BIG BEND NATIONAL PARK, January - April 1999

(Our First Volunteer Experience)

 First, I would like to thank Rhonda Terry, park ranger at Big Bend, who hired us and gave us the opportunity to experience Big Bend at it's best.

 And, now the saga begins:

THE WIND, THE HOWLING WIND -- WILL IT EVER STOP???? The wind is really scary; it comes up mostly at night. It will take me a while to get used to it. It is windy in Corpus too, but nothing like this. The fact that we're living in our RV doesn't help -- it really sways when the big gusts hit. January 28, 1999, our first day here. We've met all of the players, everyone seems very nice. It is Gus's birthday (he is one of the law enforcement rangers) and we just got back from eating cake at his house (next door to ours). He is married to Sylvia and has a 5-year-old named Sol and a 7-month-old name Xotica. It turns out that Gus is being transferred to Padre Island and will be going to Corpus the same time that we are. It appears that we were very lucky to get this appointment - there are 300 applications on file and most of the same people come back year after year - so unless something happens to one of them (as in our case) no new people ever get a chance.

Some background on the geography of the park: There are 4 main sections of the park in which to work. First is Panther Junction, park headquarters, where we will take our classroom instruction during our 2-week training period. It is the main center of activity and contains the administration, communications, and general bigwig offices. This area also houses the majority of permanent employees in the park. The next is Castolon, the southwest corner of the park. This area is quite remote, but has some camping facilities and historic buildings to explore. Castolon is near Santa Elena Canyon; the one seen on post cards with the Rio Grande River flowing out of it. The Basin is the next section, an oasis in the middle of the Chihuahuan Dessert. This appears to be the most popular area with an elevation of over 5,000 feet and surrounding mountains up to almost 8,000 feet. There is a motel type lodge, a wonderful restaurant, camp grounds for tents and small campers, and access to the higher mountain trails. We will work in the Rio Grande Village area, the southeast corner of the park. Although this is on the river flood plain, it is surrounded by low desert, mountains. It is the biggest camping area with the only full hook-up sites in the park, another bigger prettier camping area for RV's with no hook-ups, a large tent camping site, and lots of short self guided tours along with the longer trails, primitive campsites and Boquillas Canyon. We will work 3 days in the visitor center in this area and 1 other day doing special projects. The project can be anything of our choosing - we just haven't chosen one yet. There is a gas station /small convenience store/laundry in our area. It is only open until 6, which has caused some problems since we haven't gotten home from training until quite late most nights. The wind has subsided and I must say that the weather after the first few days has been beautiful, a little chilly at night and then glorious sunshine all day. Highs in the 80's and lows in the upper 30's. Perfect weather.

Training. We started our training on February 1st. There are 12 of us in the class. Eight of them are recent college graduates working at the park through the SCA (Student Conservation Association). They get a small salary and a shared place to live. Mostly they do this to get "brownie points" to use when applying for a job with the NPS (National Park Service). It is quite hard to get a job and those with military backgrounds or Peace Corps experience get preference.

They have been putting us through a very tough pace so far. We have taken many hikes and have listened to the park botanist, geologist, historian, etc. They want to make sure we know what we're talking about when we are in the visitor center. This past weekend (Friday and Saturday) we were on an overnight canoe trip through Santa Elena Canyon. It is considered the toughest to canoe because of very large boulders in the middle of the river. It also contains many "rated" rapids, although none higher than a 4. We were with 3 park rangers who were very good at giving instructions on how to avoid the boulders and not tip over. We all did very well. Erv and I have become pretty good at canoeing. At the end of the first day we were barely speaking to each other as each of us was blaming the other for running into rock walls and going in circles. By the second day we had our signals all set up and actually did so well that we ended up finishing first behind the lead ranger. The trip was really great. The rangers fed us well (too well) and they had a nice campsite picked out for us. I wasn't really used to sleeping on the ground, but we were in a tent and I was in a down sleeping bag, so I stayed quite warm and comfortable.

