November 19, 2010

Yesterday I formed the determination to get to the top of Guadalupe Peak today. I had several reasons. I had made almost 1/3 of the altitude gain with little problem on Wednesday, but turned around because I thought I was on the wrong trail. I had done very little in the way of exercise during the rest of the week. And I got the idea in my head that today was the right day because tomorrow I will turn 62 years old. It just seemed somehow appropriate that I had been born at one of the lowest altitudes in Texas in Corpus Christi and would celebrate the last day of my 61st year at the highest.

Alas, it was not to be. But I'm ok with it. It's actually kind of funny.

The first thing I did was wake up to the howling that signals high winds. This was not supposed to happen! The forecast didn't say WINDY until tomorrow! So I looked at TWC online to see just how fast they were blowing. 22 mph. Well, that's not so bad, is it? I stepped outside with Budd as he left for work just before 8 a.m., quite breezy, but not cold, in spite of the temperature showing at 35 degrees. OK, I'm going to try it, but I'll be prudent. I'll stop at the Visitor Center and ask a ranger whether it is too dangerous.

Rushing around to get my breakfast and prepare my pack for an 8-mile hike, I left the house at ten minutes of nine and drove to the VC. Asked the first interp I saw, a fit-looking young man, about the winds. 'Naaaah,' he says. 'We don't worry about the winds until they're gusting above 55 mph. You should be fine. Lean into the mountain, make sure you have a hat strap (I didn't) and plenty of water, because the wind will dry you out. You'll be fine.' Since I didn't have a hat strap, I would have to take off the hat, but he told me to take it with me for the calm spots. There's no shade to speak of on the trail.

I got back in the car, applied sunscreen and drove to the campground, where I put my hat in my pack, turned on Bigmouth, signed the trail register and headed back up the same trail I had been on day before yesterday, which I had determined was indeed the right trail. I was very pleased that even with the wind I made the point where the sign was located (see Wednesday's blog for the picture) in under 45 minutes, as my 9 a.m. BodyBugg alarm hadn't gone off yet. I made the sharp right turn where I had turned on Wednesday, and soon realized I had passed my previous turnaround point without recognizing it. I was on a previously untraveled (by me) track that led back into the canyon.

In the harsh morning sun I didn't find anything I was particularly interested in photographing, so unfortunately there are no pictures to document this hike. Just as well...I wasn't going where I thought I was going. It soon became apparent that I was going steadily if not steeply downhill. I kept thinking that any minute the trail would turn upwards. Because the trail followed on the same side of the mountain as the wash where Devil's Hall trail wanders, I assumed that somewhere back in the canyon it would begin ascending from the west. Because it was only slightly downhill, it was fairly easy walking, except for the times I felt I didn't want to be moving as a gust of wind caught me. At those times, I'd plant my stick in front, take a wide-legged stance and wait it out. I was quite stable, no chance of being blown off the side of the mountain.

Before very much longer, I was getting a little agitated. I hate to lose altitude when I still have quite a bit to gain, so I was not liking the downward trend on this trail. Suddenly, I spotted a sign up ahead. Good! I'd be able to orient myself from here. Striding the last few yards, I eagerly looked at the sign. What?! Guadalupe Peak back the way I had come, Devil's Hall straight ahead...how the heck? I had found the sign that I remembered on Wednesday (except there was no Tejas trail access to the right), but where had I gone wrong? I hadn't been anywhere near the summit on Guadalupe Peak.

Now I had a decision to make. I had come quite a ways DOWN, on the wrong trail, when the trail I wanted was already an 8.5 mile trek. That's longer than I've gone before. Should I climb back up, looking carefully for where I missed the turn I should have taken? I sat down to take off my pack and consult the map. That's when I remembered I had taken the map out of my pack on Wednesday, to try to figure out what I had done after I got home. I hadn't put it back.

Discretion became the better part of valor as I turned back to the east on the return trail to the campground. I was disappointed, but there were just too many things working against me to correct my mistake today. Not only the wind and the lack of a map, but an extra two miles? Not gonna happen.

As I strode along, making great time on this trail, I decided to take Bigmouth in to show the VC ranger, and make sure I knew what I was doing next time. Oh, yeah, there will be a next time! I'm not letting this defeat me. I got to the VC, walked up to the big map on the counter and found it...Bigmouth's trackback was a perfect match for, wait for it--THE HORSE TRAIL! I finally know where that guy came from! (Wednesday's blog again.)

I was home in time to have lunch with Budd, but I have every intention of taking that hike on the next low-wind day. The two and a quarter miles today took only 2 hours and burned 688 calories! I'm getting there,

Now I think I'll cross-stitch all afternoon--I've earned it!

November 18, 2010

I was SO happy to get back on a trail yesterday morning. It had been a week and a half, and I was having withdrawal symptoms. Not to mention the undeniable fact that it doesn't take long for a senior citizen to lose conditioning. I hadn't been on the trail more than 5 minutes before I was huffing and puffing like the little engine that could.

My destination, for the first time, was not the end of the trail. I had decided to tackle a 'strenuous' trail, which in this case means steep. The end summits Guadalupe Peak at 8751 ft. according to the latest calculations. Not only had I started out too late in the day, but I was by no means certain I was up to the 8.4 mile round trip. The last hike, at 6.8, was very tiring, and it was basically flat. So today, my intention was to go as high as I could before my legs turned to jelly, then turn around and come back.

