One last adventure, or two, before coming home

Day 4

We're up before the sun, which means we only had, oh, nine hours sleep. Don't know how we'll survive.

We break camp, pack the car and head to the campground store to buy souvenirs and pay way too much for enough gas to take us to a place where the price will be more reasonable. I notice that my low tire light is on, but don't think much about it because it seems a bit cooler this morning, and sometimes that will cause one or more tires to be low.

I put some gas in the tank, find the offending tire and air it up, and we head out. We plan to stop at the fossil bone exhibit, which isn't as exciting as it sounds, and take the auto trail to Dagger Flats, where giant yuccas live, or so we've read.

Along the way we stop at an "interpretive exhibit" that turns out to be the grave site of a woman who had settled in a small oasis area with her husband, who taught at the school for the Dugout Wells community.

We climb around a bit at the fossil bone exhibit, read the signs and look at the fossil replicas, then head for the auto trail. On the way I ask Sharon if she wants to have some real excitement on the way home. I suggest that we run the Border Patrol station outside of Marathon and see if they give chase. She laughs but doesn't think it'd be a good idea. Imagine.

The auto trail is a gravel road with a bunch of markers linked to a guide that explains the plant life in the area. It's a bit rough but nothing the cube can't handle, until we arrive at a wash that crosses the road. Some black sand covers the road along with some kind of rubber grating the park has put down.

We cross that easily enough and then come to another part of the road covered with black sand. I don't think much about it since we crossed the last patch without incident and proceed. The road falls off a bit to the sandy area, where we promptly become stuck. I try the techniques for snow and only manage to dig myself in deeper. The sand comes up to the bottom of the bumpers.

I think that maybe I can push while Sharon drives and get us going, but that doesn't work. Sharon checks her cell phone and finds that she has a signal, so we agree it'd be best to call 911. I'm still trying to figure out a solution. There's less behind us than in front of us, so I decide that's the direction to go.

Almost out. Notice the dug out area in the right front corner.

We have nothing really suited to digging with, so I drop to my hands an knees and start digging with my hands. I dig down behind each wheel until I hit hard packed ground, get in the car and try backing up. The wheels bite and push the car back a few feet till the sand stops it.

Repeat the digging. Back up a few more feet. Repeat. Eventually we gain enough traction to put us back on the gravel portion of the road, where we turn around and head back for the main road. Sharon calls 911 back to report we're out of trouble. I've no idea how long this has taken, but I have a feeling no one had been dispatched to help us.

By the time we return to the main road, I notice my low tire light is on again.I pump it back up and think that perhaps being stuck aggravated what I had hoped was a slow leak, and we wouldn't have a problem. I really shouldn't think. We make a stop at the Persimmon Gap visitor center to look at the souvenir offerings there, and by the time we return to the car, the tire is low again. I pump it up again.

Off we go, but we have to stop before we get to the Border Patrol station to air up the tire again. I don't want to have to unload the car to put the spare on, and as long as we're driving, the leak doesn't seem be as bad somehow.

I behave at the Border Patrol station, where they ask if we've been at the park and whether we're American citizens. We're not asked for any identification. The agents peer through the windows and seem satisfied we're not a threat to national security and let us go.

In Marathon we stop for a soda and check out the possibilities for tire repair. The Shell station appears to do some mechanical work, but I decide I'd rather keep pumping up the tire and take my chances in Fort Stockton. I only have to stop once before we make it to town.

Sharon has checked TomTom, which tells her that Fort Stockton has a Firestone, which is good because I bought the tires there and have road hazard. But when we try to follow its directions, it doesn't take us to a deal, it takes us to Firestone Road, which is not in the town.

We go back to town, stop at the Ford dealership and ask about the Firestone. Turns out it's just down the road, not far past the intersection where the GPS sent us left instead of right, which would have brought us to our destination.