Monday we went to the Basin for a talk on the bears in the park and a short guided walk. We were supposed to get hints for our own guided talks. (Somehow they think we have time to research a subject and come up with a presentation in our spare (?) time.) On Tuesday we started out on the South Rim Trail (a 13-mile trail on steep rocky slopes). There were signs warning about the mountain lions and suggesting that you not take small children on the trail, as the lion would see them as a lunch course. Erv finished the grueling course (9 1/2 hours later) but luckily I got to turn back when 2 other people wanted to quit because they felt they couldn't make it. I felt obligated to go with them to make sure they made it back okay. I only ended up doing 8 1/2 miles, but on my short sausage legs, it felt like 20. On Wednesday we were told to go to "our" visitor center for a day of training. We learned how to open the center, run the register, answer questions in a professional manner, take people on a tour of a nature trail, and close the center at the end of the day. We did a pretty good job. It was also our first experience with Fran and Bernie who work in the center on the days we're off. They are from upstate New York and come to the park for 6 months. This is their 4^th year at Big Bend. Thursday, we learned how to fill out back country camping and river permits in the morning and then went to the Hot Springs (the water is about 105 degrees). The springs were privately owned in the beginning of the century and were used as a cure all for a multitude of ailments. It was actually run as a resort and included a motel, store, and post office. Some of the buildings are still standing and, of course, the bath itself still stands. It is quite safe to sit in and is a very popular place with the "spring break" crowd. We went to Boquillas Canyon and looked around a while, and then took a short walk on the nature trail near the campground. Our days off will be Saturday, Sunday, and Monday each week, but if we're not planning to go the 120 miles to do food shopping, we will probably go hiking. They recommend that we do all the trails in our area so that we can be well informed when park visitors ask questions.

The Weather has been almost perfect--30 degrees in the morning, 80 degrees in the afternoon with bright sun all-day and bright stars all night. I often jog five miles, with Gina along side on her bike, and occasionally we have to stop for a parade of javalinas crossing the road. The javalinas act like they own the place. They wonder through the campground looking for a handout or an unguarded picnic table. Night before last, the javalinas ripped a tent apart to get to the food that was in it. A ranger was telling us about a skunk in the Basin Campground. He watched it go around the tent about three times and then began to work on the zippered flap. He got his nose in and then he went in. Shortly after that three people came running out of the tent. They didn’t get sprayed.

Most of our visitors are retirement age, many are younger, and they range from the diehard solo backpackers, who know the park wilderness from their many trips, to the misplaced person in cruise ship attire. Some are down right strange. One man, an obvious foreigner, came to the gate. He knew exactly the remote spot in the park where he wanted to go, but he was driving a small car that couldn't possible go there. He said he had never been in the park before. Some visitors talk about the "Star People" and their base near here. A ranger told us he had seen a UFO at while camped out at night. Visitors often get in trouble on the back roads due to a lack of common sense (trying to walk in from a disabled vehicle in the noon day sun without water), and occasionally one of them dies. The park has very loose rules; any visitor can go anywhere in the park, most of it on foot. Permits are never denied, but strong advice is sometimes given.

Saturday, February 13. We headed for Study Butte (about 45 miles away) for a haircut and to grab some veggies at the natural food store. Well, it turns out that there is no barbershop in Study Butte so we had to drive the 120 miles to Alpine for a haircut. I might add, that there is only 1 barber in Alpine and we were very lucky to find him open with only a short waiting line. While we were there, we bought clippers and will cut our own hair (I'm sure I'll have a lot to say about that later - after Erv gives me my first haircut) and did a little grocery shopping, so we are all stocked up on food again. Speaking of food, did I tell you about the Schwan's man? Well, every other Wednesday, the Schwan's man makes the rounds of the housing areas in his little truck. All you do is leave your order and a check on your door and he will bring in the food and put it in your freezer for you. Isn't that something!!! He sells frozen meat, veggies, ice cream, diet dinners, desserts, and all kinds of other stuff. There's a big catalog to look through and choose from. So, actually, we really don't ever have to leave the park again.

February 20. We hiked Boquillas Canyon in the morning and then decided to go across to Boquillas, Mexico. Erv and I have been to some pretty ratty towns in our life, but I think we have it topped this time. We walked to the river (about 3 miles across rolling desert brush) and got on the ferry. I use the term "ferry" loosely. It is actually one of two tiny little rusty rowboats owned by people in Boquillas to get you across the river ($2 roundtrip). When you get across, you can get on a donkey to take you the 1/2-mile to town, get in the back of a pick up truck, or just walk. This is not a legal border crossing, but the park and Mexico have a gentleman's agreement. As long as there is no trouble, the crossing will be open for tourists to go and help the town survive. The town has no electricity, no running water, and almost no people. They do sell rocks there, but we are told that it is illegal to buy them and bring them across the river to this side - I don't know why. Anyway, we stayed at a bed and breakfast run by Doris and Jose. Doris is an American who is originally from Houston and worked in the park for many years. Jose worked for the park service for many years and then both of them got disgusted and went to Mexico to live. Their "resort" is clean, but the outhouse is extremely far away from the main house (not good when you have to go in the middle of the night). They say they would like to put a flush toilet in the "resort". I hope they do!!!! Anyway, Doris makes enchiladas, and only enchiladas. So if you're hungry, that is what you'll get. Your room comes with breakfast - which is a breakfast version of enchiladas. At night, she brings out her guitar and sings for you. Erv and I were the only people staying there, but she sang as if there was a big crowd. She was very talented. We had a great time and will return. We told her that we would bring steaks with us the next time we went. She loves steak, but is unable to eat it much because they don't have room to store meats. They have a generator to run their cooler, but they keep soda in it for the tourists. And, speaking of power to run things, the people in the town live with no electricity, but they do have solar panels on their roofs AND SATELLITE DISHES FOR THEIR TV's, that they run from inverters. We came home Sunday afternoon, took showers right away, and did wash.