Since I didn't know how far that would be, I decided to take Bigmouth (our GPS, who is female) along. She has a usage mode for walking as well as driving (also bicycling and scootering, whatever that is--why would a scooter be different from a bike?), but we haven't used it much, so I wasn't certain what I was doing. I started by saving my location at the campground/trailhead parking lot, and taking mental note of the elevation (which I promptly forgot). The internet tells me it's 5633 feet. Then, leaving her on, I put her in my backpack. She is a car model, not suitable for carrying, and I didn't have a pocket. Fortunately, she did track me as I walked.

The trail from Pine Springs campground divides several times, the first time within sight of the trailhead. From this division, you can take Devil's Hall trail, which branches off to Tejas trail a little further along. You can take El Capitan trail, leading back to the east and south around the famous formation and back in a loop. Or you can take Guadalupe, which clearly states no horses on this trail. I set off in the direction of the arrow, and no more than five minutes later ran into this bloke and had to step off the trail to leave room for his horses. Where the heck had he come from?



As I pondered that question, I began to believe that there was another branch of the trail ahead, right to Devil's Hall and left to Guadalupe Peak and El Capitan. I should never trust the map that's in my head, although it's pretty good most of the time. Sometimes the gremlins in there turn it around. But I could hear voices from up ahead, so I knew I wasn't alone on the trail, a comforting thought as I'm always aware that I could require rescue even for a relatively minor injury.

Soon I began to realize that I wasn't recognizing this trail, which I thought I should, still believing it hadn't divided yet. I had done Devil's Hall just a couple of weeks ago. Stopping to look around, I realized that I had somehow passed the sign for Devil's Hall. Duh, I had done that at the first fork in the trail, but I wouldn't figure that out until I came back down. As the trail led upward, steeply, and back around to the east and south, I began to suspect that I had somehow taken El Capitan instead of Guadalupe. Finally, I reached this point, where I decided that I would turn around at the sign up ahead, no matter what it said.


I knew I hadn't been out long enough to have made more than a mile, but I'm always, always aware of safety. I didn't want to risk injury on the wrong trail, when rescuers would be looking for me where I had left word I'd be going. And the trail was getting VERY steep. Although going UP a steep trail is more strenuous, going DOWN a steep trail is more treacherous. Going up a step that is uncomfortably long for my short legs merely requires me to lever myself up with my stick. Going down them means landing hard on rocks that tend to roll with you.

When I got to the sign, I had to laugh. It said 'No stock beyond this point.' Where HAD that guy come from? Looking out, I came to the conclusion that I was definitely on El Capitan trail, where I didn't want to be at this time of day, exposed to the afternoon winds and sun. I decided to go just far enough further along to find a shady place to sit down and have lunch, and check with Bigmouth on elevation gain and distance if she would tell me that.

No luck with the distance, but I was at 6603 ft. I had gained 970 feet in what I later tracked on GoogleMaps as right around .87 miles! As I write this, I'm thinking, I could do it! I could get all the way to the end of the trail. I just need to start quite a bit earlier, and have faith I'm on the right trail. And give myself time to rest often. And maybe have a hiking buddy.

So, I wolfed down my sandwich and started back down, first donning my sweatshirt as the wind was picking up and was quite chilly. Going down was faster because I didn't need to rest, but as I mentioned, treacherous. At least three times I had to catch my balance as my feet tried to slide out from under me. Yay for the balance games on the Wii Fit! I made it with no embarrassing one-point landings.

Back at the fork in the trail where I had chosen the middle path, I confirmed that it was indeed Guadalupe Peak. I think. When I got home, I compared the trackback path on the Garmin to the trail I tracked on GoogleMaps, and the squiggles look exactly the same. I may have gone a few feet further or a few feet less far, but we'll call it good. My main goal had been to walk partway up a steep trail, done, and burn 500 calories. The fitness tracker on SparkPeople only credited me with 385, but I don't know how to tell it about that 970 ft. elevation gain, or the 9 lb. backpack I was carrying. BodyBugg told me I burned 515. Good enough!

The weather forecast shows today and tomorrow sunny with relatively little wind, meaning it's below 20 miles per hour. Starting Saturday (my birthday!) it shows just WINDY until after Thanksgiving. I'm going to have to get creative for my cardio for the next week so I don't get bored. Then Thanksgiving in Dallas with my family! I can't wait...but first I'm psyching myself up to attempt Guadalupe trail again tomorrow.

November 15, 2010

I've slowed down some on my hiking, to Budd's great relief. On the 6th we went to do the McKittrick Canyon hike that I was planning last time I blogged, and found a backup waiting to get a parking spot at the trail head. The volunteer who was trying to keep the tourists mollified told us that they figured it would be an hour before anyone started coming out. Not willing to wait that long, I suggested we do Devil's Hall, and we drove the 7 miles back to the main campground, where we also found both that and the visitor center parking lot full.

Budd said he guessed we could drive to Dog Canyon, so we stopped at the house for maps and set out. Dog Canyon is 12 miles by trail from the visitor center, but it's on the other side of the mountain range. To get there by car, you go back almost all the way to Carlsbad, then across ranch roads and back southwest into Texas, a 120 mile round trip. We left the house at about 11, figuring to get there by 1 p.m., hike a couple of hours and be back before dark. Uh, nope.