The tire was repaired in due course, but it turns out the tire shop is just an authorized seller, not a dealer, so I have to pay for the repair. We find a place to grab some grub because it's been a long time since breakfast, about 8 hours, and a soda and pretzels were all we'd had.

The adrenaline subsides while we munch away, and we agree we've had enough adventure for one trip.  We're ready for a normal rest of the trip home. Ask, and you shall receive.

The day of wonder

Day 4 

The sun is fully risen by the time we are. Yessir, I'm a-likin' this sleeping-in thing. Last night we had lots of wind early in the night and then rain. Not a heavy downpour, but sufficient to make us zip up the windows.

After the rain we visit the nearby washroom, but while walking through the grass we can't tell that it has rained in the slightest -- our shoes are dry on our return to the tent. Sometime after we dozed off, the rain started up again, falling for about as long as the first rain lasted. 

The only way you can tell in the morning that it has rained is by the tiniest of puddles on the improved road in the campground. The ground still looks cracked and dry where it's bare, and only the barest drops of moisture cling to a few blades of grass.

We return to the Rio Grande Village nature trail, properly equipped with walking sticks and water. 

The route takes you through the wetlands and along the river. Across the river lies the town of Boquillas, a small village you can't visit since 9-11. You can also see a large sand dune. 

 I take the trail to the top of the overlook hill; Sharon elects to stay on the main trail. At the top I pose for pics. Such a ham. The trail is most interesting for the contrasts. You go from a wetlands area to the edge of the river to desert to hills. Not bad for a walk of less than a mile.

 We've decided to check out Dugout Wells and the Window View trail starting in the late afternoon. The choice will be the most spectacular of an already over the top trip. 

Dugout Wells is the site of a spring that created an oasis around which a small community developed for a short time a hundred or so years ago. Great cottonwoods grow there, in the midst of which the park has built a picnic area. 

 We made the short jaunt around an interpretive trail that described much of the flora visible in the desert. Back at the picnic area, Sharon walks up into the cottonwoods. 

I follow along in a few seconds, thinking there's nothing to see but another picnic table. 

Monarchs everywhere

Just as she comes into view, I hear her say, "Oh!" Monarch butterflies are swarming just overhead, dozens of them. As we looked closer, we see that the trees are full of butterflies, hundreds of them. The annual migration is on, and we'd seen quite a few at the campsite, but this is a riot of flashing orange joy on the wing. 

While I'm busy trying to take the perfect photo of the fluttering horde, I hear "Oh" again. When I look over at Sharon, she is standing one leg so I think she's having a foot cramp. She says there's a whole pack of Javalinas up under the trees. This starts an effort o bot our parts to take a picture without disturbing the dozing beasts to the extent they'll be sufficiently aroused to express their displeasure with us. 

Javelina napping

From here we head up into the Chisos mountains. It's a long, uphill drive made longer by the stunning views and the number of conveniently placed pull-off areas along the route that fairly beg you to stop and shoot too many pictures. 

We finally arrive at the lodge area in the basin, check out the merchandise in the camp store, shoot some more pictures of interesting rock formations then wander down the Window view trail. The short walk on a paved surface brings you to an overlook area. You can see the area called the Window with the outline of more mountains in the distance. I shoot way too many pictures at a variety of exposures and zoom lengths. And for a while we just sit and look.

Into the mountains

We intend to attend a ranger-led program while we're in the basin, but it's about an hour until it starts. We've brought food and have supper in a picnic area. As we're finishing cleaning up, a fox strolls through the picnic area we've just left and across the road to one of the lodging areas, stopping nicely in front of one room. The residents are, of course, delighted. 

The program is pretty interesting. The ranger shows pictures of what the park looks like each month of the year. The variety is amazing, especially the pictures from the "rainy season." The desert areas come alive with plants and color.

End of the day at the Window view

After the program we make our way safely down the mountain and head for out campsite, spotting at least a half-dozen jackrabbits along the way. We'll go to bed late this night, a little after 10. It's been a good day.