Saturday, February 27. We are going on a 3-day, 2-night canoe trip down Boquillas Canyon. There will only be 5 of us going including 1 ranger. We are responsible for making dinner one of the nights for all 5 people.

The Boquillas Canyon Canoe Trip, 3 days, 2 nights. February 27, 1999, we launched our canoes at Rio Grande Village and started on our 3-day trek down the river and through the canyon. First, a little history. Since we work at the park, we are allowed to go along with the river rangers when they do their river patrols, if there is room and if we have off those days. Well, for this particular trip, we happened to have off Saturday, Sunday, and Monday and since there were only 2 other people requesting to go - so we were in. That was the good news. Steve, the river ranger in charge, gave us a call and said we should bring our own breakfasts, our own lunches, and 1 dinner for everyone (5 all together). The other "couple" would make the dinner for the other night. Well, that was on a Wednesday and with the closest real grocery store 120 miles away, we were limited in what we could bring for dinner. I looked through our freezer, fridge, and cabinets - and came up with barbecued polish sausage, hot dog rolls, homemade potato salad, ranch beans, and home made brownies for desert. I was very proud of myself, especially for the potato salad, which was delicious. I also looked forward to the polish sausage, which we never eat, but I love and it was all the little store had that would serve 5 people. We got to the staging area and we met the other couple that was going. It turned out to be Jed (name changed to protect the innocent), whom we knew from our training classes and like him a lot, and Bertha (name changed to protect the innocent), whom we didn't know until that day, and don't like at all. Anyway, to make a long story short - we told Steve that we would like to make the dinner the first night because of the potato salad and didn't really trust the coolers in the hot sun to keep it really cold for 2 days. When we told him what we brought, he was delighted, but from the mouth of Bertha came the nasally shrill words "WE'RE VEGETARIANS!" Well, we turned to Jed and said, "Since when - you ate meat on our last canoe trip." Well, we figured he became a devout vegetarian when he decided he wanted to impress Bertha. And, now back to the launch.

We really had a wonderful trip down the river. We had been warned that there were strong headwinds at times, but to our surprise, we had quite a tailwind pushing us. The rapids we went through were not nearly as menacing as those were in the Santa Elena Canyon, so we were keeping up with Steve with no problem. There are 2 rated rapids in this canyon, but because the water was low they did not present any real problem. Boquillas Canyon is diverse in that it has some straight walls, some wide areas with mountains on each side, and lots of flat beach areas for camping. Most of all, the canyon is remote. We did not see anyone during our three days until we neared the take point, La Linda, well outside the park. Actually, a series of canyons, the Lower Canyons, continue much further down river, but we're saving that trip for another time. Steve was a wonderful guide. George picked us up at the take out spot. George is a volunteer who lives in the campground, and mostly shuttles the river rangers around. We then had a 1 1/2-hour drive back to the river cache at Panther Junction. Bertha slept the whole way back. We all helped Steve unload the truck and the canoes and then Jed had to escort Bertha home because she was so exhausted while Erv and I stayed and washed all the dishes and pots that were used during the week-end.

 Erv's Survival Weekend. Alone, all alone. Erv has left me to go to a survival class at the State Park. I told him that I didn't mind that he was leaving me alone to cope with hundreds of visitors during the busiest week of the year - I was lying of course - but he went anyway. He, of course, took the truck with him. This meant that anyplace I needed or wanted to go to must be on foot. Not that I don't need the exercise, but I really had to think hard about that ice cream sandwich I was craving, because I was going to have to walk 3 miles (round trip) to get one.

Erv: We gathered at Fort Leaton Historical Site to meet with our instructors, David Alloway and Cathy Fulton. After registrations, off we went in a caravan of several pickup trucks to ranch headquarters, 26 miles up a gravel road across a harsh desert landscape. Big Bend Ranch State Park was created from a working ranch and the state has not changed its appearance at all. A cluster of buildings in the middle of 300,000 acres still looked like a working ranch. The hunting lodge, with dormitory rooms and a large dining room, was to be home for two nights. Having attended several survival courses while in the navy, I didn't feel the slightest bit guilty sleeping and eating indoors during this course.

