November 2011

I rambled on down to Big Bend Country in southwest Texas. Big Bend Country is so named after the big bend that occurs in the Rio Grande, that famous, well storied muddy crossing that separates the United States and Mexico. I like the Rio Grande. In a parched desert where water is scarce (especially this year), it was good to see a cold-water stream cheerily chuckling through the rocks, desert and canyon.

When looking at a map, the boundary marking the border looks like an imposing river of great magnitude. Something on the size of the Amazon, or even the Mississippi, clearly marked, well guarded and defined. When I stood on the gravelly desert shoreline under the glare of the noonday sun, I saw a river that was far less imposing, defined and guarded than I ever would have figured.

The river level is way down this year due to a lack of rain. Despite having all of my expectations dashed (usually a good thing, especially when traveling), I still thought the river was charming. It was cloudy blue, gurgling healthily through the rocks and between the giant river cane. The giant river cane was impressive, a towering reed that rises well over fifteen feet above the river growing in a thick forest of reeds. This plant is a non-native species (originally from Asia), invasive, having been introduced several hundred years earlier perhaps by the Spanish, though that is mere speculation among scientists.

From what I could tell, the U.S. border isn’t as well guarded as one would think, what with all the news stories of recent years highlighting the problems of drug runners, “illegal” aliens (what a horrible name), and border crossings. I didn’t see much of a presence from the border patrol, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they aren’t there. They are a sophisticated bunch using hidden cameras, stings, and other unseen ploys.

I saw Mexicans crossing into the U.S. on two occasions. We were walking along the sandy path to the 105-degree hot spring outside of the Rio Grande Village, I saw three Mexicans wading across the river. This made me slightly alarmed, as there was a large sign warning visitors of car break-ins (I admit this was unfounded, and I apologize. It could‘ve been anyone). Since it was a busy day, we continued on to the hot spring and had a good soak. As we steeped, one of the Mexicans, ran up, hurriedly grabbing his inventory of beadwork trinkets, minerals and walking sticks, before running back to the bank and crossing back over to Mexico. He was selling his wares on the U.S. side, plying for cash from sympathetic tourists. A couple of minutes later, a park ranger ambled by, mostly keeping a presence of law to keep the Mexicans honest, and on their guard.

I figured the reason there weren’t any border patrol guys running around was that this probably wasn’t a hot spot for illegal crossings. In Big Bend National Park, you are still a long way from any population center, and therefore not the target market. The Mexican’s I witnessed had no troubles crossing and re-crossing the border. It looked as though a couple of guys kept an eye out for rangers and the border patrol, while one man crossed to make his sales pitch.

It was novel to see Mexicans cross the river. I bet these guys have a lot of fun with it, so long as they aren’t caught. I had no interest in the knickknacks they were selling, but enjoyed watching them play cat and mouse with the rangers.

First Takes on Big Bend National Park

At first glance, Big Bend National Park is somewhat intimidating. It’s a huge park. The map they give you is gigantic, with lots of options for adventure. I had never been to Big Bend before, and I hadn’t done much research into the place. As we drove into the park, I had my eyes mostly on the map, trying to do some quick planning on what I wanted to see. We stopped at the Panther Junction Visitor’s Center, to get some information.

After perusing the photo books, postcards, and trail guides at the visitor’s center, I came up with a half ass plan to our visit. Visitor’s centers are great places to get information on most national parks, and this was no exception.

The first thing that caught my eye was the trail to the top of Mount Emory, the highest point in the park. At 7,795 ft, it seemed a worthy challenge, and a good way to introduce ourselves to the park. There is nothing like plodding slowly up a mountain to give one the feel of the place.

Since it was already past noon, we decided to find a campsite, hike out to see the view from “the window” and start early in the morning to take on the summit.

I also wanted to see the giant rock arch hidden somewhere up in the Grapevine hills. The photos and postcards of the arch were beautiful, and I wanted to see the place for myself. Besides the arch, the boulders around the valley looked climbable, and could be a fun place to play.

