I seem to be forever apologizing for neglecting this blog, but that will soon be behind me. More about that in later blogs. This one is the account of my solo hike to the top of Guadalupe Peak, the highest point in Texas. The day after this hike, Budd and I got on the road to Dallas for Thanksgiving with my mother, brother and his family. Since then, events have speeded up to keep me forgetful, so I owe several blogs and will try to get them out before Christmas.
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Guadalupe Trail
The first .7 mile was familiar from my two previous attempts, but I felt sluggish and as if I weren't going as fast as I should. I stopped about a third of the way to the point where I had taken the wrong turn on Friday to talk to two gentlemen coming down the trail, a man and his 87-year-old father! As they approached and stopped, they asked if I were alone and how far I was going. When I told them, the older gentleman said "I'll bet you were a Girl Scout!" Delighted, I affirmed that I had been a Girl Scout. I was able to answer a few questions for them, during which two other parties passed, including a woman with her daughter, husband and dad, whom I would encounter again near the end of the trail. The woman mentioned a bridge on the trail, which she said was about halfway. I confided that this was my third attempt to reach the peak in a 7-day period. In better spirits after talking to fellow hikers, I continued and made better time.
Above the point where the horse trail split off, I found the right trail and marvelled that I hadn't seen it before. Thus began my long, long trek around the west side of this peak, during which time I saw no one travelling in either direction for quite some time. The trail switches back three or four times climbing up steeply, and across a ridge to the next peak to the west, then takes a long gentle rise around the north side again.
At the point where I took the right-hand picture, I had just passed a sign that said 'Cliff--Riders Dismount'. Most of it isn't very steep, but rises gently the entire time. It was probably around 11 a.m. when I came out high on the east side of the second peak travelling south, and started up the switchback that would lead me back around to the north and Pine Springs canyon side, then eventually around to the west of this peak also.
At this point I thought I was on the slopes of Guadalupe, but was not.
I was getting concerned that I hadn't yet seen a bridge and therefore wasn't halfway yet, when I met the first person I had seen coming down since the elderly man and his son. This young man had clearly spent the night at the campsite as his pack was almost as big as he was. He told me I probably was halfway, and that the bridge was considerably farther than halfway. Relieved, I kept walking and in short order met a young girl and several other men in quick succession. All of them had spent the night at the campground, which for some reason made me feel confident. No one who was doing the day trip had yet started back down. I did ask the first boy the time, and it was noon.
I had a particular point picked out as Guadalupe, but I kept comparing its height to the peak across the canyon, and finally decided that wasn't it. It's lucky I had already decided that, because when I finally spotted Guadalupe, I almost gave up. Here's the first glimpse--Guad Peak is the tiny knoll near the center.It was still so far away!
Just then another man came around a bend in the trail and stopped to ask how I was doing. He wanted to know if I thought I would make it, and I said 'I hope so!' I had already decided that if I didn't make it today, I wouldn't make it at all. He wished me well, told me that the trail was 'a little rough' when it came out on the south side of the mountain, exposed to the wind, and then said I looked like a brave lady. If I hadn't been so tired already, I might have questioned why he said that, but instead I just laughed and kept walking.
A few minutes later I overtook a family of four who were equipped for an overnight stay also. I greeted them as I passed where they had stopped for a rest, but didn't stop as I now heard another solo hiker behind me. The trail is so narrow in most spots that to allow someone to pass in either direction, someone has to step off the trail. However, it hangs on the side of the mountain in such a way that you have to go straight up or straight down to get off the trail...there isn't a shoulder.
But a little further along, on a switchback corner, I gave up trying to stay ahead of the man behind me and allowed him to pass...his legs were much longer than mine.
Now the scenery was spectacular as I was high on sheer limestone cliffs punctuated with deep ravines full of ponderosa pine. I kept trying to capture this, but the ravines were in deep shadow. Eventually I passed the bridge
, came to the point where the campsite trail leads off from the main trail, and knew that the peak was only a mile or so ahead. Each time it appeared from behind the trees or a bend in the trail it was like the mythical oasis in the desert...always as far away as the last time I saw it. And considerably above me! It looked like the last 1000 feet of altitude gain was going to be all in the last mile.
