, Buddy Dortch, Dave Etzold.



“Don’t be looking for (thunder) storms on a sunny day!” – Raymond Leathers

Onwards, the next day, we sailed to our anchorage at a secret lobster reef known only to Captain Mike.  Before then, we met up with our mate, Christian Daves, who sped over from West Palm Beach on the “Blarneymon“.  This beautiful power boat will add a new element to this adventure in the coming days.  We’ll be “camping” on the water tonight, self sustained and without power for the A/C that the Luna Sea offers when we’re tied up at a marina with power hookups. The night breeze will keep us comfortable in the middle of the summer, we hope.



Christian Daves joins us with the “Blarneymon”.

Along the route to our lobster hunting grounds is a famous natural connection to local wildlife, on the northwest end of Nunjack Cay (also known as Manjack Cay).  Awaiting us is a protected cove and beautiful white sand beach – where you can hand-feed and swim with gentle sting rays…and an occasional small shark or barracuda!


Stingray Beach-eye candy

Who wouldn’t want to do this?  The feel of their smooth skin rippling past your feet and ankles as they cruise for food is an eerie sensation…reaching down to touch them as they glide by gets the adrenaline flowing!  Try to offer them a bit of food, if you dare go near those tooth ridges they use.  Their mouth being on their underside makes for an interesting experience!  Thoughts of Steve Irwin, “The Crocodile Hunter“, swim through our heads as those tails whip around casually.

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Mike Graham attracts some sting rays with a little food.



“No, not a sting ray….” ponders Raymond Leathers.


Back to the boats and, together with the Blarneymon, the Luna Sea headed off to our anchorage for the night at Angelfish Point, and the lobster hunt and grill party this evening! Could there be a more sublime vacation?



Sewanee classmates, room mates and fraternity brothers, Dave Etzold and Chris Daves, as Dudley West looks on, anticipating a good lobster hunt!




Raymond Leathers, Mike Graham, Fred Owen, John Upperco, Dave Etzold, Buddy Dortch, Chris Daves, and Mark Harbison…the Sewanee Reunion Crew of the Luna Sea, Abacos, Bahamas 2017.



Sunset-Angelfish Point

Captain Mike-Satisfaction Sunset

…and the Captain said, “It is good…

Dinner is Served-Fred

Next stop is Spanish Cay, the furthest West we strayed on our sailing adventure in the Abacos.  Spanish Cay has its own private airstrip and is owned by one man whose huge super yacht is sometimes seen tied up in the harbor at the marina. Lots of sharks hang around these piers, all the time, mostly Nurse Sharks.  They are attracted by the fish leftovers cleaned and gutted on the dock by the many fishermen who like the reefs just offshore.  An eight or nine foot shark of any kind sliding through the water at your feet, along the boardwalk of the marina’s piers, is a memorable, if not intimidating sight.

We found the staff in the marina and restaurant/bar lazy and non-attentive. The three bedroom suite we rented for the night, adequate, but home to some resident rats. What could one expect on such a man-trip in the loneliest reaches of the Bahamas? Anything less would seem artificially constructed. We were after authentic, were we not?


Shark-Spanish Cay



The next morning, we went snorkeling and fishing on Chris Daves “Blarneymon“.  Just west northwest of Spanish Cay are the Pensacola Cays and reefs.  This is where Chris and the boys had tried their hands at deep water fishing for grouper a few times before.  I knew how to handle a rod and reel, barely.  These guys were born into this.



First, the bait fish had to be caught.  These bait fish, for a landlubber from the  desert, looked like the full-thing to me!  What a shock.  I could image what we were trying to snag if the bait was 7″ to 9″ long itself!  Well, as it turns out, I was in for a shock, indeed!


Chris and Mike handled the majority of the tackle setup and bait fishing. Now and then, one of the rest of us would have a go at bait fishing.  It was fun to snag one of these little yellow fins, they gave a nice little fight.  A small orange grouper even showed up. What more could we ask?


Now, Chris pulled out the heaviest rod and reel on the boat.  It was showtime! One very large-looking hook was attached to the line with a stout leader, then one of those big bait fish was hooked through the mouth and gut, hiding the hook.  Over the side and “…down about 75 or 100 feet”, says Captain Christian, “to where the big old grouper live in their holes along the sloping reef wall”.

Fishing-Chris Ray Fred

Often good-sized bait like these would be targets of barracuda or sharks, this day we were lucky.  Soon, Chris snagged and brought in a really good sized grouper…maybe 15 or 20 pounds, we didn’t have a scale. It was a good fight.  All on board cheered!  This would be dinner after filleting the best meat off of it, we’d have maybe five or six pounds of delicious grouper to bake in the oven tonight or tomorrow.



But that wasn’t the end, by a long shot.  Mike took the next cast of the big rod, launching the bait and line way out away from the boat, letting the line run as the bait sank deep into the dark blue depths. Now and then he would just play the line a bit, jerking it to attract attention by movement of the bait.  He tried it for fifteen or twenty minutes, then handed the rod to over me, “Here, Dave, you give it try.”  So I did. But, remembering what Chris had said about deep denizens, I played out the line quite a bit more, maybe another 40 or 50 feet. I didn’t have the rod ten minutes before it began.


Captain Chris on the left, guiding the boat, Dave Etzold in the center with the big rod, and Mike Graham coaching on his right, as I get a hit!

The strike I felt wasn’t vicious, it was powerful and drawn out, and I let it run a bit before shouting “Fish on!“, as I pulled back sharply on the rod in my hands.  All of a sudden, there was a screaming high-pitched hum from the reel as the line ran out as fast as I’d ever seen. “You got one and its a big one!” shouted Chris, turning the boat so that we could keep the line in sight.  He dashed over to me to test the line, the hook set and the weight of the catch, his arms bulged and back bent with the pull of the fish I’d snagged.

Fishing-Chris-big one

He handed me back the rod, with some good instructions, and strapped the harness with the cup for the base of the rod on me, as I took up the fight again. Chris reached up and adjusted the pressure knob for me on the heavy reel as the line still sang out madly.  I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders.

Man, was this thing pulling? What was it?  My hands were clenched tight and my back and legs were firmly set. The boys had all gathered around and to the side of me, watching the spectacle.  Shouts of advice were raining in. Bets were flowing whether it was a shark, a grouper or even a sea turtle…maybe even a barracuda!  I barely seemed to reel in some line, when it immediately ran back out…again and again, as I hauled back on the rod to gain leverage carefully, steadily.  Wow!  What have I got?

Twenty minutes passed, then thirty. Thank God I had the harness and bracket. My shoulders and back ached. Ten more minutes crept by. I was pulling in more line now than giving.  It was coming up, whatever it was.

Then, it surfaced, a huge brown striped grouper!  Everyone gasped and cheered!  “It’s a giant!” someone shouted.  “Get the boathook, Mike!” ordered Captain Christian.

While I kept the line taught and the rod out of their way, Mike reached overboard and hooked the side of the grouper’s head, while Chris donned a glove and reached down to grab its jaw.  The two of them pulling that way could barely lift the fish out of the water!  There were audible grunts and groans as they held on, then slowly manhandled the beast aboard. Thud!!  It fell to the deck. What a beast!





Dave Etzold, with the record Goliath Grouper caught off Pensacola Cays, Abacos, Bahamas 2017.

What a fish!  What an experience!  We figured it must have been fifty-some inches and upwards of 80-pounds, a record catch for Chris, Mike, Fred or anyone they had ever known fishing these parts!  Of course, this desert rat can barely believe the blessing of this experience. Truly a life moment. I’ll cherish it.

After mandatory photos, the trophy was thrown back into the deep blue, and seemed to suffer no harm from the experience. The hook had snagged in his front lip/jaw and was removed with pliers, the boat hook had not penetrated any significant muscle or tissue when he was pulled on board.  We only took five minutes or so to take the photos.  I now have the leader that was chewed up in the process of landing this behemoth, and several of the most incredible photos of this memory for a lifetime.


Stowing our fishing gear, cleaning up and making sure the remaining bait fish and the grouper were in the iced fish lockers, we took off for a special spot that our Captain wanted to show us.  Before sunset, and a celebratory dinner planned at a restaurant Christian recommended in Fox Town, we headed over to a nearby natural feature for a bit of man-made fun.

Chris had done this many times before, he called it “Shooting the Haulover” …and we had another fantastic chapter of this adventure about to unfold.

We were on the far western reaches of the Abacos, and made our way south and west past Hog Cays to the end of Little Abaco Island, near a town called Crown Haven, harking back to the reason these islands were populated with British citizens escaping the American Revolution.  The tides flow north and south, two times daily, though a gap in the rocky stretch just west of Crown Haven, and that gap has a name: “The Haulover”. 

Abaco Islands Map-Commonwealth of the Bahamas-HR

Haulover Map-Abaco 2017

It’s a dangerous, narrow, shallow gap in a long stretch of rocky coast.  Coral and sharp rocks line the small gap through which the currents surge, switching the flow from one direction to the other with the tides.  In a small boat, making the “Haulover” might save several hours time traveling from the Northern Little Bahama Bank to the Southern Little Bahama Bank.  Since these islands have been known, the Haulover has been used…sometimes to the detriment of an unlucky Captain who doesn’t know the tides and currents that well.  See for yourself in the video clip below, then you judge!


(Be sure to turn up your volume)


After that, we could have said it was a day!  But, we had all been looking forward to a dinner, now a celebratory dinner for several reasons, at a small simple restaurant in Fox Town.  Well, most of us were looking forward to that….some took naps after the hard day.


Sliding across the Sea of Abaco in the Blarneymon was smooth and fast, soon we were in Fox Town and pulling up to an old pier at their main dock.  Above us on the higher ground of the shoreline, a small yellow hut with a deck. Our destination.


Da Valley Restaurant & Bar” is a classic.  There was no A/C in the bar as we walked in.  Sand tracked in from outside covered the bar floor with a noisy natural grit. There was a TV hanging from the wall above the bar and two locals in conversation over on the side near the toilets. Gladly, the private dining room beyond and behind the double doors was in the process of cooling down for our anticipated dinner. Chris had called ahead.  We ordered just about everything on the menu, and washed it down with twice as much beer.



Rewards for a long, successful day!  Fish stories abound, sailing yarns flowed as easily as the beer and alcoholic beverages.  I highly recommend this out-of-the way stop.  About $25 each, plus booze, and we were stuffed.  Cheers!

Now, back on the Blarneymon, to re-bord the Luna Sea and finish our visit to the western end of the Abaco Sea.  Christian must get back to West Palm Beach for business, and we bid a fond farewell to our mate.  He leaves us on Saturday morning, as the rest of the crew attend to the sailboat for a long sailing reach to Great Guana Cay and the Orchid Bay Marina, one of our favorites.



Captain Mike-at the helm

2017-08-07 11.39.54

Other than the Orchid Bay Marina, where we stayed the night, Great Guana Cay is also known for two other famous features: an ultra-exclusive private residential reserve, once a Disney property, now known as Baker’s Bay; and the other, a beach bar known for their Sunday pork barbecue buffet, namesake punch and deck dances: Nippers Beach Bar & Grill. Needless to say, we didn’t try Baker’s Bay.








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Great Guana-Nippers Pool

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Sun sets at Orchid Bay, as we bring this adventure to an end.

We’ve had great times, shared wonderful stories, lived small adventures, seen incredible wonders, worked together as a team. Thank you, Mike Graham, for your generous invitation to rekindle the spark in each of us that first was lit so long ago on a Mountain in South Central Tennessee, where we became men: The University of the South, Sewanee, Tennessee.

Dave and Mike-at the helm


Sunset at Marsh Harbour





Dave-At the Helm-Shades

Dave-Hope Town Inn-portrait


Photography: David Etzold, John Upperco, Fred Owen, Raymond Leathers, Mike Graham.  Edited and arranged by Dave Etzold.

Drone Video: DJI Mavic Pro

Pilot: Dave Etzold

Host: Michael Graham, Birmingham, Alabama

Boats:Luna Sea” and “Blarneymon











Footprints Captured in Clay

•November 15, 2015 • 4 Comments

EL PASO, TEXAS – A traditional terra cotta construction material used in the Southwest comes from North Central Mexico and can be found covering floors in missions and mansions throughout the region: Saltillo Tile.  Simple, functional, sturdy and as beautiful in its aged patina as a hand made heirloom.

Saltillo Tile-raw stacked

Raw Saltillo tile ready to install.

Some date from a time not long past and some are very ancient. The old way of fabricating these gems is quickly being replaced by machine-fed conveyor belt processes. Traditionally, the red river clays from the Coahuila region of Mexico provided the material and craftsmen in the area provided the expertise and labor to mix, set, dry and fire each one-square-foot tile into a unique handmade expression.  In some much older settings, these tiles bear testament to countless millions of foot steps in their softly scolloped surfaces worn away slowly by passing feet over time.

Ysleta Mission in El Paso

Ysleta Mission in El Paso

Saltillo tile is a type of terra-cotta tile that originates in Saltillo, Coahuila, Mexico. It is one of the two most famous products of the city, the other being multi-coloured woven sarapes so typical of the region. Saltillo-type tiles are now manufactured at many places in Mexico, and high-fire “Saltillo look” tiles, many from Italy, compete with the terra-cotta originals in the consumer marketplace.

Saltillo Tile-laid

Real Saltillo tile vary in colour and shape dramatically, ranging in varying hues of reds, oranges and yellows. Tiles are shaped either by pressing quarried wet clay within a wooden frame, or carving out the desired shape from the wet pressed clay. Depending on the raw tile’s placement among other tiles in the kiln at the time of firing, its color will range from yellow to a rich orange/red.

Casa Donnybrook study with flooring of Saltillo tile

Casa Donnybrook study with flooring of Saltillo tile

There is a tradition in the Southwest United States and Northern Mexico, near superstitious significance, that every floor laid with Saltillo tile must have a “protector” tile set within its boundaries for good luck. That protector tile will bear the imprint of an animal’s foot print – an animal that stepped on the wet clay tile during the drying and curing process while it lay in the open-air yard of the factory before being fired in the kiln.

Tiles can be found that bear the print of a dog, a coyote, a wolf, a pig and sometimes of a cat. You can imagine a quite night in the countryside outside Saltillo, Mexico with animals prowling the fenced yard of the tile factory looking for prey. Some tiles will even feature the print of the peacock, which has been used for years as the natural guardians of factory yards throughout Mexico!

Large dog or wolf print in Saltillo tile

Large dog or wolf print in Saltillo tile

Beware of recent creative commercial imprints made by those conveyor-belt tile makers.  The paw prints are only real if your Saltillo tile is authentic and handmade from the clay found in riverbeds in Coahuila Mexico. If your Mexican tile is in fact “real”… then your paw prints are most likely real as well. They contain a glimpse of a fascinating origin to your floor covering!

Our home in El Paso, Texas was built in the late 1950’s, and was probably fully tiled by the second owners in the 1960’s. Our Saltillo tile are definitely the real thing, as they have developed many chips, cracks and spots over the years revealing the “soft” clay from which they are made.  Within our home, several thousand square feet of Saltillo tile cover the main living areas.

Captured for eternity in our floor tile are a remarkable collection of animal footprints embedded in the clay tiles – representing creatures whose lives crossed ours in a factory yard in Saltillo, Mexico over half a century ago. Each set of prints are unique in the story they tell, and are a blessing to us and to our visitors.  Our granddaughter recently remarking with a shriek during a visit “Grandee, there’s a doggie print” in the doorway to our kitchen!  There was indeed and so it shall remain, for a long, long time…

Large Front and Rear Dog Paw Print-kitchen-label

Twin Cat Paw Print-great room-label

Twin Cat Prints-Rear and Front Paws-in Saltillo tile

Careful examination indicates the stride of a single feline in these prints...approximately eight inches!

