Dust. You get within a mile of the border and you can smell and taste the dust.
The dust is inevitable. The Border Patrol drags thousands of miles of California roads and trails every night with appliances that are pulled along behind various vehicles. Jeeps, Hummers, 4wd Pickups, ADVs and Quads. They drag so that it makes footprints easy to see. If they see footprints heading north the chase is on. Every single day of every single week of every single month…
Every surface that isn’t washed every day holds talcum fine dust. It’s just everyplace. Even when it’s washed off using precious water the dust forms pools and puddles that soon dry out and make more dust as the day wears on. There is no escape.
It’s less than 350km from end to end, the border between Califonia and Mexico. Call it 225 miles by road. The portal towns are vibrant and alive, with traffic streaming both ways. The Wal-Mart in San Luis, Arizona is one of the busiest in the entire chain. Rents are incredibly high for shop spaces surrounding the border on the American side. Surprisingly good restaurants, particularly Mexican and Chinese Restaurants abound.
The Chinese restaurants are a function of past California history. After bringing hundreds of thousands of Chinese to farm and mine the newborn state in 1885 the state decided it was time to do something about the immigrant problem so they simply made it illegal to be Chinese. A huge number fled to Mexico. It is not abnormal to hear Mandarin, Spanish and English in the same conversation there.
It’s different this time around. In today’s Southwest the culture has a definite Spanish influence throughout. The 2020 census will show Hispanics to be the majority population in Arizona. Bilingual is not a theory here. If you don’t know some Spanish or English you are going to be handicapped no matter what you do. Most of our early written history involves Missions brought here by people of Spain.
Crossings at Mexicali and Tijuana often feature multi hour waits. Every vehicle is looked at, sniffed by a dope dog, and checked electronically. The smaller ports at San Luis and Tecate are just as thorough. There is simply no way to slip across.
Still they come. They are looking for an improved life that simply is not available to them in their home country of Mexico. They aren’t looking to take over anything, they just want a job where they are paid. They want something better for their children and grandchildren. They lust for our pay scale, our education system, our health care. The vision of their children being able to grow and prosper according to their own efforts is akin to Nirvana to them. So they come, legally or illegally.
The illegal immigrants are not the only reason for the wall. America’s insatiable desire for drugs of all kinds is part of it, and they are often combined. The cartel will give you the SUV and money if you will just haul one load of dope across the border. It’s just a numbers game that 10% get caught. 90% don’t. The profit margin makes that an acceptable loss.
image courtesy the author I phone 6+
The towns roll off my tongue as I ride along. Jacumba (Huh-come buh). I seriously considered moving to Jacumba several years ago. Manzanita. Boulevard. Campo, partially on a reservation and home of a great railway museum and a serious private truck collection. Potero. Tecate is a couple miles off the main road. Barrett Junction, home of one of the all time great breakfast buffets on earth. Served on the weekends only. Dulzura. Otay Lakes and you are in San Diego.
Jacumba is a mere shadow of it’s former self. When they put up the wall it literally divided the town and if you are south of the wall it is a 30 mile drive to get to the American half of the town. Why bother?
The border is militarized here. The Border Patrol and Immigration and Homeland Security all have a large presence here. You can’t even ride through the town without feeling you are being watched. Because you are.
image courtesy the author I Phone 6+
Jacumba used to have a vibe to it, a feeling of community. It’s a really small place, a gas station out on the freeway and a general store right on main street. There are hot springs here, and the town sits high enough to get some relief from the brutal summer temps on the valley floor. There is an old school Spa with a good restaurant that is still hanging on.
What ever vibe that Jacumba had once is gone, enveloped by the dust. The airport is not only closed but barricaded. All that’s left is a building that once housed a couple of businesses and a lonely sailplane beside the runway.
If Manzanita isn’t dead, the demise is expected soon. There is just nothing left here at all.
As you get closer to San Diego the look improves. There is money here, in flight from the crush that is San Diego. There are really big houses and estates, and some business to go with it. Campo is well, if not flourishing. There is a really large Border Patrol presence along here, and those people have to live someplace. Where they live, they spend money. Where they spend money the communities thrive. Some win, some lose.
In many places, the border zone resembles an armed camp. Border patrol stations all have tall chain link fences and concertina wire. It really does resemble an armed camp because it is.
One thing has changed. There used to be a fleet of white busses continuously moving up and down Highway 94. They were detainee busses. Every time somebody was thought to be an illegal immigrant or dope smuggler they were loaded up and taken to a central facility for identification and processing. The numbers are down enough that the busses no longer run all the time.
I don’t know any answers, the questions are way above my pay grade. All I know for a fact is that the southern border of the United States has changed drastically in the last 20 years and that it isn’t a lively and vibrant place like it once was.
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