August 2019 – Dispatches from the Field

Karen and I met our friends Jason and Nita at Big Bend National Park recently. Well, to be more accurate, we may have crashed their vacation, but they were kind enough not to hold it against us. The three-day, four-night trip consisted of multiple hiking extravaganzas (read: death marches – okay, maybe they did hold it against us).

The Park

Big Bend National Park (BBNP) is located in the Chihuahuan Desert – yeah, that’s right we went to the desert in August…on purpose. It was kinda hot too. Who knew? Anyway…

According to Wikipedia, “The park has national significance as the largest protected area of Chihuahuan Desert topography and ecology in the United States. The park protects more than 1,200 species of plants, more than 450 species of birds, 56 species of reptiles, and 75 species of mammals.” We would not have minded seeing all of them, but we came for a very rare species of warbler and any other migrating birds to be found, blooming wildflowers, any animal willing to show itself, and a stunning night sky. The park does not disappoint, but effort may be required.

The Chisos Mountains

These mountains are the only mountain range in the United States to be wholly contained within the boundary of a national park. For me, they are the heart of the park. The park’s three canyons are fantastic, and you should visit Santa Elena Canyon as quickly as you can. The river with its green valley running through the desert is essential for wildlife and people of the region. The desert with its rough and tumble landscape and horizon-to-horizon sky is a spectacle to behold. I love all aspects of BBNP, but my eyes and thoughts always return to the Chisos. It seems to me more adventure awaits in the mountains. They seem to require more from you, but they always give in return. It was in these mountains that Karen and I would spend most of our time on this trip, test ourselves to our limits, and be most rewarded for our efforts.

The Hike: Round 1

As you begin the drive up to the Chisos Mountains, you are greeted by this sign along the road.

Now, I don’t know about you, but the first thought that crosses my mind when I see this sign is not “let’s go hiking in the dark.” Jason, The Hiking Machine, not only thinks like this, he will actually go do it…alone. On this trip, I am scheduled to hike up to Boot Canyon with him in the dark.

“Good news,” Jason says, “The sun comes up later this time of year. We can get a late start.”

At 4:57 a.m. I see the glow from his green head lamp coming toward me, right on time. I make my first mistake within the first 10 feet of the trail.

It wasn’t really my fault; someone moved the trail since last November. Oh sure, the sign said “Authorized Personnel Only” were to go the direction I chose, ignoring the arrow pointing the other direction to the trail. But this is my 26^th visit to the park—who would be more authorized than me? And I have been up this trail several times. I know where the trail is supposed to be. After 50 yards of a severe uphill we ran into a closed trail sign with no passage. I offered a gasping explanation of it used to be here and this is where it was then and uh…sorry.

The Hiking Machine is not amused. Two things worry me at this point: my significantly elevated heart rate after only 50 yards up a three-mile trail and the low, rumbling growl coming from my hiking companion.

The yellow arrow points to the top of the Pinnacles Trail and where we will walk to in the dark.

Now, on the right track, we start the climb up the trail. We have about 1800 feet of elevation to gain over the next three miles, in the dark, in mountains where we were warned that mountain lions and bears roam. Surely, they are asleep and not interested in one wheezing, stumbling person moseying up the trail, right?

The green glow from Jason’s headlamp disappears into the dark trees ahead. After a few hours (might have been a few minutes) of hiking alone, I find him stopped in the trail where he was kind enough to wait for me. He tells me of the dazzling meteors streaking across the Milky Way and how they illuminate my shirt. I try to remember what it is like to breath air again. I quickly realize that the mountain lion and bear threat to me is miniscule compared to the clear and present danger of death from trying to keep up with Jason on this hike. He clicks on his headlamp and strides into the dark. I will see him again in a few minutes when he stops to wait for me once again.

As so it goes for the next two hours until we reach the top of the Pinnacles Trail as the sun begins to brighten the eastern sky. I have slowed Jason down significantly, but he still seems in good spirits, or at least he has lost the growl. From here, the trail levels out some, and in another mile we begin our hunt for a rare warbler, or two.

The image below is a screen shot from my Fitbit that shows my heart rate during this part of the hike. According to the mostly-accepted formula to calculate maximum heart rate mine should be 167 beats per minute. According to my Fitbit, my heart rate reached 175. I may have survived the hike up. However, it has now been over a week since the hike, and I’m still not completely sure that’s true.