First, on the ranch roads, you can't do more than 35-45 average. They are ill-maintained, have loose cattle wandering across, and they wind and turn a lot. By the time we got to Dog Canyon, it was 2:30. We did get out and unfortunately decided to do the nature loop--my suggestion since it was measured and I was thinking about my exercise and mileage tracking. It proved very disappointing, flat, uninteresting, and burned out from a fire that occurred sometime between May and August this year. When we got back to the car, it was too late to actually get on the canyon trail, so that long drive was for nothing, and we still had to get back.

Going back we stayed on a road that brought us back to the highway north of Carlsbad a few miles. We went through gas well fields that had numerous signs warning of the potential for poisonous H2S gas to be present. They said if you smelled an odor, leave the area. The whole area was odiferous! Have you ever tried to hold your breath for 20 miles?

So on Monday, I hiked McKittrick by myself. And learned that it was a good thing we hadn't done it on the Saturday--Budd would have hated it. There was no shade to speak of for the first 2 and a half miles, it was more or less flat, no challenges at all, and no color. What's up with that? Devil's Hall had much better color. The cabin was kind of interesting, but locked, so I could only take pictures of the outside.

All the stones for this cabin were picked up at the mouth of the canyon and dragged up on sleds in the 1930's when Wallace Pratt, the oil geologist who owned the land before giving it to the park service decided to build a summer home here. If you look closely, you can see that even the roof is made of stone. I listened to him narrate a slide show when I returned to the trail head, and as I understand it this is travertine. I'm familiar with travertine as a very desirable flooring tile, so this was impressive to me. I guess if you can just pick it up and don't have it polished to a high gloss like marble, it isn't that expensive. But there were the cowboys who lugged it three miles to the cabin site to pay.

After checking my map while sitting on the front porch, I decided to push on before eating lunch. My watch was acting strangely and I couldn't rely on the time it was showing, so I decided to rely on my stomach instead, even knowing that hiking suppresses my appetite. There was a mile to go to get to The Grotto. This sign tickled my fancy.

I was going into the wilderness! Which turned out to be a well-traveled trail with more people on it at this time than the trek in to the cabin. Oh well. At least they were able to tell me I was on the right track. The trails crew had fortunately stopped the deep bed of river pebbles that covered most of the trail up to the cabin...that stuff is hard to walk in!

I met a couple of characters on this part of the trail. There was the guy in a camoflage shirt who startled me by speaking before I saw him sitting to eat his lunch on a fallen log. He was very apologetic! Then there was the guy who was off the trail down at the water's edge (where the signs ask you not to be) and who kept his back to me even as I said hi and he returned the greeting. For a while I kept looking over my shoulder for him...he gave me an uneasy feeling. After a few minutes I met a couple of other parties of two or three, who each told me I was nearly there. And finally, the Grotto.

This is the best picture of a couple of dozen that I took. It's more of an alcove than a cave...maybe eight or ten feet deep and just high enough for me to stand and walk under the stalactites if I didn't mind getting dripped on. I kept trying to capture a drip of water just as it dropped, but either my reflexes or my camera was too slow...most of those turned out to be blurred or just weird. This one was taken from the top of a mound that was across the path from the grotto itself.

Oddest of all in this supposed wilderness area was that there were several picnic tables and benches built of the same stone as the cabin. Here I sat to eat my lunch and admire this beauty who joined me for a minute.

The hike out was a push, as I was concerned about the time. The highway gate to the road leading in is locked at 4:30 during the winter season, and I definitely didn't want to get locked in. So, as I passed person after person hiking IN, I was pushing to get OUT. This hike was 6.8 miles, the most ambitious one I've done yet, and one that I didn't enjoy as much as the first time I've done the others in the park. I don't know whether it was the excessive length, although as it turned out I did it in just over four hours--about the same as Devil's Hall, or whether it was the disappointment after building it up in my mind as something spectacular. In any case, I didn't hike again last week.

Thursday we went to El Paso for groceries as Budd had Labor Day off. Neither of us was all that impressed, so I doubt we'll take the extra time to go back again. Saturday we went to Carlsbad for a few items we had forgotten. That's beginning to feel like a normal grocery run, an hour each way for driving.

Sunday I was set to get Budd into Devil's Canyon, but he persuaded me to take a look at the little gym they have for the employees here in one of the fire crew bays. It was impressive for what it was. I've not seen another one for NPS employees at any of our other postings. It has a couple of different cable-weight machines, a treadmill, stairstepper, elliptical, and an impressive array of free weights. There's also a basketball hoop outside, where I laughably tried to guard Budd for a few minutes as he shot hoops. I made three baskets myself, thanks to him standing to the side and not trying to block them. When he DID try to block, try didn't apply. It's like trying to shoot over a nine-foot fence!

He was happy to get back home and sleep through the Dallas/NY game, especially since he expected Dallas to lose and as a Redskins fan was not particularly happy for either of them to win. We're glad the Skins have a Monday night game this week--we don't get to watch them very often. We opted for NBA league pass so we could watch our other team, the Utah Jazz, and have just about gotten our money's worth watching them come back from deep deficits for four games in a row. But Budd says he's going to have to watch a different team, because this last-minute win habit is hard on his heart! It's lucky we have no neighbors...my screaming would be hard on their hearts.