The Window View and the Rain

The hike out to the window view is a short one, about three miles round trip from the campground. It’s an easy hike. It was enjoyable cruising along on the wide flat path. It was a nice to be able to look away from the path unlike our treks on the rocky paths of the Guadalupe Mountains. The path followed the course of a dry wash, surrounded on all sides by high rocky canyon walls and Mt. Carter looming just to the west.

The Playboy Bunny of the Prickly Pear
Near the trailhead, there were many signs warning of mountain lions and bears. BBNP does not mess around when it comes to wildlife signage. On every trail we passed in the Chisos Basin, there were signs warning hikers of the dangers of wildlife. The bears and mountain lions are probably flattered to receive so much attention. It seemed unnecessary to me. I would be thrilled to see a mountain lion, but for as much time I’ve spent in the wild, I’ve only found their footprints, scat, and kills (a deer).

Along side of the trail grew the largest agave plants I’ve ever seen. The agave is a cool looking plant. It has greenish gray, stout stems that come to a lethal point. If you are ever falling out of an airplane, do not aim for an agave to land on. The other interesting thing about the agave is their reproductive stalk. Towards the end of their life cycle, agave will send up a tall flowering stalk that grows well over fifteen feet high. In short, it reproduces and dies, but it goes out with a bang.

The trail followed the course of dusty dry wash. The canyon walls closed in on the trail, and we were soon walking through a rock canyon that twisted around boulders, rock shelves, and dry waterfalls out to the edge. The window view was on top of a high, dry waterfall. It was awesome. I would have loved to see the view, and listen to the roar of the falls if water was running. A spur trail runs down to oak canyon for a view of the falls. If you find yourself in Big Bend during the wet season, go check out these falls.

It began to rain.

As we walked back to the campground, the rain began to fall harder, and it was a beautiful sound. We stopped twice along the way back to sit down on a trailside bench to listen to the rain. Rainfall on a carpet of parched papery leaves is a beautiful sound. Tendrils of scent, the smell of rain, penetrated through the dusty air, and it smelled wonderful.

Conversation overtook the silence, and the smells. We chatted amiably for a quarter of an hour letting the conversation choose its own course. Eventually, we moved on, but not before we had enjoyed the experience of sitting through a rainsquall in the desert.

The Best View in Texas

The hike to the top of Mt. Emory was pleasant. The park service had recently updated the trail, making it a bit more user friendly to hiking. At this point, we were in great hiking shape and we cruised up the switchbacks through the cold morning shadows. At one point we stopped for a water break, and a small flock of Mexican Jays showed up. They had the look of beggars, handsome, fluffing their pretty blue feathers in hopes of fleecing some dumb hikers out of a pistachio. They had played this game before, but so had I. If they wanted my pistachio, they were going to have to pose on my hand for a picture. It was a tough bargain, but a fair one. We moved on.

The higher we climbed, the more beautiful the scenery became. There were fat puffy clouds moving quickly through the blue skies, and the Chisos Mountains were on display in all their grandeur. The final thirty feet of the hike was more of a scramble up a rock wall. You have two options: left or right. Both scrambles go to a high point, but the right hand scramble rises a bit higher than the left peak.

Sitting atop the right hand peak and overlooking the incredible mountain scenery was probably the highlight of my trip. It was awesome. It is easily the best view in Texas, bar none.

I laid down on the rocks, and closed my eyes, listening to the wind. Beautiful.

After an hour of watching the clouds pass us by, we retraced our steps back down the mountain to the lodge store. We bought ice cream, knowing full well that it is probably the best food to eat after a ten mile hike. It was a fine day, and I was really starting to like Big Bend National Park.

This week is a gallery of images from the top of Texas (the highest elevation of Guadalupe Peak), down to the Big Bend country way down south. I’ve covered a lot of ground in the last week and a half, and I’ve a lot of good things to say about west Texas, and their splendid desert parks in particular. I'll let the images tell you my journey, but I want you to know that it has been a splendid journey thus far.

Scenes From the Guadalupe Peak Hike

Guadalupe peak is the highest point one can reach in Texas. It is a beautiful hike, one that brings you high above the surrounding desert. We took it on as a day hike, and enjoyed the second best view in Texas. More on the BEST view in Texas next week.