Each day we traveled to unique places on the ranch: old windmills, tinajas, springs, and open desert. Here we learned how to locate water, how to get water from vegetation, and how to make a solar still. We cooked and ate some very strange plants. We even made fires six different ways without matches. Signal mirrors and signal fires were used to signal imaginary passing aircraft. Slogans such as "conserve your sweat, not your water" were drilled into us. We learned all the dangers of desert travel: dehydration, hyperthermia, hypothermia, and disorientation (getting lost). The evenings were spent around a fire gazing at the stars to determine which way was north.

Our instructors were veterans of the Chihuahuan Desert. Dave had grownup out here and had worked in the state park for years. He had participated in the most grueling trek across the Australian desert. Cathy Fulton is the cockiest woman I've ever met. She is good and she will tell you so. They were both Texans through and through, more at home on horse than on the ground.

Anyway, after three days having David and Cathy show off their knowledge of long term desert survival, I was ready to go back to Gina and the RV. The other students, four women and eight men, went back to their city homes in Dallas, Houston, Austin, and San Antonio.

A Day in Spring Break. Last night we went to a ranger's star talk, but a very hard wind came up and the sky became heavy overcast. They didn't even put the telescope up. Apparently there was a weather front moving through. During the night the wind shook the trailer so hard Gina couldn't sleep, but I just let it rock me to sleep. Some tent campers packed-up and left the park.

But today was beautiful: crystal clear skies, calm wind, visibility over 100 miles, and maximum temperature of 77 degrees. In the afternoon the Sierra Del Carmen Mountains were bright with the setting sun shining on them. It was a perfect desert day. The javalinas interrupted my jog as they paraded across the road ahead of me.

We worked in the visitor's center and with Spring break, we were very busy with 240 people coming in. All the campgrounds are full and a lot of people camped in the over flow, many stayed outside the park in private campgrounds. People wanted to know about hiking trails, primitive campsites, Boquillas Mexico, back road conditions, and what seasonal birds were in the park. Gina and I don't know one bird from the other, but to birders, the sighting of certain birds is very exciting. When they enthusiastically fill out wildlife sighting forms, we try to be very interested. Then the children come in with their junior ranger notebooks to be graded. We solemnly administer a pledge, firmly shake their hands, give them a certificate, and make them feel important. Of course, when them come through the door at the busiest time of day, we think, "Oh, darn more junior rangers!"

March 27, 28, 29. Saturday, Sunday, and Monday are our days off from the work, if you can call it work. Anyway, we had a plan for our weekend.

Saturday. We went to Dugout Wells, a spot not far from the main road, with cottonwood trees. Here, our friend, Acelyn, was giving an interpretive talk on the medicinal uses of desert plants. During the talk/walk a few large drops of rain fell from the low clouds. This was an event, since the desert hadn't seed rain since November.

After the talk, we drove to the Basin with the intent of hiking one of the mountain trails. As we drove up the winding mountain road the clouds grew heavier and it began to get dark. With this unusual weather, we elected to have lunch in the restaurant, the only restaurant in the park. During lunch a heavy rain mixed with small hail began to fall. This phenomenon attracted a lot of attention. There's nothing more dramatic than a desert storm. The rain continued all afternoon. We drove back home to Rio Grande in heavy rain. Little did we know that at home, the wind had been blowing 60 miles per hour in heavy rain. The sign to our visitor's center had blown away. In the campground, tents were down, large tree limbs were on the ground, and water was flowing where it hadn't flowed for many months. Two motorcyclists had taken refuge in our neighbor's garage.

Sunday. We headed out on a drive outside the park, route FM 170. This highway was made famous when it was called "one of the prettiest drives in the Southwest" by a 1985 issue of National Geographic Magazine. We had a guidebook on the road written by one of my desert survival instructors. En route we stopped to say hello to the folks at the Warnock Environmental Education Center. They gave us vague assurances that the road was open after heavy rains. Gina read the book while I drove up and down 15% grades, along the Rio Grande through canyons. We stopped to hike Closed Canyon, a short but very pretty walk through a very narrow canyon.

After shopping in Presidio, we stopped to say hello to the folks at Fort Leaton Historical Site. This is the headquarters of Big Bend State Park. The fellow at the entrance desk told us that they usually get about 10 visitors a day. This area is so remote, one lady visiting the fort asked, "Where are we, anyway".

