Create your own Adventure (i.e., hike)

Remember Create your own Adventures?

 

That’s what we like to do in the desert: create our own hikes. We are not adverse to taking established trails, and frequently enjoy them. But our main enjoyment from hiking is exploring—going places where others have not gone in a long time…..maybe a very long time. Or trying to get to a place, and succeeding or failing.

 

Today was one of those hikes. We had seen a couple of washes in yesterday’s hike, and thought we might be able to take one of them over to the other side of the set of hills to our west. That was our goal--the other side.

 

The yellow brick road on the following photo shows today’s hiking trail. We started at the top and walked south a bit before turning west. The first line that goes to the west shows that we got a ways into the hills and then had to turn back. This usually means that we have run into a very high dry fall (a dry waterfall that is too tall for us to climb) or the boulder scrambling has gotten to be too much. For this canyon it was the boulder scrambling.

 

We did, however, see a lovely bouquet of yellow flowers. (If you look closely, you can see our camper far in the distance).

So, we went back down the wash and tried to climb to the top of the ridge. However, after going about 50 feet we realized the slope was too steep and the rocks too loose, so we headed back. That is the second little trail underneath the first trail at the top. It covers the word "Bend" in Big Bend State Park.

 

Here I am going up this ridge, a few feet before we turned back.

So we went farther south, into another wash, and took it almost a mile and a quarter to the west.

 

 

And we reached the top! At the summit we could see far down into the other side of the hills. What a feeling of accomplishment.

 

The entire time we were out hiking we saw footprints only of animals. There were no footprints of other people. How long it has been since anybody has been here can only be imagined.

 

And we found this way through to the plateau all by ourselves, with no maps to guide us.

 

It is thrilling!

 

 

 

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"You know the name of a knot?".....and V-8 Juice karma

 

Our campsite, Robbers Roost (no apostrophe) is out in the middle of nowhere in Big Bend National Park. We have had only a couple of vehicles drive by the spot in the two days we have been here.

 

So imagine our surprise when we see a woman walking up the road. She has no hiking equipment, so looks to be just out for a stroll.

 

Well, not, as it turns out. She was heading to a campsite further up our road, got worried that her vehicle couldn’t make it, tried to turn around, and got stuck.

 

We walked about a quarter mile down the road to her vehicle. Our verdict was the same—she’s stuck. She had seriously high centered, and created some huge holes trying to drive out.

 

A week previously we had purchased a small spade and a small pickaxe. But we couldn’t get her out even with a lot of digging.

 

There was no alternative except to try to pull her out with the pickup. This meant packing up everything and driving to her.

 

Problem? No strap or chain. What we did have was a leash that Vicky had for her dog Rosie. Why she still has it is another story. One I hope to hear one day. We also had a few single links of chain that are used for the camper tie-downs.

 

Well, what the heck, let’s try it.

 

I fastened the links onto the frame of her car, and one end of the leash to the hooks on the pickup.

 

Problem: how to tie the loose end of the leash to the links.

 

Vicky: “I know what will work. Grandpa Burt taught me. A Bowen knot.

 

Woman: “You know the name of a knot?”

 

Vicky ties it.

I drive the pickup. The woman drives her car. Vicky pushes.

 

And it works! Comes out slicker than a whistle. A dog leash, a few links of tie-down chains, a Bowen knot, and Grandpa Burt.

Our new friend spent the night at our campsite—not too thrilled about the idea of driving up the remaining two miles to her campsite. A single parent out by herself in a minivan that didn’t provide enough clearance for the road, and camping in a backcountry site. Impressive.

 

Next day, a guy comes up the road walking his mountain bike, stops, and talks with us. We ask if he needs water, and he says no thank you.

 

He looks to be about 35 years old. Says he has been coming to Big Bend since he was a child—sometimes with his family, sometimes by himself.

 

For reasons I can’t remember, somehow we start talking about V-8 Juice. He says he’s never had one, so we produce one for him, and he drinks it down quickly. He was hotter than he thought he was.

 

Three years ago we were riding our bikes through Death Valley and ran out of water. A man had stopped by the side of the road to take our picture. Vicky asked if he had water, which he did and shared with us. Then our Good Samaritan offered us a V-8 juice. I don’t know if anything ever tasted any better, and I got hooked immediately on the stuff. Now I drink one about every other day. (you can get low sodium V-8 Juice which is the best), and always carry a can in my hiking pack.

 

Our cyclist friend today represents karma of some type. Or V-8 closure. Now it is his turn to pass along the V-8 love.

 

We have one more day at this campsite. We are anxious to see who walks by us on this mostly deserted road today.

 

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"Camping" in a parking lot in a National Park

We are in the Guadalupe Mountains National Park. Be honest: did you know we had a Guadalupe Mountains National Park?

Last year, while traveling east through Texas we stopped at an enormous visitor information center just inside the Texas border. We asked about the Guadalupe Mountains National Park. The people at the desk looked at each other, stranding in this ocean of about 1000 tourist brochures, and said "We've never heard of it."

It is right under New Mexico, close to Carlsbad Caverns National Park, which I bet you have heard of. It is one of the smaller national parks.

It is not a park chosen for being able to easily view its scenic beauty. It is, instead, a wilderness park. There is no road through it, for example. Many people who go there are actually heading to Carlsbad Caverns, see there is another national park close by, and stop in to see what it is all about. They go to the visitor's center, discover that to see this park is one where visitors have to hike in to experience it, and leave. (We found this from someone who was in the know). The other type of visitor is a hiker. And it would appear from the main parking lot that most of this group is from El Paso, an hour and a half down the road.

There are a few tent camping sites, and NO camping sites for RVs. Instead, for RVs there is a parking lot.