Too windy to hike today, but I'm hoping to get back on the trails tomorrow. Maybe I'll go part-way up Guadalupe Peak to see how strenuous it really is. Also looking forward to visting Dallas to spend Thanksgiving with my mother, brother and his family.

November 5, 2010

I have simply got to remember that there are people who can't see my daily chat blog at SparkPeople. I've posted pictures of a couple of hikes there. So sorry I've been neglecting you!

One problem is that there is nothing to do here but clean the kitchen, watch tv, continue my weight loss efforts, cover my tutoring shifts and hike. There aren't even any native residents to speak of. There's no town--therefore no funny encounters or culture to explore unless you want to know about West Texas ranching in the 1930's. It doesn't particularly interest me, I'm more into further-back history.

So I've been obsessed with hiking and the weight-loss site, and it's always time to tutor or get off the computer so Budd can watch tv in the evenings. Both our computers AND the entertainment stuff are all in the living room in this accommodation, so as I write, muttering to myself and chuckling, it's distracting for him. Plus, there's only so much I can tell you without getting really boring.

So, to catch up, I've done the same hike I did first in the park, Smith Springs loop, three times now, once with Budd. The color gets prettier every time. Here's a picture that Budd took of me on the back half of the loop last Saturday:

Between my first and second hike in this area, I did one around what is known as the Foothills/Frijole loop. That was a little iffy, as it was five miles and I was wearing new boots. Crazy way to break in boots, yes? But all was well. The photos from that hike aren't as interesting to me now that I've done one more, so we'll skip those.

The last trail I've done up to now was Devil's Hall trail. I'll share those, because some of them really show the gorgeous color that's developing in the canyons up here. Even though I'm only about a mile, mile and a half southwest of the Smith Springs/Frijole area, the vegetation is completely different. Here's the start of the trail. See? Already there are trees!

It didn't take long to round the corner and get into the part of the canyon that's more or less hidden from the campground where the trail starts. This is where I slowed down and just enjoyed being out in the cool fall day, a 4.2 mile round trip ahead of me. It's too tiny in this picture to see, but there is actually a patch of snow in the saddle where the shadow is deep all day.

Looking back behind me toward the Visitors Center and highway, I could see how the side of the wash that was protected by the higher peaks to the south and west was very densely vegetated, while the side that took the brunt of the afternoon sun was more desert-like.

This trail splits into 4 different directions after maybe half a mile. Leading to the left (south/southwest) it goes around El Capitan and out on the southernmost rim of the reef. More west/southwest it climbs to Guadalupe Peak, the highest point in Texas. Continuing due west it drops into the wash and follows it to Devil's Hall, and west/northwest it becomes Tejas trail, which is the major east-west trail in the park. A hardy hiker can reach Dog Canyon on Tejas Trail, 12 miles distant by trail, but over 120 by road around the north end of the park, crossing into New Mexico on the way.

I caught some photos of the beautiful fall color on the way, before reaching the bottom of the wash. And was reminded once again that Budd's little digital camera can't do justice to the color. Or maybe it's that my polarized lenses make it look more intense.

Before leaving on this trek, I had dropped by the Visitor's Center for a book that described the trails in detail, and had overheard the ranger telling another couple to continue past Hiker's Staircase to get to Devil's Hall. When I came to this feature, I thought perhaps it was the Hiker's Staircase. After all, it looked like one, especially from the bottom once I had descended.

It turned out that this wasn't the one, nor was the next one on the trail, that I didn't photograph. I might mention here that there were plenty of other hikers on the trail, something I was grateful for, always being mindful that if I do something stupid and break a bone, I'll be dependent on rescue. For that reason, I'm always outfitted to spend the night if necessary, with foul-weather gear, a couple of layers of clothing, two liters of water in my hydration pack, extra high-energy food, and of course my sotol walking stick. I think I look like a dork with all this gear for a short hike, but I mentioned that to the superintendent last week, and he replied quite seriously that for a hike of any length in this area, he always asks himself if he's prepared to spend the night. Because the weather can change in an instant, blowing up over the escarpment with no warning, it's not a bad idea. Most of the other hikers have backpacks, too, so I guess we all look like dorks, and that's ok.

The trail took quite a long way to get to the bottom of the wash, and when it got there the boulders looked forbidding, but by watching carefully where I stepped, I located the path. It soon broadened to what looked like a paved highway by comparison.

Then again there were a couple of places, like this one, where it looked like I had reached a roadblock.

Looking around, I first tried going to the right, but the step up proved too high for my short legs, and there was no good way to use my hands to climb. I put my 4-foot stick against the vertical wall for perspective and backed off to document this problem.

It's hard to see, but the lighter area of smaller rocks and gravel that look like a step--aren't. Take my word for it, this wasn't going to work. Eventually I decided to use the boulder on the left side of the diamond-shaped one the same way I would go around a slick-rock ridge--around the side, using small depressions to place my feet. Coming back I had to laugh, because there was a reasonable trail even further to the left and higher, that I had missed altogether. Let's just say it wasn't well-marked, but it was far easier to descend than to ascend.

The bottom of the wash was very shady, so I didn't take many more pictures until the trail reached what turned out to be two narrow fins in the reef that had been cut through by the wash. From one point, I could see that it opened out into a broader area, almost a hidden canyon. I had come completely around the northeastern escarpment and was behind the bluff you can see from the road.