Careful examination indicates the stride of a single feline in these Saltillo tile prints…approximately eight inches!

Single Cat Print in Saltillo tile

Single Cat Print in Saltillo tile

Large Bird Print-kitchen-label

Large bird print, probably a Peacock, commonly used to guard tile factory yards in Mexico!

Peacock tracks disappear in the snow…

A Border Gringo in King Kenny’s Court: How Liverpool FC saved my passion for sport

•February 28, 2015 • 3 Comments

(With apologies to Mark Twain’s “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court”)

Liverpool Legends Kenny Dalglish (“King Kenny”), Robbie Fowler and Ian Rush – Chicago 2014

EL PASO, TEXAS –  This is a more personal blog post than most, and longer than some. The story began a long time ago, though, and has roots winding back to my earliest years. Televisions were only black & white, signals were analog, radios were mostly AM and music was just becoming available with stereo sound on vinyl records. We lived on Cincinnati Avenue, fourth house on the right…up from Madeline Park… in Kern Place only a few miles north of the Mexican Border and the Rio Grande in Downtown El Paso. According to my mother, I learned Spanish from our live-in housekeeper before I learned English.

I was a Border Gringo.

The Etzold home near Madeline Park in Kern Place c. 1960

The Etzold home near Madeline Park in Kern Place c. 1960

Father and son, on the front porch of our Cincinnati House c. 1960

Father and son, on the front porch of our Cincinnati Avenue house c. 1960

To set a tone for these early formative years you have to understand the context of life for this eight year-old boy in El Paso.  My father built the first real Bomb Shelter in the neighborhood, dug right into the middle of the driveway and accessed from a steel door cut in our basement wall. That addition to our home came thanks to Castro, Kennedy and Khrushchev who cooked up the Cuban Missle Crisis in October 1962.  My father was a Korean War hero and knew well enough what the next great war might mean, even in this remote dusty high desert border town with a big military base. Heroes were a good thing to a young boy.  Looking back, I thank God we never had to use that shelter for its intended purpose.


My first sport passion was American professional football in the form of the Dallas Cowboys. My father introduced me to the Cowboys at an early age, probably soon after the team gained its franchise in 1960. I grew up on Tom Landry, Roger Staubach, Bob Lilly, Randy White, Michael Irvin, and Tony Dorsett. They became my sports heroes.

Games on the television on Sunday afternoons after church were a ritual in their own right. From 1970 through 1979, the Cowboys won 105 regular season games, more than any other NFL franchise during that span.  In addition, they won two Super Bowls, at the end of the 1971 and 1977 regular seasons. These were my formative high school and college years and by now I was a true believer in “America’s Team”, as it was called.

Of course, this story isn’t about the Dallas Cowboys or even American football.  Read on.

You see, after the rise of the Dallas Cowboy Football Empire there came a stretch of years…two or three decades long it seems…where that empire suffered a fall, a long fall.  New ownership stepped in, new goals emerged, coaches came and went, and the sense of honor and passion that characterized the team of the sixties, seventies and early eighties had slipped away in the capital gold rush of the nineties.  The turn of the millennium saw a mediocre team struggling to hold its head up among its peers, compared to decades prior.

A move in 2009 to the largest domed stadium in the world in Arlington, Texas wasn’t even enough to kick-start this sputtering franchise. Even in El Paso (640 miles west of Dallas) the naysayers found their voices.  As the years crept by, all of the excuses I had formulated began to wear thin in my heart. I needed heroes back in my life.

Dallas Cowboys-Helmet1

From purely a consumer’s point of view, the football games themselves seemed to get longer and longer, as more official commercial time outs seemed to be encroaching on the field of play. You could hardly watch six or eight minutes of football without some whistle stopping the action and the networks inserting a commercial advertisement. One had to allocate three to four hours to take in a sixty-minute football game on television and, given Dallas’s performance, it wasn’t always the best use of that much time.

The “Commercialization of the National Football League” was in full swing.  Even the Super Bowl, as it has evolved, is as much about the teams vying for that Championship as it is about the half-time entertainment show and the television commercials surrounding the game itself.  Big money had hit the big time.

Beyond the team itself,  the National Football League (NFL) was making my sports experience more uncomfortable: attempts to introduce American Football to Europe and Asia, frequent and almost experimental rule changes, internal investigations of all sorts, cheating scandals, drug use on and off the field, intentionally violent “play for pay” and even off-the-field criminal behavior.

By 2012, medical research studies brought on by lawsuits rather than concern for the players were looking into long-term effects of sustained high-impact play on mental function and neurologic diseases. Tony Dorsett, my old hero, was a victim of such tragic brain damage and had become a TV spokesman for that cause. Things weren’t looking any better in the league, or in the sport of football as whole. It had become very painful to be a Dallas Cowboy football fan.

However, again, this story isn’t about Dallas Cowboy Football, except in the way you must break an egg to make an omelet!

I was asking: Was there something better?

or even, What could I do about it?  

I realized that I needed to believe in a sports team again, with a passion like I remembered from childhood.  I wanted to trust ownership, management and players to deliver an exciting, professional and honest game…whatever kind of game that might be.  I wanted to enjoy a journey through the seasons of a great team growing, adapting and blooming. I needed those sports heroes from my childhood.

The truth was that for years my passion for almost any sport had been drying up. I was aching inside, watching my team unravel in plain sight. I considered following another NFL football team, for regionally we had a choice of Denver, Arizona and Houston besides Dallas, but many of the same faults applied to the whole league.  I considered other professional American team sports: baseball, basketball, even hockey. Other than finding a soft spot with our local University of Texas at El Paso (UTEP) Miners men’s basketball team, which I followed closely, I continued on as a nominal Dallas Cowboy fan–but, my heart was wandering and looking.

The Franklin Mountains, looking north from Downtown El Paso and the Mexican Border at the Rio Grande, where El Paso, Texas and Juarez, Mexico share a valley and a 400-year history.

The Franklin Mountains, looking north from Downtown El Paso and the Mexican Border at the Rio Grande, where El Paso, Texas and Juarez, Mexico share a valley and a 400-year history.

During the 1990’s while working at a large local commercial real estate firm, Best Real Estate, our managing broker would occasionally bring in his portable analog television with the “rabbit ears” and  perch it on his credenza near the window of our 11th-floor offices on Main Street in Downtown El Paso.  His office, like mine, faced north from the twelfth floor toward the dramatic Franklin Mountains overlooking the Paso Del Norte.  El Paso’s three main network television broadcast towers perch along it’s 6,000-foot ridge line.  In our sister city of Juarez, Mexican television stations broadcast from the tops of the Sierra Juarez mountains, south of us on the other side of the river. We had true international television access here at the Pass of the North!

View of Downtown El Paso towards Juarez Mountains to the south. Photo Courtesy Lewis Woodyard.

View of Downtown El Paso and Juarez Mountains to the south. Photo by Lewis Woodyard.

Winter storm covers the Juarez Mountains south of Downtown El Paso

Winter storm covers the Juarez Mountains south of Downtown El Paso

I mention this because Jack Mooney loved to watch soccer on his old portable analog TV, and sometimes back then a particular game might only be broadcast on the Mexican television networks, in Spanish. Not to worry, most of us were conversant in the language.

I remember how curious it was to see Jack fiddling with those antenna, seeking that best signal, trying to follow the match as he worked at his desk, volume almost turned to a whisper.  Now and then a muffled shout or cheer would echo down the hallway to my office.  Sometimes I would drop in to see what was going on and hang around, asking him to explain the game.

It was through my friend Jack Mooney that I first glimpsed what a passion and love of soccer actually looked like.  Jack would watch national team competitions such as World Cup matches or the lead-up qualifiers. He would watch professional club competitions. I can remember the sparkle in his eye when a soccer game was on.

Jack learned to love the game while in the Army, stationed in Italy.  After marrying and settling down in El Paso, he and Brook raised a family of soccer players. Jack even coached a successful local girls soccer team. His knowledge of the game flowed easily through our occasional sport conversations as we huddled around that little TV in his office.

I remember during one game, he pointed out a distinct difference in the playing styles of the two teams: Italian “long ball” passing, versus German “dribble and control”. I’ve remembered that observation to this day. Point being, he subtly introduced concepts of game play and nuances of strategy beyond just the rules of the game.

The tutelage under Mooney opened up a completely different way for me to see this sport. I should have known then how this story would turn out.

This was the beginning of my journey into the world of true football,  a Border Gringo’s visit to “King Kenny’s Court”…a place we will understand and explore in more detail later.

Time passed, Melinda and I raised a family, sport drifted off the radar screen for me.

South America taught me more about the world’s most popular game. In February 2010 I had an incredible adventure with two old high school friends: Trekking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu in Peru. Beginning our four-day hike at Kilometer 82 on the rail line to Aguas Calientes, we disembarked civilization and began a journey into the Andes Wilderness.

The INHL Team of Jim Davison, David Etzold and Chris Multhauf about to embark at Kilometer 82

The INHL Team of Jim Davison, David Etzold and Chris Multhauf embark at Kilometer 82

Graphic depiction of the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu

Graphic depiction of the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu

Our first night’s camp was a town called Wayllabamba, at a trail junction before the steep ascent of Dead Woman’s Pass.  There, in the evening twilight, I watched from the top of an ancient Incan wall as a pick-me-up soccer match unfolded between native porters in a remarkable high-altitude setting amid Inca ruins and monstrous peaks.  I was mesmerized. It was obvious that there was a passion for the game which overcame that day’s tedious trek. What amazing shape these men were in!  They had just spent all day carrying tens of kilos-worth of baggage up the trail, but had the heart and soul for a competitive game I was barely understanding.

I have wondered about the significance of that moment, as I watched the setting sun catch the tops of the nearby peaks, deep in the Andes Mountains. Looking back now, its remarkable how the tug of soccer would have been felt in such a remote setting, but there it was.

(You can follow my actual Inca Trail blogs from this link: Inca Trail, Day One )

Soccer game at Wallyabamba. 10,000 feet above sea level...on the Inca Trail Trek in 2010.

Soccer game at Wayllabamba, Peru…at over 10,000 feet above sea level…on the Inca Trail Trek in 2010.

Official Geodetic Marker - Wayllabamba

Official Geodetic Marker – Wayllabamba

So, to my present predicament, what were the qualities or criteria I sought in a sport franchise?  Over the years, I had put together a casual check list covering subjects needing to be addressed in the filtering process for this new sport team of mine:

1. Experienced sport franchise owner (Qualities: Humble, Intelligent, Resourceful)

2. Historical context for greatness within the club

3. Coaching staff and player excellence, on and off the field

4. Sport accepted world-wide

5. International competitions

6. Televised access to games (Live games preferable)

The Summer after returning from Peru, I was posing questions based on this checklist and seriously considering a wholesale shift in my allegiance as a sport fan.  Coincidentally, the FIFA World Cup 2010 was about to take place in South Africa…and all over the television.

The World Cup pits teams representing each qualified country in a tournament for World Glory every four years.  Those teams are made up of professional soccer players who are citizens of each respective country.  Their livelihood is generally derived from their professional club salary and commercial endorsement packages, but they set aside time to “volunteer” for duty to their national teams during each four-year World Cup qualification and playoff cycle. It was the first time I remember such broad coverage in the mainstream media in the United States.

Up until this point in my journey, soccer was simply one of a number of choices in my inevitable sports allegiance shift. Circumstance and recent experience seemed to be proving that my field of choices had narrowed dramatically. Given what I had so far experienced in this search process, I had to consider whether this sport called “soccer”,played by most of the world’s population, might actually hold those special qualities that I sought.

One thing was certain, this World Cup event in 2010 got a lot of broadcast attention, and made one point that rang true to me during the course of the television coverage: the game was about the “game”.  Two forty-five minute halves, with a fifteen-minute break, and no time outs for commercials!  A little less than two hours of focused, intensive sports action, virtually non-stop. For that, and several other reasons, I got hooked.

FIFA World Cup-South Africa 2010

FIFA World Cup-South Africa 2010

So, this was it….it would be soccer!  

By the end of the World Cup 2010, I knew that my new sport would be soccer. The world calls it futbol or football, the “beautiful game”, even though the term soccer had been coined in England in the late 19th Century. Whatever it was called, it certainly met the test: a world-wide sport, international competitions, interesting travel opportunities, broad television coverage, and an historical context.  

I had never played soccer in school (it wasn’t offered in the El Paso school systems at the time).  But, many years back, I was a fan of our college soccer team at the University of the South in Sewanee, Tennessee, where a famous American soccer player and classmate gleaned significant national attention in the early years of the NASL: his name was Kyle Rote, Jr.  Back then, however, I was really just an observer to the sport.

Now, as a dedicated nascent fan, I had to task myself to really learn the rules and nuances of the sport from the outside, as it were.  I studied the history and rules of the sport, going back to its beginnings in the public schools of England with the Cambridge Rules in 1848 and the founding of the Football Association (FA) in 1863. I learned about the international professional club leagues and competitions, delved into the history and system of the international World Cup competition, and watched as much narrated television coverage as I could find.

Which brings us back to the World Cup 2010.

I immersed myself in World Cup coverage, following national teams filled with the professional club players whom I was learning about. In fact, the World Cup is a stage of immense proportions and significance every four years for those professional players. The “transfer windows” for player acquisitions by club teams seems to be the most active in the period just following the World Cup, in late summer. Team management and owners always have their eye on the shining stars of the World Cup, for good reason. Here was where the interests of the national teams under the World Cup structure of FIFA (International Federation of Association Football) and the interests of the professional club teams of the world crossed paths.

With the sport decided, I now had to concentrate on the search for my team.

The world was a big place, with lots of clubs from which to choose. It would be easy to decide on my favorite World Cup national team. When it came to that national team competition, I would always be a supporter of the United States Men’s National Team, an American Outlaw. Some of those USMT players actually played in Europe on several professional club teams, a majority were on teams within the North American MLS system. I could be consistent both as an American Outlaw and as a professional soccer club fan somewhere else.

United States Men's Soccer Team logo

United States Men’s Soccer Team logo

Now, which professional club?

I could have looked at the North American model, Major League Soccer (MLS), to search out my future professional team.  However, in 2010-2011 the MLS was just coming into its own and hadn’t achieved the acclaim that has come from most quarters of late. Back then, I didn’t have to look very hard to realize that the best teams in MLS (LA Galaxy, Portland Timbers, and others) just weren’t at the same level as the teams that came from the leagues that delivered the champions of Europe. The MLS league schedule and the player acquisition process are also different from other world soccer leagues. The opportunity for synergy between MLS and the other professional leagues in the world was limited.

Major League Soccer Logo (United States)

Major League Soccer Logo (United States)

It would probably be a European team.

Selecting my professional club team would prove to have more subtle nuances than I expected. There was a rich European history to some clubs – stretching back over a hundred years in some cases – which I had to understand. The whole system of club affiliation, organization and play was new to me.  So, I dug into it.

Each major country in Europe has several professional soccer leagues of various skill ranking. The top tier of club teams in Europe are found in the following professional leagues: La Liga (Spanish), Ligue 1 (French), Premier League (English), Bundesliga (German), and Serie A (Italian). Each league has twenty teams who play each other twice each season – home and away. The season runs from August/September to May, for a total of 38 league matches – called “ties” in the English vernacular. A win earns three points, a draw one point each team, and a loss nil to the loser.  The League Champion is the team with the highest points earned in league play over that season. 

Those European professional soccer clubs are organized under an athletic association called the Union of European Football Associations (UEFA), the administrative body for association football in Europe and part of Asia. UEFA consists of 54 national association members, and runs national and club competitions in Europe including the UEFA European Championship, UEFA Champions League, UEFA Europa League, and UEFA Super Cup. It controls the prize money, regulations, and media rights to those competitions.