When I asked at the visitor's center if there were plans to create real campsites for RVs the response seemed to indicate that they thought that what I was referring to was a place with hookups. What I was actually trying to inquire about was places to camp with an RV that were similar to those in every other campground we had ever seen in National Parks, National Forests, etc. A place to hang out in nature with some privacy.

I guess the answer is no.

The parking lot is also the main trailhead parking lot, so it is busy during the day. Also during the day you get to hear the wonderful and soothing hum of generators, exactly what most people are seeking from experiences in nature. There is water and flush toilets (which we'd gladly give up for some privacy), but no dump station (also unusual).

So another group of people who "camp" there do so for one night--just a place to stay for a night. I suspect many go to Carlsbad Caverns, but since there is no camping there, camp instead in the parking lot here.

In short, the camping is disappointing for a National Park. And, of course, like for all campgrounds, people violate the rules for dogs. Even in a parking lot, people find ways of allowing their dogs to run free (which we observed) and poop on the few square yards of grass which exist.

We put up with it because the hiking was so spectacular. We stayed four nights and got to take three hikes, two of which were among the tops of hikes we have taken. And there are more we can take at another visit.

This park is one the least visited of any National Parks. The camping is a disappointment, but it is beautiful, and given what it is, a hiker will really love it.

 

Vicky at a spot identified in one of the brochures:

 

 

See Vicky?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Dog trying to kill a coatimundi in Chiricahua National Monument

Once again we witnessed why dogs should not be allowed in National Parks/Monuments/Grasslands/

Preserves/Whatevers. We saw one almost kill a wild animal because the owners were blatantly and knowingly defying the rules for dogs.

 

What is it with so many dog owners? The sense of entitlement that their dog should be the exception to the rules for dogs is almost like a requirement to own a dog. Over and over we see dogs in areas of parks where they aren't allowed, dogs that are not on leashes when they are supposed to be and when owners know they are supposed to be, dogs that are allowed to bark and bark, and dogs that are not cleaned up after.

 

And, yes, there are some responsible dog owners, but they are too few. There is no possibility for reforming dog owners because they just think the rules don't apply to their dog. Their dog is so special to them that it is assumed that it is just plain old special. And because it is special rules don't apply.

 

Yesterday afternoon in the Bonita Canyon campground in the Chiricahua National Monument we were watching in wonderment out our window at a coatimundi, a shy creature of the desert related to the raccoon. In hundreds of miles of hikes and in thousands of miles of travel in thre southwest, this was the first one we had ever seen. We were so excited!

 

All of a sudden, from across the campground, a dog started running toward it--a big dog, some type of Collie mix that the owners (two women) already had to restrain when Vicky walked to the trash. I ran toward them screaming at them to ge their dog, but it was too late. Fortunately, the animal just got to a tree when the dog arrived there, jumping fiercely in the air to get the treed animal.

 

I yelled at one of the women as I was running past them to try to head off the dog: "This is why they are supposed to be on a leash!"

 

Her response, back to me angrily: "I know!" (Any more evidence needed about the entitlement of dog owners?)

 

Fortunately, one of ther camp hosts also witnessed this, and told them to keep their dog leashed. I wonder how many of the problems camp hosts deal with have to do with dogs.

 

We managed to get a couple of photos of this shy creature before it almost became dog food:

 

 

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Hiking in Death Valley

We spent 12 days in Death Valley on this leg of Roadtrip 4.2. We spent no nights in campgrounds. All of camping was "backcountry," which means off to the side of roads that for the most part ordinary vehicles can’t travel on unless they are 4-wheel drive. Trailers couldn’t make it even if towed by 4-wheel drive vehicle because the roads are too narrow.

 

Death Valley is similar to many National Parks in that it is designed to give visitors who come here for two or three days some interesting and beautiful things to see. In Death Valley that includes the Sand Dunes, Scotty’s Castle, Ubehebe Crater, and Zabriskie Point, among other places. You can get out of your car, walk a few feet, and take some photos, and be very happy.

 

The other side of National Parks is designed for people who want to get out and experience them first-hand—touch them, smell them, etc. These people are fewer in number—a fraction, in fact, of the folks who visit National Parks. I forget the exact figure, but it was something like the average person spends 8 minutes at the Grand Canyon. Walk to a lookout, take a few photos, and then walk back to the car. A much smaller number actually hike to the bottom or take trips on the river through the Canyon.

 

Vicky and I enjoy the beautiful sights that National Parks offer, but we also like to explore. We want to get to places where there are few, if any people, and see things that others may not have seen in dozens or even hundreds of years. We like to find old abandoned mining roads and try to follow them to find out why they were built. Sometimes we find an old mine, sometimes we find nothing more than a filled in hole that was someone’s small mine, and sometimes we find nothing—the road just runs out and we are left to wonder about who went to all of the trouble to build it and why. All of these mines were someone’s dream of good fortune. Very few of those dreams were realized. The work was hard, hot, and dangerous.

 

The other kind of hike we enjoy in the desert areas of Death Valley is exploring canyons, of which there must be thousands here. We will walk along the edge of a mountain range until we see an opening and then see how far up that canyon we can hike. Or we will see what looks to be an opening in the mountains across the desert, and decide to walk over to it and explore.

 

We never know what we will find, or how far up the canyon we can go. In general, the farther one goes, the more steep the canyons become, until we reach a point where we are no longer hiking but instead are scrambling. We will reach a "fall," (a rock that looks like a waterfall) and at that point turn back.

 

For this trip to Death Valley we went took some incredible hikes. Not once did we see another person hiking. We were all alone, in the desert.

 

Hikes to canyons:

 

This photo shows a canyon we have identified in the far distance. It is just over Vicky's shoulder.

 

Our hikes to abandoned mines:

Another in our collection of outhouse photos. Someday we'll make a coffee table book of all of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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