San Solomon Springs

While working my way south, I’ve swam in the wonderful desert springs at Balmorhea State Park. The San Solomon springs are a true Desert oasis that produce pure water at 76 degrees (f). The water is crystal clear and full wonderful to swim in, especially after a spectaular slack lining session.

First Take on the Davis Mountains

I really like the Davis mountains, and the small town of Fort Davis. The mountains are beautiful and full of intriguing rock formations that I'm just itching to explore and climb. The landscape is a mixture of rolling mountain ridges, rock outcrops, dotted trees, and desert vegetation. I'll be spending some more time there in the next few days, and I want to write a true essay on them.

I've finally seen wild Javelinas. I've been waiting to see these spike haired, narrow bodied pig like creatures since I've started exploring the southern southwestern United States. As I was driving back from a hike, a herd of them crossed the road. I pulled into a parking lot and watched these little guys run by.

The quaking aspen have turned a brilliant orange, giving me a taste of autumn. To listen to a quaking aspen rustle in the wind is akin to listening to an audience applaud the greatest natural maestro. I quite agree.

Bravo to the Davis Mountains!

The rugged Guadalupe Mountains of west Texas are located about one hundred miles northeast of El Paso, and sixty miles south of Carlsbad, New Mexico. They are pretty much smack in the middle of nowhere, surrounded on all sides by endless miles of Chihuahuan desert, eroding buttes, foothills and smaller mountain ranges. This I believe is to their greatest advantage.

Because of their lonesome locale and wilderness area designation, the Guadalupe’s don’t see a lot of action like their trendier, friendlier mountain cousins further north (aka the Rockies). Having visited this park on two other occasions, I had learned enough about these mountains to warrant another visit, and this time I was headed into the back country.

The backside of the Guadalupe Mountains National Park has been on my mind for a long time, and I’ve finally taken it upon myself to go and see what there is to see. The ranger station at Dog Canyon is the starting point for any adventures that begin on the west side of the park. To get there, one must travel sixty miles west and south off of the beaten track along beautiful winding desert roads. Watch out for cows, cow crap, and gorgeous evening views of this lonesome locale.

The first day of our adventure started off frigid. A cold front had moved in, combining with the crystal clear night that turns the desert mountains into a freezer. It’s a dry cold, however, so it’s not as bad as it could be. I was prepared for anything, but on that morning, I realized I had forgotten a pair of gloves. Cursing myself, I went about my early morning of making coffee (pressed French style), making breakfast, and packing my gear into my pack to head out into the wilderness.

Our plan was straight forward: We’d hike in five miles or so to the Mescalero campground by way of the Tejas Trail. We’d continue on another eight miles the next day catching the Marcus Trail to the Bush Mountain Trail which would bring us back to Dog Canyon.

You are probably wondering, “Why such a short loop?” The answer has several reasons, the first being that there is no water to be had in the wilderness of the Guadalupe Mountains. You have to carry all the water you need for as many days as you are planning to hike. They recommend about a gallon a day per person, so for us that meant each of us were carrying an extra eight pounds of water weight on top of our already full backpacks. I’ve stopped caring how much my pack weighs, I’ve come to realize that no matter how light I try to pack that it is ALWAYS heavy.

Secondly, my travel partner has recently recovered from a broken ankle, and we wanted to challenge it, but not overdue it on our first backcountry adventure. I figured thirteen miles in the mountains would be a sound challenge for us to gauge our meddle.

With a grunt we launched our packs skyward, and wrestled them onto our backs, securing them with a “snap” and set off up into the mountains.

It never really warmed up at all. The wind remained strong, growing more powerful as we climbed higher. Though it was sunny, it was still cold. However, it was a nice autumn day for a hike and our spirits were soaring as high as the ridges we climbed that day. It was good to be hiking mountain trails once again.

The November sun was low angled and slanted in from just over the ridge. This made for long shadows on the pines across the canyon wall. It was beautiful, really, and made for pleasant views and photographs as we made our way to Mescalero.