Having agreed to meet several friends, we stopped at the Starlight, for supper. The Starlight is a restaurant in a once abandoned movie theater in the ghost town of Terlingua. While we waited at the bar, we overheard a motorcyclist say that during the rainstorm, he had taken refuge in someone's garage in the park (our next door neighbor's garage). Turns out that he is from Corpus Christi. He went on to say that as a teenager he had camped in the very spot where we were sitting. The old theater didn't have a roof back then and the floor was covered in gravel.

Monday. We were very lazy on Monday. After getting up late, we went to the laundry and hung our clothes on the line near the RV. Gina worked on our web page on the computer and I read as the wind came up so strong we had to take the clothes off the line. Before dark I took a hike to a nearby road tunnel. I hiked over and around the tunnel looking for the old road that originally went around mountain. Apparently, the rubble from the tunnel had been used to obliterate the old road. I didn't find it.

It's off to work tomorrow. Tuesday is the day we take a government vehicle and check on rain collection and air quality equipment. We have to hike into two of the sites, but they're very nice hikes.

Saturday. Since we had not spent any time there, we decided to drive up to the Persimmon Gap part of the park. The entrance to the park from the north is there. Our first stop was at the visitor's center. We had met the volunteers who work there at the many potlucks. We were very impressed with the visitor's center--great displays, a picture window looking out to the mountains, a nice movie room, music, and lots of books. Of the three visitor's centers, ours is the least impressive, of course, Castolon doesn't count since it doesn't have a real visitor's center.

From there, we drove out of the park and turned down ranch road 2627. This is known as "the best road to nowhere" since it only has three things on it in 30 miles and it terminates at the Mexican border (river). Our first stop was at the Stillwell Ranch Store and RV Park. Here in the middle of nowhere was a small store, a park with three RV's in it, and a small museum dedicated to Hally Stillwell, a famous pioneer woman. Hally's daughter (a lady in her 70's) served us burritos for lunch. She told us they had sold part of the ranch and now had only 15,000 acres, which her brother ran. The museum had pictures of Hally with Governor Ann Richards and a replica of the one room house that Hally and Roy had lived in, circa 1916. I had seen Hally in historic videos and only remembered that "she was a good marksman off of a horse".

After driving to the end of the road, we arrived at the strangest place, Heath Canyon Ranch, another RV park with one RV in it. No one appeared to be around as we drove in the yard. Soon, Jessie George came out of the house and offered to open his tiny café. So we ordered hamburgers and listened to Jessie tell ranching and mountain lion stories. Heath Canyon was more of a fishing camp than a ranch. Besides Jessie, we only saw three dogs. How strange, a café 80 miles from the nearest little town, Marathon. On our way out, Jesse ran out with a letter for us to mail.

The only other thing on the road was Black Gap Wildlife Management Area, a part of the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department. We drove into the headquarters and found a small, one room, visitor's center with self-registration, no one was around. Black Gap is a part of the almost continuous series of parks along the Rio Grande from Presidio, Texas to Del Rio, Texas.

Soon, we were back in the park (Big Bend) driving the last remaining back road that we had not been on, Dagger Flats Road. My poor truck has really taken a beating on these rough, dirt roads. It has scratches down the side, a heavy coat of dust on everything, and more than a few new rattles.

By late afternoon we had arrived at the park headquarters to pick up our mail and kill sometime time before going to Rhonda's, our boss, for dinner. She had invited several of us to dinner as a going away party. After dinner, I was glad to leave Rhonda's and go home since we had been playing Boggle, a game that I'm terrible at.

Easter Week. Erv and I decided to go back to the "Buzzard's Roost" in Boquillas, Mexico for Easter. We had told Doris that we would bring the steaks the next time we came, so we ordered steaks from the Schwan's man, froze them solid, packed them in our backpacks, and were off to Mexico on Saturday morning. We had a great time except that after 1 1/2 hours on the grill, the steaks were still practically raw. The wind is so strong, that the heat never made it to the meat. They just have little old grills, no lids. The big steak dinner was kind of a let down, but the dessert was good. Another young couple showed up to spend the night. They were from Alpine, she a graduate student at the university and he worked at a local gun shop. He also sang very well so Doris and he serenaded us. It was a lot of fun. Sunday morning we got up early, wished everyone a happy Easter and walked to the river, got in the rowboat to cross the river, and walked home. It was a great walk except my boot rubbed my toe the whole 5 miles and now I cannot wear my shoe at all. I'll have to go to work in my flip-flops (definitely not regulation).