Passing through between these fins, I finally found Hiker's Staircase.


I had just passed a couple of hikers coming back out, who told me the end of the trail was about 200 yards after you ascend the staircase, which I did using both hands and feet to scramble up. I'm sure younger people with longer legs just go up it like stairs, but I didn't feel stable standing upright, as the strata slope slightly downward, so I abandoned dignity for safety.

It wasn't until I had read more in the book I bought that I realized a narrow slot I passed through was the Devil's Hall formation the trail was named for, so I didn't take a picture from the going-in side. As you come out, this is the vista. The sign says, appropriately, End of Trail. Really?

I found a broad table-like rock from the same stratum as the stairs and set out my picnic lunch, chatting with another party of hikers as they also took advantage of the end of the trail to pause for some rest and food. Since we were departing about the same time, I asked them to go ahead of me so I wouldn't hold them up, and agreed to take a picture of the three of them on their camera. It was then that I noticed the spectacular nature of the Hall, including how the light at the opening reflected from the east wall to the west one, and the tree framed by the opening.

Coming out, I also noticed a feature that I'm used to seeing only in sandstone, instead of the limestone that forms the bluffs and escarpment here. Had to zoom in to make it viewable on a small screen.

I guess there are arches or natural windows almost everywhere if you know where to look for them! As the time was getting away from me and I had to be back for a tutoring shift, I focused on walking faster on the way out and didn't take any more pictures.

I'm feeling stronger and not having to wait so long between hikes any more, so yesterday I ran out to quickly do the nature loop at McKittrick Canyon, which is my next target. Didn't think to take the camera because I was going more for the cardio and just completing it than for the views, but I regret not getting shots of a couple of features that I found interesting.

Tomorrow Budd and I are going into McKittrick Canyon itself. We compromised on the hike, as I wanted to go all the way to the Grotto, which is reportedly an easy hike, if long at just under 7 miles round trip. He's not fond of hiking after all, but is willing to go with me if I'll turn around at Pratt Cabin, making it only a 4 mile round trip. I'll do that with him, and then go back for the longer hike on a weekday.

Speaking of Budd, he just came home for lunch, and here I sit not dressed for the day yet, having been online all morning. Guess I'd better get going!

October 22, 2010

First Guadalupe Hike!

I promised pictures and an account of my first Guadalupe Mountains trail. So here goes:

For anyone who wants to know more about the park itself, here's the link to the official site: Briefly, the mountains for which the park is named are composed of a prehistoric reef, which was first buried by sediments and then slowly uncovered over millenia. It has migrated northward from near the equator, and has guided modern peoples including the Native Americans, early westward-bound travellers and outlaws, for centuries. It contains Guadalupe Peak, the highest location in Texas at a little over 8700 feet, as well as El Capitan, the most recognizable landmark for miles and miles around.

As I've mentioned previously, there are 80 miles of 'maintained' trails here, some that are too arduous for us to tackle right now, and some that are quite manageable. For my first hike, I chose Smith Springs Loop, which begins and ends at this historic ranch house, quaintly named Frijole Ranch, where a museum now resides. The museum was closed, so that is something we'll do another day.


From here, the trail leads back toward the west and the reef, into a draw where there is a spring that is fed by an underground reservoir contained within the limestone. As desertification has taken place over the years, this spring is an important aquifer for the wildlife in the area. The loop is 2.3 miles.

Warned to watch for rattlesnakes and wearing walking shoes more suited to sidewalks and city pavements, I was careful to watch my footing, so the few photos I took along the trail represented times when I stopped to look around, get my bearings, and see what I was missing as I walked with my eyes to the ground. The first one is of El Capitan, which was to my south at the point where I took the picture. It is the left-most ridge that looks almost as if it has been squared off from this angle.


As you can see, it was a cloudy day and I had been told I was bound to get wet. That proved true after a fashion. The hiking was relatively easy except for having to watch my footing to make sure a rock didn't roll away and make me twist my ankle. There was a little incline, but quite easy. The trail led around a little hill and then down into the first draw where an intermittent creek had left a pathway. Looking up it a few yards I spotted the first indication of fall--a maple that had turned it's leaves. A little further beyond was a Texas Madrone, the tree that looks like it has a snake dangling from it--which now that I can see the post, I can tell you can't really see, lol, just a whitish splotch in the center of the photo. That's actually a branch. This tree sheds it's reddish bark in long strips, providing fibers for the Native Americans to make baskets. It also has masses of red, edible berries, though in this picture they are too far away to see. This is called the Transition Zone, because you can also see the desert plants next to those from the higher elevations, as represented by the yucca that is wearing a self-generated grass skirt.

At this point I thought I had reached the spring, since I had no way of knowing how far I had come. I was a little disappointed to find it dry, but assumed I was halfway and continued across and up the hill. And around the hill. And back down the hill, until I came to this pool. When I took the picture, it was my intention to show the water, but now that I look at it, the more interesting part is the downed and blackened tree. This park lost thousands of acres of pine forest to a man-caused fire about fifteen years ago, hastening desertification by who knows how many decades.

A few steps further along brought this vista. I spent a few minutes here trying to capture the little rills of spilling water, all of which turned out blurry. Later I figured out how to compensate for my elevated heart rate while taking zoomed-in photos, but alas, not here.

Continuing across the spring on this path,

I finally came to the actual spring. where I spent quite some time trying to see where the water was falling behind this overhanging branch.

