By: Yann and sod

Some of us have been enjoying the interesting posts about our region on a Facebook page titled Colmexhoma, USA. (Colorado+New Mexico+Oklahoma) Kent Brooks and I thought the creator must be from Boise City, OK, or Clayton, NM, or somewhere south of us, and that we needed to get acquainted with this fellow lover of our local history. This is the story of that encounter. 

On Dec. 22, I was surprised to see Colmexhoma’s post about Lycan and Buckeye. I shared some information about the two locations, thinking he was local, and gave him my phone number, suggesting he call me and we would meet when he traveled to Baca County.

Colmexhoma’s response:  

“Thank you, Steven. It will be a pleasure to meet you (and Kent [Brooks]), although I’m afraid not anytime soon, since I live in France, sadly quite far from Baca County! Hopefully, before the end of the decade… If you’d like to learn a bit more about me and how I became passionate about “Colmexhoma,” read this post.”

— 11/30/2025 Colmexhoma post – an excerpt: 

In the summer of 1988, I was 22, traveling with a friend—a great guy who, unfortunately, passed away a few years later. Our goal was to walk and photograph what remained of the Cimarron Cut-Off of the Santa Fe Trail, from the far southeastern corner of Baca County all the way to Rabbit Ears Mountain in New Mexico. And that is exactly what we did. But in fact, the trip quickly went far beyond that initial plan. We discovered a region that was both discreet and fascinating, full of little-known stories, and inhabited by people who were, without exception, welcoming, generous, and helpful.

We arrived in Campo late in the afternoon on a Greyhound bus. It was the first High Plains village we ever visited. We had dinner at a small, very friendly restaurant, where an equally friendly waitress recommended a small motel just south of town. We had planned to camp out on the prairie, but exhausted after two or three days of nonstop travel, we decided to follow her advice. The motel was run by a welcoming, sharp-witted man named Mr. Fairchild, who could hardly believe he was hosting two Frenchmen who had come from nowhere. (To be honest, we could hardly believe it ourselves: three days earlier, we had still been in France, and now here we were, in Campo, Colorado.) We were the only guests at the motel that night. 

After dropping off our bags, we wandered around Campo and its surroundings until sunset. We were captivated by the distant silhouettes of the mesas, as well as by the quiet little streets that drifted gently out of town and disappeared somewhere into the prairie.

Although we had planned to turn in early, we ended up spending a good part of the night talking, laughing, and drinking beer with Mr. Fairchild, as if we had known him for years. His small, slightly out-of-the-way motel — covered in peeling green paint and flanked by soda vending machines — embodied, all by itself, that understated, unpretentious, yet deeply charming Old West we would fall in love with over the weeks that followed.

We left the motel the next morning. An impossibly pure blue sky stretched across the prairie. We headed toward the southeastern corner of the county… but that’s another story. I believe that little motel is now abandoned — has been for many years, in fact…

In Kenton, we stayed first with the local Methodist pastor, then with a kind elderly man whose garden was dotted with dinosaur tracks, and finally with a young couple living in an isolated house near Robber’s Roost, along with a small menagerie that included, among other creatures, a raven and a ferret. 

One evening, we were interviewed by a journalist from the “Boise City News”, and later invited to dinner by a family from Kenton at their home. Knowing we were French, the lady of the house — a lovely woman named Marietta — took great pains to prepare a four-star meal, convinced (quite wrongly) that two hungry French travelers could not possibly be satisfied with something as simple as a hamburger and a salad.

We spent 11 days in northwestern Cimarron County, including 8 days in or around Kenton and one evening in Clayton, NM.

–sod: 

What? “Colmexhoma” lives in France! I looked at the dates that he had visited our region and sent him this enthusiastic reply.

“Colmexhoma, after reading your post, I am convinced that you may have spent a night with my family in 1990. I had been a hired hand at Hefley Ranch west of Walsh, and while I worked there, Fred Hefley hosted an agricultural exchange student from France, Lionel LaTouche, who spent the summer working for us in 1985. We had the best time together. I enjoyed his French ways, and we became great friends. After Fred’s father passed away, Fred sold the ranch, and I moved back to my childhood farm home.

That same year, as I was leaving Springfield on Hwy 160, and just past the railroad tracks, I picked up a hitchhiker I recognized as a Frenchman because he was dressed like Lionel. After 35 years, I have forgotten his name, but not his story. I have retold it for years. 

He was a young Frenchman fascinated with the Santa Fe Trail. He had saved to come to America to explore the area around the Cimarron Cut-off. He was on his way home by way of Kansas. It was not out of my way to take him the 30 miles to Saunders. I remembered that he smoked those powerful French cigarettes, like Lionel LaTouche. 