We arrived at Mescalero at about 3 pm. This gave us a couple of hours to set up camp, relax, and make dinner before the sunset, and the moon rose, bringing in the night. I decided I wanted to document the finer moments of what goes into a good backpacking adventure.

Thom’s Finer Moments of Camping:

Journal Writing.

A Snooze in the Hammock.

A Good Pack and a Place to Hang It.

Water Bottles.

A Good Tent.

Dinner.

Food is very important subject for the backpacker. It’s all I can think about, for the most part, and I really look forward to a good dinner after spending all day on the trail.

Waiting For Water to Boil.

Morning Coffee (French Pressed)

A Hand Warmer (Hot Tea in a Cup)

A Little Ingenuity in Action (I rigged this up to protect our food from nocturnal nibblers).

The sun set early and it was dark not long after. The moon was rising high however, and the canyon side across from our camp was bathed in a ghostly white light. It was bright enough for shadows, and we had no problem negotiating around our campsite in the night.

The clear skies kept the temperatures down around freezing. It was hard to leave the comfort of the down sleeping bag in the morning, but we fought our weakness, and got up to meet the day. After boiling water for breakfast concoctions (coffee being my favorite), we packed up our gear, swept our tracks away (leave no trace) and headed out again along the trail.

The day was off to a good start, and as we hiked along the ridge of side canyon that leads to West Dog Canyon, we warmed up with our efforts. The trail was pleasant, and textural. We walked through crunchy oak leaves dropped by the trees. The oak leaves of the mountain desert have a much smaller leaf than in the Midwest, but they smelled great all the same.

Walking westward, we left the small copse of oaks beyond and headed out onto an exposed ridge once again, and began our long descent into West Dog Canyon. The switch backs seemed endless, and it was hard on the legs, but eventually we made it down to level ground once again. West Dog Canyon is beautiful. The bottomland is sandy with lots of grasses, cactus and shrubs growing on it. I was surprised at how much color there was to the landscape.

We ate lunch at the intersection of the Marcus and Bush Mountain trails hunkered down in a nearby sandy draw to gain some protection from the relentless wind. I boiled up a cup of water and added it to my once steeped grounds in hopes of another decent cup of coffee. I was not disappointed, and I enjoyed my lunch of peanut butter and honey on tortilla, and a cup of coffee. I felt like a cowboy.

I looked up at the top of the high ridge that separates West Dog, and Dog Canyons, and I knew I was in for a long slog. The trail was relentless, and every step I made was uphill. I followed the switch backs higher and higher, doggedly keeping pace. As I looked out over the landscape, I became enthralled. It was gorgeous! There were long views of the canyon and mountains. The trees seemed to have been planted by an artist as to give the landscape the most appealing leading line into the view.

In my opinion, the trees are what make the Guadalupe Mountains so beautiful. On every ridge, there are perfectly placed trees adding depth and dimension to every landscape. My camera was in my hand for every step up and over this ridge, as the vertical angles of the slopes combined with the trees made for very appealing scenery. The Guadalupe Mountains are a national park for a reason, and the Bush Mountain Trail has been one of the most beautiful trails I’ve hiked this year, and perhaps in my life.

Upon reaching the top, we took a brief rest before continuing on down the other side. We had reached out hiking limit, and this is a dangerous time. As the last run down the mountain on a pair of skis is when the most injuries occur, the last mile down the hiking trail has the same feel to it. We picked our way carefully, continuing to admire the view, and made it back to the car safe and sound.

There isn’t a much more euphoric experience in life, as setting down your heavy backpack after many miles of rugged trail hiking. I felt light as a feather, sore in my left shoulder, and moving a bit gingerly, but I was happy. It was a great hike, and I look forward to heading back into the far reaches of the Guadalupe Mountains once again.

Having successfully enjoyed the backside of the Guadalupe Mountains, we took on the highest reaches of the state by climbing 8751 ft. Guadalupe Peak. Then we headed south to new landscapes and new roads... We are enroute as I write this.

Cheers!