The weather has now turned HOT. It was 106 degrees 2 days in a row at the visitor's center. Much too hot to hike any of the long trails at this end of the park. That's not just my opinion, but the opinion of the authors of the hiking books on sale at every visitor's center. Some people just won't listen. Which brings us to Henry.

Henry came into the visitor's center mostly to have someone to talk to. He told me what an experienced hiker he was. Not only had he hiked most of the trails in the national park, but he also had hiked the trails in the state park up the river. He knew the names of many of the park rangers, and the roof rack of his conversion van was loaded with outdoor gear including a mountain bike hanging off the rear. He was very proud of his Big Bend license plates personalized to "S.RIM" for the south rim of the Chisos Mountains.

Henry planned to hike the infamous Marufo Vega trail solo. I had him fill out a solo hiker form and gave him the precautionary notes on the trail. He planned to start hiking at first light and to be back by early afternoon.

The Marufo Vega is a strenuous trail in an isolated part of the park. It goes over the Dead Horse Mountains and splits into a triangle loop. One leg of the triangle goes along the rim of Boquillas Canyon overlooking the Rio Grande. There is a very steep extension that goes into the canyon to the river. It's the extension into the canyon that gets some people into trouble, since the trail goes down a crack/wash and there are many cracks/washes to confuse a hiker when he is ready to return from his river visit. In fact, three years ago our predecessors were within hours of death when they were found and helocoptered out of a dead-end canyon. I've viewed the trail as a challenge and wanted to hike it before the weather turned too hot, but Gina said she had seen the canyon from a canoe on the river and wasn't going to hike the trail (at least not when it was 106 degrees outside)

Henry became confused and when he came up from the river he ended up lost south of the trail. When night overtook him he slept on a gravel bed. He had not planned to spend the night and did not have a sleeping bag or tent. His water supply was running out, but fortunately it had rained recently and the tinajas (rock basins) had some ugly water in them.

When Henry had not returned by morning, I reported him missing, and probably out of water, to the rangers. After seeing that his car was still at the trailhead, a ranger took a horse and proceeded up the trail to look for him. She was soon over the mountain and out of radio contact. By noontime, Henry had climbed up to the highest ground and he could see a faint trail going through a saddle to the west. A ranger hiking up the trail found Henry on the trail and led him back to the trailhead. During the debrief in the ranger's office, Henry was very humbled. And, the "expert hiker" headed for home to Houston.

On Sunday, Gina and I decided to drive out River Road to Mariscal Mine. The mine is 20 miles off the paved road at the end of Mariscal Mountain. We had not been there, but since visitors often had questions about it, we wanted to see it. The mine last operated during World War II and it became part of the park after it closed.

When we arrived, I was surprised that a ghost town was on the flats below the mine. The buildings, mostly houses, were made of concrete or of native stone. The roofs had fallen in and the windows were missing, leaving only the walls. Brush had grown up to obscure all the streets. On the mountainside, the large structures stood in disrepair. This is where the cinnabar (mercury ore) was processed. The vertical and horizontal mine shafts had bars across them. 

Walking up the hill and around the big furnace in the noonday sun, it was hard to imagine a hot summer day when the mine was in operation. I had heard about how the furnace could not be allowed to cool off and was fed wood 24 hours a day. The workmen, Mexicans from across the river, were paid in script that could only be spent at the company store. But, today there was complete silence around the crumpling buildings. In the 55 years since the mine closed, the desert was very slowly reclaiming the land.

On Monday, it was wash day, clean the trailer, and rest up for our big workweek starting on Tuesday. We gave each other haircuts. Actually, it didn't turn out half bad. It was a whole lot better than driving 120 miles to Alpine for a haircut. And, guess I can always wear my hat for a few days until the bald spots grow in.

Ore Terminal Hike. It was Sunday morning and Gina and I had decided to hike to the terminal of an abandoned aerial tramway used to transport silver ore from across the river in Mexico. The tramway was built 90 years ago and abandoned ten years later when the mine petered out. This was an ambitious hike, eight miles round trip through canyons, down one side and up the other. There is no shade and we had to carry a gallon of water for each of us. The tramway, left to rot and rust away, was built in too rugged terrain to be economic to salvage. Today the rusting cables snake across the desert along the tramway route. Most of the towers have collapsed, but a number still stand. The terminal, once a site of great activity where wagons were loaded for the long trip to the railroad in Marathon, has a heavy sense of isolation. The massive structure of heavy beams has toppled over. Pieces of ore lie on the ground, along with rusting cans, bolts, and other debris. No other sign of man can be seen in the broad sweep of the desert and mountains. The miners are long gone; only the wind whistling around the beams and the call of a pair of ravens provide company. Gina and I walked about for a while, then we sat and ate our lunch, and thought about how we were the only people in this valley. The rough walk back to the truck in the heat of the day lay ahead of us.