Into the wild, sorta

Day 3
We begin again as the day begins to dawn. I'm beginning to like this long sleep thing.

After breakfast Sharon finds a place near the site that seems to lead to the Rio Grande. The park literature indicates that a nature trail that begins in the campground, so we wonder if she's found it. If so, it will be a disappointment because the ground at the bank has fallen away -- the trail leads nowhere.

But I don't think she's gone down far enough, so I go exploring a bit later. I discover the trailhead we're looking for farther down the road. On the way back to our campsite, I see a tree covered with large birds. Turns out they're turkey buzzards. The site is creepy, like something out of a B horror movie. They seem to be waiting for something, and I hope it's not us. 

Congregation of the creepy

The nature trail starts at a wetlands area that's the result of  beaver dams, but we don't see any beaver. We don't see much besides reeds and the pontoon bridge that crosses the water.

The trail leads up a hill from the bridge, but we're not sure about it, and we haven't adequately prepared for a real hike, so we turn back. We'll be back on the morrow.

The plan then is to do the Boquillas Canyon trail, which is supposed to be an easy trail. For us, it's a bit more strenuous. The trail immediately goes up -- it's like climbing the stairs at the office.


On the trail we encounter an older couple who hail from Massachusetts but live in Florida now. They won't make the entire hike -- in part because she's wearing dressy slides.

We also meet a couple from Bavaria -- he's all duded out in boots, jeans and a big, black cowboy hat. They're both very nice and chat in very good English. At the high point of the trail is a small promontory that makes a good place to take pictures, so we all swap cameras and take each other's pics. When I tell the Bavarian dude he looks like a Texan, he seems pleased. 

He probably shouldn't be doing this.

We separate, the older couple turning back, the Bavarians working their way down to the river. We take the trail to the left toward the canyon entrance.

In a few minutes the Bavarians come up to us and say he's taken a picture of a man on a burro crossing the river with a bunch of trinkets for sale. These souvenirs -- walking sticks and a variety of bead animals -- show up on every trail near the river, and you are not supposed to buy them. While we're talking, I notice a man riding across the river on a horse and take his picture.

As we draw near the mouth of the canyon, we hear a man singing, the sound echoing off the canyon walls. He knows three songs -- "Cielito Lindo," "De Colores," and one I've not heard before.

We hang back, figuring he'll want a tip, so of course, he trundles up to us, wanting to sell us walking sticks. We politely demure. I address him in Spanish, and the Bavarians look surprised. I guess I don't look Hispanic. 

El Cantador

Getting to canyon entrance didn't seem so bad. After all we were relatively fresh, but the return trip up the hill takes its toll on Sharon. We took a couples of liters of water each, but it's just not enough for the dry climate. I buzz ahead and bring another couple of liters more for her, and we make it back to the car. The rest of the day is spent reading and relaxing at the campsite.


We still have most of the campground to ourselves. An RV with an older couple will roll in later in the afternoon, but they pick a spot on the other side. We marvel at the difference between this place and home. You almost always hear the sounds of traffic at home. Here you hear insects, the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind, woodpeckers banging away in the trees.


On Monday we saw what we later decide was a vermillion flycatcher, a small bird with a red head and breast. Today we see Monarch butterflies and the woodpeckers and spend time chasing them around the trees trying to shoot pictures. I get a good shot of a Monarch; Sharon may have caught a woodpecker.

The vultures soar in the late afternoon, and I take a shot I think will be one of my favorites -- a vulture soaring with the half moon nearby. They may be vultures, but while soaring high in the sky they are an impressive sight.


The nights are incredible as well. The park has worked to eliminate light pollution, and the night skies produce stunning views. Without binoculars or a telescope you can easily identify clusters and nebulae. When Orion rises, it looks huge, not because of its proximity to the horizon but because the starlight is unobscured in the clear, dark sky. 


As with other nights, bedtime will come just a couple of hours after sundown. I look forward to what the new day will bring in this wonderland.

