Loving County is no doubt one of the strangest places in the entire United States. Located in Western Texas, Loving County sits astride the Pecos River (the river being the western boundary) and just south of the New Mexico state line. The county covers about 670 square miles of some of the flattest, bleakest land in North America. Its claim to fame (or notoriety) is its low population: 67 people in the 2000 census. That's 67, as in "sixty-seven"; I left off no zeros. (The 2010 census has the figure closer to 90.) There's quite a history to the county: it was created in 1887 by the Texas state legislature, purely an act of paperwork as apparently no one actually went out there to report back what a bad idea creating a county would be. Getting people to move there basically meant conning them into thinking it was some sort of ranching or farming haven. People would buy the land sight unseen, go out there and realize what a mistake they had made. Most left, a few stayed on. There was considerable corruption within the county government, including the fact most of those in the government lived outside the county. Given the low population and on-going hassles of actually forming a viable local government, the state disincorporated Loving County, and for many years, Loving County did not exist at all except as lines on a map.

Farming this land is impossible: it's a land of soft sand and hard caliche bedrock. Rain falls rarely but when it does, it falls fast and either floods away or sinks into the ground. Groundwater itself is too saline and mineral-laden to be of much use (until recently, locals hauled in their water from outside the county). Ranching proved viable but only if the cattle were spread out among giant properties. The only thing that saved Loving County from complete extinction was the discovery of oil and natural gas. With a lucrative taxable commodity, the county was re-organized in 1931, making it the newest of all of Texas' 254 counties. The population has never risen to any high levels. During boom times the county's population hovered in the 300-500 range. Nowadays the county is the realm of large privately-owned cattle and/or oil-lease sites, such that the landowner really has no need to live there full time. Those that do, do so probably because of the few ranches that still survive, or are employed directly by the county government, or just like the utter isolation. The oil and gas leases bring in lucrative royalties to the landowners, and given the small population, makes Loving County usually one of the top-five richest counties in the nation, going by a per-capita metric.

I've always been interested in these out-of-the-way places and have been aware of Loving County even before I got into this highpointing hobby. I made my first trip here in 1993: while driving from the Guadalupe Mountains back to Interstate-20 in Midland, I made the easy "detour" through Loving County. Oh yes, that's the other thing: there are only two principal routes through the county: state route TX-302 which runs the full east-west length of the county, connecting Midland-Odessa to the city of Pecos (for those who want to avoid the interstate), and a measly FM route that starts in Orla and runs up the west edge into New Mexico. The county seat (and only town) is Mentone, located on TX-302 in the southwest corner near the Pecos River. It numbers less than 20 people and consists of little more than a central square, the modern-looking Loving County Courthouse, some surrounding homes, one cafe, and a few derelict places. The cafe is famous: the Boot Tack Cafe, but on my three visits into the county in my lifetime it has been closed everytime. Bad luck, me.

Once I got addicted to the county highpointing lifestyle, I made plans to visit the Loving County highpoint during my January 2000 visit to the region, driving up from Big Bend into New Mexico. The highpoint is a very indistinct hill way up by the New Mexico border, just a few hundred feet from the boundary. I really had no idea what I was doing. I had maps for the road net leading up from TX-302, a "major" connector to some ranch road about 10 miles east of Mentone. Even from here it was probably 15 to 20 miles one-way to the highpoint area, and still leaving a couple of miles hike across flat, featureless terrain to get there. I drove in about five miles, following the washboarded road until I stopped and decided that this was probably a bad idea and that now was not the time. I knew I wasn't properly prepared, so exited the way I came, writing this visit off as an exploratory scout. At least I knew not to come back this way.

About six weeks later, Andy Martin from Tucson came to Loving County and was successful in visiting the highest point. He came up from Mentone directly, following other "major" ranch roads, and not having a lot of immediate success with the roads or the maps, although in the long term he was successful. His trip underscored the featureless-ness of this terrain and the poor, sandy, confusing road net. You can read all about his report here. Me, I came back in March of 2000 as part of a New Mexico county highpoint run. I had a hunch that some roads in from New Mexico might offer a way close to the highpoint. On the map they were shown as BLM and state lands, at least giving me a more legal way to get close. I followed a series of roads from the city of Jal in New Mexico, going west on NM-128 to Battle Axe Road, then on that road onto a series of lesser, bumpier roads, before getting myself nearly stuck in a big sandy spot. I eased off it in low 4-wheel drive, got back onto the rockier road, and assessed my situation. I was over five miles away from the highpoint, and it was late in the day. I was close enough to make a long walk out of it, but I chose to pass again at this time. I exited the way I came in, at least happier now that I had a viable route to the highpoint for future attempts.

My third attempt proved to be successful. I came back in March of 2001, accompanied by Bob Martin, as we knocked off a bunch of West Texas county highpoints. Bob was interested, and I felt it wise for us to have two vehicles in case one got stuck. The default plan was that we'd hike from where I hit the soft sand the first time, but we hoped to get in closer. We started our journey in Jal at 1 p.m., grabbing some lunch and goodies for the drive and hike. We followed NM-128 to Battle Axe Road, then took Battle Axe Road southwest about a dozen miles, getting ourselves into some pretty remote ranch territory. As is typical for these areas, you see nothing for a few miles, then 8-foot high "no trespassing" signs promising things worse than death to those who do not comply. I had the USGS 1:100000 "Jal" map which was essential to negotiate these remote roads, as well as showing us the land-ownership status. The roads are all public right-of-way. We got to the sandy section where I got myself nearly stuck last year. Now we were both entering onto virgin territory.

After inspecting this sandy section more, we felt it was short enough to manage if we kept up the momentum, and we both passed through it successfully, coming to an unlocked gate. We passed through, turned right (southwest again) and went through another gate. The next section was the crux: a section of road with its bedrock exposed, as well as some hefty oil pipes, requiring us to pass through, avoid the pipes and lean at about 25-30 degrees tilt. That part was short, but once past it, we had no problems other than very soft sand. We rumbled forward at about 10 m.p.h. through this sand for another two miles, coming to yet another fence and gate (all unlocked). Passing through this gate, we went south, paralleling the fence, then came to another fence, this one on the Texas/New Mexico state line. We went right and paralleled this fence some more, eventually parking to within about 3/4-mile of the highpoint. The hard part was all done. Now it was just a leisurely hike from here.

We got our boots on and walked along the state-line fence heading west, staying on the New Mexico side, trying to align ourselves with the longitude of the highpoint that I had entered into my GPS as a waypoint. Once we had done that, we scooted under the fence into Texas and walked south through the low, scrubby dunes, walking by sight a couple hundred yards to what seemed to be the high ground. My GPS helped considerably, and we zeroed onto the highpoint after a few minutes. We found Andy's wooden marker from a year ago strewn aside, so we knew we were at the right spot. It was interesting to consider someone had actually been here to this very spot between Andy's visit and our visit. We took some photos and walked some immediate humps "to be sure", but it was clear we were at or very near the highest point. After all that effort to get here, reaching it was very simple and anticlimactic. The hike and drive out went quick, and we were happy to be past the sand and back onto rockier, more sturdy road. We were back in Jal by 5 p.m., time to do one more county highpoint up in Gaines County, Texas.

We were both glad to have this one in the books. We felt afterwards going with two vehicles, both 4-wheel drive capable, with shovels and other extraction devices, was a good idea. We didn't need them but it is very remote, sandy and bleak out this way. I doubt these roads see more than one or two people a day.

Here are some interesting links about Loving County:

• The Handbook of Texas Online

• National Geographic article