Pine Canyon Hike. It was Saturday and Gina and I were off to hike to the end of Pine Canyon. To get to the trailhead we drove steadily uphill along a rough, narrow gravel road. From the trailhead, we hiked along a well-maintained trail, mostly up hill. Eventually, we were in pine and oak trees that gave us shade from the mid-day sun. The walls of the canyon slowly closed in on us as we began a steep up hill climb. The reward for the climb was well worth it. We arrived at the end of the canyon, surrounded on three sides by high cliffs. A dry waterfall showed signs of when rains came. The air was cool and the sun was blocked from reaching the ground. We sat on boulders and ate lunch thinking about how lucky we were to have this special place to ourselves.

Marufa Vega. Since we had no plans for Sunday, I made the late decision to hike the Marufa Vega trail, solo. Marufa Vega is notoriously rugged and contains no shade, making the hike very hot. All the books on trails in the park suggest you do not hike that trail from April through September. The biggest problem with the trail that it is too long for a reasonable day hike, but if you spend the night on the trail, you have to carry two day's water and camping gear. So, off I went at 10:00 o'clock. From the trailhead the first mile is easy enough, up a wide, dry wash, but from there it's up hill over loose rocks, across a wide valley, and into a narrow canyon to the river. The trail was marked with rock cairns so it was not too hard to follow. From the lack of footprints, no one had been on the trail since the rain last week. I had a strange, but pleasant, feeling of being totally alone. No one was within miles. I had the valley and canyon all to myself. I did not see another animal except an occasional bird. I was especially enjoying the dramatic scenery because it was up close and personal.

At the river I sat on a large rock having my lunch, thoroughly enjoying my solitude, with a lingering thought about how I had a long, rough hike back to the truck. It was a "you're on your own" kind of thought. There was no other way than to hike out through the deserted country. I thought about how the area to the north and south of the trail must be. No one every goes there because there are no trails into those areas.

After playing beside the river, I headed along the canyon wall above the river intending to intersect another trail that cuts back to my original trail. While adjusting my pack, I realized that my pack was soaked. I was near panic as opened my pack to find the water leaking from one of the bottles. After assessing how much water I had left and how much water I required to get home, I turned around since that would be the shortest direction. The river water is not potable, but I had enough water to get most of the way back.

I ceased to enjoy my walk, my feet were giving me pain, and I just wanted it to be over. The hills seemed steeper, the trail harder to follow, and the footing looser. With the sun low in the west, the old truck never looked better as I saw it in the distance.

The Unused Grave. On Monday morning Gina and I decided to try to find the John Rice cemetery. This is only one of many old graves and cemeteries in the park. John Rice was a rancher early in this century. I had been asked by a visitor about the fact that among the five graves, two were three year old girls who were both born in 1901 and died in 1904. In some research of the literature, I found that one of girls was John Rice's daughter and the other her cousin who came for a lengthy visit. The girls contracted Cholera and died.

Gina and I drove off the paved road onto Glen Springs Road. We had been given some vague directions: on Glen Springs Road look for an old road on the left that has rocks blocking it, follow the old road until an arrow made of rocks points to the east, and follow that trail to the grave sight. The hike was not difficult, 3.6 miles round trip across typical Chihuahuan Desert.

The cemetery was on a ridge formed by two arroyos and a deep wash that the arroyos emptied into. I found the graves to be interesting. Three of the graves, John Rice, Alma Rice and Alma's cousin, were within a three-foot high concrete fence. Two other graves were outside the concrete fence. One of the graves had a badly weather beaten wooden cross with no name, the other had a marble head stone that had been recently put on the grave with the name of a Mexican woman. Oddly enough, another grave had been dug in the hard, rocky desert ground, but had not been used. Creosote bushes were growing in the grave and on the mound around it.

We walked around the site, took several pictures, and looked down on the desert below. I tried unsuccessfully to walk down to a spring near a large cottonwood tree. The arroyo was overgrown with mesquite, cactus, and acacia bushes. I wanted to find the ruins of the old ranch house and two Model A's that were said to be nearby. But, there was no way of getting down below the hill without getting torn to bits. So, we walked back the way we had come to the truck. Later that day, I talked to Bernie at the visitor's center and he gave me a hand drawn map of the area showing the ranch houses, graves and cars.