Boot Canyon is beautiful, especially early in the morning, which makes the strenuous climb well worth the effort. At Boot Springs, Jason quickly finds our first warbler – a Painted Redstart. Not long after that we spot a Slate-throated Redstart. Acorn Woodpeckers and Mexican Jays seem to be everywhere in the canyon. A Colima Warbler, a BBNP specialty, gives us a quick sighting. Western Wood-Peewee, Cordillean Flycatcher, Huttons Vireo, and Broad-tailed Hummingbird round out sightings in the shaded valley.

Namesake of Boot Canyon and Boot Springs

After spending about 45 minutes with the Slate-throated Redstart, we agree to go see the South Rim – sometimes described as the best view in Texas. We take in the big views along the rim then begin the return trip down the Laguna Meadow Trail and arrive back in the basin around 2:30 p.m., 11.8 miles later.

Blurry photo of the Slate-throated Redstart

It has been a fantastic day. I haven’t been to the South Rim since 2009, but I still made it. I may be old, but I begin to think I might just be awesome. As I collapse in our room, I realize my feet feel like they have been gnawed on by an alligator for hours; I hurt in strange and unfamiliar places; and it is entirely possible I might not be able to move ever again. “Awesome” is no longer how I describe how I feel.

The Hike Round 2

So, of course, we do it again on Monday, two days later.

This time Karen and Nita joined us. We are going up the Laguna Meadow Trail this time because it is “easier.” Easier in an Einsteinian Theory of Relativity way imperceptible to mere humans, except, of course, Jason. Rather than the more exposed route of the Laguna Meadow Trail, our afternoon descent by way of the Pinnacles Trail is promised to be much cooler because of the languid stretches of dappled shade and gentle, caressing cool breezes.

In no time at all, Nita proved she was no slouch either on this hike. Both her and Jason left Karen and I (certified slouches in almost every way) waaaaay behind on the trail. They got far enough ahead of us that they felt compelled to leave us a note in the trail. My first trail note, which now resides in my Big Bend NP Trip Journal.

Of course, we left at 5:00 a.m. to hike in the “cool of the dark.” On the way up the trail we stopped, sweating like beasts of burden, to…uh…watch for meteors, we hear a night bird calling in the distance. The call is described as a “bouncing ball call,” which is quite true. You can listen to it here.

This hike was about birds, but also about a special flower – the Cinnabar Ladies’ Tresses, a rare orchid that blooms in the high Chisos. Karen and I first saw it in 2003, but it was not in bloom then—almost, but not quite. This would be the first time we would see it in full bloom. It did not disappoint.

On the ascent up the Laguna Meadow Trail, while Karen was photographing some wildflowers, I checked the surrounding area for danger. Suddenly, I spotted a tawny patch of fur moving in the high grass twenty yards away. I froze, all senses on high alert. I slowly reached for my pocket knife in my pants pocket to defend me and my bride from the lurking creature below. Failing to find said pocket knife, I employed a technique I learned as a student of Patrick McManus many years ago. – The Modified Stationary Panic. Mr. McManus recommended this technique in lieu of the more common, Full-Bore Linear Panic. I was very thankful I had learned this lesson when I realized what the tawny desperado was. The Full-Bore Linear Panic would have been quite embarrassing. As it was, Karen was none the wiser.

But all good things come to an end. And the goodness of this hike ended 3.2 miles before it was over. The Pinnacles Trail loomed painfully ahead. The Pinnacles Trail is a steep descent with many rocky, downward steps that twist and grind and wrench old knees into mush. At one point Karen stopped atop a step with a significant drop to the trail below and said, “It’s like the high dive!” Which was funny and true, except there was no ladder with which to shamefully give up, climb down on, and go home. Oh, would that it had.

We dreamed of the promised shaded realms that lie before us somewhere as the onslaught to the knees thankfully ended (mostly), and gave way to sweltering, murderous heat. So bad, that I unzipped the leggings from my hiking pants and wore shorts the rest of the sun-blasted way down. Muttering about the blinding glare, Jason and Nita quickly disappeared farther down the trail. The shorts helped me only a little. Someone must have moved this trail too.

We would find out later that the high temperature in the Basin that day was 97 degrees F. This is only 2 degrees below the all-time high temperature for August in the Chisos Mountains which occurred in 1937, according to this source.

Finally, we made it to the end of the trail to find Jason waiting for us, yet again, to make sure we were okay. We did appreciate that.

We had one more treat waiting for us at the end of the day:

Wildflowers

Karen identified over 40 species of blooming wildflowers on our trip. Most were up in the Chisos Mountains around Boot Canyon and the trails leading to there.