On the Border

The fishing boats go out across the evening water
Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border
The wind whips up the waves so loud
The ghost moon sails among the clouds
Turns the rifles into silver, on the border
                                                   - Al Stewart

Today our path kissed the Mexican border and it was quite sobering.  A tall fence of welded iron beams stretched as far as the eye could see.  Along the road, numerous border control agents in white jeeps drove up and down, radios blaring harsh communications from one vehicle to another.  Overhead helicopters flew parallel to the fence, likely looking for illegal immigrants crossing the desert, seeking a better life. 

Strangely enough, the border fence stopped partway up a hill, begging the question of how the fence stops migrants from doing a simple end-around. 





The Chinese proved 3500 years ago that walls won't stop people from invading or migrating.  Now our president seems to think that high technology and billions of dollars will do what heretofore has proved impossible, either by East Germany, Israel, or Korea.  But for each new tack, people trying to enter will come up with a counter, and the arms race will continue.  About all that can be hoped for with a border fence is to deter the flux somewhat. 
In spite of the fence, we did ride through several beautiful canyons with jumbled piles of granite boulders and that made the day.