All In a Days Work. Today, Steve McAlister, a river ranger, asked me to take him to a river put-in that is twenty-five miles out on River Road. River Road is a narrow gravel road that parallels the river for 51 miles from one end of the park to the other.

Gina was very happy to work the visitor's center by herself while I was gone. Ha! She had a crazy woman come in the visitor's center in hysteria because her family was on the Mexican side of the river where their raft had been blown. Gina called Desert Sports, the outfitter that sent them down the river on a planned five-day trip through one of the canyons. It was fortunate that the wind had caused them to abort the trip because they had no idea about what they were doing, and once in the canyon, you're on your own for three days.

After Desert Sports had rescued the family, a middle aged brother and sister with their father and a nine year old child, the lady came into the visitor's center demanding that Gina find them a place to stay--a room with a kitchen (they had five days food with them for the river trip), close-by, and cheap. Gina told them they could drive to the nearest town 48 miles away or they could pitch their tent in the campground. The lady was very incensed that Gina wouldn't find her a place to stay. Gina has all the fun!

In the mean time, Steve and I had turned around on River Road because of a washout. We went Glend Springs Road to Black Gap Road (Black Gap is no longer maintained), and back to River Road past the wash out. At the river, we unloaded the canoe and the supplies for three days. Soon, Steve was paddling toward Mariscal Canyon, alone, but happy. I envied him, three days on the river, camping out.

Instead of returning the way I had come, I continued west on River Road. After the recent rains, I wasn't sure which road was worse. But, I continued on through the hills, in the washes, and around mountains until I came to the paved road on the west side of the park. From there I only had 60 miles to go home. Anyway, I really enjoyed driving the big, macho park ranger truck.

Josh. Josh was the only male amongst several SCA's (Student Conservation Associates). He rather liked being the only man and he enjoyed the attention of two or three of the women. This was actually Josh's second season in Big Bend. He had recently graduated from college, but like most young folks, had not decided what he wanted to be when he grew up. Josh was often in trouble because he would wonder off and nobody knew where he was.

On one river trip, Josh was trying to impress a young woman, Stacy, and professed to be a vegetarian, as she was. But, we all knew better. On a trip to the backcountry, Josh and Rhea had decided to stay out on the trail until the next day when others would join them on a re-vegetation project. As misfortune would have it, a major thunderstorm, complete with hail, came up in the evening. Josh and Rhea did not have a tent with them, but Rhea had a plastic ground cover. The ground cover offer little shelter as the hail made holes in it and the rain soaked both of them.

Josh used his radio to ask for a pickup on the Castolon Road. Of course, no one was standing by to go get them and it would require four hours for them to walk to the road in the dark and rain. A pick-up was promised at 12:30 am.

Leaving everything behind, the two wayward souls began walking in the rain. They were soaked anyway! Approaching a creek, Rhea shined her light to check the conditions before crossing. Four lights reflected back. In the light of the lightning, they could see the outline of two mountain lions. Rhea, having had a previous mountain lion encounter, let out a banshee yell that put the lions on the run. Eventually, they reached an old ranch house and took cover. From there Josh called to cancel the midnight ride. The next morning, no one knew where Josh and Rhea were. The park rangers were not amused and they decided that Josh needed closer supervision.

Josh was hiking the Window Trail one evening. As he neared the Basin campground, he was on a switchback when he saw a large, male mountain lion cross the trail below and behind him. Josh stopped to watch the lion. The mountain lion stopped just off the trail and proceeded to groom himself. Josh watched the lion for close to an hour. During that same time, several people hiked up the trail past the lion, past Josh, and never saw the mountain lion close by in the brush.

 After Thoughts. Big Bend is more an experience than a place. It's more than the Chihuahuan Desert, it's more than the Chisos Mountains, it's more than the Rio Grande in a series of canyons. Even the people that live in the park are different. They're tree huggers, but good tree huggers. As Ranger Gus Sanchez said, "I love this park. I love every plant and every rock in it."

The visitors are of all sorts: The park lovers that come every year, mostly from places like Minnesota, up state New York, and a few from Texas. The canoeist that spend as much as 21 days doing all the canyons both in and out of the park. The RV crowd who see the park as a place to park the big machines for a week. The folks from Houston who are looking for a Disney park.

The park has back roads, primitive camping, zone camping, and hiking trails to isolated spots. Isolation that is a relief to the city dwellers and a joy to the park employees. Isolation that is broken by spring breakers in mid-March. The park is the desert in all her glory in April with the blue bonnets, pitaya cactus in bloom, and the ocotillos green from the recent rain. The park is trails to be hiked to the limit of ones ability. The park grows on you until you take full ownership of it.