Day 3 -- To Marathon, Texas

It wasn’t an earthquake that jostled the La Quinta Inn all through the night. It was the wind, which has really picked up, racing across West Texas in 40 mph squalls of sand and dust and tumbleweed. 

Our route today took us southwest on I-20 through Midland and Odessa, the heart of oil country and, quite possibly, the armpit of West Texas. For miles and miles along the interstate, there is nothing but trucking outfits and industrial supply warehouses set against a khaki landscape, under a chalk-colored sky. With the blasts of sand across the interstate, visibility was abysmal. More than once we got caught up in a complete, momentary white-out – and if this has ever happened to you while moving at 65 mph on a busy freeway, with no way to know what happened to the car in front of you or the tractor-trailer that was in your rear-view a minute earlier, you know it’s sheer-fucking-terror.  

In Odessa, we detoured off the freeway to check out Ratliffe Stadium, where the football games in “Friday Night Lights” were filmed. In real life, this is the home field for the local high school teams, the Odessa Bronchos (they spell it with a “C”, too!) and the Permian Panthers, as well as the University of Texas Permian Basin college team. We were astounded to learn that the stadium has nearly 19,000 seats – for a high school stadium! With the wind practically knocking us sideways, we strained to see past the locked gate at the parking lot entrance for about seven seconds before jumping back in in the car and continuing our journey.
 
In the early afternoon, we arrived in Marathon -- the gateway to Big Bend National Park and a absolute oasis compared to the Midland-Odessa wasteland. With a population of 410, this quaint village is not much more than a bank, a post office, a small grocery store and the Gage Hotel – a century-old Mission and Spanish-style property that includes 47 rooms and casitas, a pool and spa, a renowned restaurant and bar, and a 27-acre landscape arboretum, the Gage Gardens. 
 
As I was planning this trip, I came across this article, “Restaurants Worth the Journey,” which mentioned the “simple and hearty hospitality” of the 12 Gage Restaurant – and that is 100% of the reason why we are here tonight. A charming, historic hotel and a celebrated restaurant in a town that time forgot? That's absolutely my jam. 

Our reservations were for one night in the Wilson House, a gorgeous stand-alone suite situated a couple of blocks away from the main hotel property, constructed in solid adobe brick and decorated in sumptuous southwest style. 
 
With about an hour to kill before check-in, Dad and I peeked into the public areas of the hotel – inviting courtyards and handsome lobby rooms done up with "cowboy chic" leather furniture and vintage rugs – then strolled the main street, popped into the market and poked around the hotel’s gallery and gift shop.

 
We were tempted to stop at the barbecue joint down the block and while away the afternoon with a pitcher of margaritas on the pleasant-looking patio. But I had really been looking forward to my dinner at 12 Gage, and I didn’t want to spoil it by day-drinking. So, instead, after we finally received the keys and unloaded our stuff into the suite, we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon at the pool.  
 
Of course, what’s an afternoon at the pool without snacks? So, on the way, we swung into the hotel’s White Buffalo Bar to grab some provisions: chips and guac ... and ... what the heck, sure, a couple of margaritas. Just two. One each. Just to toast our travels. Ours were made with sotol, a locally distilled spirit similar to tequila or mezcal, but made from the Dasylirion plant (known as Desert Spoon) native to the Chihuahuan desert. 

What did I say earlier about day drinking? Pffft. Nevermind that. 

After his first sip, Dad proclaimed this to be a “big boy drink.” Meaning, strong like bull.
 

So, we spent a lovely afternoon at the pool. At one point, I challenged Dad to a news quiz on the NYT app. The loser had to go back to the bar for more drinks. 

 

Perhaps it goes without saying that Dad had to go to the bar. He returned a few minutes later with a couple of glasses of Ranch Water, the unofficial cocktail of West Texas and a drink that supposedly originated at the Gage Hotel’s White Buffalo Bar. Dad makes them at home with one part tequila to two parts chilled Topo Chico, but he reports that he watched the White Buffalo bartender make them with a generous mix of tequila, Cointreau and lime topped off with a scant drizzle -- a mere whiff -- of Topo Chico. 

 
Whatever. I guzzled that down, too.
 
About an hour later, after only two – two! – drinks, Dad and I stumbled back to our casita and ...  um ... fell asleep. I woke up later, barfed my brains out, and then dressed for our 7:30 dinner reservations. 
 
This sleepy little hamlet comes alive after dark. The restaurant was buzzing with people celebrating birthdays and anniversaries, and I'm scratching my head, wondering where they all came from. After looking forward to my experience at the 12 Gage Restaurant for weeks, I ordered the saddest, most bland thing I could find on the menu – a grilled slab of cauliflower – and then spent the evening maintaining a death-grip on the side of our table, to keep my body from sliding under the table and pooling on the floor like a glob of jelly.
 
Two drinks, kids. Ugh.