Then I got a different perspective, still trying to see the water, but at least the roots of this tree are interesting.

Here is where I also finally got wet, a function of what an Arizona friend has dubbed a 10-inch rain: one drop of water, 10 inches apart, every 10 minutes. So I didn't get very wet. I also had to take a peek through the trees to see up-close some of the remains of the reef. Along with a little more fall color, of course.

By this time I realized I had been spending a lot of time taking pictures and looking around, and Budd would be worrying as I had said I should be back in an hour and a half. So I reluctantly left this peaceful grotto and set out to finish the trail. But I couldn't resist a few pictures that just seemed to represent fall in the Transition Zone, with tall pines, colorful maples and a sotol from the desert (the spiky plant in the foreground).

Looking back up the draw, I decided it had been a good day's cardio getting into and back out of that draw.

Soon I was back at the ranch house, after passing another spring, very close to the house, that had been dammed up for a swimming hole for the historic occupants. It was too marshy to get in and get good pictures, but here's a taste.

Later that evening, Budd and I were watching TV when we heard distant rumbling and went out to see what was going on. The forecast thunderstorms had finally started, so we went out into the car and watched for quite a while. I took 72 pictures trying to catch the rare lightning bolt that showed itself below the clouds, with no success. But I did get a few good shots of the lightning ABOVE the clouds. Here's the best, to end with another view of the ever-changing El Capitan.

Hope you enjoyed hiking with me!

October 21, 2010

Howdy from West Texas! Of all the possibilities that were mentioned to us as Budd’s next assignment, the last thing we expected was to find ourselves in Texas. But here we are, at Guadalupe Mountains National Park, one hundred and ten miles or so east of El Paso, and about 60 miles south of Carlsbad, NM. And, barring permanent employment becoming available, here is where we expect to stay until at least mid-December. At this point it’s too far in the future to speculate what happens after that, but the prospects are good for continued temporary employment with the Park Service.

During our second sojourn at Canyon de Chelly, I rediscovered hiking. I don’t recall loving hiking for its own sake when I was a kid, but I do recall scrambling all over the cliffs comprising the eastern boundary of Moab, UT where I grew up. I was twelve years old the summer we moved there, soon to be 13. We lived in a duplex owned and also occupied by my uncle and aunt, and my brother, sister and I were delighted to find our family more than doubled by our cousins. Weekends and almost any summer day found us trekking up the trail and over the lip of the first bench of the cliffside, across a sandy and rocky more-or-less level area, up and over the second bench and then far across the sand to what was then known as Lion’s Back, a ‘slickrock’ fin that was part of a complex of them. From there, depending on my climbing companions, we often climbed up that and felt we were at the top of the world. I guess I did love hiking, I just didn’t think of it in those terms then.

When I hiked and climbed down and then back up Bare Trail in Canyon de Chelly, another 'slickrock' venture, it woke up that old feeling of accomplishment, enjoyable effort, and slight danger. I think it must be a minor version of what daredevil adrenaline junkies feel. Whatever the case, I couldn’t wait to do another fairly challenging hike. When I learned we were coming here, of course I researched it on the internet, and learned there are 80 miles of ‘maintained’ trails. Having hiked the first one of any consequence yesterday, I’m wondering what they mean by ‘maintained’, but I’m getting ahead of myself. First the trip here…

We packed up at Canyon de Chelly last Saturday and drove to Albuquerque. I wanted to get my hair cut—Budd wanted to get to the casino. We both wanted something to eat, so he won. After eating at one of the restaurants in the casino, we sat in the lounge for a while as Budd remembered that he couldn’t get a drink at the tables in the Sandia casino—it’s Indian-owned. After ascertaining that Utah was going to win their game (Utes—college football) and Boise State was blowing away whoever they were playing, I decided to go ahead and find a table. Blackjack was calling me! Budd joined me after a while and we played here and there, sometimes at the same table, sometimes not, for about three hours. At the end of that time after tipping the dealers, the girl who brought water and the cashier, I was up $3. Just about right to tip the shuttle driver and go home with exactly the amount I sat down with. I call that a good day at the tables! Budd’s luck didn’t hold that well, but that’s another story! Just kidding, he didn’t lose more than it would have cost us to go to a movie. For an evening’s entertainment, we did pretty well.

The next day he wanted to veg out, so I took the opportunity to get my hair cut, then went and rewarded myself with a manicure and pedicure. Rewarded for what, you ask? Why, thank you for asking! I was celebrating more than 15 pounds of weight loss—25% of my total weight loss goal. I’m ahead of schedule, so I’m feeling quite pleased with myself. As of today, I’ve lost 10% of my starting body weight. According to the articles I read, I’ve lowered my risk of diabetes, heart disease and a lot of other unpleasant stuff by about 50%.

Which brings us to Monday. We were having a rather leisurely morning, preparing to get back on the road, when Budd discovered that instead of the four hours of driving we thought we had ahead of us, it was closer to six. We also thought we’d be losing an hour with a time zone change, which turned out not to be the case, but it jump-started us to get out of there in a hurry! We didn’t want to be locked out of our new digs by getting to the park after-hours, and we knew we’d have to stop in either El Paso or Carlsbad, depending on our route, for groceries. There isn’t a town anywhere near here, so no grocery store, no restaurant. Mapquest claimed it was faster to go through Carlsbad even though we wouldn’t be on an interstate highway, so we set out. Fortunately, the highway is divided most of the way, so Budd’s objections were unfounded.

