After spending 2 months travelling across the States spending only a few days at each destination I found myself longing to stop and settle somewhere for a week or longer just to catch my proverbial breath. I had promised myself that if I found a picturesque and tranquil enough locality I would do this.
The town of Truth or Consequences in lower New Mexico had appealed to me before I had even left England, for the bizarre nature of its name if nothing else. Surely a name that conjured up as many images as this did had to be worth a visit.
The name incidentally comes from a 1940's game show on the radio. The person hosting the show, Ralph Edwards, put out an appeal to ask if any small town in America would be prepared to change its name to that of the game show. The town of Riverbend accepted and every year since Ralph Edwards has visited the town to celebrate the name change, and for the town to have a weekend long party. Luckily for me it coincided with my visit there.
I arrived from El Paso on the bus in the mid morning sunshine. The dusty, quiet streets encapsulated all around by barren mountaintops was a wonderful sight to behold. After spending much of my time in or around behemoth cities this small desert town seemed a refreshing change.
Arriving at the nearby hostel, I was greeted by both friendly, welcoming faces and the realisation that for once, the advertising jargon on the hostel flyer was correct. The hostel truly was located ON the banks of the Rio Grande, not a 10 minute walk away or a short car journey but right there, you could actually see it from the window of the dorms. On top of this there were tepees to stay in if conventional dorms were not your thing, FREE (a word that is often foremost in a budget travellers mind) hot mineral baths every morning and evening and even free breads and cakes. 5 minutes here and I already knew that the 3 nights I had booked would not be long enough.
Having been welcomed like an old friend I soon felt very comfortable and at home. I was given the tour of the hostel grounds, shown Turtle Back mountain (thus named because from a distance it appeared that a giant turtle straddled the mountain top) which provided the perfect back drop to the Rio Grande and promised myself that I would climb it before I left - reassured by the fact that it would only take around 3 hours. The TV room with over 400 movies to chose from gave me the chance to be slovenly if I wished and the barbecue in the garden offered ample opportunity to develop my glutinous side if I so desired.
The town itself was wonderfully quaint. The main street which housed second hand book stores, bric-a-brac shops for hours of perusal, an Indian museum and of course the obligatory bars, was delightful to stroll up and down aimlessly. The cinema which only opened 3 nights a week I personally thought was a fantastic touch. There was one supermarket which, after visiting twice, found me being greeted to hellos and good mornings from all and sundry. Even the local police waved and smiled sincerely every time they passed, not what I had come to expect from the American law enforcement agencies.
A couple of miles up the road was a gargantuan lake called Elephant Butte (yes we did refer to it as Butt Lake!). Reminiscent of Loch Ness, the lake stretched far into the horizon peppered indiscriminately with islands and encircled with sandy beaches and yet more equally sandy mountains. My only criticism was that the lake was man made, caused by a huge dam placed in front of the Rio Grande. This however did not distract from the beauty of the place. Weekdays found the place practically empty and I swam blissfully in its crystalline blue waters with fish-like regularity.
After staying for a week, doing nothing much and thoroughly loving it, time had arrived for the yearly weekend party in honour of Ralph Edwards. Alas for the first time in 50 years Ralph himself could not make it to his own party, the fact that he was well into his nineties perhaps having some bearing on the matter. This didn't stop the townsfolk from celebrating profusely anyway.
The hostel itself had a live blues band and huge barbecue on the Friday night. The band consisted of local talent and it seemed like half of the town turned out to groove the night away and stuff themselves with all manner of slightly charred foodstuffs. The music was funky, the stars themselves seemed to be dancing in the skies and the warmth of the New Mexico night added wonderfully to the ambience. It goes without saying that the alcohol flowed rather freely until the sun decided to rear its head and remind the throng that the evening had indeed come to an end.
Saturday brought with it a plethora of town events and a somewhat worse for wear hostel contingent. In the day time we were treated to the town parade which consisted of horse parades, motor bike and car parades, various farm animals wandering seemingly without cause around the streets and a huge mobile barbecue strapped precariously to the back of a truck. It wasn't exactly Notting Hill Carnival but what they lacked in visual displays the town more than made up for with enthusiasm.
The evening welcomed a fairground and huge (apparently famous but I wouldn't have known differently if it was the same people from Friday at the hostel) country and western band. This time the whole town really did turn out. Stetsons, yeehahs and line dancing were in abundance and it dawned on me that people can actually look cool dressed as cowboys even if they are not Clint Eastwood or John Wayne.
The fairground was a slightly scarier affair. It appeared to have been assembled in less than 10 minutes by blind people and looked like no part of it had seen any repair or restoration since the town originally changed its name in the forties. I swear as I watched the rides turning I could see bolts loosening and chain mechanisms slipping. Suffice to say I didn't bother to risk life and limb actually riding any of these contraptions.
This was small town America incarnate. Unhealthy looking burger stalls, young girls with trails of younger children sprawled out in lines beside them and husbands who had clearly spent too much of their lives eating donuts and drinking beer. Questionable facial hair (both male and female) seemed to dominate many appearances. However all and sundry were friendly enough but every now and again I did get the feeling that I would turn around to see everybody's flesh turn green and for them all to stagger senselessly towards me, arms outstretched, wanting to eat my brain.
The alcohol flowed freely all night (adults and children alike worshipping at the altar of hops and barley) and I'm sure the entire town shared a communal sore head the next day.
Sunday saw yet more fun and frolics, amongst them a plastic duck race down the Rio Grande, a jumble sale cum craft fair at Ralph Edwards park, drumming work shops and tribal dancing in a disused shop, a firework display Guy Fawkes himself would have been proud of and, of course, the obligatory alcohol.
I ended up staying in Truth or Consequences for another week or so after the party, helping out at the hostel and taking more mineral baths than is good for one man and loved every second of my time there. The people I met may well go on to be life time friends and I will without doubt find myself resting along the banks of the Rio Grande again one day. I have to go back if for no other reason than to climb Turtle Back mountain as I never did manage to do it.
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