So, beyond the success achievable by teams within their league, the Champions League and Europa League competitions organized by UEFA pit the finest club teams in Europe against each other through a playoff process to determine the best club team…much like an annual version of the World Cup for professional teams.

For instance, the Champions League competition will include the top four teams from the English Premiere League, the German Bundesliga and the Spanish La Liga; the top three teams from the French Ligue 1, the Italian Serie A, and the Portuguese Primeira Liga; and the top two from Russia, Netherlands, Switzerland, Turkey, etc. The higher the UEFA coefficient for that country, the more teams allowed to play in the Champions League competition. Even the lowest ranked country-leagues send one team, their champion that year, to the UEFA Champions League competition. Tracking historical achievements within these championships, as well as within league competition, could give me an insight which clubs I might consider as my finalists. Winning traditions beget strong fan bases and great drama.

Union of European Football Associations (UEFA) logo

Union of European Football Associations (UEFA) logo

UEFA is one of six continental confederations of world football’s governing body FIFA. North American, Caribbean and Central American soccer is organized under CONCACAF, as one of those six continental confederations, also.  FIFA is the international governing body of association football. It is responsible for the organization of soccer’s major international tournaments, notably the World Cup, which began in 1930, and the Women’s World Cup, which began in 1991.

Fédération Internationale de Football Association est. 1904

Fédération Internationale de Football Association est. 1904

FIFA was founded in 1904 to oversee international competition among the national associations of Belgium, Denmark, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Spain, Sweden and Switzerland. Headquartered in Zürich, membership now comprises 209 national associations. Member countries must each also be members of one of the six regional confederations into which the world is divided: Africa, Asia, Europe, North & Central America and the Caribbean, Oceania and South America.

I pared down my set of choices significantly by eliminating Asia, South America and Africa – each presented challenges to me ranging from limited television coverage, to time zones and even cultural affinity. I decided my choice would be a professional club team from one of the European Leagues for the access to television and print media coverage, cultural affinity and for the high quality of the clubs and players themselves. It would be a European team, a club team in UEFA.

How would I watch and enjoy these beautiful games?

Access to televised games was very important, especially live broadcasts, and of course the quality of those video images and the commentary and network support that came along with them had to be considered. Fox Sports had just landed a deal to televise the English Premier League, sponsored by Barclays Bank. Those games were broadcast live on Saturday and Sunday mornings, seven-hours time difference between El Paso (MST) and England (GMT).

Honestly, after a lifetime of afternoon and evening NFL games, it was difficult getting used to games sometimes beginning at 5:45 a.m.! Needless to say, this was a real paradigm shift for a fan used to a beer and pub environment for the big sports game. Fox Sports made the difference in my early decision-making process.

Gareth Bale -on a Times Square billboard-helps promote NBC sports coverage of the Barclays Premiere League 2013-2104

Gareth Bale, at the time with Tottenham Hotspurs, on a Times Square billboard helps promote NBC sports new coverage of the Barclays Premiere League in 2013-2104

NBC Sports picked up the exclusive North American broadcast rights to the English (Barclays) Premier League in the Fall of 2013, announcing it with a huge promotional campaign. Viewership soared as live access to every Premiere League match was facilitated by the NBC network’s many digital broadcast/satellite channels.

Likewise, MLS soccer in the United States and Canada had been televised on Fox Sports for several years, but in 2012 moved to NBC Sports where it doubled its domestic television viewership. From 2012 to 2014, MLS matches were successfully televised by NBC Sports, with 40 matches per year—primarily on NBCSN, and select matches broadcast on the NBC network.  Success can be a bitter reward in this game of sports television coverage. Another competitive MLS television deal snatched the prize out of NBC’s hands late in 2014.  Beginning with the the 2015 season that starts in March, Major League Soccer matches will be broadcast nationally by ESPN networks and Fox Sports in English, and Univision networks in Spanish under an eight-year contract. Soccer was going mainstream.

Broadening the landscape of televised soccer coverage in 2012, a new global network of sports channels jointly owned and operated by Qatari Sports Investments called beIN SPORTS came on the scene.  Its coverage is carried domestically by the major cable and satellite systems. In the United States and Canada, beIN SPORTS holds the rights to broadcast the English FA Cup and Capital One Cup tournaments, the La Liga, Serie A, and Ligue 1 league games, Copa del Rey, South American World Cup Qualifier and Football League Championship matches, in addition to Barca TV.

However, I digress, back to the task at hand: picking a professional football club to follow.

First decision, within European soccer, which country or league would I want? Then, which club team in that league?  The global popularity of the sport had created legendary giants within each of UEFA’s major European Leagues, teams such as:

Real Madrid CF

Real Madrid CF

Manchester United FC

Manchester United FC

Manchester City FC

Manchester City FC

Liverpool FC

Liverpool FC

Juventus FC

Juventus FC

FC Bayern Munich

FC Bayern Munich

FC Barcelona

FC Barcelona

Chelsea FC

Chelsea FC

Arsenal FC

Arsenal FC

Forbes 2014 Ranking of the World's Richest Football Teams

Forbes 2014 Ranking of the World’s Richest Football Teams

As much as it would have “felt” good to select a European team that was presently top of their game and winning every match they played, it struck me as a bit of a short-cut to the glory that I wanted to bask in once again. Certainly, selecting Real Madrid or Bayern Munich or Manchester United as my true team would bring an instant rush of success to the experience. However, I felt the glory would seem a bit hollow, having not experienced the cyclical process of rebuilding, changing and adapting that time brings to the life of a sports team.

To use a metaphor: I resisted jumping into the race at the finish line of a marathon, having not suffered through the grind of running the whole 26-mile course! I had to look carefully at the both the present performance and the past history of these clubs that I was considering. Maybe a current champion wasn’t the best choice to learn the pulse of a club and experience the rise of a phoenix.

I wanted to have a chance to get personally involved with this club that I would choose. I wanted the opportunity to travel to see play in their home league, or especially at their home field…called a “pitch” in the English vernacular. A chance to see this team on tour occasionally somewhere in North America would be a strong draw, as well. On a deeper level, if the team I found played in England, I would even have an ancestral reason for that affinity. Much of my family history played out in England, Wales and Scotland before my precursors came to America.

I had visited London twice recently and had a truly life-changing experience there in 2007 – when I suffered a heart attack and had emergency surgery at St. Mary’s Hospital on the Fourth of July. The memory of that adventure is seared into my psyche, and can be found in several posts in my “London 2007: Somewhere in Time” blog, at the link in the upper right-hand column. Certainly, England held an allure that other European counties couldn’t match.

David London headshot-small


The “Broken Hearts Club” St. Mary’s CCU Ward, London

I would love to find the perfect team within the ranks of English professional soccer clubs. English soccer was organized in a very elegant system, run by the Football Association (the FA) for over one hundred thirty years.  Some say the game got its start in England. That was a track record I could trust, check that box.

At the top of English professional soccer competition, the Premier League (sometimes called the English Premiere League) is the most-watched football league in the world, broadcast in 212 territories to 643 million homes and a potential TV audience of 4.7 billion people. During the 2010-2011 season, its average game attendance was second only to the German Bundesliga with 35,363 per match, and stadium occupancy was a whopping 92%.  The Premiere League has been sponsored by Barclays Bank since 2004 and is commonly referred to as the Barclays Premiere League.

English Premiere League, Sponsored by Barclays Bank

English Premiere League, Sponsored by Barclays Bank

There were twenty teams to choose from in the English Premiere League. These teams represent a palette of history, regional British culture, sports tradition that painted a rich landscape for me to appreciate. Many of those clubs were now owned by non-English individuals or groups: Russian oil tycoons, Arab sheiks, Malaysian barons, American investors.  Many of the teams in the Premiere League fielded more foreign national players than English players.

The world was paying close attention to English soccer, but how would or could the ownership structure of a team or the passport array of the starting eleven impact the fan experience?  In my own experience, an odd “tycoon-like” character had changed the face of ownership of my old Dallas Cowboys team.  Why couldn’t another similar kind of buccaneer be as damaging on this particular English field of play?

Another point of comparison:  How did those twenty Premiere League teams respond year after year to the intense international pressure at this level of professional soccer?  Since the League was founded in 1992, the undisputed leader of the pack in historical top division titles has been Manchester United (20), followed by Liverpool FC (18), Arsenal (13), Everton (9), Aston Villa (7), Sunderland (6), Chelsea (6), and recent newcomers, Manchester City (4) – the Premiere League Champions in 2013-2014. Of those leaders in top division titles, Liverpool, Tottenham, and Everton have never won the Premiership, as it is called.   Here was fertile ground for me to grow my personal soccer experience, it seemed.

I wanted to appreciate the complete process of learning about a team, following their progress and appreciating the rapture of a championship trophy earned the hard way.  Therefore, it would almost be self-defeating to short-cut the process by jumping on an existing team’s successful “band wagon”.

It seemed appropriate, in this respect, if I were to look at a top division team but not one of the recent Premiere League champions. If I pursued this track, I would be excluding the so-called “safe bets” of Manchester United, Arsenal, Manchester City or Chelsea, in favor of a Tottenham, Everton or Liverpool FC. Now, where would I turn for help with this final stage of my decision?

You’ll Never Walk Alone….

Meddle is the sixth studio album by English progressive rock group Pink Floyd, released 30 October 1971 by Harvest Records.

“Meddle” is the sixth studio album by English progressive rock group Pink Floyd, released 30 October 1971 by Harvest Records.

Enter “Meddle”, the iconic sixth studio album by the British rock group Pink Floyd, an album I knew intimately almost my entire life.  Critics would point out the significance of this album to the group and to the evolution of modern rock music.  I probably bought this album my senior year at Coronado High School (1971-1972) or during my first year of college at the University of the South (Sewanee, Tennessee) in 1972-1973 and it has been a favorite of mine since then.

I would listen to the classic instrumental “Echoes” on Side Two of the album for years thereafter, putting it on my record changer and drifting off to sleep in my room with that erie and haunting tune in the background.  I even remember it playing in the common room of a youth hostel in Copenhagen that I visited on a Summer backpacking trip in 1973.

But, many times I’d also listen to Side One of the album. It was there on Side One where several very interesting songs lived. One tune in particular carried a haunting intertwined sub-track which sounded like a chanting or singing crowd at a live sports venue in the background of the main song.  That tune was called “Fearless”, and it is the third track on Side One.  I must have played it hundreds and hundreds of times over the years.  It is embedded in my psyche.

Throughout “Fearless” one can hear a recording of fans in Liverpool’s Kop (the cheering section) singing a fan anthem called “You’ll Never Walk Alone” superimposed within the Pink Floyd music.  That famous Rodgers and Hammerstein song became the official anthem of Liverpool FC sometime after Gerry & the Pacemakers had a number-one hit with their recording of it in the 1960’s. It is sung by the crowd before every home match at Anfield.

However, I never knew the story of this anthem when I first appreciated the album “Meddle”.  It was just one of my favorite college music albums, that was all.

“Fearless” and that haunting, embedded anthem of Liverpool fans chanting “You’ll Never Walk Alone”, would live with me for years before sprouting into the miraculous master stroke that ended up clinching this long search process for a sports team I could believe in again, a football team from England by the name of Liverpool FC.


Back to the selection process.

With Everton, Liverpool and Tottenham all in the running, the details which made a difference to me between the clubs were surfacing: manager, owner, player age, player home country, and team history.  The two teams from the city of Liverpool (Everton FC and Liverpool FC) had an interesting history, having once been one club team. Everton FC split off from the Liverpool FC faction and left their original grounds at Anfield in 1892.

They have had a gentlemanly rivalry between them ever since, called the Merseyside Derby (pronounced “Darby”) – after the River Mersey that runs though Liverpool to the sea. These two Premiere League games each year, home and away, are not much of a travel problem. Their home stadiums are only separated by a quarter-mile distance, across Stanley Park in Liverpool, England.

The close proximity of rival clubs across Stanley Park in Liverpool

The close proximity of rival clubs across Stanley Park in Liverpool

Liverpool is famous as a music city, the Nashville of England in rock and roll terms. The Beatles came from Liverpool, forever marking that place in music history. The story behind Liverpool FC’s famous anthem emerged in a surprising twist one day while I watched a game on television broadcast from their home field, Anfield.

The stadium was alive with an electricity in the crowd, the television coverage hovered over a wild fan scene at one end of the stadium which the announcer called “The Kop”, one of the most famous home-fan seating areas in the world of soccer, located in the southwest end of the stadium behind the goal.

Anfield, Liverpool FC home ground, with the Kop in full voice and motion before the start of a game.

Anfield, Liverpool FC home ground, and the Kop in full voice and motion before a game.

The camera’s microphone picked up a chant-song being raised by those wild fans in the Kop, and throughout the stadium. It sounded familiar to me sitting in my living room at Casa Donnybrook in El Paso. The announcer explained, as the cameras scanned the crowd standing and singing together, that this was the timeless anthem of Liverpool FC, “You’ll Never Walk Alone”.

Whoa! I knew this song! Hauntingly familiar it was!  That tune was seared in my memory, forever connected to my college years and those nights listening to Pink Floyd while drifting off to sleep. I jumped up and pulled out one of the drawers that hold my vinyl record collection in the entertainment center…reached for the Pink Floyd albums and grabbed “Meddle” from the stack.

The cover was worn from years of handling. Sliding the vinyl out of it’s sleeve and onto my turntable, I put the stylus on track three of Side One…turning up the volume to match that of the televised game just getting started.  There is was!  That live recording of the chant-song intertwined into the studio recording by Pink Floyd, it was the same one as they were singing at Anfield on the television!

I was stunned. A strong subliminal message had been planted long ago in my brain by one of my favorite rock groups, a message in the form of that crowd singing/chanting “You’ll Never Walk Alone” at a Liverpool soccer game in England!  For me on that day, the message in that song was loud and clear: “This must be your team!  It has always been your team!”


So, it seems, the choice had been made for me many years before.  Liverpool FC had always been my team and I now understood how, through the forty or so intervening years, I could say with my whole heart that Liverpool FC were destined to save my passion for sports!

I absorbed everything Liverpool FC that I could get my hands on. Finding out that Liverpool FC were now owned by a famous American sports entity, Fenway Sports Group-owners of the Boston Red Sox, only further reinforced my decision. These owners were experienced and intelligent, operating with a humble and steady hand. They also knew intimately the process of re-building a once famous sports franchise into greatness.

Title Screen to

Title Screen to “Being: Liverpool” Documentary Series on Fox Sports

The American connection, team ethic and new coaching staff under Brendan Rogers was featured in the mini-series: “Being: Liverpool”, a 2012 fly-on-the-wall six episode documentary television series about Liverpool Football Club broadcast on Fox Soccer in the United States, Sportsnet in Canada, and Channel 5 in the United Kingdom. It followed the team behind the scenes on their pre-season in North America in July 2012 and the build up to their 2012–2013 season in the Premier League. I must have watched it five or six times. I was hooked.

2014_International_Champions_Cup logo

In the summer of 2014, I was blessed to be able to see Liverpool play in person, when they came to the United States to tour in the Guinness International Champions Cup tournament. Some of the world’s greatest professional soccer teams were participating in that tournament: Liverpool, Manchester City, Manchester United, Real Madrid, Olympiacos, AC Milan, AS Roma, and Inter Milan.  Of Liverpool’s five matches in the United States, I was able to see three of them in person:

Chicago, Illinois at Soldier Field against Greek powerhouse Olympiacos on Sunday July 27th. I flew to Chicago and met Melinda and two of my children, daughter Devin and son William. We spent the weekend enjoying Chicago and seeing our friends Chris and Lynn (Osmond) Multhauf, and I immersed myself in the excitement of my first live Liverpool game! I even had the opportunity to meet Liverpool Legends Kenny Dalglish (former player and coach, known as “King Kenny”), Robbie Fowler and Ian Rush at a special presentation by the Chicago Architecture Foundation the day before the game, thanks to Lynn Osmond, president of the CAF. Liverpool won that game against Olympiacos 1-0, which was a beautiful cap to a wonderful first LFC experience.