We are traveling with a bare minimum of possessions in a Buick sedan with a large Sears car-top carrier, stuffed to the gills. Unfortunately, our car was not designed for a car-top carrier, so what Budd rigged to hold it up there creates tremendous road noise. At one point it sounded like someone was crouched on top of the car beating a tattoo on the roof with drum sticks. We lost a little time in Roswell trying to find a solution for that. All I can say about Roswell is that it is the stinkiest place I’ve been since Draper, UT lost it’s dairy farm on the main drag. Whew! Nasty.

Back on the road with a whistling noise instead of snare drums, we drove on. And on. And ON! We finally reached Carlsbad at a little before 4 p.m. At this point we called the park and were given the superintendent’s number to call when we got here. So we hurried through Walmart, throwing into the grocery cart what we would need for the next 5 days until we could get back. I arrived with tilapia and tortillas for fish tacos, but no cabbage; bread for toast, but no butter. I had meat for spaghetti, goulash, and vegetable beef stew, but only one can of tomatoes, which I used in a chicken dish. Today is Thursday and I have no idea what I’m going to cook for dinner for the next two nights.

We arrived at the park housing area and turned in circles until we could find a stable cell signal to call the superintendent, who came right over and let us in. Here we got our first pleasant surprise. Though it’s only a one-bedroom apartment and both computers have to grace the living room, it’s quite roomy, clean, and the floor is carpeted! Palatial compared to the Canyon de Chelly house—and there’s a dishwasher! Unfortunately, the DSL had not been installed, despite my ordering it earlier, and in fact we are still waiting for it. Fortunately, the park provides wifi at the visitor center, and I’ve been allowed to use a carrel in the employee library with the laptop. Although it isn’t as convenient as having internet at the house, at least I’m not completely incommunicado. I get three bars on the cell signal about a quarter of a mile from the house, too.

Yesterday morning, finally settled in and with the business aspects of the move handled (call and complain to the phone company about having to wait for DSL, call DirecTV to tell them we’ve moved again so they can send us the local channels, unpack, re-arrange kitchen to suit myself), I FINALLY got on a trail for a nice hike. It was reportedly a 2.2 mile loop, so I told both the interps at the VC and Budd (who happened to pass through the VC as I was leaving) that I should be able to cover that in an hour and to come looking for me if it was more than two. I didn’t really count on taking as long to look around and take pictures as I did! The trail I took is well-defined, but at times is no more than about 10 inches wide, passing through dense underbrush or grasses in spots. I was told to watch for rattlesnakes (note to self: must get hiking boots!) and be on the lookout for mountain lions. Between those admonitions and the chance for thunderstorms, I decided to heed the advice of hikers in rougher, more isolated terrain: tell someone where you’re going and when you expect to be back--and I’m glad I did. But next time I’ll build in some rest time, look around time, and photo time!

I’ll share a few pictures when I can, however I have no way to get them from the camera to the laptop, so it will have to wait until the DSL is installed and I can use the desktop. I'll provide a narrative of the hike then, too.

By the time I was back at the trailhead, I had been gone 2 hours and 10 minutes. I figured I’d better go check in at the VC in case Budd asked if I had gotten back, but then I needed to get some lunch and charge my phone, which discharges the battery rapidly while searching for signal. I assumed he had been to the house for lunch and was back at work before I was due in. However, he was late, and believing I had started earlier than I had, he got worried that I wasn’t there. So he and the employee he’s replacing went to the trailhead, where I had been just a few minutes before, to look for the car. Not finding it, they went to the VC, but they took a service road, while I was parked in the visitor parking lot. We must have missed each other by seconds! Fortunately, the interp that I had checked in with was able to tell him I was safe, so all was well. Later we again met by accident when I went back to the library to finish my internet tasks. What a circus!

The forecast for yesterday was for 40% chance of thunderstorms, growing to 60% by evening. I got sprinkled by a few raindrops on the hike, but the real fireworks didn’t start until about 8:30. It was so spectacular that Budd and I sat in the car for almost an hour to watch and try to take pictures. Our camera isn’t really up to the task, but we did get one or two good ones.

Today dawned sunny with a few leftover clouds. After getting to the VC to post this, I’m going to find out if the trails will be too muddy and maybe do another hike today. We’re told that any day now strong winds will make it too unpleasant to hike until next summer, so I want to make use of all the good days I can. I’m quite disappointed by that news, as the temperatures look like it would have been pleasant to hike right up through mid-December. But it is what it is, so we’ll do as many miles of those trails as we can, and save the rest for another time. Look for shorter posts more often for a while as I plan to narrate and illustrate the hikes as I do them.

October 1, 2010

Please forgive the awkward composition where the pictures have been pasted in. I cut and pasted this from my weight loss site, where I composed it first. I'm too tired from the hike to figure out how to fix this one...