“One night a wild young cowboy came in, wild as the west Texas wind.” Marty Robbins

I understand these lyrics a lot better now. I have a full appreciation of the wind that whips the grassland and mountains of west Texas. I have fully experienced the Wild West Texas wind during two nights of attempted sleep. The wind was just as Marty writes, it came on all of a sudden, as a cowboy would enter a bar, and suddenly the wind turns violently strong whipping everything in its way. I have never experienced wind like this, and I was impressed.

In our sturdy little tent (named Columbus), we attempted to sleep, but it was a long time coming. The wind hammered, harangued, whapped the sides of the tent, pushing them in with such ferocity as to slap us around every few minutes. I was viciously slapped in the face, until I finally rolled over and let my back be massaged by the tumult. It took awhile to get used to the noise, and the beatings, but eventually both of us slept.

What was just as amazing was the how quickly it came and went (just like Marty‘s cowboy). At one point, I had finally fallen asleep. I awoke a few hours later to silence, with just a breath of fresh morning air under sunny skies for wind. I doubt anybody would believe me if I tried to tell them of the gale in the night.

The wind is part of the allure of west Texas.

Besides the wind, the geology of the northern Chihuahua desert is just as impressive. Ihave been spending my quality time exploring the Hueco Tanks, east of El Paso, and Carlsbad caverns of New Mexico. Between both parks, I have spent more of my days underneath the earth as I have spent walking above it.

Hueco Tanks State Park

Huecos are hollows, or water carved recesses in rock. The Hueco Tanks area are just that, an ancient low lying mound of rock that are filled with huecos. The huecos store water in them even during the driest parts of the year. In the desert, water is life, and life has flourished here for thousands of years. Man has used these watering holes for just as long. The low rocky mountains are a jumble of humongous rock slabs, piled up boulders and narrow caves and crevices. Man has been leaving their signatures for as long as they have been coming to the tanks. The ancient visitors left pictographs of masks, and hunting scenes, more recent but still historical visitors (in the 1800’s) chiseled their names, dates, and home into the rock. Modern morons have left their mark-using spray paint, sometimes covering up the priceless ancient markings.

The park is well regulated, and they keep track of who comes and goes, as they only allow a limited number of visitors each day. They are doing a good job preserving the ancient sites, yet allowing the boulders and rock to be used what it ought to be used for: the great playground that it is.

Hueco Tanks state park is designated by four “mountain zones.” Three of the zones are closed to the public and are only reachable by ranger-guided tour. One of the zones, North Mountain, is open for day use only, and that is where I spent my time exploring. With a map, a climbing guide to the boulders, and my reckoning, I spent a day traversing north mountain.


It was tremendous fun to explore through the giant boulders, rock slabs, slot canyons and caves. It reminded me of exploring Joshua Tree National Park’s rock islands, and my approach was much the same. With determined effort, I found I could climb, slither, slide, crawl and squeeze my way through the mountain. I was in my element, my urge to explore unleashed.




Using these methods, we stumbled upon most of the ancient sites. One cave was filled with paintings of masks in exquisite condition. The rock was slick from the hundreds if not thousands of feet that have visited this amazing cave. This was a good place, an ancient place, and one I will never forget.

Though we were not the first people to explore these mountains, and find these ancient sites, it felt like we were the first. It was exciting, and fun, and the thrill of discovery was intoxicating. I happily left the mountain in the late afternoon. I was satisfied with my efforts.

Creatures of Hueco Tanks
Lizards and Horse Lubber Grasshopper

At the campground, late in the night, I had stepped outside to use the bathroom. Beware, when stepping out to go pee in the desert. EVERYTHING is sharp. As I found relief, I looked up at the stars and found my self gazing at the constellations. I wondered what the ancient people thought of the stars. I became inspired and I captured a photograph of Orion (the Hunter), and Taurus (the Hunted) before I crawled back into my sleeping bag.

Carlsbad Caverns National Park

A few days later, I found myself once again heading down the natural entrance to the big room at Carlsbad Caverns National Park. For once, I was prepared: I had a working camera with fresh batteries, and sturdy tripod. The caverns were mine to explore by camera. In past visits, I was hampered by a lack of batteries, or tripod, and unable to photograph the impressive decoration and wonder these caverns hold.

