Big Bend February 2012

My son Will and I went to Big Bend last weekend for our annual President's Day Weekend pilgrimage.  The main purpose of this trip was to meet up with several old friends, relax in the park, eat good food, and do a few day hikes.  No serious outings were planned.  Despite some "weather related equipment issues", the trip was a great success.  And as we soon found out, the weather would be the star of this show.

We drove all day Wednesday the 15th and set up camp in the Group Camping Area in the Basin.  I left the backpacking tent at home, and instead brought my "Wal-Mart Special" tent, which has the one advantage of being ”roomy”.  Besides, "I've never had any problems with it in the desert."  Not one of my smarter moves.

While we were setting up camp, a Ranger came by to give us an update on the recent Mountain Lion activity.  They had captured one on the Lost Mine Trail (which was still closed) and they were still tracking two in the lower Basin along the Window Trail, (also closed).

THURSDAY FEBRUARY 16

A cloudy and cool morning rapidly gave way to a warm and sunny afternoon.  We chose to hike the Hot Springs Canyon Trail from the Springs to Rio Grande Village and back.  Before we even reached the springs, we saw these tracks in the sand. (Mountain Lion?  Coyote? Hard to tell in the sand.)  They were about 3" in diameter (no doubt the loose sand made them appear larger than they were).  Whatever it was, the tracks heading straight into the river and disappeared.  

Although I had canoed this stretch of the river, I had never been on this trail before.  I was impressed with the views of the river, the Sierra Del Carmen, and the Chisos.  And of course the added bonus of finishing up in the Hot Springs makes this a worthy day hike in my book.

We were back at camp that afternoon, preparing dinner, when a thunderstorm hit us by surprise.  It didn't last long, and when it was over, a rainbow appeared in the Basin, between us and Pulliam Ridge.   

Apparently the pot of gold is located somewhere in the Basin!  (But I already knew that!)

Before we could get dinner finished, round two of thunderstorms rolled through, this time with some rather impressive lightening displays.  Thunder echoing in the Basin is a very awesome thing, and something that I had never experienced.  Once again, this was a short-lived storm, and we continued with dinner.  Someone in our group commented that we now seen every kind of weather that Big Bend could throw at us.  To which I said, "No, we haven't seen hail yet." I should learn to keep my mouth shut...

This is what a hail storm looks like coming through the window...

We had pea-sized hail, that once again passed quickly, and we finally got to eat.  Later that night snug in our "Wal-Mart Special", I counted six more short thunderstorms that seemed to roll through about every 30 minutes or so.  Things were going well until about wave number 5 when the "Wal-Mart Special" began to leak, just a little...at first.

FRIDAY FEBRUARY 17

Despite the leaks, we were "mostly dry" when we woke up Friday morning.  And once again I opened my big mouth and said something like: "It rained more last night than in all the 20 combined years I've been coming  out here.  Surely that's all the rain we will get."  I need to learn to keep my mouth shut.

There was a high overcast when we first got up, but soon after sunrise, a dense fog blanket started rolling through the Window from the desert below, and it kept coming, and coming, and coming.

Soon the Basin and High Chisos were socked in, and we headed to the west side of the Park for a few more day hikes.  First stop was Cattail Falls, which was still just a trickle, despite the rains.

No trip to Cattail is complete without a stop at the “Tie-down Tree”.

We then headed to Burro Mesa Pour-off (bone dry) and then over to Burro Springs, another trail that I had never been on.  Since I have never seen it before, I have nothing to compare it to, but the tinaja was full, and there was a trickle of water in the stream bed, for a ways downstream. 

We returned to camp to find mostly clear skies, but soon the wind picked up and the temperature began to drop.  It was about 10:30 when the rain and lightening hit.  This time a steady rain that lasted almost until daybreak.  At this point, I wouldn’t say that the tent was leaking, I would say that it was raining inside the tent.  We slept in rain gear, and some how managed to stay just dry enough not to freeze. 

SATURDAY FEBRUARY 18

We awoke to find snow all over the High Chisos.  While there was some sleet and ice around the campground, for the most part, we were just below the freezing line.  We discussed packing things up a day early, but this was too good of an opportunity to pass up.   

So after a little breakfast, we managed to find enough semi-dry clothes, and headed up the recently reopened Lost Mine Trail.  Hiking in snow in the High Chisos was such a rare treat.  After the first few hundred yards, we made the first tracks, all the way to the top.   