Now I began to pass people coming down from the peak as the trail switched back and forth rapidly. Among them was the family who had passed me as I spoke to the first two men, back near the trailhead. She said 'You're going to make it this time!' I replied 'If it KILLS me!', thinking that it might well do that.
Three switchbacks later, I almost gave up, even though I knew I must be within a quarter of a mile of the top. The trail led out on the south face of the peak and disappeared over a sheer drop or around a corner, I wasn't sure which. It was so frightening I wasn't sure I had the courage to step out far enough to see where it went, but I managed to creep forward far enough to see it. If I could edge around the corner, a huge boulder, then I would regain a reasonably broad path. Fortunately, the wind was not gusting at the moment or my courage might still have failed me. I sat down and scooted around that corner, though I'm sure younger or more intrepid hikers just strode across the rocks.
What followed was half an hour of sheer terror as I crept along the trail, sure that the wind gusts would blow me over at any moment. I was passed by at least two parties who seemed to have no problem, but each time there was a wind gust, I dropped to a squat and held on to the side for dear life. Am I afraid of heights? No, but I AM afraid of falling from them. I was supremely grateful when the trail led up and away from the edge, switching back slightly just once before winding up to the pinnacle, upon which sat a monument!
I was getting concerned that I hadn't yet seen a bridge and therefore wasn't halfway yet, when I met the first person I had seen coming down since the elderly man and his son. This young man had clearly spent the night at the campsite as his pack was almost as big as he was. He told me I probably was halfway, and that the bridge was considerably farther than halfway. Relieved, I kept walking and in short order met a young girl and several other men in quick succession. All of them had spent the night at the campground, which for some reason made me feel confident. No one who was doing the day trip had yet started back down. I did ask the first boy the time, and it was noon.
I had a particular point picked out as Guadalupe, but I kept comparing its height to the peak across the canyon, and finally decided that wasn't it. It's lucky I had already decided that, because when I finally spotted Guadalupe, I almost gave up. Here's the first glimpse--Guad Peak is the tiny knoll near the center.It was still so far away!
Just then another man came around a bend in the trail and stopped to ask how I was doing. He wanted to know if I thought I would make it, and I said 'I hope so!' I had already decided that if I didn't make it today, I wouldn't make it at all. He wished me well, told me that the trail was 'a little rough' when it came out on the south side of the mountain, exposed to the wind, and then said I looked like a brave lady. If I hadn't been so tired already, I might have questioned why he said that, but instead I just laughed and kept walking.
A few minutes later I overtook a family of four who were equipped for an overnight stay also. I greeted them as I passed where they had stopped for a rest, but didn't stop as I now heard another solo hiker behind me. The trail is so narrow in most spots that to allow someone to pass in either direction, someone has to step off the trail. However, it hangs on the side of the mountain in such a way that you have to go straight up or straight down to get off the trail...there isn't a shoulder.
But a little further along, on a switchback corner, I gave up trying to stay ahead of the man behind me and allowed him to pass...his legs were much longer than mine.Now the scenery was spectacular as I was high on sheer limestone cliffs punctuated with deep ravines full of ponderosa pine. I kept trying to capture this, but the ravines were in deep shadow. Eventually I passed the bridge
, came to the point where the campsite trail leads off from the main trail, and knew that the peak was only a mile or so ahead. Each time it appeared from behind the trees or a bend in the trail it was like the mythical oasis in the desert...always as far away as the last time I saw it. And considerably above me! It looked like the last 1000 feet of altitude gain was going to be all in the last mile.Now I began to pass people coming down from the peak as the trail switched back and forth rapidly. Among them was the family who had passed me as I spoke to the first two men, back near the trailhead. She said 'You're going to make it this time!' I replied 'If it KILLS me!', thinking that it might well do that.