He asked me to drop him at Saunders, but by the time we arrived at my road 56, it was getting dark. By now, we knew each other well enough that I couldn’t just drop him off to sleep beside the road, so I took him home, much to the surprise of my wife. I think Jan fixed her famous pizza for supper. We kicked our oldest son, Eric (7 at the time), out of his room, and the Frenchman spent the night in our humble trailer house. The next morning, I took him to Saunders, got him a ride in the back of a friend’s pickup, and we waved goodbye to each other as he disappeared down the highway.  

If that wasn’t you, Colmexhoma, I would be shocked. Do you remember that? How many Frenchmen spend their lives interested in this remote part of the globe, walk stretches of the Santa Fe Trail, and then post stories about this region on Facebook? [I called and asked my three sons if they remembered the Frenchman staying with us. The younger two could not recall, but Eric remembered because he gave up his bed.]

–Colmexhoma: 

‘This is incredible! After seeing your photos on Facebook and noticing that you live in Walsh, I was about to ask whether you might be the man who so kindly hosted me in that area back in 1990… I have very fond memories of my short stay with you. I clearly remember being fascinated by how close your home was to the Kansas border! ….. I’m now certain that we’ll stay in touch — and that we’ll meet again someday!” – Yann

–sod:

WOW!!! WOW!! That IS incredible. I am so excited that you are the person behind Colmexhoma. All of my history friends really enjoy what you post. I am just as excited to meet you again and spend time exploring our history. You are a fascinating person, and your interest in our unique region while you are living in France is unbelievable.

–Yann:

This truly is a Christmas miracle! I now have yet another reason to come back to “Colmexhoma” as soon as possible!

I don’t consider myself a “fascinating” person — I’m just an ordinary guy who was lucky enough to discover a beautiful, welcoming, captivating, and far too little-known region, and who’s simply trying to pay tribute to it through a small Facebook page! 

–sod: 

Just out of curiosity, how and when did you learn to write so well in English? 

–Yann:

I started writing in English when I was about 18, after becoming fascinated by the Cimarron Cutoff of the Santa Fe Trail. The feeling just hit me one day and never let go! Back then, I regularly wrote letters to Oklahoma and Colorado to gather information. I remember having some very interesting exchanges with a lady who worked at the No Man’s Land Museum in Goodwell. Much later, in the 2000s, I began working as a screenwriter for television and film, and I ended up translating American screenplays into French and vice versa. I also took part in the French adaptation of an American crime series. That’s how I eventually reached a solid level in written English. Unfortunately, my spoken English is weaker, as I rarely have the opportunity to hold conversations with native speakers.

–sod: 

The most burning question is when, where, and why you become fascinated with the Colmexhoma region?

–Yann:

The reasons for my fascination with “Colmexhoma” are many and varied… I can’t possibly list them all here, but I can tell you that from the moment I arrived in Campo in early August 1988, I fell head over heels for the region. Those vast, horizonless spaces; that infinite, deep-blue sky; the kindness and simplicity of the people; those quiet little streets fading into the prairie; the mysterious silhouettes of the mesas in the distance; the Native American petroglyphs hidden among the rocks… In barely 24 hours, I was already under its spell! But I think it’s the Cimarron Valley and Kenton that made the strongest impression on me. I couldn’t believe I had discovered such a stunning place in a region so secret and isolated! 

— sod:

You remind me of a quote by a Kiowa Native American poet, N. Scott Momaday, about the American West: “It is a place that has to be seen to be believed, and it may have to be believed in order to be seen.” 

—Yann:

I think my interest in the Cimarron Cutoff dates back to a long trip I took with my mother when I was 7 or 8. To keep me calm during the journey, my mother had bought me a few comic books, and one of them mentioned Oklahoma and the Santa Fe Trail. I suppose that in my mind, those two names — both exotic and intriguing — became linked, and that when I began researching the Trail much later in life, I was naturally drawn to the section that crossed Oklahoma… Yes, it’s strange, I know, but I can’t think of any other explanation for my fascination with the Cimarron Cutoff…  

Thank you again for your friendship and your trust — they mean a great deal to me and bring me closer to that small, magical territory that has come to play such an important role in my life! 

–sod:

A few more questions, if you don’t mind.  Why are you intrigued by our recent past, its desolation after the Dust Bowl, its diminishing population, etc, all of which can be depressing at times to those of us whose families have been here over 120 years? Most people would find your surroundings in beautiful green France, dotted with 1000-year-old castles, and rolling hills covered in vineyard much more appealing than an isolated region like Colmexhoma. Don’t misunderstand me, I live here because I love it. Does all the fascination you have for this land mean you are a ‘misplaced soul’ in France?

