The Border Field State Park™ Part 1
We finally come to the official gate and entrance to the California Border Field State Park. The first question one might ask is “Does this entrance gate actually provide entrance to the California Border Field State Park?” All we see is a giant sign gently sinking into the mud.
There is no “Ranger Station.” There aren’t even people willing to stop and talk (other than U.S. Border Patrol Agents). There is nothing to be heard except the gentle rumble of the giant SBOO beneath our feet and the distant spashing of “undocumented migrants” wandering through the swamp. The barrier with its attached red stop sign is always there and the barrier gate is nearly always closed.
The good news is that whatever kinds of “bomb things” were dropped here so many years ago, they seem to have settled in. Yes, if it hasn’t already exploded in the last 60 years, it probably won’t now. But who’s to say? This may be your day.
Around us we have vast fields of Indian artifacts. These historic treasures are like diamonds sparkling in the sunlight. Here and then … there … we can see the scatterings of the bleached white shells of tiny sea creatures. These are centered on an area called Lichty Mesa — a name fondly proffered by local environmentalists from the names of the original property owners. Lichty probably spells“another thousand years of grants and federal funding” to those on the government dole.
This Lichty Land is delicately scattered with sea shells and other Indian Artifacts. Ignore all the glass bottles (even at top center of image), this is a … park. Yes … Lichty Mesa is filled with federal grants, apply today!
There are score of narrow trails which lead off in northerly directions but which all begin in Mexico and end someplace … to the north.
On the map to the right you can see some trails marked. These are smuggling trails from Mexico, through the “park” and into the city of Imperial Beach to the north. The red dot locates photograph of the official entrance to the “park.”
The surface texture of these trails is remarkable. While all around, the earth is abrasive to the touch, the silent padding of millions of northward bound feet moving along these narrow paths have crushed the earth into a soft tan powder. Certainly this has helped make the park a quiet place because the thousands of nightly forays northward no longer have the loud crunch-crunch-crunch which can disturb the seasonally nesting birds and small sleeping animals.
Night in the park can be quite interesting. Much of it is illuminated by portable generators to expose the more adventuresome travelers to their audience of uniformed officers. The darker areas fill one with foreboding, emptiness, and fear. For most tourists these places will be the wildest place, the darkest jungle, and the deepest swamp they have ever seen.