Chicago Architecture Foundation representative receives a signed team jersey from Kenny Dalglish, Ian Rush and Robbie Fowler in front of the Water Tower in Chicago, Summer 2014.

Chicago Architecture Foundation representative receives a signed team jersey from Kenny Dalglish, Ian Rush and Robbie Fowler in front of the Water Tower in Chicago, Summer 2014.

the author, David Etzold, with Liverpool Legends Robbie Fowler and Ian Rush in Chicago, Summer 2014

The author, David Etzold, with Liverpool Legends Robbie Fowler and Ian Rush in Chicago, Summer 2014

Lunch at the University Club, Chicago, with Chris and Lynn Multhauf

Brunch at the University Club, Chicago, with Chris and Lynn Multhauf

Devin and David Etzold, Soldier Field, Chicago, Sunday 27 July 2014

Devin and David Etzold, Soldier Field, Chicago on Sunday 27 July 2014

The author with his children, Devin and William (Liam) Etzold, Chicago Marriott

The author with his children, Devin and William (Liam) Etzold, Chicago Marriott

Marriott Hotel - Downtown Chicago

Marriott Hotel – Downtown Chicago

Charlotte, North Carolina the next weekend, at Bank of America Stadium on Saturday August 2nd against their old nemesis, AC Milan. After suffering through moving to my new office back in El Paso in the middle of the week, I flew east to Charlotte, NC  on Friday August 1st to meet my son-in-law Joseph Perry, who had discovered a new found sports affection for Liverpool FC, as well.  The City of Charlotte embraced Liverpool and it was fun to appreciate the lead-up events to the game. As if on cue Saturday evening, Liverpool won again, this time 0-2.

Pre-Game Party Headquarters in Charlotte, NC

Pre-Game Party Headquarters in Charlotte, NC

The Liverbird mascot meets some young fans as the party gets started in Charlotte

The Liverbird mascot meets some young fans as the party gets started in Charlotte

The party heats up as Liverpool legends Robbie Fowler and Ian Rush are introduced to the crowd in Charlotte!

The party heats up as Liverpool Legends  are introduced to the crowd in Charlotte!

Huge welcome for Legends Ian Rush and Robbie Fowler!

Huge welcome for Legends Ian Rush and Robbie Fowler!

Bank of America Stadium, Charlotte

Bank of America Stadium, Charlotte

Rebecca Lowe and Robbie Mustoe at the anchor desk for the pre-game commentary, Liverpool vs. AC Milan, Charlotte

Rebecca Lowe and Robbie Mustoe at the anchor desk for the pre-game television commentary, Liverpool vs. AC Milan, Charlotte

Joseph Perry (L) and David Etzold (R) with great seats for the AC Milan game!

Joseph Perry (L) and David Etzold (R) with great seats for the Liverpool FC vs. AC Milan game!

Liverpool FC wearing their away colors, in yellow, against AC Milan in Charlotte, NC on 2 August 2014

Liverpool FC wearing their away colors, in yellow, against AC Milan in Charlotte, NC on 2 August 2014

“Maximus Moment” on Bank of America Field in Charlotte: Gerrard greets Baloteli..soon to be teammates at Liverpool, with Emre Can in foreground!

Base of operations: The Dunhill in Downtown Charlotte

Base of operations: The Dunhill in Downtown Charlotte

These two wins that I had witnessed in person, plus a draw against Manchester City played in New York City mid-week (when I was moving into my new office), qualified Liverpool for the 2014 Guinness International Champions Cup Final to be held at Sun Life Stadium on Monday, August 4th in Miami, Florida.

Next stop: Miami.

Coincidentally, I had purchased two tickets to the finals when the tournament was first announced in February.  It was to be played in Miami, only a few hours drive from my son-in-law and daughter who were living at the Naval Air Station in Key West, Florida, and I thought maybe we’d be visiting during the summer. It was pure serendipity to have those tickets in hand in Charlotte and know that our team would be facing their arch-rivals Manchester United on American soil…and we would be witnesses!

Joe and I flew from Charlotte to Fort Lauderdale International Airport to pick up Joe’s car on Sunday, the day after the win over AC Milan. I had reserved a nice room at a convenient Holiday Inn on Miami Bay and we spent a great evening Sunday exploring Downtown Miami and South Beach together.

Loverpool FC team at practice in Miami before their Final match against Manchester United in the Guinness International Champions Cup 2014

Loverpool FC team at practice in Miami before their Final match against Manchester United in the Guinness International Champions Cup 2014

South Beach, Miami

South Beach, Miami

The game on Monday, drenched in constant waves of summer thunderstorms blowing through South Florida and overwhelmed with a huge crowd of Manchester United fans to put up with at Sun Life Stadium, proved to be a let-down: Liverpool lost 1-3. However, almost in consolation of that outcome, Joseph and I both got Liverpool FC sports shirts autographed at a meet and greet event with Robbie Fowler and Ian Rush at a Dunkin Donut shop on the morning of the final match.

Super Fan, David Cruise, accepting a donut sale from Robbie Fowler

Super Fan, David Cruice, accepting a donut sale from Robbie Fowler

David Etzold with Robbie Fowler and Ian Rush

David Etzold with Robbie Fowler and Ian Rush

Joseph Perry with Ian Rush and Robbie Fowler at Dunkin Donuts, Miami on 3 August 2014

Joseph Perry with Ian Rush and Robbie Fowler at Dunkin Donuts, Miami on 3 August 2014

Today I have one of the finest examples of framed, autographed Liverpool FC memorabilia hanging in my Great Room, above my pool table in a place of honor.  Robbie Fowler and Ian Rush signed both my shirt and each of their hand-out photos.  That shirt now serves as a permanent memory of an incredible Summer soccer adventure!

David Etzold's Liverpool FC fan shirt autographed by Ian Rush and Robbie Fowler

David Etzold’s Liverpool FC fan shirt autographed by Ian Rush and Robbie Fowler

This is why I can now say that my passion for sport was saved by Liverpool FC, and why this Border Gringo will forever know what it means to be a courtier in King Kenny’s Court!  Kenny Dalglish, King Kenny of Anfield Fame, welcomed me to my new sports kingdom. My excitement and passion for sport is back.

Martin Skrtel, Philippe Coutinho and Dejan Lovren celebrate with passion....

Martin Skrtel, Philippe Coutinho and Dejan Lovren celebrate with passion….

I now have a sports team, a club, and a world-wide fan base to call brothers and sisters.  I eagerly await each game, and look forward to the near future when Liverpool FC will top the Premiere League Table and be able to hoist the Premiership Cup!  Then, on to Champions League greatness, once again…

I know this to be true:  You’ll Never Walk Alone…

El Paso-Juarez Chapter of

El Paso-Juarez Chapter of “Liverpool Reds” at the Corner Tavern in Kern Place, El Paso,TX – Fall 2014

Key West, Christmas 2014...

Key West, Christmas 2014…

Y N W A….  Heroes are hard to find, cherish them when you do!

Liverpool FC-Liverbird Logo

Aden Crater, the Dying Place

•May 26, 2014 • 3 Comments

(Please click on any photograph for a full sized image)

EL PASO, TEXAS – What do the mummified remains of an 11,000-year old ground sloth and this author have in common?  We both have seen, in our respective lifetimes, the bottom of a huge volcanic fumarole in the middle of the Chihuahua Desert of Southern New Mexico, about an hour’s drive northwest of El Paso.  I survived the experience, barely.  The sloth didn’t.  Aden Crater was our common ground, though separated by one hundred ten centuries of time.

Panoramic view of Aden Crater

Panoramic view of Aden Crater

This particular adventure began for me as a youngster in Boy Scouts, when our Troop 165 would take its annual “Aden Crater Weekend” camping trip out into the desert west of El Paso, off of what we called the “Strauss Road” (now NM AO17) near the base of the relatively recent volcanic formation. That formation is set within a beautiful landscape: wild grasses filling in the sandy swales between creosote bushes which yield the aroma of a Summer rain (known as petrichor), mesquite bush mounds, and various yucca and cactus species – outcrops of black and dark brown lava accenting the light brown patina of blow-sand covering everything except where plants, rocks or mountains protrude.

The Union Pacific’s main transcontinental railroad track between Los Angeles and New Orleans purposely skirts this area of volcanic “badlands” and that early route, carved in 1880 by the railroads around this difficult terrain within the Gadsden Purchase, is easily discerned from an aerial perspective.  The sound of those trains rumbling by in the distance is the only thing that anchors a person to the present in this place, for the vast landscape has an ancient and timeless quality once you immerse yourself in the quiet solitude.

It was this general area of volcanic badlands, looking so much like the landscape of the Hawaiian Islands, that Marty Robbins immortalized in the ballad “El Paso“, with the line “...out through the back door of Rosa’s I ran…out to the badlands of New Mexico…”

Satellite photo of Aden Crater locale west of El Paso

Satellite photo of Aden Crater locale west of El Paso

Aden Crater sits up above the sand hills and broad expanses of lava beds that form its skirts. The crater had belched out a huge amount of lava eons back, some 30,000 years ago according to the geologists.  Those lava fields flowed from this, and several other, volcanic crevasses in the region during an active historic period which could have been witnessed by America’s first native inhabitants.  Later generations would memorialize their history and record their passing by etching petroglyphs on the same dark surfaces of those ancient volcanic stones.

Ancient petroglyphs on volcanic rocks, Three Rivers Petroglyph Site near Tularosa, NM

Ancient petroglyphs on volcanic rocks, Three Rivers Petroglyph Site near Tularosa, NM

The timelessness of the area lends a magical quality to musing over these histories around an open air campsite as sparks drift into the starlit sky from a sweet mesquite-wood fire. In those ancient times that our Native American predecessors knew, this region had more rainfall and a different ecosphere than today.  Grasses waved in the winds, trees dotted the landscape and a virtual savannah spread out across the horizon.  The wildlife was also different than we see today.  Grazing animals abounded, and ground sloths sauntered along poking for termites and grubs and other food their digging skills could excavate.

One particularly unlucky ground sloth some 11,000 years ago found the newly-formed volcanic prominence of Aden Crater enticing and wandered up and into the formation, eventually sniffing and snooping its way over to the rugged southeast wall of the crater where it thought the gaping maw at the mouth of the large fumarole cavern looked inviting.  Unfortunately for the sloth, the fumarole presented too steep an adventure for his climbing skills to handle.  Either the ninety-some-odd-foot fall to the bottom or his inability to extricate himself after that fall led to to the sloth’s demise, and he was preserved on a large mound of bat guano at the bottom of the cavern for discovery 10,000-odd years later by a team of explorers from the Peabody Museum of Yale University in August of 1928AD.

A 1929 report was published by Yale University Press and, henceforth, generations of Boy Scouts have learned this story, a genuine tragedy in natural history terms, which played out within this grand landscape long before the arrival of modern man.

Title Page: Peabody Museum of Yale University -A Remarkable Ground Sloth 1929

Title Page: Peabody Museum of Yale University – A Remarkable Ground Sloth 1929

Introduction: "A Remarkable Ground Sloth" Yale University Press 1929

Introduction: “A Remarkable Ground Sloth” Yale University Press 1929

Introduction and Map: "A Remarkable Ground Sloth" Yale University Press 1929

Introduction and Map: “A Remarkable Ground Sloth” Yale University Press 1929

Old location photographs: "A Remarkable Ground Sloth" Yale University Press 1929

Old location photographs: “A Remarkable Ground Sloth” Yale University Press 1929

For reference here, the photographs on Plate I (above) are described as follows:   A) Aden Crater seen from a distance;   B)  The “notch” that marks the location of the fumarole on the southeast rim of the crater; and  C) The mouth of the fumarole opening just outside of the southeast crater rim.

Photograph of Restored Skeletal Remains: "A Remarkable Ground Sloth" Yale University Press 1929

Restored Skeletal Remains: “A Remarkable Ground Sloth” Yale University Press 1929

Reproduction - Aden Ground Sloth: Peabody Museum of Yale University

Reproduction – Aden Ground Sloth: Peabody Museum of Yale University

What a story!  What a discovery!  How in the world could a group of young Scouts NOT be intrigued with such a tale?  It was always one of my favorite camping trips in Boy Scouts.  But, we never saw the inside of this awesome cavern, and that haunted me.  It took 25 years or so, but in 1991 this former Boy Scout made that sloth and the volcanic fumarole the purpose of one of the first expeditions ever undertaken by the International Natural History League (INHL).  This is how it was:

I had been married only seven years, Melinda and I had two small girls at home in our our old Kern Place neighborhood when the Executive Director of the INHL, Dr. James Davison (a life-long friend who now lived in Nashville), flew into El Paso for one of our regular adventures, this one planned around Aden Crater.  This expedition, however, proved to be a rather irregular adventure…as you will soon see.

The Ford Bronco was loaded with our camping gear, that new-fangled cellular “brick” phone I had recently acquired for my real estate work was charged and the cooler was full of food and drinks.  The rutted dirt road paralleling the Union Pacific railroad tracks out past the Santa Teresa Airport and then past ruins of an old frame home and corral – what had been Strauss, New Mexico – carried us into the wild wide open spaces of Southwestern Dona Ana County. The terrain was familiar to us, having grown up taking many camping and hunting trips out into these areas all of our lives. The music from the car stereo was cranked up, and the dusty plume behind us trailed off into the distance toward El Paso.

We were looking forward to using the climbing equipment that I had been practicing on with other friends, Vic Kilstrom and David Malin up in the Franklin Mountains, and Jim and I wanted to see if we could finally get down to the bottom of that famous fumarole.  Several times we’ve camped at Aden Crater and hiked to the edge of its maw, but never had we attempted a descent.  Ropes and climbing had been something that I had tried occasionally (along with spelunking) while attending the University of the South in Sewanee, Tennessee back in the mid-seventies. I liked the thrill of a long rappel drop off a big cliff.   This would be cool.

Soon the dirt road was crossed by the first of several spines of lava rock that the road engineers failed to remove from the roadbed.  These “speed bumps” were a signal that the crater formation was approaching and the turn off to the left would be past the last such lava spine in the road.  Before long, a meandering narrow sandy roadbed took us off to the south and wound back behind and up into the actual volcanic crater itself.  I was glad we had a high-clearance four wheel drive vehicle.  There, inside the crater, we found a nice flat niche up against a lava cliff for our campground and we spent the afternoon setting up camp – enjoying the pristine air, landscape and sky.

INHL Campsite-Aden Crater 1991

INHL Campsite-Aden Crater 1991

INHL Campsite-Aden Crater 1991

Dr James Davison at the INHL Campsite-Aden Crater 1991

A quick hike around found some of the “shrink cracks” that formed narrow deep canyons within the crater.  Along the upper ledges of this canyons, huge white owls lived and the bones of their prey left telltale signs on the rocks below.  The view off to the horizon seemed endless.

Campsite at Aden Crater 1991, tucked into the crater rim.

Campsite at Aden Crater 1991, tucked into the crater rim.

It is a wondrous place.  Giant blocks of lava, black and brown colors thrown up and around by forces too massive to even imagine.  Golden grasses now filling in the low spots and flat areas, wafting in the almost constant desert breeze from the West.  The sky that night lit up like a light show, stars so bright they looked like a million pinholes in a black sheet stretched in front of a blazing fire.  We talked and drank late into the night, but each of us had a bit of a queer feeling in our gut about the task ahead the next day.

Jim Davison photographing the grand desert sunset.

Jim Davison photographing the grand desert sunset.