The snow continued to get deeper as well climbed with accumulations of 2 or 3 inches near the top.   

The top was windy and still quite cold, but it was such a different view than I have ever seen before.   

We were back down by lunchtime, and we drove to Rio Grande Village, and it's 80 degree sunshine for showers, and to throw our clothes and sleeping bags in the dryer.  Finally dried out, we spent a much more comfortable night in the Basin, before heading back home the following morning.

By the way, if anyone is interested, I have a tent for sale...cheap!

A Father's Promise

Prologue

June, 1968

Chisos Basin

The late afternoon sun was setting through the Window as we arrived at our cottage in the Basin.  It had been a long drive.  Bouncing with pent up energy, and ignoring nature’s spectacular light show, my first words were, “I want to climb that!”  I was six years old, and I was pointing at the summit of Casa Grande.

The iconic symbol of Big Bend, this mountain dominates the Basin with towering vertical cliffs that appear unclimbable.  I begged Dad to let me try.  He wisely suggested other, more attainable goals.  We hiked Lost Mine Trail, rode horses to the Window, saw Boquillas, and scrambled into Santa Elena Canyon--all memories that I cherish.  But as we were leaving, I asked again, “What about that big flat-topped mountain?”

“Don’t worry,” he replied. “We’ll be back, and you will climb Casa Grande.”

But fate had a different plan. That early trip was the first of many outdoor adventures from the Rockies to the Blue Ridge, but my father passed away without ever returning to Big Bend.  That big flat-topped mountain remained unclimbed.

February 11, 2010

Late afternoon

South of Marathon

Approaching Persimmon Gap, the mountains have prepared their greeting.  To the east lies a steel-grey cloud mass--a "blue norther"--that is dumping record snow fall across much of north and west Texas.  To the west, accompanied by blue skies and fluffy white clouds, the sun is setting over the Santiago Range.

On this day, we have driven through that blizzard and have emerged safely on the other side.  In a matter of minutes, the temperature has risen twenty degrees.  Our mood changes with the weather, expectations rise.  Winter has turned to spring.

There is no chance of making the Basin before nightfall.  No longer rushed, we are free to soak it all in.  The air is clear, the colors crisp and sharp.  Blue and grey, black and white above mountains set aflame by the setting sun.

Clayton sees it first.  A rainbow, God’s symbol of promise, suspended atop a lone mountain.  On a day like this, it is easy to see why.  This promises to be a very special trip.

February 12, 2010

Casa Grande

High on the slopes of Casa Grande, ice still clings to the shady side of the cliffs.  It has been over forty years since I first saw this mountain with my father.  I am now perched on its flanks with my two sons: Will, eighteen, who carries his grandfather's name; and Clayton, fourteen, who is making his first trip to Big Bend.  In spite of the ice, we are warm from the exertion of climbing, and the cool breezes are a welcome relief.

The walls of Casa Grande rise as an impenetrable fortress, yet on this northeast face there is a breech.  Fractures in the cliff provide access to the summit.  Unfortunately, this approach is guarded by talus slopes, the unstable rock piles that seem to grow under mountain peaks.  From below it may look easy, but Clayton now understands why climbers hate talus--step, slide, step, slide--one step forward, two steps back.  We press on however, and soon reach the saddle at the top of the slope.

At this pass, the secret of Casa Grande is revealed.  What appear as solid cliffs from below are actually granite fins that surround a grassy bowl and shelter a remnant forest of Ponderosa Pine.  From here, it is a relatively easy stroll to the top.  We catch our breath, and marvel at the lush grass.  The boys do not need much rest, so they leap ahead.  The race to the summit is on!  I hustle to catch up, but they are young and strong.  Near the top, they pause, allowing me to join them, and together, the three of us take the last few steps to the summit. 

Under crystal blue skies, the view stretches into Mexico.  Two-thousand feet below us, our tent is a tiny dot. To the west, Burro Mesa is surrounded by the desert.  To the east, volcanic crags keep watch over Juniper Canyon.  And to the south, waves of rumpled mountains roll to Emory Peak and beyond.  This is a day we will remember for the rest of our lives.  My father’s promise has been fulfilled. 

Far to the north, over Green Gulch, a falcon soars on the wind, his feathers flashing in the sun. He glides toward us, cruising directly overhead.  My thoughts drift back to my Dad; this is not the end, but a new beginning.

Our father’s promise has taken us to new heights; a place where falcons soar, and the mountains go on forever.  From here all things are possible.  My eyes follow the falcon, now a distant speck on the horizon; “Yes!  Let’s go there!” 