Though there are many inconveniences to living as we do, one of the delights is that every week or so, I get the opportunity of a lifetime. When DH first told me about this one, I never imagined I could or would do it. One of the Navajo guides who are licensed to work in the canyon was scheduled to lead a party from the top of the South Rim into del Muerto Canyon, up the other side of the canyon and across the peninsula that separates del Muerto from de Chelly, down that side and back up White House Trail, which was the trail we took on September 11. Although it was only 5 or 6 miles as the crow flies, the hikers would drop and climb up at least 600 feet in elevation twice, and cover a total distance of about 12 miles. For anyone who would like to see a map of this area, one can be found here: www.nps.gov/cach/. Zoom in until you can see White House Overlook, then look just a little east of due north for Ledge Ruin. Half a mile or so west of Ledge Ruin, around a very narrow ridge, is where Bare Trail drops off the canyon wall into the wash.

Yesterday, Budd came home with the news that a couple of the ladies who work at the visitor center were going to do the first part of the hike, then go back UP Bare Trail while the others went on. The only catch was that I would have to be at the visitor center at 6:45 a.m. to join them. I'll admit I wavered. This was still going to be a very strenuous hike, and I wasn't sure I was up to it. But with the thought that I would hate myself if I passed on this opportunity, I prepared for it before going to bed at a suitably early hour...just before 11 p.m.

5:30 a.m. found me awake and anxious. Could I make it? Should I even try? What if I held the others up, or worse yet, someone had to accompany me out before we reached the bottom? Let me stress that this is a trail only in the sense that the locals know where to climb down and up, and that there are a few steps or hand-and-toe holds carved into the rocks at intervals along the way. This was going to be a climb! But in the end the knowledge of the pain of regret got me out of bed and through breakfast, in time to be first at the visitor center, waiting for the others to arrive.

Our guide was the last to arrive, about half an hour late, so it was not until 7:30 a.m. that we arrived at the 'trail head', parked the vehicles, and set off. From the top, I tried to take a picture down into the canyon where we would be going, but the sun was in an awkward position, so it's hard to see the result.

The wavy layers of sedimentary rock at the bottom of the picture were sloped enough that my feet pointed down as if I were on tiptoe as we took this part of the 'trail' down to the edge where the bright rock ends here. From this point over to the south, I didn't have time to take pictures, as the rest of the party was setting quite a pace, and I was picking my way along an edge that seemed no wider than my shoes, some yards behind them, and leaning into the uphill side of the rock with all my focus on not looking down.

Until we arrived here.

Yes, we were going over the rim here, and it was only wide enough for one, so I was able to get a vista shot as the others descended. In the distance, to the left of what may be too small to recognize as a cornfield, and directly below the tallest cliff on the other side, is the round dome rock where Budd and I were standing in the picture I posted a couple of weeks ago. And yes, we're going down there. However, I have performed a little trick of the eye with the camera. Below the rim in the foreground is a V-shaped drainage chute, with steps carved either by Navajos or wind and water, so that it was actually a very easy descent. The others made it like a staircase...I scooted down using my butt, hands and feet.

After a rather hair-raising descent down hand-and-toe steps that had to be negotiated by dropping over a rim and turning around with my face to the wall, we arrived at the slide, where the rest of the party stopped to hear the guide explain that this one, which was about 14 feet long and had only a slight slope (look at the feet in the picture for an idea) was where younger children play when their chores are done.
He then described a longer one, about 70 feet and ending in a sheer cliff, where the teenagers play. I thought it best not to ask the question on the tip of my tongue...how many do they lose each year...as the farm below belonged to the guide's family, and I'm sure it was his young nieces and nephews who were doing the sliding. I used the time to catch up to the others and take a couple of pictures. From here I knew I could do it, because this is where we were on Sunday, the 19th.

I also took the opportunity to get a better shot of the stairs carved into the opposite cliff wall (the wavy line to the left of the cave). Thank goodness we weren't going up those!

Once at the bottom, we decided to go about 1/2 mile up the wash with the rest of the party before they turned around, and shortly arrived at Ledge Ruin where we stopped for a while before heading out, leaving the main party to go on another 1 1/2 miles before ascending on the south side. On the way back, I took advantage of a clearing to get a shot of where we came from. Although he is too far away to see, the ranger who shuttled most of us to the trail head is at the top, and turned out to be invaluable in getting us back up there, as the trail is unmarked most of the way. No, you can't see the way we came down from this shot, but the top is where we walked along until we got to the chute where I had to scoot down on five-point contact.

And here is the moment of truth. I will finally be brave enough to post a picture of me from the back, as I handed Nora the camera to record for posterity my posterior climbing back up the hand-and-toe ladder that had given me pause coming down.
MUCH easier to go back up, although I have to say my heart was at times beating so hard I could hear it echoing off the canyon walls. But with stops to get my breath, and Fernando to scout the way, we made it. We were about halfway up at this point, and I didn't take many pictures after this.

Along the way I slipped and started to lose my balance, so to avoid taking a nasty tumble of about 6 feet, I put my hand down, unfortunately neglecting to look where I was putting it. I got a number of tiny sticker spines in my right hand for my trouble, and was a little handicapped when the climb up required a scramble on hands and feet, so picture-taking was the last thing on my mind. The things on my mind were, in order:

1) Are we there yet?
2) I REALLY could use a restroom about now
3) I can't believe I did this!

We arrived back at the top at 11:30 a.m., 4 hours almost to the minute from when we had set out. Give me a week to recover, and I want to do it again!

PS As I write this, a violent wind and sand storm has blown up with accompanying rain clouds. Thank goodness the others expected to be back to the top of South Rim about an hour and a half ago!