Three switchbacks later, I almost gave up, even though I knew I must be within a quarter of a mile of the top. The trail led out on the south face of the peak and disappeared over a sheer drop or around a corner, I wasn't sure which. It was so frightening I wasn't sure I had the courage to step out far enough to see where it went, but I managed to creep forward far enough to see it. If I could edge around the corner, a huge boulder, then I would regain a reasonably broad path. Fortunately, the wind was not gusting at the moment or my courage might still have failed me. I sat down and scooted around that corner, though I'm sure younger or more intrepid hikers just strode across the rocks.
What followed was half an hour of sheer terror as I crept along the trail, sure that the wind gusts would blow me over at any moment. I was passed by at least two parties who seemed to have no problem, but each time there was a wind gust, I dropped to a squat and held on to the side for dear life. Am I afraid of heights? No, but I AM afraid of falling from them. I was supremely grateful when the trail led up and away from the edge, switching back slightly just once before winding up to the pinnacle, upon which sat a monument!
And here are a couple of panoramic views of the remains of the ancient lagoon that appear as lakes that are either dry or just under the surface, apparently salty.
This one is looking southwest toward El Paso.
This one is looking southwest toward El Paso.
And this one more south. That's the El Capitan formation in the lower left corner, from above.
Here I sat at the base of the monument, took off my pack and dug for the food I had brought, some trail bars I had made quite some time ago and frozen. Whether my appetite was completely suppressed from my exhaustion or the bars freezer burned, they were dry and unpalatable. After forcing down one bite, I knew I couldn't eat more. Nor was my apple appealing. I decided to get started on the return hike with only one bite of food after 5 hours of hiking. At least I was drinking my water!
Starting down I was pleased to pass a family of five and then another party still on their way up. I like having people behind me on the trail for safety's sake. But they shortly overtook me, on the way back down already. I chatted a bit with the father of the first family as he tried to keep up with a son who looked about 12 and an adorable red-headed daughter he said was 7. His wife and a son in the middle were still some way behind for quite a while.
When my BodyBugg alert went off at 2 p.m., I had just started down. Now I knew I was in a bit of trouble. From high on the peak I had cell service, so I called Budd to let him know I would be late getting down, but would be past the scary parts before dark. I had to leave a message, which he didn't receive because the battery on his phone died as he was trying to retrieve it. By the time I made it down to the Guadalupe campsite turnoff, I was beyond tired and beginning to feel sore, and it was now 3 p.m. The sun winks out like someone pulled a switch at 4:45 at our house, but I still had more than three miles to go. I pushed as hard as I could, and was grateful that even in shadow there was still enough light to see the trail. However, I was berating myself for not having done the responsible thing two hours before and turning around before I reached the peak. I knew Budd would be worried when I wasn't off the trail before dark.
By a wild coincidence more than an hour later, I turned a bend in the trail and could see the campground parking lot far below just as Budd pulled up in his distinctively-shaped NPS vehicle and parked beside what I knew must be my car. It was full twilight now, and I had at least a mile, maybe a little longer to go. I was afraid he would immediately start up the trail, so I pushed even harder when it was safe to do so, hoping to cover the distance before he could get too far up and leave us both in the dark. What I didn't realize then was that he had already returned to his office for a couple of flashlights.
Finally, about a quarter mile past the confluence with the horse trail, I saw a dark bulk on the trail below me and called out his name. He answered 'hallloooo?' and ignored my suggestion that he stay where he was and let me come to him. We met just at the switchback corner, where he gave me a hug and took the pack from me. I went ahead on the trail feeling my way with my walking stick. He began to tell me how he had started up, encountering my friend with the little redheaded daughter who told him I was on the way down and doing fine when they last saw me. He pointed up the correct trail, but Budd turned too far to the left where the three trails came together, and took the El Capitan trail at first. After about half a mile he realized his error, backtracked and started up the right one. He had been on Guadalupe trail about half an hour by the time he found me.
