The Border
Field State Park
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."
Be
warned.
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.