–Yann 

That’s a very interesting question — one that people close to me have often asked, and that I’ve sometimes asked myself as well, but one I’ve never really tried to answer. When you love a woman, a work of art, or a place, you don’t necessarily ask yourself why you love it: you simply do — and that’s that. 

That said, it is an interesting question, and I don’t want to reply by saying, “I don’t know.” I could tell you that I am, indeed, a kind of ‘misplaced soul’, and that would be sincere — because, believe it or not, there have been times when I felt more at home in Baca or Cimarron County than I ever have in France. But that would be a somewhat lazy and superficial answer.

To the claim made by most traveling through our “fly-over country” that the prairie has ‘nothing to see,’ Yann responds with, “It’s precisely where there’s ‘nothing to see’ that there’s the most to discover! The charms and surprises that landscapes of this kind hold don’t reveal themselves at first glance; you have to linger, observe, and explore patiently to discover them. And when you make that effort, you’re never disappointed. Besides, the prairie is so restful! Only seascapes can — sometimes — rival it in tranquility and serenity.”

–After a few weeks to ponder my question, Yann sent this response: 

WHY I PREFER CARRIZO SPRINGS TO ANY MEDIEVAL OR RENAISSANCE CASTLE, NO MATTER HOW BEAUTIFUL IT MAY BE 

A few months ago, one of my followers (Cheryl Porter, I believe) said to me: “Beauty is everywhere in this world, but there are places, like Baca County, where you have to look for it in order to see it.” That isn’t entirely true in my case, because some of Baca County’s charms jumped out at me immediately, without any need to search for them. Still, the statement rings very true.

In France, beauty and history are almost everywhere: there is no need to look for them, they are obvious, highly visible, and widely showcased in the media. Moreover, the most remarkable natural and historic sites are owned by state or regional authorities, which means they’re open to the public and generally well managed: easily accessible, adequately protected, and maintained when needed (at least in principle).

In Colmexhoma, by contrast, most of the sites I personally find most remarkable — abandoned towns or railroad stops, Indian petroglyphs, traces of the Santa Fe Trail, the ruins of Fort Nichols, Coronado’s signature…. — have to be sought out. They are often located in remote areas and frequently on private land. In many cases, they aren’t mentioned or marked anywhere at all; it’s only by talking with a farmer or a rancher that you even learn of their existence.

I find this fascinating: all these places feel like genuine invitations to investigate, to set out on an adventure, and to step off the beaten path. But I also find it deeply moving: to me, an abandoned site, nearly forgotten and left to itself — even a “simple” ruined village whose history is slowly fading from collective memory – is far more emotionally powerful than a French castle, however ancient and magnificent it may be. That doesn’t mean French castles leave me indifferent. I simply mean that, personally, the ruins of Carrizo Springs, for example, move me more deeply and speak far more strongly to my imagination than a perfectly maintained castle, celebrated in history books, guidebooks, and open to mass tourism 300 days a year.

Another reason for my fascination with Colmexhoma, and not a minor one, is the feeling — widely shared by others who love the region — that time doesn’t quite exist there, or that the territory inhabits a kind of separate temporal dimension. It’s a strange mix: the shadow of Coronado’s 16th-century expedition, the raw atmosphere of the Old West, the harsh Dust Bowl, the quiet serenity of the 1950s, and even prehistoric times, when the landscapes looked much as they do today — just with a few more dinosaurs… Sorry if this isn’t very clear; I’m trying to put into words a feeling that is somewhat vague but very deep. 

On top of all this, I must add that I feel a great deal of affection, curiosity, and admiration for the small, isolated communities of Colmexhoma that struggle to survive, seemingly forgotten by state authorities. From that perspective, I’m especially curious about Baca County, which I believe has more inhabited towns than Union or Cimarron counties. I regret that I only know Springfield, Campo, and (a little) Walsh. I very much hope to see Pritchett, Vilas, Two Buttes, Stonington, Utleyville, Estelene (and hopefully a few more!) on my next trip to Colmexhoma.

—-

And that is the record of how a hick farm kid from the plains of Baca County, Colorado, became friends with a fascinating Frenchman intrigued with the unique spot on the globe I call home. This is not the end of our story. There will be more to write!! 

P.S. – Colmexhoma is gaining in popularity every day. While subbing at the Walsh School, out of the blue, a student asked me if I had joined Colmexhoma! I shared this document with him, and, like Yann’s fascination with us and our land, he became fascinated by Yann’s story, as does everyone upon hearing it. My older sister happily left the isolated flatland of her youth for city life and the mountains of Colorado Springs, but Yann’s affection and enthusiasm for Colmexhoma have now, surprisingly, infected even her. He has become a great ambassador for our land and people, and all this while living in France! Go Figure!!

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