I got back a few days ago from my weeklong trip to Big Bend. After thinking about it for several years, I finally got up the courage to hike the Outer Mountain Loop, and I did it. I backpacked the first 26 or so miles solo before meeting my friend Shelton at the Blue Creek Ranch house on Thanksgiving Day around mid-afternoon. We completed the final 16 miles together. Forty-two miles in six days. It has been an amazing week, and I continue to be amazed that I completed the route as planned.
The trip began with a wedding in Bee Caves, a town just west of Austin. My friends Greg and Amy tied the knot on Saturday evening, November 20. It was a lovely ceremony and reception afterward. Several friends joined their many family and friends to celebrate their marriage. I left just after their first dance because I was going to be leaving Austin around 4 the next morning. Because the park is quite busy during the week of Thanksgiving, I wanted to make sure I got the camping permits I’d need to complete the route.
I left Austin at 4:30. It was foggy and drizzling. The fog made the drive quite slow, and I didn’t reach Ozona until almost five hours later (It normally takes me a little under four.). I reached Marathon a little before noon and had an old-fashioned lunch at Johnny B’s: burger hot of the grill, fries, and a homemade pineapple milk shake. I knew it would be the last good meal I’d have for awhile.
I reached park headquarters at Panther Junction around 1:45 and promptly had to stand in line for permits. The rangers were operating two lines. I was standing in the Chisos campsite line, and the other line was for roadside campsites. Despite having several people in front of me, I managed to get all of my first choices of designated spots and permits for zone camping for the three nights I’d spend beneath the Chisos Mountains. With permits in hand, I headed to the Blue Creek Ranch overlook to deliver my cache of food and water. I hauled that 5-gallon plastic paint bucket about half a mile to a spot underneath some creosote bushes. I then said a short prayer, asking that it still be there when I came back for it on Thanksgiving Day.


By a little after 4 p.m., I was pulling into my campsite in the Basin. I had reserved the site several weeks before, and it turned out to be the last space available. I figured there would be a reason why it was the last one available. Site No. 56 is located on the No Generator loop, which ensures it will be a quiet space. It offered great views, including a glimpse of The Window, but it was accessible only by a perilous trail over sharp rocks and through sharper succulents. A field guide to cacti would’ve been useful. The site wasn’t level; I couldn’t sit on one side of the picnic table lest I tip it over. Still, it served me well, even in the steady rain that fell through the night and into the next morning.
I wanted to be on the trail by 8 a.m. The rain delayed me almost two hours. It also forced me to pack away my wet tent and rainfly, as I was not taking my car-camping tent up the mountains with me. I hoped they would not mildew in the week they would sit in my truck. I hiked up the Laguna Meadows Trail under an angry looking sky and accompanied by occasional light rain. It was the first time I’d ever hiked up this trail; I normally hike up the Pinnacles Trail. The clouds and cooler temperatures made it a pleasant hike that day. There was even some lingering fall color on the hillsides beyond Laguna Meadow. As I approached the Southwest Rim, the winds picked up and the rain fell again. Despite the clouds, the views from the rim were clear of haze, and many details of the desert below were distinctly visible. Six hours after setting off from the Basin trailhead, I reached my campsite, SE3, on the Southeast Rim. Then the sun came out, and a breathtaking sunset followed. Then the winds came.
It was a night when I wished the wind would come as great swashes of colors, because it would’ve been a beautiful sight to see the colors rushing in and out of the trees. The tarp I’d borrowed from a buddy held up well, although I had to readjust it a couple of times. The trees provided a bit of shelter from the wind, and the tarp kept me out of the wind completely. Occasional clouds passed by as the stars and moon wheeled overhead.
Tuesday morning began with my watching a gorgeous sunrise from the windy East Rim. There was a thick blanket of fog in the desert below, stretching for miles beyond the Rio Grande. It struck me that it must be calmer down there, because I never associate fog with wind. This was going to be a hard day, because I would descend over 3,000 feet from the Rim to the bottom of Juniper Canyon.
After hiking around the Northeast Rim, I entered Boot Canyon and walked alongside the stream flowing through it. Big Bend has received so much rain this year, with over 27 inches being recorded at the Basin weather station (A typical year sees 14-16 inches.). When I was getting my permits, the ranger gave the usual spiel about carrying all the water I would need. Then she added, “I won’t lie to you–there’s water everywhere.” I could tell that even as I entered the park, and there was water flowing in the northern stretches of Tornillo Creek, a normally bone-dry arroyo. It was peaceful hiking through Boot Canyon. There were still a few leaves clinging to the maples and oaks, but most had already fallen, carpeting the trail. I pumped three liters of water, giving me five, enough to last until I reach Fresno Creek the next afternoon.
I reached the Juniper Canyon trail junction just before 11 a.m. Within 90 minutes, I had descended more than 1,000 following the steep switchbacks beneath the Rim. Some rain clouds streamed over the Chisos, but it remained dry in the canyon. As I continued to descend, views of Crown Mountain and the canyon became grander. The clouds finally broke around 3:30, and I finally found a suitable site to pitch the tarp and call it a day around 4. The site offered great 360-degree views but no protection from the wind, which began howling and whipped the tarp all afternoon, evening, and night. Despite the extreme winds, I enjoyed a beautiful sunset, with the Sierra del Carmen dominating the eastern horizon.
I didn’t sleep well that night. The constant blasts of the wind kept straining the poor tarp, which got good at yanking its stakes out of the hard ground. I got up several times to re-stake and re-guy the tarp. I finally lowered the tarp’s profile to the point where I couldn’t even come close to sitting up under it. At some point deep in the night, the winds finally settled down, and I got a little sleep.
To be continued.