Hiking At Big Bend

My second day at Big Bend National Park I went on a five mile hike up and down a series of ridges along the Rio Grande river. I saw a lot of birds, rock formations, desert plants and beautiful views of the river and the blue-colored mountains beyond the Mexican border.

I didn't see anyone on the Mexican side of the river, though there was a horse that was keeping an eye on me. On the American side, I saw an elderly, almost naked hippie with his twenty-something girlfriend (or daughter, or grand-daughter).

I wish I could bring myself to take pictures of the people I meet. But...I just can't do it. I did, however, manage to take a picture of the horse.

Big Bend

One of the first things you notice when you enter Big Bend National Park is its remoteness. If you look at a map you'll notice the great distances from point to point. If you are unfamiliar with the Chihuahuan Desert you may think it's a land full of "nothing", but if you take the time to slow down and walk away from the roads, to sit still and use all of your senses, you'll be filled with wonder at the beauty and life surrounding you.

On my way to the Rio Grande Village campground, I was greeted by javelinas, desert cottontails, jack rabbits, tiny lizards and a roadrunner. Around me were prickly pear, ocotillo, yucca and lupine. That evening I enjoyed the cool breezes, visited a beaver pond where cranes settled in for the night, stared at unbelievably star-soaked skies, listened to coyotes discussing their evening activities, and heard the odd sound of a fellow camper playing the bongos off in the woods.

South By Southwest

I kept heading southwest until I finally reached Austin, where as usual, I immediately got lost. I don't understand how I can travel to almost anywhere in the country, almost without a map, but the minute I hit Austin I lose all sense of direction. I think it has something to do with the fact that not a single street or road in Austin goes in a straight line and there are no visible landmarks to help with orientation. (Or maybe it has something to do with aliens and magnetic fields and local plots to keep Austin weird.)

My stay with Kate and Dale was short and sweet. Just long enough to spend some time downtown. I breakfasted at the Crepe Trailer, visited the candy store and the farmer's market and enjoyed Dale's good grilling. I had to clear out of the guest room before Dale's dad, visiting from Michigan, moved in that evening.

From Austin, I headed south again, to Seminole Canyon State Park, west of Del Rio, Texas. Seminole Canyon has some real interesting petroglyphs, but you can only see them with a guide. In the past, every time I've been here, there were no guided tours scheduled. Happily, this time there was a tour and I immediately signed up. In the morning, not to my great surprise, it was cancelled because the trails were too slick. If I were a paranoid person, I might think there was some kind of plot against me, maybe planned by the same people who designed the roads in Austin.

So, I headed on to Big Bend National Park, but, on the way I had to make one more stop. Have you heard of the saying, "No Law West Of The Pecos"? It was always just some line from a western movie to me until I met the Pecos High Bridge. Just west from Seminole Canyon, over the Pecos River, at 273 feet, it's the tallest highway bridge in Texas. There's something about bridges and water which really attract me, maybe because I'm a Michigander. Michigan's all about bridges and water.

Crossing the Pecos High Bridge is like walking into a surprise party. You're just traveling down the road through the desert and suddenly, around a curve and over a hill, is a big beautiful bridge spanning tall, rugged cliffs and a powerful, vibrant river far below. Each time I've crossed the river it's a different color depending upon the color of the sky. This time the sky had a troubled look to it and the water was a cloudy green jade. Of course I had to stop at the overlook to take pictures. I crossed over the bridge three times, much to the amusement, or possibly displeasure of the road crew working on the bridge.

Breakfast Of Wanderers

I left Lake Loramie about 4am so I could get beyond Dayton and Cincinnati before rush hour. It worked. I stopped at a visitors center just inside of Kentucky for "The Breakfast of Wanderers." Coffee, chocolate and cheerios, yum! It's even worse than you might think. The chocolate in the cheerios are actually chocolate covered coffee beans and there's chocolate milk in my coffee. I admit it I'm an addict, but, I'm not looking for a cure.

I bypassed Lexington on the Bluegrass Parkway. The farms around there are beautiful with their sweeping fields and dark-stained wooden fences. No signs of spring yet, but I'm sure both the plants and foals are ready to burst out at any moment.

I spent the night at the Hillman Ferry campground in the Land Between The Lakes National Recreation Area. The campground had only just opened that day for the season and I was given a great site right next to the lake. This area is supposed to be great for birding, but it must have been too early in the season because I only saw a couple of crows and a pair of Canada geese.

A Late Start And An Early Stop

I started my search for spring the last day of February, Sunday the twenty-eighth, around 1pm. I was planning on leaving the day before but, of course, it snowed again, so I shoveled once more. I only drove as far as Lake Loramie State Park, in Ohio, before the dark closed in. The snow was about two feet deep with only one cleared campsite and I took it. On reflection, that site may have been the spot in the road where the snowplow turned around, but it worked for me.

Enough Of Winter

I've had it with winter! Normally I wouldn't say that; I usually enjoy winter. I like the early nights, the crisp temperatures, the winter skies and the special cozy feeling of coming into a warm kitchen on a cold night. And truthfully, I'd rather shiver than sweat.

I like winter sports and festivals. I like wearing sweaters and long underwear. I even like shoveling snow. This winter I went to the Plymouth Ice Festival, I watched the Winter Olympics, I took Elliott and Van winter camping and I visited ice fishermen on a frozen lake.

Now, the way I see it, there are twelve months in a year and there are four seasons.* By rights a season shouldn't last longer than three months, right? By the time Michigan was entering its fourth month of winter and I was snow shoveling, sometimes up to five times a day, I decided winter was no longer fun.

When I phoned my son, Dan, in NYC and realized I was chortling gleefully, on the edge of maniacally, because his storm had dumped more snow than mine, I realized it was time for me to head south. If spring won't come to Michigan, I'll search it out and drag it home myself.

*Michigan's four seasons are Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter and Road Construction Season.

Flagstaff Then Home

After New Mexico I stopped at Flagstaff, Arizona to visit my friends, Shirley and Pat. As usual we checked out plenty of local restaurants and did our share of exploring. This year we celebrated Halloween by visiting the Day of the Dead exhibit at a local museum, passed out candy and played dominoes. Yes, we really are "old farts".

While I should have gone straight home after Flagstaff, I detoured through Michigan's upper peninsula to show off my Sportsmobile to my aunts. By the time I finally got home I had traveled about 8000 miles. Not bad for only six weeks.

While I love to travel, it was good to be home. I was glad to see my family, my dog, Elliott, my queen-sized bed and my shower. It was also time to start preparing for the winter holidays and all the fun winter brings.