A sojourn deep into Big Bend Nat'l Park 2014. The coldness crept in off the desert floor. My T-shirt offered no solace from the cold as I retreated back into my sleeping bag. Again the feelings came and this time...
Like the lone traveler who takes in the beauty and the bizarre-not for any other benefit other than his own-we turned onto a narrow gravel road due south off the eastern park road toward Glen Springs. We had gotten off to a rather late excursion knowingly facing many a mile ahead of us ripe with recent washouts, and full of tire shedding sharp boulders. Cactus and thorny bushes take advantage of the forlorn adventurer, leaving their beauty marks on the urban city dwellers shiny new SUVs; our Jeeps are well accustomed to this ritual.
Twilight was upon us but with a little luck we’d be at Fresno Camp just before darkness set in. The Big Bend National Park Rangers advise against nighttime back-country off-road travel, as even the latest GPS maps are full of dead-ends with difficult if not impossible turnarounds. On gravel rocky strewn roads, the many turns at night come quickly without warning with no signs to mark the way, full of detours of confusion to the weary traveler unfamiliar with this desert landscape. Long since engaging our four-wheel drive, we turned on the LED off-road lights, to illuminate any road hazards-we hoped.
It takes several hours to reach this remote camp from the Panther Junction Ranger Station, but it’s worth the effort, traversing over the desert unpaved roads meant for high clearance only vehicles. Go while there is plenty of daylight, for to venture in this area at night, is not wise. Too many opportunities to take a wrong turn, end up in a tight or worse yet freak rain drenched Arroyo, with only the option to retreat. Not good Kemosahbee!
Our landmark was the magnificent Marsical Mine; an abandoned mercury mine high upon a ridge deep into the southernmost reaches of the Big Bend National Park. With virtually no changes to this National Register of Historic Places since its construction in 1900, it stands as a reminder of when quicksilver was king. First coming here in 1976, I have seen first-hand the rapid deterioration where my friend Russ and I traveled in our Jeeps up the steep road to the mine entrance-now gone. The adobe structures falling apart, an old Model T touring car rusting away nearby, Mother Nature is reclaiming what was hers to begin with.
After a few more hours a faint ghostly glimpse the mine appeared far in the Western horizon; another fifteen or so miles to camp as we traversed along and near the mighty Rio Grande River. We like the Fresno Camp as it is near the mine with a one way in one way out entrance.
Finally there and with the dome tent in place, sleeping bags unrolled, Glen and I bedded down to enjoy peaceful silence while drifting off reminiscing of the many years of past sojourns. Adventures with now departed friends, who we shared many a laughter and made glorious memories together. The coldness crept in off the desert floor. Even in the peak of summer, the ambient temps drop to a chilling number necessitating heavy jackets. That’s alright, it’s all about adventure and being in the wild, away from civilization, and in the comfort of renewing the spirit.
Oddly I could not fall into blissful sleep that night in August 2014; the hairs on my neck suddenly felt like prickly pear. At around 3:00 AM I got out of our tent into the cold black night. Fearful of banditos, I looked down our camp road and across the desert as if to find something I’d rather not. My T-shirt offered no solace from the cold as I retreated back into my sleeping bag. Again the feelings came and this time.........RAS.
PS: The actual event to be continued, I submitted this as a potential article to TEXAS MONTHLY magazine just before the pandemic hit; no reply. I'll give it to the end of the year and if I do not hear back, I plan to seek another source of publication, as this was the single most unreal experience of my life.