Morning dawned early, the crisp high desert air refreshing, as we rousted from our cots under the tarp we had set up.  A hearty breakfast, one good check of the climbing gear, and we’d be off to the southeast rim and the yawning maw of the fumarole.  Jim borrowed a Korean War era helmet of my father’s to protect from being beaned by loose rocks.  I couldn’t help but be amused at the sight of Dr. Davison with that helmet on, as if we were going into battle!

Aden Crater5-Feb1991

We referred to the diagram of the fumarole drawn by the Peabody-Yale Expedition of 1928 to orient ourselves for the descent.  One long climbing rope, a sit harness, a custom made rappelling descender, two Jumar ascenders, heavy leather gloves and a good dose of confidence were the tools for this adventure.  The descender we had used often up in the Franklin Mountains in El Paso. We had practiced with the Jumars on the short cliffs next to our campsite and had a feel for the system.  The Bronco with our cell phone (the “brick”) stayed at the campsite, and we packed our equipment, cameras and supplies over to the fumarole by foot.  There, looking into the black hole, we could feel the steady rush of cool air coming out of the earth…a sure sign of a deep cavern below us!

Diagram of the Aden fumarole from the Peabody-Yale report of 1929

Diagram of the Aden Crater fumarole from the Peabody-Yale report of 1929

I went first, dropping the rope into the opening, and hooking my brake bars of the descent equipment into its strong fibers.  Before slipping over the edge, I made a seemingly random off-the-cuff comment to Jim’s video camera: “If I don’t make it, I love you Melinda!”  How ironic that would be to watch later!  Putting my weight on the rope and leaning back over a precipice is always the hardest part of rappelling.  Once I was over the edge and inching myself down, the passage slipped away to my right at about a 45-degree angle until coming to a place where I had to crouch and peer over the lip of a hole in the floor down into the main chamber. With my flashlight, I could not see the bottom. This was going to be intense!

Dropping through that hole and down into the large cavern, the walls quickly receded and I was dangling on the rope – slowly spinning around with no wall to stop the rotation.  I could yell up to Jim, far above it seemed, but our voices were muffled by the angles of the chambers I had just passed through. Slowly, I allowed the rope to slip through the descender as I lowered myself into that dark chasm, aware of the musty smell of bat guano in the air and noticing the slight echo of the sounds I was making.  Eventually, I landed on a solid flat platform of rock where I stopped and stood up, gaining my composure and deciding that this would be a fine spot to wait for Jim’s descent.

Off came the harness and up went the rope and descender equipment to Jim, waiting at the top.  Soon, I could hear Davison coming down the passages above, then I heard him above me on the edge of the hole at the top of the huge cavern.  Within a short time, and with a lot of banter between us, Davison was by my side and, in wide eyed excitement, we slapped a celebratory high-five.  Now what?

As any good adventurer usually decides to do in a moment like that, Jim pulled out his video camera and started filming us in infra-red.  There wasn’t much to say, we were both hyperventilating and our pulses raced.  Words would get caught in our throats and the musky air made it hard to catch a deep breath.  A little posed conversation for the video, and soon we attacked the real issue: Do we go further, or call it a conquest? I must say, I was rattled.  That last descent, with no walls for stabilization, was a real feat.  Thinking of climbing back up it on the Jumars was daunting to say the least.  I voted to call it a success and not risk further descent.  There was no telling how long it might take to get out.

We only had the one set of climbing gear, so one of us would have to ascend and then throw the equipment back for the other to use.  Who would go first?  I’m not sure to this day whether there was a conversation on the subject, or whether Jim volunteered to go out first since I went in first. No matter, it was Providence that looked over our shoulder on that decision.  Jim strapped on the harness, got out the Jumars and attached the clamps to the rope, one above the other about chest high as the rope dangled to his feet.  From those Jumars hung two rope stirrups into which one places each boot.

The process is to stand in the stirrup, where your weight on the clamp presses it against the rope, pushing with that leg and with the corresponding hand holding at the clamp until the other boot presses into its stirrup and its clamp grabs the rope where your other hand holds as the other leg pushes up and the hand releases its clamp to move up another foot or so.  The hands and boots move sequentially up the rope in this way, clamping and releasing, moving up, clamping and releasing, moving up.  Spinning around on that thin strong rope while executing this process adds to the tension and increases the strain.  We did not have a “sit harness” with a carabiner and separate Jumar ascender clamp that would have allowed us to pause, sit with our weight on the third Jumar, giving our legs a rest.  Lesson learned.

Jim made it to the hole in the floor above and, with noticeable grunts and groans, heaved himself over the ledge onto the “First Landing”.  Soon he was out, and with a very faint shout, down came the rope and harness and Jumars.  My turn.

I can remember doing something as I put on the equipment that I had never done before.  I had extra boot laces, quite a bit actually and, as I was carefully putting each boot into the stirrup of its Jumar, I took the extra boot lace and tied it securely around the stirrup and each ankle…so I couldn’t step out of the loop of the stirrup as I climbed.  Then it began.

Each step was a physically and mentally exhausting process, a balancing act and a crushing push to move the clamp up in sync with the corresponding boot. One, two….one, two….all the time, spinning around as the rope disappeared into the inky darkness above.  It was hard, but I finally made it to the ledge above, that shelf of rock where the tunnel headed off in the 45-degree angle and where there were walls, and a floor!

Now, I just had to get those two clamps up and over the rock ledge. Knowing I would need some movement room, I got each clamp up against the other, my hand clenching one above the other.  Since all my weight was on the rope, and the rope was taught and running over the face of the ledge, I’d needed a way to get my weight off the rope for a split-second in order to get the clamps up the rope and over the ledge…there was no way I could push the clamps up the rope and over the ledge with all my weight on the rope.  How do you do that while hanging on the rope you need to get off of?

All I could think to do was to hop.  So I hopped. I hopped again.  When I hopped, I’d push in sync with both legs and hope that the rope would slacken enough to be able to push the clamps up and over the ledge.  Then,  on a third attempt, I pushed with both legs hard and hopped again, and for a moment it seemed to work….and then the rope slapped back against the rock with my full weight…and my grip on both clamps was sprung by the force of the impact of my knuckles with the rock and the Jumars.  I hung there, standing in the stirrups, balanced for what seemed forever ….and then I fell backwards, my nails clawing at the rock ledge as I flipped upside down.  The stirrups caught my boots at the ankles, I snapped to a bouncing stop, swaying in that huge dark chamber….upside down!

My hat and several things from my backpack fell out.  My arms dangled above my head, pointing to the dark bottom of the cavern.  I took a breath.  I was still alive.  What a feeling….that few mili-seconds between when the fall began and actually happened seemed like ultra-slow motion replaying it my mind.  The stirrups saved me.  That little voice that whispered to me to use my extra boot laces to tie the stirrups onto my ankles saved me.  For now, that is.

I was hanging upside down in a dark, huge chamber, no walls to touch – much less see – and filled with bats.  I yelled out to Jim.  He could barely hear me.  Finally he understood, and I could sense his anguish.  There was an urgency to his instructions to keep my head up and to manage a way to prevent blood from pooling in my brain.  Right, that made sense.  I won’t die from a caving fall, I’ll die from a stroke…induced by the pressure of blood on my brain!  Not this guy.

So, I tried being an Olympic gymnast, and pulled myself up the rope to my feet.  Surely, if they could do this on the rings I could, too.  Not in this life!  I was only able to get my head and shoulders up to about my waist height, into an “L” shape, where I could hold onto the rope and let my heart pump some of the blood up to my legs and feet.  This was painful, and I could only hold that position for so long.  Maybe a few minutes of this position at a time was all I could muster, and then I’d have to let go and drop upside down again to rest and catch my breath.  This went on for some time…a long time.

Jim, in the meantime, had rushed back to the campsite where he found the car keys.  Thank God I had not taken them with us on the cave expedition!  He also found the cell phone and grabbed it…a bad signal, maybe better at the crater rim.  I think the Bronco was never the same after Jim’s drive out of  the crater and cross-country through the lava ridges along the flanks of Aden Crater over to the entrance to the fumarole.  He made it, and the car was still running, suffice to say.  He yelled down to me that he was going to attach the trailer hitch to the rope and try to haul me up with the car.  In a minute I felt a tug, then another, and another and I seemed to move up some…enough to get me wondering what I’d do when my feet and legs made the rock ledge first.  They were getting numb and beginning to ache.  Not to worry.  The tugs stopped, and Jim was soon yelling down to me faintly that the rope was fraying on the sharp volcanic rocks…badly.  He had to stop, fearing the rope would break.  That felt bad.

I had been furiously pulling myself up hand over hand to a sitting position for an hour or so.  I was exhausted and my hands hurt, even though I knew I had gloves on.  Maybe blisters were forming, in fact, that was very likely I thought. Great.  Now what?  This was serious.

Jim now had pulled out the cell phone and was trying to reach the “911” service to get emergency help.  The signal was bad, intermittent at best out in the desert so far.  No telling where the closest cell tower was in those days.  The 911 operator transferred Jim to Fort Bliss Army Air Defense Center, our huge base right in the middle of El Paso. The thought was that they had a Med-Evac Helicopter that might be able to help.  No, that wasn’t such a great idea.  Call transfer after call transfer, Jim was on hold for what seemed like an eternity. The battery power was draining fast on the cell phone and we had no car charger.  Finally, a young officer got on the line who seemed to know something.  There was a problem, though.  Just a few months earlier, the main Med-Evac squadron at Fort Bliss had been transferred to Saudi Arabia to prepare and execute Desert Storm.  The crews at Fort Bliss now had been called up from the Army Reserves, and they were new to the area and mostly from North Carolina.  They were lost trying to find Aden Crater on a map…and in the field from air, as dark descended….well, spotting a parked Bronco truck in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert was a stretch.  As Jim was just finishing his explanation of where we were, the battery went dead in the cell phone.

Down in the cave, I knew nothing of this.  All I knew was that it was getting on two hours and I was hurting pretty badly.  That ache in my legs and feet was more pronounced, and my arms and shoulders were cramping from the rope work.  My hands felt like the palms were burning.  My head hurt, it was hard to take a deep breath and I needed to pee.  Yes, I needed to urinate.  Imagine, there you are, hanging upside down, bladder telling you that you needed to void pretty soon.  What would any good Boy Scout do?  Take a piss, of course…so, I carefully arched my back as far away from vertical as I could, opened my fly and let loose as hard as I could…hoping to not have a missed shot. Just for good measure, I clenched my mouth and eyes shut as hard as I could, it seemed to help….and soon I was relaxed again…at least as best I could be under the circumstances.

Jim yelled down to me that he had reached Fort Bliss and a helicopter would be on the way.  I needed to hold on a while longer.  Good…some hope.  I had not had a lot of that down there and was on a rather sobering prayer cycle with Jesus.  It’s interesting looking back on what you ask for in prayer at moments like those.  Only here, those moments went on, and on, and on, and on…interspaced with the serious work of pulling myself into a situp position again.

Three hours or so, and I heard the whoop, whoop of helicopter blades descending.  They had spotted the truck next to the hole and were landing right there above me on the edge of the crater!  God, thank you!  I yelled.  As the engine noise died down I could hear people yelling down at me.  Faintly it sounded like “Hello, are you alright?”  Really?  You’re kidding?  Hadn’t Jim told them anything?  I yelled back something less polite, pretty aggressive, along the lines of get me the frack out of there!  There was more yelling and commotion that I couldn’t discern, and then a strong new voice yelled down…”Sorry sir, we don’t have any ropes or rescue equipment…we’re going to have to call in some other help.”  What?  No….no….no!  I can’t take it!  You’re kidding?  No rescue equipment on a Med-Evac helicopter?

That was the worst time.  I was nearly done. My hope was fading, my body hurt terribly, my hands could hardly hold the rope to pull me up to waist height any more.  As far as I knew, if my brain burst a blood vessel I’d get a shrieking headache and pass out.  Maybe that was best, though.  I relaxed and hung there.  It seemed like a long time passed.  Some energy inside me helped pull that body of mine up that rope every few minutes.  I was dead.  No, I was a zombie.  This was a dying place.  I was face to face with Death for the first time in my life.

Take me fighting, or never take me!  I won’t be that easy, Mr. Reaper…you’ll have to work a little harder.  Thoughts of my children, who would never really know me…and my sweet beautiful wife, Melinda, who would wonder how this stupid thing happened…all crossed my mind.  Then, I thought of Jim…poor old friend, how could he come to terms with seeing his best friend dangle to death out of his control?  He’s an emergency room doctor, but couldn’t help his best friend?  How would he live with that?  How could he tell Melinda?  Time seemed to creep to a halt.  I felt woozy.

Then, a shout from above!  What was that?  Another shout…yes, I’m still here…get me the frack out of here!  It was, as it turned out, a Mountain Rescue Team from Las Cruces (the Mesilla Valley Grotto Club) that usually works the Organ Mountains for hikers stranded and hurt.  They had been called by the State Police, who had been called from the helicopter radio by the Med-Evac Team.  Down they came, though it seemed like another hour it was only half that time before they were at the rocky ledge above my feet, and three strangers/angels were giving me encouraging support and slowly pulling me up by the rope …to finally be dragged across that sweet rocky ledge and be able to lay out flat!  My legs were dead, I couldn’t feel them, numb and painful at the same time.  My feet and ankles, though numb too, hurt like they had been crushed.  My shoulders and arms were blazing with pain and my hands were like pulp under the shredded fragments of those leather gloves.  But, I was alive…

They wanted to strap me into one of those rescue stretchers, but I refused.  Please let me just wait a minute and restore the circulation in my legs…I want to walk out on my own…please!  Half an hour or so later, after several bottles of water were guzzled and a granola bar chewed for energy, I took my first step in five hours.  One rescuer in front and two behind, I slowly emerged to the surface.  Spotlights, flashlights and camera flashes greeted me, as I fell on my knees and kissed the ground!  There was a crowd there…and a reporter from the Las Cruces Sun.  The helicopter crew still was there to make sure all went well.  Back slapping and cheers went round and round.  Jim came up and gave me the biggest hug he’s ever given me…and I knew where it came from.  It was over.  I lived!

Before everyone, I turned to the Rescue Crew chief, handed him my ropes and climbing gear, and said “Here, please take these as a donation…I’m not doing ropes again!”

I invited the crew, rescuers, reporters, Army guys and all, over to the campsite for a beer.  They couldn’t believe it.  Yes sir, let’s tip a cold one together tonight boys…for tomorrow I’ll wish I had.  About eight followed us over the rocky trail back to camp, where Jim popped the tops of several six packs for everyone…my fingers couldn’t do the pop-top, so Jim insisted.  My good doctor friend slipped me several good pain pills as goodbyes were said, and I curled up in my sleeping bag knowing that the morning would have its own surprises, but thankful to God for delivering me that night from an awful experience.

Melinda and I talked about it quietly, and alone after I got home Sunday.  I couldn’t use my hands, nearly all the skin was gone from their palms.  She gently washed my hair for me the next day in the kitchen sink before I went in to the doctor’s office.  Within a few weeks, it was all just a horrible memory.

Today, though, I recognize it as a second chance.  We don’t get many of those…I’m taking this one quite seriously.

Las Cruces Sun News article - May 7, 1991

Las Cruces Sun News article – May 7, 1991

Las Cruces Sun News article- May 7, 1991

Las Cruces Sun News article- May 7, 1991

Las Cruces Sun-News, Sunday May 5 1991 account of

Las Cruces Sun-News, Sunday May 5 1991 account of - 1179032190903



Years later, I have returned to Aden Crater and looked down that hole several times.  My son, Liam, who would never have been born had that day in May 1991 taken a different turn, was with me on one of the more recent trips back.  So was my son-in-law, Joseph Perry, a Captain in the US Army and married to my oldest daughter Bailey.  They know it was a major event in my life.  We talked about it all the way out there, within the crater, and on the way home.  Events such as this are etched in ones memory forever, crystalline sharp.  It is still very real and personal in my recollection for this blog post.  Only I know how close the story came to ending that day, though. I faced Death and I now fear not.