At first I didn't want the flashlight, as I've always found the light from them to be treacherous on rough ground. But before long it was too dark to see the trail clearly and at one point I couldn't see which way to go. From there on we used the flashlight, Budd walking close behind me and pointing it ahead. By this time I was limping badly from the long day's hike, and any time I had to step down from a rock or step in the trail, I was landing hard with an oooph!, unable to ease myself down on my tired thighs. Budd took my hand and moved to the lead, and I leaned heavily on him for the last third of a mile. Believe me, I was grateful for him coming after me. I've been telling people he carried me down the last mile, but of course that's just a funny exaggeration. It couldn't have been more than half a mile.
Also for the dinner he cooked and brought to me on the couch, as I could barely move for the rest of the day!
Here I sat at the base of the monument, took off my pack and dug for the food I had brought, some trail bars I had made quite some time ago and frozen. Whether my appetite was completely suppressed from my exhaustion or the bars freezer burned, they were dry and unpalatable. After forcing down one bite, I knew I couldn't eat more. Nor was my apple appealing. I decided to get started on the return hike with only one bite of food after 5 hours of hiking. At least I was drinking my water!
Starting down I was pleased to pass a family of five and then another party still on their way up. I like having people behind me on the trail for safety's sake. But they shortly overtook me, on the way back down already. I chatted a bit with the father of the first family as he tried to keep up with a son who looked about 12 and an adorable red-headed daughter he said was 7. His wife and a son in the middle were still some way behind for quite a while.
When my BodyBugg alert went off at 2 p.m., I had just started down. Now I knew I was in a bit of trouble. From high on the peak I had cell service, so I called Budd to let him know I would be late getting down, but would be past the scary parts before dark. I had to leave a message, which he didn't receive because the battery on his phone died as he was trying to retrieve it. By the time I made it down to the Guadalupe campsite turnoff, I was beyond tired and beginning to feel sore, and it was now 3 p.m. The sun winks out like someone pulled a switch at 4:45 at our house, but I still had more than three miles to go. I pushed as hard as I could, and was grateful that even in shadow there was still enough light to see the trail. However, I was berating myself for not having done the responsible thing two hours before and turning around before I reached the peak. I knew Budd would be worried when I wasn't off the trail before dark.
By a wild coincidence more than an hour later, I turned a bend in the trail and could see the campground parking lot far below just as Budd pulled up in his distinctively-shaped NPS vehicle and parked beside what I knew must be my car. It was full twilight now, and I had at least a mile, maybe a little longer to go. I was afraid he would immediately start up the trail, so I pushed even harder when it was safe to do so, hoping to cover the distance before he could get too far up and leave us both in the dark. What I didn't realize then was that he had already returned to his office for a couple of flashlights.
Finally, about a quarter mile past the confluence with the horse trail, I saw a dark bulk on the trail below me and called out his name. He answered 'hallloooo?' and ignored my suggestion that he stay where he was and let me come to him. We met just at the switchback corner, where he gave me a hug and took the pack from me. I went ahead on the trail feeling my way with my walking stick. He began to tell me how he had started up, encountering my friend with the little redheaded daughter who told him I was on the way down and doing fine when they last saw me. He pointed up the correct trail, but Budd turned too far to the left where the three trails came together, and took the El Capitan trail at first. After about half a mile he realized his error, backtracked and started up the right one. He had been on Guadalupe trail about half an hour by the time he found me.
At first I didn't want the flashlight, as I've always found the light from them to be treacherous on rough ground. But before long it was too dark to see the trail clearly and at one point I couldn't see which way to go. From there on we used the flashlight, Budd walking close behind me and pointing it ahead. By this time I was limping badly from the long day's hike, and any time I had to step down from a rock or step in the trail, I was landing hard with an oooph!, unable to ease myself down on my tired thighs. Budd took my hand and moved to the lead, and I leaned heavily on him for the last third of a mile. Believe me, I was grateful for him coming after me. I've been telling people he carried me down the last mile, but of course that's just a funny exaggeration. It couldn't have been more than half a mile.
Also for the dinner he cooked and brought to me on the couch, as I could barely move for the rest of the day!
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