Big Bend briefly is better than no Big Bend at all! I am devoting some more time to my West Texas series so a few weeks ago, I went out to the National Park to collect references and inspiration… the camping and hiking were a nice bonus.
The drive out West offers views of some of the best and worst of Texas: I20 slices through oil fields bordered by barbed wire fences that collect windblown piles of trash- miles and miles of flat, dusty land dotted with dystopian oil flares. Dropping south off the main highway, the quarries and flares, the dust and industrial equipment dominate the land up to the humble roadside marker for the Pecos River (a narrow, dry arroyo). From that point, the land changes rapidly. The first mesas appear near Ft Stockton, where brushy desert flora gradually replaces the petroleum wasteland.
This time we drove through Marathon, Texas, approaching the park through Persimmon Gap. The drive between Marathon and Big Bend’s northern boundary is gorgeous. We arrived as the sun accelerated in its westward descent, diffusing the air with golden light. We saw javelinas and jackrabbits, blooming dagger yucca and wildflowers. The mountains, layer upon layer of blue under the blonde haze of the sky, stretched in a seemingly endless upheaval of land. I may have cried a little as we crested a turn and the land opened up around us, a great bowl surrounded by rugged mountain peaks.
Our first view of the Chisos Mountains as we passed through Persimmon Gap.
Big Bend defies all logic- there’s something about it that seems irrational. Even though I knew my senses would be overwhelmed by the land, I still couldn’t really prepare myself for the experience of simply being there. Big Bend is vast, massive, endless: monumental, yet deeply personal. The colors change throughout the day, rose at sunrise, to bleached-bone at midday, flaxen in the evening, finally fading into jewel-toned twilight before the setting sun reveals a star-strewn sky. The land is at once staggering in its largeness and arresting in its little moments: the birds, creatures and plants. Multitudes in miniature.
The mountains of the Trans-Pecos region are volcanic; improbable angles that remind me, oddly, of a heaving ocean of rock: waves breaking, frozen in time. Especially in the Chisos, I felt the upward thrust of the cliffs- as if the land itself contained potential energy humming beneath my feet.
“In a lifetime spent in traveling, here I came upon the greatest wonder. The mantle of God touches you; it is what Beethoven reached for in music; it is panorama without beginning or end.
No fire can burn so bright, no projection can duplicate the colors that dance over the desert or the bare rock formations that form the backdrop. No words can tell you, and no painter hold it. It is only to be visited and looked at with awe, it will make you breathe deeply whenever you think of it, for you have inhaled eternity.”
When we arrived on Good Friday, the land was dry, dry. Wildflowers bloomed sparsely, dormant ocatillos rattled their woody spines in the desert wind. It rained a little Friday night, and by Sunday more bluebonnets and wildflowers appeared. We left Monday, just a day or so before a wildfire broke out near the Chisos and shut down the basin.
Tent camping by the Rio Grande was an amazing experience. Nothing really prepares the urban mind for the presence of a sky brimming with stars. Friday night we had all the tent windows open and were drifting off to the sound of coyotes when the wind picked up slightly and it began to rain. Saturday morning dawned crisp and cool in the 50’s. We were treated to a spectacular lightening show on Saturday night, after an evening of gale force winds.
The park contains so many different elevations and ecosystems, the weather, flora and fauna can be totally different depending on location and elevation. We waded in the Rio Grande at Santa Elena canyon and it was 90 degrees, but up in the Chisos, it was 65 degrees- the difference was 45 minutes of driving and a couple thousand feet of elevation gain. Driving back to our campsite we dropped at steep grades from 5000’ to about 1900’ and watched the temperature increase by 20 degrees.
Three nights was not really enough time to absorb and explore the region, but it was so nice to be back and to unplug from everything for a few days. I have enough reference material and ideas to last until I can get back out there again- I hope!
What locations make your heart sing?