With the boys’ excited chatter as a backdrop, we make our way back down.  The conversation turns to tonight’s grilled steak dinner.  Fueled by hunger, the descent passes quickly.  Back at camp, tired and full, we grow silent as another timeless sunset drops through the Window.

 

February 12, 2010

10:00 pm

Green Gulch

The stone profile of the Apache chief Alsate looms before us.  He stares silently at the heavens above him.  In the darkness, I have to remind myself that it is just a legend. The stillness is broken by an owl across the arroyo.  I laugh at myself as I nearly knock the camera off the tripod.  I am aware that the owl call was a favorite communication method of the Apache warrior.

This old ghost story only adds to an already perfect day. Filled with steak and blackberry cobbler, the boys and I have come to this dark overlook to photograph the night sky with my new camera.  The results are very promising.

Between exposures, I take advantage of a rare window of cell phone coverage to call my wife, the mother of these two boys.  I hear the love in her voice—she knows what this trip means to me. As I hang up, her unspoken promise remains.  The perfect day just became more perfect! 

February 13, 2010

Cattail Falls

The sun is warm on my face; almost too warm.  This morning I started out with three layers, I am now down to one.  The desert gravel crunches underneath my boots; sweat rolls down my back, and the smell of dust is in the air.  I have to remind myself that it is only February.

As the trail rounds a low shoulder of Carter Peak; the desert changes; I feel the breeze, smell the water, and hear the falls.  A new promise is in the air.  I am soon aware that I am no longer walking on rocks, but on soil--real soil.  A short scramble over boulders brought down by some ancient flash flood brings us to the plunge pool at the foot of Cattail Falls.

We eat lunch in the shade among the ferns and columbines, cooled by the breezes funneled off the Chisos through Cattail Canyon.  Oasis--it's the only word that fits.

February 14, 2010

Apache Canyon

We walk single file underneath a cloudless blue dome.  The view atop Burro Mesa stretches 360 degrees.  Ahead and to the right is the massive uplift of the Christmas Mountains.  Santa Elana Canyon and Mexico lie far off to the left.  And directly behind us, looking closer than they really are, loom the ever-present Chisos.  To a passing hawk we must look like mere specs on the landscape.

The temperature, which has been so wildly variable on this trip, is now absolutely perfect.  The warmth of the sun is balanced by the coolness of the air.  We walk in shirt-sleeves without sweating. 

Our goal on this day is not on the map; it is not well advertised.  The Park would prefer that we stay away.  But of course, that just makes it irresistible.

But Apache Canyon has been well known in these parts for over 12,000 years.  Flint from this quarry has been found on arrow tips throughout the Southwest.  How many Indians have walked this very trail?

At the canyon with flint shards covering the ground, I am once again reminded of my father, and how much he would have loved this spot.  But this is a new generation, and youth will not be denied.  On the return trip, Will finds a higher gear; I cannot keep up.  At one point, I see him crest a ridge nearly a half mile ahead of me.  When I make it back to the van, Will and Clayton are napping in the shade, waiting my arrival.  A third generation is here.  And the promise of Big Bend is before them.

 

Big Bend; October, 2011--Northeast Rim Backpack

Sometimes when you get just half a chance, you have to take it.  You have to ignore "Can’t do it", and focus on "How can I".  If you are waiting for perfect timing, you may be waiting for a very long time.  In the past, I have missed many opportunities, but not this time.  Tonight, I am perched high on the East Rim with both of my sons, looking out over a desert lit up by the full moon while lightning rips thru clouds far into Mexico.

As late as last week, this trip had no chance.  But then I suddenly found one last opportunity for a quick get-away.  I could have said, “I’ve got too much work!”  “Will has better things to do on Fall Break than hang out with has Dad.” or “C.J. would have to miss school.” But instead, I called my son Will, a sophomore at Southwestern University, and asked him if he was up for a little backpacking.  He said that sounded great to him.  He was in!

My younger son, C.J. is a high-school sophomore.  With no Fall Break, he would have to miss two days of class in order to make this trip.   But we cleared the last hurdle when he promised to get his homework done early.  This will be his first backpacking trip, and despite many years of hiking and exploring in Big Bend, it will be the first time any of us have overnighted on the Rim. 

