Karen Horger had never been to the Holy Land. But while sitting on a rock at 5,000 feet above sea level resting her feet on a carpet of scrag and wispy amber tufts of grass, she imagined Christ's ascent up Mount Sinai or perched overlooking Jerusalem. The five mile pilgrimage to the top of Tortuga Mountain to pay homage to Our Lady of Guadalupe on her feast day was not met at the end with a festival or a church tour for her and the other 1,500 pilgrims, but simply the chance to be a few miles closer to Heaven, wrapped in silence. The quiotes fashioned from yucca stalks that she holds now always reminded her of something John the Baptist would be found with--an archetype of the simplicity and barrenness of the desert. Her head is wrapped loosely with a bed scarf, partly as a pious act and more practically to offer some warmth from the December wind. The snaking Rio Grande and the small town of Las Cruces are far below her like a distant memory; but soon the pilgrims will descend to return to the world. Just as Moses built memorial altar of memorial on his ascent up Mount Sinai and Joshua on Mount Ebal, the pilgrims descend before sunset but not before lighting up the mountain with bonfires on the way down. For those who have been in darkness have seen a great light.
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