DUANE
Duane's take
Here's my telling of what the official marker has to say about Castle Mountain, out here in Upton County. Now, two miles east of where you're standing — or rather, rolling — there rises a mountain sitting at about three thousand feet of elevation. Three thousand feet.
Out here on the West Texas plain, that'll catch your eye from a good long way off. And that, friend, is exactly the point. Since the seventeenth century — we're talking four hundred years of travelers squinting at the horizon — Castle Mountain has served as a landmark for folks making their way between Texas, Mexico, and California.
Generations of boots and hooves and wagon wheels, all of them using that one peak to keep their bearings. Now, the Spaniards who came through here, according to tradition, looked up at those rocky heights and saw something familiar. Something that reminded them of the ancient castles back in the old world.
And so, the story goes, that's what they called it. Castle Mountain. You can still see why.
But here's where the telling gets interesting — and a little bit maddening — because Castle Mountain doesn't just carry the memory of travelers and conquistadors. It carries stories. Stories of lost trains of gold.
Other treasures, unspecified, which somehow feels even more tantalizing than a name. The mountain has associations with those tales, as they say. Not confirmations.
Associations. Which means somewhere out there, the gold — if there ever was any — is still keeping its secrets, right behind those ancient-castle walls of stone.
What the marker says
(2 mi. East) About 3,000 ft. elevation. Since 17th century, a landmark in travel from Texas points to Mexico and California. According to tradition, named by Spaniards for resemblance to ancient castles. Has associations with stories of lost trains of gold and other treasures. (1966)