2009 visit to Aden Crater and the, I didn't go in!

2009 visit to Aden Crater and the fumarole…no, I didn’t go in!

Joseph Perry, William (Liam) Etzold and David F Etzold at Aden Crater 2009

Joseph Perry, William (Liam) Etzold and David F Etzold at Aden Crater 2009

Recently, on May 21, 2014, President Barak Obama signed a Presidential Proclamation designating 500,000 acres of remarkably beautiful land in Southern New Mexico as the “Organ Mountains-Desert Peaks National Monument”, the boundaries of which include some of the most interesting geologic and historic locales in my favorite playground of a state.  Aden Crater and its surrounding lava fields, the original “Badlands of New Mexico” per Marty Robbins, is now part of and protected as a National Monument.

Map and Legend of the Organ Mountain Desert Peaks National Monument

Map and Legend of the Organ Mountain Desert Peaks National Monument

A link to the site for the actual Proclamation creating the “Organ Mountains Desert Peaks National Monument” on the White House website:

INHL Logo Globe Grey-Preserving the Past

2013 in Review

•January 24, 2014 • Leave a Comment

The stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 9,800 times in 2013. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Kilbourne Hole

•February 10, 2013 • 6 Comments
(Please click on any photograph for a full sized image)

EL PASO, TEXAS – North and west of El Paso is a giant hole in the ground in the middle of a vast stretch of Chihuahua Desert that covers northern Mexico, most of Southern New Mexico and all of West Texas.  In fact, there are two giant holes right near each other in that great empty desert, both volcanic-rimmed craters amidst sand dunes, cactus, creosote bushes, ocotillo and yucca near the base of the East Potrillo Mountains: Kilbourne Hole and its smaller neighbor to the south, Hunt Hole.  

Between 50,000 and 80,000 years ago the Aden Crater Lava Flow (part of the Afton Lava Flow event) covered the light brown sand dunes west of the Rio Grande Valley with a thick layer of dark brown lava from a series of low-intensity volcanic eruptions.  That lava flow is reminiscent of the ‘a’a and pāhoehoe flows found in Hawaii today – examples of both being readily visible from your vehicle as you drive around the edges of the Aden Crater flow mass to the north of Kilbourne Hole itself.  

Subsequent to that ancient Aden Crater Flow, some 20,000 years ago, long after that layer of lava had hardened into a 100+ square mile, several-yards-thick cap over those ancient desert sands, another volcanic eruption from deep below that desert floor drove a column of superheated water, gas, basalt rock and pyroclastic material through several seismic crustal cracks that run north-south in this region to the surface, bursting through the earlier volcanic cap and begining the formation process of these huge craters we now call Hunt and Kilbourne Hole.  This geologic wonder that we have called a “hole” is technically called a “maar”, however.  

 Devastating eruption of a maar volcano: Ukinrek Maar, Alaska 1977

Devastating eruption of a maar volcano:    Ukinrek Maar, Alaska 1977 (R. Russell, Alaska Department of Fish and Game)

This aerial view toward Ukinrek Maar, Alaska (above) illustrates what the explosive event might have looked like that formed Kilbourne Hole in New Mexico some 20,000 years ago. In this image a lava dome erupted in the 100-meter deep crater during a 10-day eruption cycle in 1977. This maar is about 300 meters in diameter, compared to the 1.7-mile wide Kilbourne Hole crater.

A maar, then, is a low-relief, broad volcanic crater formed by shallow explosive eruptions. The explosions are usually caused by the heating and boiling of groundwater when magma invades the groundwater table from mantle levels deep below the Earth’s crust.  Maars often fill with water to form a lake, making them less likely to be discovered or studied.

In our locally-destructive event near El Paso, steam and pyroclastic eruptions along the Fitzgerald Fault broke through the Aden Lava Flow,  belching destruction over a vast area of the Rio Grande Rift Basin to the south and east – downwind of the craters. Hunt’s Hole, ten miles south of Kilbourne Hole and the Potrillo Maar, even further south on the U.S.-Mexican Border, together threw millions of tons of ash and pyroclastic material into the atmosphere over several hundreds or maybe thousands of years of eruptions.

The Kilbourne Hole maar event itself is huge  in comparison with the Ukinrek Maar event pictured above:  a 1.7-mile diameter hole in New Mexico versus a 300-meter diameter crater in Alaska!  The Kilbourne Hole maar eruption, alone, would have generated a gigantic column of ash and pyroclastic material some fifty times greater than the Ukinrek Maar.  With the additional eruption events at nearby  Hunt Hole and Portrillo Maar, the environment of the West Texas-Southern New Mexico region was dramatically changed. The landscape surrounding the Kilbourne maar and the area within a huge downwind ash swath to the East-Southeast, toward El Paso and Fabens, would have been severely impacted. Today, distinct layers of curious ash-like material are visible within sedimentary layers exposed in the escarpments near Cattlemen’s Steakhouse in Fabens, Texas (in a geologic feature called the San Felipe Arroyo) and along the Interstate 10 route east of El Paso…some forty to sixty miles away.

From what we know of the earliest Native Americans in this region, it is very possible that some of North America’s first inhabitants, the Ancient Ones – who were here long before the Anasazi and migrated from the Northwest into the Southwest Region, witnessed those cataclysmic eruptive events that shaped this volcanic feature and others in the area. One can only imagine the place these stories might have held in their mythology.

Prevailing winds carried the ash clouds Eastwards, towards El Paso and Fabens in the Lower Valley, from the maar fields at the base of the Portrillo Mountains

Prevailing winds carried the ash clouds Eastwards, towards El Paso and Fabens in the Lower Valley, from the maar fields at the base of the Portrillo Mountains

Satellite view of volcanic formations West of El Paso, Texas in Southern New Mexico desert.

Satellite view of volcanic formations West of El Paso, Texas in Southern New Mexico desert.

Detailed aerial of Kilbourne Hole

Detailed aerial of Kilbourne Hole

Throughout my life in this border city, the vast desert area surrounding El Paso has been one of our favorite playgrounds and weekend destinations.  Only about an hour’s drive on washboard-rutted dirt roads west of the city limits, the sprawling geologic formations within the Potrillo Volcanic Field gave us dove, quail, snakes, coyote and rabbits to hunt by day, incredible sunsets in the evenings and inky dark skies decorated with millions of bright stars all night long.  During a full moon, it is so bright you could almost read a book as you sit outside in that beautiful, clear, dry, high-desert air.  After all, we’re at an elevation of over 4,000 feet MSL.  Nighttime brings a chill to that desert air and as much as a thirty degree temperature drop from daytime.

Many a summer and fall weekend during childhood were spent with my cousins (Warren Brown and his sons) and other friends exploring the West Sandhills at the foot of Mount Riley – where Aden Crater, Hunt’s Hole and Kilbourne Hole reside.  A campout among the sand, cactus, creosote, ocotillo and mesquite bushes, sleeping out under the dark desert sky, changes your perspective on life. The stars are almost as tangible as the mesquite wood crackling on the fire.  Having a gigantic 1.7-mile wide geologic feature such as this on your doorstep when you arise at dawn puts a different point of view in play.  When I first knew this crater, I had no concept of the ancient cataclysmic events that had formed it. Back then, the conventional wisdom was that it was a meteor crater.

Oblique aerial view of Hunt's Hole, south of and smaller than its volcanic neighbor Kilbourne Hole

Oblique aerial view of the 1.7-mile wide Kilbourne Hole…Mount Riley is in the center background.

LAte 1960's target practice and hunting along the edge of Kilbourne Hole with Warren Brown and sons.

Late 1960’s target practice and hunting along the edge of Kilbourne Hole with Warren Brown.

Kilbourne Hole panoramic view from south edge - the maar formation stretches to the horizon.

Kilbourne Hole panoramic view from south edge – this maar formation stretches to the horizon.

Occasionally, when walking through the dunes on the eastern edge of the crater, or just below the east escarpment, we stumble upon treasures thrown out of that volcanic eruption so many tens of thousands of years ago: olivine-filled basalt xenoliths.  You have to look carefully to discern these volcanic “bombs” amidst the other volcanic ejecta surrounding the crater.  The surface of the xenoliths containing the olivine treasure looks slightly browner and more ropey than normal basalt lava, and the stones are more round and are very heavy…heavier than the rest of the rocks you might pick up and investigate.

You might also see the remnants of previously-discovered xenoliths glistening like emerald green crystal sand in the sun on the occasional flat rocky surfaces…where earlier treasure hunters used hammers to smash them open, hoping for those rare large olivine crystals that can be cut to produce the exquisite Peridot semi-precious stone.  Kilbourne Hole is one of only a few places on Earth where peridot of gem quality can be found absent heavy mining operations.

Olivine-filled Basalt Xenolith, Kilbourne Hole, NM

Olivine-filled Basalt Xenolith, Kilbourne Hole, NM     (Photo Courtesy Niranjan Khalsa)

Peridot Gem cut from olivine found within a basalt

Peridot Gem cut from olivine found within a basalt “bomb” from Kilbourne Hole

So, how again did this beautiful and fascinating geologic artifact form?  Kilbourne and Hunt’s Holes are classic examples of a maar crater, as we described earlier, that formed as a result of the explosive interaction of hot basaltic magma carried up from deep underground with groundwater during a volcanic eruption. When a steam-saturated eruption column forms during an explosive event and then gravitationally collapses, a ring-shaped surge of ash and pyroclastic material (a super heated water-ash-rock slurry) travels radially outward from the central vent along the ground.

The stratified, cross-bedded pyroclastic surge deposits surrounding the crater at Kilbourne Hole are spectacular and were formed as a consequence of such explosions from the center of the large crater, each explosive event forming beds of material in differing cross-layers full of small “volcanic hailstones” called lapilli.  The area surrounding the rim was pelted by basalt “bombs” containing the mineral olivine thrown up from those deep underground eruptions, layered between ash and pyroclastic surge material.

Kilbourne Hole-cross section

Geologic cross section of Kilbourne Hole

These basalt lava flows, very similar to a’a lava in Hawaii, erupted between 50,000 to 80,000 years ago through a set of vents called the Afton Cones (the Aden Crater and Black Mountain lava formations) located north-northeast of Kilbourne Hole, and flowed southward covering the present area around Kilbourne and Hunt’s Holes below the East Potrillo Mountains. The explosion that formed Kilbourne Hole erupted from deep below in what is known as the Fitzgerald Fault, and up through the Afton lava cap, indicating to us that the Kilbourne and Hunt craters are younger than the Afton Lava Flows themselves.  Scientists believe there was a 30,000 to 60,000-year gap between the Afton Lava eruptions and the events that created the Kilbourne and Hunt maars.

Pyroclastic surge beds and vent-associated breccia blown from those craters (including our precious xenolith “bombs”) overlie the Afton basalt flow.  So does eons-worth of desert blow-sand.  The crater we see today formed during the final stages of that huge maar eruption, partly from collapse of the edges inwards as the magma intrusion deep below subsided, and partially from expelling surface material during the explosive eruption events in the huge column ash and dust these maar generated. Durning the ensuing years, the original crater was filled in slowly by wind-blown sand.

Kilbourne Hole-surge beds

Dramatic horizontal multi-colored layers of different textured grains illustrate the various surges of pyroclastic flow from the crater.

To get a good glimpse of these pyroclastic strata, walk around the east rim of Kilbourne Hole, starting from a large cleared area just off that long ranch road you just rode for an hour and half of rutted washboard adventure out of El Paso.  As you face the crater, walk left around the top of the rim.

See the lthick black-brown horizontal layer of basalt lava exposed along the edge of the crater rim, broken off and tumbled down the slope into the crater itself?  That dark brown layer is the Afton Lava Flow which once covered the desert surface for miles around in several feet of lava, and pre-dated the explosions that created the crater.  Eons ago, and deep below that lava covered surface, magma-heated steam, sand, rock and ash surged to the surface and broke through in a series of large cracks, spewing pyroclastic emissions into the air – spitting chunks of the Afton basalt lava surface all around.  

One stunning gift today of that cataclysmic eruption: olivine-filled xenoliths thrown from that boiling caldron.  Those layers of surge flows and their treasures are now exposed above the dark lava edge of Kilbourne Hole.  Notice carefully the texture and makeup of the soil at your feet and the colors and textures of the layers in the exposed sediments as you wander around the rim trail to your right.  They give clues about the makeup of each explosive eruption.  That “cauldron” is now the present crater you are overlooking, almost 1.7 miles across – an artifact of a huge regional tectonic feature called the “Rio Grande Rift System”.

Look at the texture of the grains in those multi-colored bands, notice the occasional layer of “volcanic hail stones” – small light round spheres of ash material formed in the furious rush of updrafts and downdrafts created by the volcanic eruption and pyroclastic flows.  Once in a while you might come across a large lava bomb embedded in those layers of surge flows.  You might observe how its mass penetrated and deformed many layers of the surrounding sands, thereupon being buried itself by subsequent layered flows. You might even be fortunate enough to find a xenolith, untouched since landing in the ejected tuff and pyroclastic outflow around the crater, waiting eons for someone to open and find it’s glorious green olivine crystals inside.

A huge volcanic “bomb” thrown out of the crater during an explosive event landed in the soft pyroclastic surge beds tens of thousands of years ago…deforming the surrounding layers…and being buried by subsequent pyroclastic surge layers in due course.

Kilbourne Hole is unique because of the remarkable abundance of both crustal and mantle (peridotite/olivine-bearing) xenoliths found in basalt bombs ejected during the eruption and scattered throughout the area.  Xenoliths are inclusions of rock made from pieces of once-molten mantle and crust, that were incorporated into the hot magma as it moved from a depth of about 40 miles (60 km) to the surface. Once ejected, the core of the xenolith cools, and the longer it takes to cool the larger the crystal structure inside becomes.  Large crystals = long cooling period, and vice versa.

Of course, like the character Forrest Gump was so famously quoted as saying his mother told him in the movie of the same name, you will find that the process of finding and opening a xenolith is a lot like exploring a box of chocolates…”you never know what you’re gonna get”.  

Diagram of forces creating the Rio Grande Rift and attendant volcanic incidents and features.

Diagram of forces creating the Rio Grande Rift and attendant volcanic incidents and features.


Rio Grande Rift and other adjoining large-scale geologic formations of New Mexico, north of El Paso.

Mega-geologic features making up the landscape that cradles this huge volcanic crater are part of what is called the Mesilla Basin.  “Mesilla” (Spanish for “little table”) is a common name for many places around the Northwest El Paso-Las Cruces corridor.  Another geologic basin adjacent to the east and separated from the Mesilla by the range of the Franklin Mountains, is called the Hueco Bolson (Basin).  Both basins provide deep and abundant sources of drinking water for the communities nearby.  

These basins are part of a series of linked basins between central Colorado and west Texas that began to form about 36 million years ago when the earth’s crust extended or stretched in an east-west direction here.  Normal faulting associated with this kind of crust extension and thinning led to the development of these deep basins and prominent rift-flank uplifts, producing this continental-scale tectonic feature now known as the “Rio Grande Rift“.  The Franklin and Organ mountains to the east and the East Portillo Mountains to the west of Kilbourne Hole are examples of rift-flank uplifts in our region of New Mexico and West Texas.

The rate of rift-flank uplift and basin subsidence likely peaked between 4 and 10 million years ago. Crustal thinning during extension periods tends to trigger volcanic eruptions, which is exactly what happened in this region of Southern New Mexico. The crust thinning triggered a series of significant volcanic events up and down the Rio Grande Rift system, creating a north-south volcanic rift. The basalt lavas at Kilbourne Hole are on the eastern edge of the large Potrillo volcanic field, which was intermittently active between 1.2 million and 20,000 years ago.