Big Bend, here we come

Day 1

The idea was to leave right after Sunday school, but like many ideas it was ill-conceived. Leaving before noon became the more realistic goal, and in fact we hit the road sooner, about 11:15 or so.

Our route was set to take us to San Angelo, and mostly the route was problem free. But at one point, between two of the small towns, neither of which can I remember, traffic came to a complete standstill.

Some people opened their car doors and stood on the door sill, trying to see what was happening, while others drove onto the shoulder, either because they thought they could see better, or because they were trying to gain an advantage.

We were stopped at an intersection of roads, and several drivers turned right. We decided they might have local knowledge and decided to follow. A mile an half or two later, we emerged beyond the blockage and continued on our merry way.TomTom led us astray in San Angelo.

The state park's HQ is one place, and the two actual entrances are elsewhere. TomTom took us to HQ, which was, of course, the wrong place and was closed. At least they put a sign up telling visitors where to go.

Our San Angelo site

After following posted directions to the right place, we were helped by a friendly park ranger who tried to be nice and set us up closer to  where we were at the time, instead of where we had reserved a spot. Unfortunately that meant setting us up in an area not really intended for tent camping.  

The ground was full of rocks and, as we were to discover, stickers aka grass burrs or goatheads. The plastic tent stakes weren't going to work, but we had brought some metal ones and a hammer. Turned out plenty of rocks lurked below the surface. I managed to pound most of the stakes in far enough to ensure the tent wouldn't blow away.

Our lack of recent experience resulted in a poor initial choice of a spot for the tent, soon rectified.  After supper, we read til dark, then Sharon found a spot to do some star-gazing.  The view was much better than back home, but not near as spectacular as what we would soon encounter.

Eventually we decided to retire for the evening -- about 9:30. I never go to bed that early, but it felt good and would prove to be a good choice. 

Day 2

The morning was brisk, meaning cold. We slept until the sky began to lighten, about 20 minutes or so before sunrise. That's a lot of sleep for us.

After packing, we buzzed into town to pick up a few things we needed, find a wi-fi hotspot to check in, and then asked TomTom to take us to Marathon, the nearest spot to the park in its database. Bad idea.

The "pyramid" mountain

TomTom decides to shoot us straight down to I-10, which may compute to a faster travel time, but it's a longer trip. Still, we travel through Eldorado, home of the Yearning For Zion RCLDS compound, and we will see a mountain formation that looks like a pyramid from a distance.

The trip seems to take forever, but we arrive in good stead during the late afternoon. The drive through the park to the campground is enough to make my whole trip worthwhile. The views are spectacular, especially the Sierra del Carmen range just over the border in Mexico. Much like the trip to the Grand Canyon, these are views that put the awe in awesome, and I know we will encounter other wonders before we leave.


Our campsite is within a stone's throw of the river. We set up, grab some grub, and settle in. You couldn't ask for a greater contrast to last night's site. Because we near the river, the park service regularly irrigates the campground, so the sites are plush with grass and situated under big trees. The 

Rio Grande Village site

plastic tent stakes require a little coaxing with the hammer, but I don't strike a single rock.

Another early turn-in time. We're the only ones in the campground, so we are treated to the sounds of insects,  the leaves rustling in the trees, and a variety of animal noises. Coyotes howl, something makes a noise like a child screeching -- bobcat maybe? -- and something else makes a kind of honking noise. We decide later it's probably a donkey, but we'll have to ask someone. Early in the morning we hear sounds like a puppy yipping.

Oh, I almost forgot. On the road to the campground we see huge yellow caterpillars crawling en masse across the road. And they move quickly. Something else we need to ask about. (I ask a ranger a couple of days later, and she confirms the donkey sound and the probability that we heard a bobcat. The caterpillars turn into yellow butterflies that are common in the park, but she has no idea why they're crossing the road except to get to the other side.

Tomorrow we begin the adventure in earnest.