So Thursday after classes, C.J. and I drove the 4 hours to Georgetown, and bright and early Friday morning, the three of us were headed west to the Big Bend.  Will selected “Classic Vinyl” on XM radio, and we passed the time with the Beatles, and the Stones, mixed in with the Eagles, and a little Lynard Skynard. We pulled into Panther Junction about 4:30 that afternoon, and got our permit.  Our first choice, NE4, was available.  Before dinner at the Starlight, we had just enough time to make it out to Indian Head to catch the sunset on the west side of the Chisos.

Saturday, October 8

The weather is perfect, clear and about 75 degrees as we start the long climb up the Pinnacles Trail.  We chat with a couple who plans to camp at SW4, and we see one other group with full packs.  But other than that, we seem to have the mountain to ourselves.  As Will stops to read the Mountain Lion warning sign, C.J. comes up behind him and asks, “What’s it say?” 

Without missing a beat Will answers, “It says try not to look or smell like a giant can of tuna fish.”  He may be off at college, but he’s still the big brother.

It quickly becomes apparent that I am the weak link on this trip.  Will the switchbacks ever end?  As I lag further and further behind, I occasionally catch glimpses of two backpacks on the trail ahead.  Fortunately, they choose to wait and allow Dad to catch up from time to time.  I have never been prouder to bring up the rear.

Mercifully the switchbacks finally do end.  C.J. later informs me that there are 20 of them.  (Does that count as math homework?)  And we emerge into Boot Canyon.  I was last here in February, and I am surprised at how much water there is now.  The recent summer rains must have helped.  Since we weren’t sure what we would find, we brought all of our drinking water with us.  Hummingbirds and Monarch butterflies congregate at the water holes, along with the ever present Blue Jays.

We continue our climb up to the Rim and at last reach NE4 and begin to set up camp.  Spectacular views from the “point” of the Northeast Rim spread out before us--Juniper Canyon, Elephant Tusk, and the Sierra Del Carmen.  It’s hard to concentrate on camp set up, but at last we do, and dinner is served.  It’s not the Starlight, but what a view!

Will proves that college kids really can sleep anywhere.

Home Sweet Home.

Later that night as we sit out on the “point”, the nearly full moon rises above the mountains.  The desert floor almost seems to glow.  Far away into Mexico, big thunderstorms begin to build beyond the Sierra Del Carmen.  For over an hour the clouds light up from inside as lightning slashes through them.  Yet the storms are so far away, that we never once hear thunder.

Sunday, October 9

I’m certain that I heard rain in the night, but the ground is dry as we get up and start moving.  Rain or not, the clouds have moved in from Mexico.  The sun is not yet up, and the sky above is clear, but the dessert lies underneath a blanket of clouds.  After the sun breaks out, we are on an island looking out over an ocean of white.

After breakfast, we hit the Southeast Rim trail.  By now the clouds have completely obscured the view.

By the time we get back into Boot Canyon the clouds are beginning to break up.  As I watch the boys ahead of me on the trail, I’m thinking that next time they are definitely going to carry my pack!  They should be able to split it up between them without any problem!

Our lunch stop is at the bear boxes at the Emory Peak turnoff.  The sky is now clear, and a quick check reveals that everyone is still in good shape (well 2 out of 3 anyway), so we stash the packs and head up the Emory Peak trail.  This is the first time I have been on the trail reroute, and I must say that I am very impressed, they did a great job. 

Will is an old pro, who has been here before, but since this is C.J.’s first time to climb Emory; I can’t resist a little fatherly advice as we approach the summit rock pile.

“It’s really not as hard as it looks.  Just take your time and pick out your hand and foot holds…C.J!  Where are you?”

“I’m up here Dad.  On top, with Will!”

“Oh…good job…I’ll be up there in a minute…Show off!”

Thirty years from now he probably wouldn’t have remembered what happened in Chemistry class.  But I’ll bet he remembers this day for a very long time.  I know I will.  Sharing this trip with both of my boys is one of the highlights of my life.

Back down at the bear boxes, we shoulder the packs one last time.  Hunger now drives our push down the mountain.  We walk straight into the Basin Lodge where the boys begin to eat everything placed in front of them; chips, salsa, and chicken fried steak.  We top it all off with the “Emory Peak” dessert; a chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream covered with chocolate syrup.  It disappears almost the minute it hits the table; prompting Will to crack that we have just conquered Emory Peak twice in one day.

I’m not sure you ever conquer a mountain.  But if you’re lucky, you’re allowed to see her at her very best.  And we all come back a little bit better for the experience.