Twenty thousand years is not that long ago, geologically speaking.  This youthful volcanism suggests that the Rio Grande rift extension process is still active in this region.  The more than 100 vents of the Potrillo volcanic field are aligned along older faults. However, Kilbourne Hole, Hunt’s Hole, and the Potrillo maar are aligned along the newer Fitzgerald-Robledo fault system.  

Extension of the crust in this part of the Rio Grande Rift began about 36 million years ago. Rock debris that eroded from the developing rift-flank highlands, as well as wind-blown and playa-lake deposits, accumulated in the subsiding Mesilla Basin – the area between the north-south mountain ranges where the Rio Grande flows today. These basin-fill deposits of sand, clay and silts, known as the Santa Fe Group, are 1500 to 2000 feet thick beneath Kilbourne Hole today. The uppermost sand, silt, and clay of the Pliocene to early Pleistocene “Camp Rice Formation”, the youngest unit of the Santa Fe Group in this part of the basin, are exposed for us in the bottom of Kilbourne Hole. The Camp Rice Formation was deposited by a south-flowing braided river that emptied into a playa lake in the vicinity of El Paso. That huge ancient playa lake which extended for hundreds of square miles has generally been referred to by geologists at the University of Texas at El Paso as “Lake Cabeza de Vaca“.  

The La Mesa surface, a flat surface that developed on top of the Camp Rice Formation, represents the maximum basin fill of the Mesilla Basin at the end of Santa Fe Group deposition about 700,000 years ago. This “La Mesa Surface” is about 300 ft above the modern Rio Grande floodplain, and is the “escarpment” or “West Mesa” that we see today from El Paso or Las Cruces as we look across the Rio Grande toward Santa Teresa and Mount Riley to the west.  This surface formed during a period of landscape stability, meaning during a time of relative volcanic quietness. The present Rio Grande course is eroded from the 700,000-year old La Mesa Surface that stretched across our Upper Valley.

Basalt flows from the Portillo volcanic field are layered within the upper Camp Rice Formation and lie on top of the La Mesa surface.  The material we know that makes up west El Paso’s alluvial fan formations is eroded and layered deposits from that same playa period. The Rio Grande started to cut down through those older Santa Fe Group deposits some 700,000 years ago in response to both climatic changes and connection of the upstream river system with the Gulf of Mexico as Lake Cabeza de Vaca was breached and drained southwards.  This downcutting was not a continuous process; there were several episodes of downcutting, back-filling, and renewed incision. The episodic development of the Rio Grande system led to the formation of several terrace levels along the river between Las Cruces and El Paso that can be easily identified today.

Historically, the area we know so well around Kilbourne Hole could have been part of El Paso and Texas, but by the stroke of a pen between politicians far removed from the region.   On the east side of the Rio Grande, the Franklin Mountains and the city of El Paso are now part of the State of Texas, whereas the Potrillo Mountains and Kilbourne Hole, on the west side of the Rio Grande, are in what is now New Mexico – a historic addition to our country that was part of the original Gadsden Purchase from Mexico, one of seven major territorial expansions which created the United States that we know today.  

Gadsden Purchase shown in relation to Kilbourne Hole area west of El Paso

Gadsden Purchase shown in relation to Kilbourne Hole area west of El Paso

The Gadsden Purchase of 1853 is remarkable in that the United States purchased a strip of land from the Mexican government along the U.S. – Mexico Border for $10 million at the time (equivalent to $279 million in present day terms), today that land is part of New Mexico and Arizona and begins on the extreme west edge of Texas at El Paso, marked by International Boundary Marker No. 1 on the west banks of the Rio Grande near the former ASARCO plant at Executive Center Boulevard and Paisano Drive.

International Boundary Marker No 1 on the United States-Mexico Border at El Paso, marking the Southeast corner of the Gadsden Purchase of 1853.

International Boundary Marker No 1 on the United States-Mexico Border at El Paso, marking the Southeast corner of the Gadsden Purchase of 1853. The former ASARCO smelter main stack (828 feet tall) can be seen in the background, now demolished.

This territory grab was intended to assist the construction of a southern transcontinental railroad route (now the Union Pacific Railroad), taking the easier way westwards by traversing the Continental Divide south of the difficult passes of the Rocky Mountains to the north of El Paso, and just skirting the Afton lava beds we know so well at Kilbourne Hole and Aden Crater.  The train whistles still echo across those vast Western sandhills today. 

Winter Dust Storm on the Mexican Border from NASA Aqua satellite February 20, 2013

Winter Dust Storm on the Mexican Border from NASA Aqua satellite February 20, 2013

North Franklin Peak, El Paso 12 1 2009

Snow-covered Franklin Mountains and alluvial fan deposits in Northwest El Paso, looking north.



On May 21, 2014 President Barack Obama signed a Proclamation designating the area around Kilbourne Hole and other nearby regional historic and geologic features as “The Organ Mountain Desert Peaks National Monument“.  Now, over one-half million acres of Southern New Mexico land are protected for posterity.  Though the National Monument is made up of three distinct non-abutting regions, together they form a huge historical natural canvas that speaks to us of the remarkable time-line painted in this portion of the Chihuahua Desert.

Here is a link to the White House website and a copy of the actual Presidential Proclamation:

Map and Legend of the Organ Mountain Desert Peaks National Monument

Map and Legend of the Organ Mountain Desert Peaks National Monument

INHL Logo Globe Grey-Preserving the Past

B-36 Crash – Franklin Mountains 1953

•July 8, 2012 • 55 Comments

EL PASO, TEXAS – Nine human lives, the largest intercontinental bomber in the world and a 7,000-foot urban mountain range fuel a $4,000,000 Cold War mystery.  Lost in a horrendous crash into the Western slopes of the Franklin Mountains during a dust storm-infused early-season blizzard in December 1953, the wreckage of a U.S. Air Force B-36D was shredded across the steep terrain as the booming explosions echoed between the mountains on each side of the Rio Grande flowing through the Pass of the North.

Only known photograph of B-36 circling over Central El Paso before the crash

An investigation was undertaken by the Air Force which wrapped up on January 26, 1954 with an official full Accident Investigation Report submitted by the Inspector General’s Office (see images below).  The report contains some interesting information including medical reports, citizens who witnessed the final, low flight path over Downtown El Paso and back into the clouds, statements by air controllers of the final radio communication between the ground and the aircraft, and a few grainy photographs and maps used as evidence during the investigation.  Tragically, the conclusion was “pilot error” including an unfamiliarity with the geography of the El Paso region and use of VFR versus IFR approach.  But, then, how many cities have a 7,000-foot mountain range running right down their center?

Cover Page of Accident Investigation transmittal and conclusions.

Cover Page of El Paso B-36 Accident Investigation Report with several conclusions.

Crash Site photo from USAF Accident Report showing the burn scar across the flanks of Mount Franklin from the crash.

B-36D Crash Site photo from USAF Accident Investigation Report showing the burn scar across the flanks of Mount Franklin.

El Paso B-36 Crash Accident Report - Page 1

El Paso B-36 Crash Accident Report – Page 1

El Paso B-36 Crash Accident Report - Page 2

El Paso B-36 Crash Accident Report – Page 2

Pieces of the giant plane and other artifacts, still strewn across the rugged mountainside at about the 6,000-foot elevation, bear testament to a terrible tragedy that took place during the height of the Cold War.  This aircraft was designed for one purpose: to deliver huge nuclear warheads to Russia from bases within the continental United States.  It could fly without refueling for nearly two days, and held a record of sustained non-stop flight on a mission that lasted 45.3 hours.  The huge bomber’s nickname was the “Peacemaker”… as in “carry a big stick”.

It could load one of the immense Mark 17 bombs, a 40-Megaton Thermonuclear (Hydrogen) bomb, which would not fit into the B-52 years later without modifications.  The technology was cutting edge for the time, the first of its kind.  The airframe was made of magnesium with an aluminum skin.  It weighed over 400,000 pounds without bombs.  Before the advent of intercontinental ballistic missiles, this aircraft was the only way to assure our national security by carrying our most potent weapons to the edges of the Soviet Union, where it would fly just outside of their radar zones in constant rotations of weaponized air crews and their huge planes.

Mk-17m Thermo Nuclear Bomb designed for B-36 delivery

Mk-17m Thermonuclear Bomb designed for B-36 delivery

The crash site is a tough day-hike (two to three hours up, and one or two hours back down) from the top of Stanton Street, where an El Paso County Historical Commission Marker was recently dedicated in honor of the 60th Anniversary of the crash incident, in West Central El Paso.   You can also wind your way by foot from the end of Kenyon Joyce Lane off of North Stanton Street, up through the North Palisades Canyon (next to the Jewish Temple Mt. Sinai and the Camelot Condominium project) and on up to the Jeep trail and the crash site just under the crest ridge of the Franklin Mountains, behind Crazy Cat Mountain.


Jeep trail above Crazy Cat Mountain, at the toe of the slope before the ascent up to the B-36 crash site in the Franklin Mountains above El Paso.

You’ll find a pyramid-shaped rock along that Jeep trail running along the toe of the steepest slopes…the one used by the El Paso Electric Company to service their big transmission lines that cross over the mountain.  Turn uphill at that big rock marker and scramble up the water courses (we call them Arroyos) which become canyons strewn with boulders, staying away from the lechugilla-infested steep sides.  This will be an unmarked, boulder-hopping, steep, windy climb for the next hour or so.  You’ll come across big pieces of the landing struts and frame of the aircraft soon, as the terrain gets steeper – some surfaces approaching 60% grades at times.  Take care as you climb…both up and back down!

Location of the crash site on the West slopes of the Franklins

If you look carefully around, many artifacts lie scattered amongst the rocks and cactus.  Remember that this area is now part of the largest urban state park in the United States, the Franklin Mountain State Park and artifacts are protected.  Large pieces of landing gear frame, propellers, engines, titanium turbine blades, small pieces of plexiglass from the windows, wire, instruments, and hunks of aluminum skin…some melted into droplets stuck to the rocky slope…all testifying to the horrific impact and raging fires of the crash.

In the photo below, the slight warping bend and discoloration of a Major’s gold oak leaf collar insignia probably bears mute testimony to the devastation which played out at the time of the crash!  The bent titanium jet turbine blades you might spy or the huge broken and bent landing struts all speak to the immense forces at work as the plane stuck the rocky slopes.

Two officer insignia, a Lt. Colonel and a Major, and a titanium jet turbine blade recovered from the crash site.


It all began with a routine ferry mission from the Strategic Air Command Base in Fort Worth (Carswell) to the SAC Base at Ft. Bliss (Biggs Field), located in the flat desert plains spreading out from the Northeast side of the Franklin Mountains in El Paso.  In command of this Cold War pre-ICBM nuclear delivery system: Lt. Colonel Herman Gerick.  By his side, Major George C. Morford as Co-Pilot, from Pennsylvania.  Though the record reflects a huge number of flying hours experience between the flight crew, nothing in the accident investigation report mentions anything at all about the aircraft commander or crew’s background except for one slight reference in the Medical Report of Lt. Colonel Gerick about the possibility of “emotional stress or trauma” from the accident he was involved in six months earlier in England.  More on that strange British B-36 accident with this same crew in February 1953 will appear in a later chapter.

Medical Report from Accident Investigation of Aircraft Commander LTC Gerrick

Medical Report from Accident Investigation on the Aircraft Commander LTC Gerrick

Suffice to say, this Friday afternoon flight to El Paso to bring in a new B-36D for Biggs AFB seemed normal…until they hit a typical West Texas winter dust and snow storm moving down into the high desert from the Rockies. The crew’s plan for a night of fun in El Paso’s sister city of Juarez at the Dog Track or the Kentucky Club would never happen. Their friend, 1st Sgt. Taliaferro who hitched a ride on that fateful flight with them to the Border Town for a good time that Friday, would never see his new daughter born just a month later in January 1954. Neither would Airman First Class Edwin D. Howe see his daughter, Denine, born in August of 1954.

To help set the scene of the moments before the crash as the B-36 approached El Paso from the east, sit back, relax, close your eyes, and listen to a “radio play” recreation written by the author, based on the actual transcripts from the accident investigation and produced by Capstone Productions  Here, then is our interpretation of the final few moments of communication between the crew of AF5003 (the flight number assigned to this B-36D ferry flight) and ground controllers in El Paso and Biggs AFB on that fateful winter day:


Cockpit view of B-36E at Wright Patterson AFB

If you would like to take a 360-degree “virtual tour” of the forward cabin or cockpit of the B-36, please click on this link:

B-36 Forward Cabin layout and detail, note two levels within the cabin.

B-36 Forward Cabin layout and detail, note the two deck levels within the forward cabin.

Actual photo of snow storm descending over the Franklin Mountains, taken one hour before the crash from the Downtown Federal Courthouse roof on 11 December 1953 1:30pm

Actual photo of snow storm descending over the Franklin Mountains, taken one hour before the crash from the Downtown Federal Courthouse roof on 11 December 1953 1:30pm

Witness Statement by C.H. Coffin whose office was on the 7th Floor of the Mills Building in Downtown El Paso

Witness Statement by C.H. Coffin whose office was on the 7th Floor of the El Paso Electric Company Building in Downtown El Paso

It ended tragically with a confused few moments of radio chatter, the surge of the jet booster engines roaring at the tip of the wings, and the groan of the airframe against the pull of the flaps trying to avert disaster as the steep rocky mountainside suddenly appeared out of the winter storm and rushed at the wide-eyed crew through the blanket of snow and dust that had hidden it from their view. It was over before they could do much more than gasp.

Map used in Accident Investigation to plot probable path of AF5003 based on witness Statements.

Accident Investigation map of flight path over Downtown El Paso just before the crash.

George Saucedo at one of the first large wreck pieces encountered on the hike.

INHL Director Multhauf illustrates the massive scale of the front landing strut, with the steep terrain and West El Paso in background.

INHL Director Multhauf illustrates the massive scale of the front landing strut, with the steep terrain and West El Paso in background.

Jim Davison and Chris Multhauf examine a propeller and other big pieces of the wreck at the main impact site…note red crosses painted on rock in background.

One of the B-36D jet engines, with the titanium turbine blades shown closest to camera. Note the blades are bent in a direction indicating the turbine was spinning upon impact.

One of the B-36D jet engines, with the titanium turbine blades shown closest to camera. There are questions whether the turbine was spinning upon impact.

Dave and strut from landing gear looking out over West El Paso

Liam Etzold, Joseph Perry and David at the wreck site with B-36D jet engine.


Joseph Perry and piece of landing gear strut on rugged slope.

Left wing B-36 propeller assembly.

Left wing B-36 propeller assembly.

Yellow-painted tip of B-36 propeller in the left-hand canyon.

Yellow-painted tip of B-36 propeller in the left-hand canyon.

Melted aluminum covers the gears of one of the B-36 propeller shaft assemblies.

Melted aluminum covers the gears of one of the B-36 propeller shaft assemblies.

Hand drawn diagram used in the accident investigation, showing the wreckage dispersal across the steep flanks of Mount Franklin

Hand drawn diagram used in the accident investigation, showing the wreckage dispersal across the steep flanks of Mount Franklin (West is up, North right).

Rescuers Gather at Robinson & Scenic Drive in snow

“Bad things happen when you run out of airspeed,

altitude and ideas all at the same time”

In December 2014 we received communication from Richard Tenglin, a retired military Flight Surgeon who has participated in similar accident investigations and has researched this particular El Paso B-36 crash extensively.


“We have, since 1953, incorporated much “human factors” into accident investigation. Such would have made the report in 1954 much more accurate, I suspect. I spent many hours at the Franklin crash site when I was in El Paso. It is one of too many testaments to what happens when fallible humans involve themselves with complex machines and unforgiving natural forces. I’ve been there, read the report….and I know what happened….I think.

LTC Gerick ran a B-36 out of fuel over England in February 1953 after he missed 3 (IIRC) GCA (Ground Control Approach) tries.”