My traveling partner and I had made reservations for two of the wild cave tours, one for the Hall of the White Giant, and The Spider Cave. These tours were on two consecutive days in the afternoon, so we had the mornings to spend walking around the natural entrance and the Big Room. This turned out to be the perfect combination to exploring Carlsbad, (outside of dating a caving ranger).

The Natural Entrance and Big Room are beautiful, and full of amazing decoration. The whole route is on an asphalt path, guarded by railings and lit up by decorative lighting. I had a great time setting up photos of the caverns, much like Ansel Adams had years before. The exposures are long, and a tripod is necessary to keep the images sharp. What is great about the tourist route of the caverns is that the lighting never changes. I had all day to get my exposure and focus the way I wanted it.

Which do you prefer? Black and White or Color?
I can't decide which I prefer.

I would highly recommend to any photographer who wants to learn to take long exposure extreme low-lighted photographs to practice in a cavern. Not only are the subjects beautiful and interesting, the lighting is constant, and a great place to learn.

The walk was pleasant enough, but as this was my third visit to the place, I wanted more adventure than the easy routes could offer. That is where the ranger-guided tours of some of the other caverns came in. While I’ve gone caving on my own before, (a serious no-no in the caving world), I had never had the right gear, or gone on an actual caving exploration. I was curious to see what it was like to go on a modest exploration on well-explored routes.

I was pleased to find cave exploration as fun and exciting as I hoped it would be. Once again, I found myself crawling, scooting, slithering into narrow, passages and crevices. I climbed up rock chimneys, and pulled myself up ropes, and ladders to get to our destinations. I was sweating from the exertion, I was filthy with mud, and dirt, and water. Above all, I was smiling.

The White Giant is impressive, a massive stalagmite rising up from floor, one of the cooler seldom seen decorations at Carlsbad. Spider Cave was full of pure white crystalline decoration, and rooms of delicate halectites, draperies, and soda straws. It was just as fun to crawl through the cave as it was to see these beautiful decorations.

The ranger talked of other rooms in the cavern that aren’t open to the public. Carlsbad has over a hundred miles of known passages, just about three miles of them are opened to the public. Granted, they are an amazing three, but just think about what other gorgeous views could be hiding under the ground.

The only way to see some of the other caverns is by applying for a permit to the four that are currently open to explore by permit, becoming a ranger, or by dating a ranger. The rangers have more access to some of the restricted caves in the area. I’m going to take the advice of one of the rangers and check out www.caves.org. I want to explore more caves, and this is a great place to get involved.

I am spending the day here in Carlsbad, New Mexico getting more supplies, (food, and gas) and taking care of some business. While on the road in the U.S., a great place to stop is the local library in whatever town you might be visiting. Not only are they clean, full of information, and quiet, almost all of them now have a WIFI connection.

It has been a great week here in west Texas. I am now heading into the Guadalupe Mountains to explore some of the high country, including a return to the highest point in Texas.

So long, and Adios, Amigos!
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I'm on the road again, this time in West Texas to spend three weeks exploring the parks of the region. For once, I don't have a lot of time to get long winded in my entries, and I'm going to let my photos tell the story. I've spent the first two days exploring El Paso, enjoying the scenes, the hikes, and the good life here in Texas.

Franklin Mountain State Park has been my home so far. I've hiked up to the top of Franklin Mountain, which has some of the best hiking I've seen anywhere for a state park. They don't mess around. This trail isn't for the faint of heart, as it's rugged and technical, requiring you to rock climb up several sections to reach the top. Good views along the way, and a dust storm rolled in when we were on top.

I spent last night being pummelled by the side of my tent, as the wind gusts howled around our campsite. After getting used to being slapped every ten minutes, I finally fell asleep. Needless to say it was a long night.

This is indeed the good life. Texas has a lot to offer, and I'm sure to add more description as time allows. For now, Enjoy, and I will do the same.

Onward!