[His fuel gauge indicating empty, LTC Gerick ordered his crew to bail out as he set the auto-pilot and planned to ditch the huge plane in the English countryside.  Ironically, the tanks had more fuel than indicated and the plane flew on for several dozen miles, almost crashing into a small village.  No one was injured in that incident, thankfully, but one can imagine the accident left him and his crew quite spooked. Some of that crew were on the fateful El Paso flight in December of that year. -added by the author DFE]

“One has to wonder if he felt the guidance from the ground was not good….even in bad weather, GCA landings would not have been a problem for an experienced pilot. He’d done many before.

So on that fateful day over El Paso, he was (inappropriately some say) handed off from El Paso flight control to Approach Control at Biggs Airfield. The controller told him to take a heading of 370 degrees! Gerick responded that there was no such heading, and the controller corrected himself and said 10 degrees.

Now…’s a stressed pilot who lost an aircraft 10 months ago due to (possibly) bad ground guidance….and now he gets an incorrect heading from ground personnel at Biggs. That would not have done much for his confidence for attempting another landing in bad weather.

The B-36 was a notoriously “wet” aircraft, and it was wet outside, and cold.  I suspect he lost his radio coms about that time and went to orbit SW of town to try to fix the problem.

Now, here’s another failure of the official report……it states he crashed while on approach to Biggs field. Nonsense. The aircraft was flaps up/gear up…….the report states this……that’s not landing configuration. I’d bet he decided he’d had enough of El Paso and decided to head up to Alamogordo…..but preflight brief probably didn’t include the “local terrain hazards” part (as PIC, his responsibility) and he plowed into the mountain in the clouds.

Bottom Line:  I think the Official Report failed to fully account for the impact the problems with ground flight control personnel in England had on LTC Gerick’s mind as he attempted to bring the aircraft into Biggs AF in the face of more bad ground guidance, again in bad weather, and failed to understand that the aircraft was not on approach to Biggs AF…..that, when he headed north out of his orbit SW of town, this had likely become an aborted mission due to bad ground guidance, weather, and faulty equipment.”

-Richard Tenglin, Retired Flight Surgeon USAF

                                  IN MEMORIAM:

Aircraft Commander Lt. Col. Herman Gerick, and seven members of his regularly assigned Select Combat Crew:  1st Pilot Major George C. Morford; 1st Navigator Major Douglas P. Miner; 1st Flight Engineer 1st Lt. Cary B. Fant, Jr.; 1st Radio Operator M/Sgt. Royal Freeman; Gunner A/1C Edwin David Howe; Gunner A/2C Frank Silvestri; Flight Engineer 1st Lt. James M. Harvey, Jr.; plus one passenger, 1st Sgt. Dewey Taliaferro

Invitation to 60th Anniversary Memorial by El Paso County Historical Commission 14 December 2013

60th Anniversary Memorial invitation from El Paso County Historical Commission

December 14, 2013 – EL PASO:  On a crisp, clear Saturday morning in Downtown El Paso, families of two of the lost aircrew, Sargent Dewey Taliaferro (pronounced “Tolifer”, the family informed me) and Major George Morford, gathered in El Paso with members of the El Paso County Historical Commission and interested citizens to honor all nine men who perished sixty years earlier in service to their country.  Present at the event were two lovely ladies, widows of two of those lost airmen, supported by scores of their children, grandchildren and other close family.  We gathered at the El Paso Community Foundation facility to memorialize that crew and their mission. Later, we drove up North Stanton Street to dedicate the new Historical Monument installed at the end of Stanton near the entrance to the Camelot Condominium.

One family, the Taliaferro’s were from the Fort Worth area, the home of Carswell Air Force Base and big aerospace plants.  The other family, the Morford’s, came all the way to El Paso from Pennsylvania for the event.  A Military Color Guard from the U S Sargent’s Major Academy at Fort Bliss presented the flags, silence was observed for a moment and the pledge of allegiance began the Memorial Program.  Special guest speaker was the retired Commanding General of Fort Bliss, General James Maloney.  The event was moderated by the Chairman of the El Paso County Historical Commission, Bernie Sargent.


Bernie Sargent introduces the program at the Memorial in the Foundation Room.


The family of aircraft pilot Major George C Morford, from Pennsylvania. Major Morford’s wife Carolyn, at right, passed away in December 2015.  Her son, George, sits to her right.


Mrs. Dewey Taliafero, wife of the unlucky passenger whose friends had invited for a trip to the Border that fateful Friday, and her family at the Memorial Program.

Taliaferro Family-Historical Society Memorial 14 Dec 2013-LR

B-36 Historical Marker Unveil 1-LR

Bernie Sargent, President of the El Paso County Historical Society, helps unveil the new monument.

B-36 Historical Marker Unveil 2-LR

Mrs.Taliaferro reaches for her husband’s engraved name as Mrs. Carolyn Morford and her son admire the newly dedicated marker.

El Paso County Historical Society Marker dedicated to the El Paso B-36D Crash of December 11, 1953

El Paso County Historical Society Marker dedicated to the El Paso B-36D Crash of December 11, 1953

Dewey Taliaferro and David Etzold 14 Dec 2013

Grandson of Sargent USAF Dewey Taliaferro, the unlucky passenger who hitched a ride on the fateful flight to El Paso that Friday afternoon…with the author.

Please take a moment to watch this Capstone Productions video of the actual 60th Anniversary Memorial and Commemorative Event from December 14, 2013 at the El Paso Community Foundation …and later at the Dedication of the Historical Monument placed at the top of North Stanton Street, all sponsored by the El Paso County Historical Commission:

The directors and officers of the International National History League (INHL) wish to offer this record of that fateful flight as a testament to the bravery and dedication of these, and so many other, service men and women who have perished in the line of duty for this country.

INHL Logo Globe Grey-Preserving the Past

Skilled Radio Controlled (RC) modelers recently released a video of the flight of a scale model B-36 RC Plane which we feel captures a glimpse into the stunning combination of mechanical coordination and artistic balance this behemoth represented, the largest flying machine of its time:


Park at the end of Stanton Street, just past the Camelot Condos. Follow the “10,000-Step Trail” up the hill, past the shelter, towards the flanks of the Franklins, until it hits the Electric Co service road that runs along the toe of the slope. Turn right and head south along that Jeep trail, with the mountain to your left.

Large Boulder and David-standing label

The author, David Etzold, in March 2020 at the turn uphill from the Jeep Trail.

It will meander along southerly, until you pass through a wide arroyo coming down from your left, on the right side of the trail is a very large triangle-shaped boulder, turn left up that large arroyo and follow it upslope, bouldering your way up the bed of the arroyo, and choosing either the left-hand or right-hand channel in your ascent.


You’ll know you are on the right track when you come across some large rusted parts of the plane washed down from above.  Keep going. It gets steep.  Spanish Daggers got their nickname for a reason. Finally, about 3/4 of the way up the steep mountain slope to the ridge line you’ll see a very big column of rock with a split in the middle of it, standing all alone maybe forty feet high.  That’s where the plane hit, and someone long ago painted red “x”,s on it…where bodies (or parts thereof) had been found.

You’re there. Below and to the right of that rock column as you face uphill are both the remains of a piston engine and propeller – and the core of one of the jet engines, with titanium blades still bent and broken attached to their collars.

Some think that the bent shape of those blades belies the spinning motion from the turbine or compressor after having been engaged to help lift the behemoth over the ridge…the accident report is silent as to that detail.  It didn’t work, in any case.

UPDATED MARCH 30, 2020 during the Covid-19 Pandemic.

Inca Trail Mystery Solved: Llactapata or Patallacta?

•June 16, 2012 • 1 Comment

INCA TRAIL, PERU – In the vicinity of Machu Picchu there appear to be two locations commonly referred to as Llactapata: one is a site about 5 km (3.1 mi) to the west of Machu Picchu, and visible from the “back side” of those ruins near the Quarry if you know where to look; while the other is a site some 15 km (9.3 mi) to the south east of Machu Picchu, at the confluence of the Urubamba River and the Sisaypampa.  Both sites have been commonly known as Llactapata; both sites have Incan ruins; both sites are on different stretches of an Andean Mountain trail known as The Inca Trail.

The first day’s trek on the classic Inca Trail to Machu Picchu leaves from the main checkpoint and crosses a bridge over the Urubamba River, near a village named Piscachuco on the rail line at Kilometer 82, sandwiched between steep flanks of the Andes and the raging river.  It’s there where the little market sells your supply of coca leaves for the trip in a neat little green plastic bag.  The bridge and checkpoint are down river from the village about a quarter mile.

Bridge over the Urubamba River and Checkpoint at start of the Inca Trail near Piscachuco

Coca leaves, highly recommended for high altitude hiking.

Literature provided by Llama Path, the outfitter/guide we retained, and the research material each of us had read, informed much of the experience we were about to take.  Our guide Julian, who had been a guide for over ten years and walked the trial five hundred times, added another layer of quality information as the trek unfolded.  Julian would pause and explain a vista, a ruin or the plants along the trail in good, but heavily-accented English.  I liked practicing my Spanish with him and the porters in camp and along the trail.

After crossing the bridge, the first day begins with a leisurely walk along the southwest side of the Urubamba River through villages and hamlets, fields and farms.  Uphill from the trail, one can catch a glimpse of herdsmen and flocks on the steep slopes.  The landscape is lush due to the river and the moisture in the air.  We are, also, in the prime rainy season – a fact not lost on us as the miles slipped away underfoot.  Julian points out some gloriously-blooming plants along the trail and tells us they are hallucinogenic. We fell like we have stepped into another world.

Hallucinogenic blooms and misty slopes loom over a surrealistic start to the trek!

Our guide points out a lush, blooming pant covering a small hut on the side of the trail:  The droopy, gorgeous Angel Trumpet (Brugmansia), native to regions of South America, packs a powerful punch of toxins containing atropine, hyoscyamine, and scopolamine.  He attributes hallucinations to the use of this plant, but it is far more than that. As documented in the 2007 documentary “Colombian Devil’s Breath“, criminals in Colombia have extracted scopolamine from the plant and used it as a potent drug that leaves victims unaware of what they are doing but entirely conscious. Scopolamine can be absorbed through the skin and mucous membranes, allowing criminals to simply blow the powder in a person’s face. The documentary is filled with scopolamine-related horror stories, including one account of a man moving all of his possessions out of his apartment (and into the hands of his robbers) without remembering any of it.  This chilling description reminds of the Walking Dead, a real-life zombie poison!

Soon the trail traces up the first of many hills and slopes to come.  There’s a flat mesa ahead of us, part of an alluvial fan that slipped off the steep slopes to our left and was now a hill above the river.  I could see the top had been prepared for planting and there were men working in those fields.

The trail took us up to that mesa and beyond, to what would be our first good view of an Inca ruin from the trail – at the juncture of a stream coming down from the slopes of Salkantay to our left (southwest) and called the Sisaypampa, and the Urubamba River, a strategic spot for an Inca trade and civic center.  We were far above that ancient city, its ruins terraced up the flanks of the pointed hunk of mountain that split the two streams.  Julian gave us a little lecture on the significance of this first “Inca City”, which he called Llactapata, from a beautiful flat bench along the side of the trail.

View from above of the trade and civic center called “Llactapata”

Julian explaining the significance of the location for this Inca city, at the confluence of the two rivers.

There are even official signs painted and placed along the Inca Trail that specifically call the first ruin along the trail after the start at Piscachuco “Llactapata”!

Sign along the Inca Trail

Detail of sign at Inca Trail checkpoint, clearly indicating name of ruin was “Llactapata”!

It wasn’t until returning from the journey, actually a couple of years later, that I uncovered this mystery surrounding the two places named Llactapata.  You see, there’s another ruin in this region with that name.  The other place called Llactapata is also on the Inca Tail, but on a branch far away from the one we were on that day with Julian.  The other Llactapata sits on a ridge with a panoramic view across a valley to Huayna Picchu and Machu Picchu, and isn’t as massive as the ruined city now laid out at our feet.  As far as we knew, and for some time thereafter, these ruins that Julian showed us on the way to Wayllabamba were the Inca ruins known as Llactapata.

However, relying on the accounts from the original discoverer of Machu Picchu, Hiram Bingham, we found that the name of the place Julian showed us should actually be Patallacta!  According to Bingham, who passed Patallacta on his exploratory adventure to find Machu Picchu, this place sometimes is given the name of Llactapata – as evidenced by the photograph above of a sign at a check-point along the Inca trail.  According to Bingham’s writings, Llacta Pata is a descriptive term: “llacta” means “town” and “pata” means “a height”.  Thus, more than one site has been, and is, referred to by this name.  Here was the answer to the mystery!

His associate Mr. Herman Tucker reported that the name of the large Inca ruin next to the Urubamba River was actually Patallacta, commenting that it contained about one hundred houses, a better match for this first major ruin we studied on the trail.  This name was confirmed by archeological work in the area years later by Ann Kindal.

Had we seen this sign post on our journey, it would have raised a few questions and created some interesting conversation, I am sure.  I can’t imagine how we missed it, our photos look to be taken from the same spot off the trail.

Official signpost along the Inca Trail….whoops!

Patallacta was burned by Manco Inca Yupanqui, who destroyed a number of settlements along the Inca road system during his retreat from Cusco in 1536 to discourage Spanish pursuit. In part due to these efforts, the Spanish never discovered the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu or any of its settlements. Above that ruin, were several important sites including Wayllabamba, our night’s destination camp, on the banks of the Sisaypampa.

Map of Inca Trail to Machu Picchu – erroneously labeling Patallacta as Llactapata

The “real” Llactapata was a smaller, more elite establishment, higher in elevation and with better vistas.  The Llactapata on the ridge to the west of Machu Picchu (at: 13°10′32″S 72°35′10″W) appears to be the site originally reported by Bingham as having this name.  Although the site was little explored by Bingham, it was more extensively explored and mapped by the Thomson and Ziegler expedition of 2003.

View East to Machu Picchu from the ridge where the real Llactapata rests.

Topographic Map of Inca Trail

Hiram Bingham first discovered the real Llactapata in 1912. “We found evidence that some Inca chieftain had built his home here and had included in the plan ten or a dozen buildings.” Bingham locates the site “on top of a ridge between the valleys of the Aobamba and the Salcantay, about 5,000 feet above the estate of Huaquina” and said, “Here we discovered a number of ruins and two or three modern huts. The Indians said that the place was called Llacta Pata.”  This is much smaller than the trade center at Patallacta down in the Urubamba River valley.  Bingham did not investigate the ruins thoroughly, however, and they were not studied again for another 70 years.

A mid-2003 study of the site conducted by Thomson and Ziegler concluded that Llactapata’s location along the Inca trail suggested that it was an important rest stop and roadside shrine on the journey to Machu Picchu.  The complex is located some four to five kilometers west of Machu Picchu high on a ridge between the Aobamba and Santa Teresa drainages. Llactapata may have been a member of the network of interrelated administrative and ceremonial sites which supported the regional center at Machu Picchu. It probably played an important astronomical function for the Inca during solstices and equinoxes.

This 2003 Thomson-Ziegler exploration and subsequent investigations have revealed an extensive complex of features related to and connected with Machu Picchu by a continuation of the Inca Trail leading onward through Llactapata and into the legendary Vilcabamba region.  Vilcabamba was a city founded by Manco Inca in 1539 and was the last refuge of the Inca Empire until it fell to the Spaniards in 1572, signaling the end of Inca resistance to Spanish rule.  Extensive archeological work by Vincent Lee, and especially his exhaustive study, “Forgotten Vilcabamba” in 2000, gave further and even more precise confirmation that has made the ruins known as Espíritu Pampa the definitively accepted site of the historical Vilcabamba.

Cusco – Sacred Valley – Machu Picchu Regional Map