A Hideaway for Bandits and Hikers

Most of Big Bend National Park’s 700,000 acres is Chihuahuan desert: creosote-dotted flats and low, hilly grasslands punctuated with prickly pear. It is hot and dry, and there is no shade. Understandably, people and animals tend to seek out the park’s remaining 2%--the Chisos Mountains.

Centered in a trough 40 miles wide, the Chisos rise a mile above the desert. From the flats below they look rough, threatening. But climb to the upper canyons, and from the cool shade of a sugar maple you can gaze over thousands of square miles of barren, blistering-hot land--what the Spaniards called el despoloblado , the uninhabitable.

First Indians

The Spaniards were wrong about the Chisos--they were inhabited by Mescalero Apaches whose ancestors had arrived 12,000 years before.

The Indians had joined the plants and animals that were left on this high oasis, which is twice as wet as the surrounding desert and 10 to 30 degrees cooler, at the end of the last Ice Age.

It has remained a pleasant retreat ever since--for animals, Indians, bandits, and, more recently, hikers, bird watchers and tourists.

Whether you backpack or simply take day outings from Chisos Basin, where comfort and adventure seekers can find lodge rooms or cabins, you’ll find two ways of exploring these mountains.

The south rim trail (high road) climbs from Chisos Basin to wander among the oblong cluster of the upper Chisos. It passes the park’s apex, 7,835-foot Emory Peak, dips into verdant canyons and skirts the edge of the south rim, a 2,000-foot drop.

Less than 14 miles long, this loop can be done in a day. But it’s good to spend at least one night outside, to watch darkness rise from the valleys and sleep under the oaks. In the morning you can explore the canyons and side trails or climb Emory Peak.

A lower route, the Outer Mountain Loop, drops from the upper Chisos to meander through the rugged hills below the south rim.

This 33-mile route, much of it vague and unmarked, winds through ankle-twisting terrain, at times passable only with map, compass and good navigation skills. Goats made some of these trails, and when you walk them you can believe it.

Water is scarce, and the route, being at low elevation, is too hot to take in the summer. But for the hardy, extra care and effort pay off in shares of solitude.

Not feeling hardy, we took the south rim trail, camping first among the junipers and live oaks in Boulder Meadows. This small plateau takes its name from the huge volcanic boulders dropped onto it from the pinnacles rimming the basin on this side.

Higher and Higher

From Boulder Meadows we climbed a series of switchbacks, slipped between pinnacles of lava and stepped into the upper Chisos. Here the junipers of the lower slopes give way to pinon pines, maples and oaks.

Birds suddenly were everywhere--titmice, nuthatches, Mexican jays and the acorn woodpecker, a busy bird with a brilliant crimson cap. We had entered the upper mountain canyons, where the relative coolness and moisture support an astounding variety of life.

Big Bend is visited by more bird species--at least 385 have been recorded--than any other national park. The eastern and western migration routes pass through, bringing birds from both sides of the country.

In addition, many Mexican birds reach the northern edge of their range here. The Colima warbler, for instance, visits the United States only in the upper Chisos canyons, where it nests in summer.

Bigger animals like the canyons, too, and the Chisos shelter some unusual mammals.

Perhaps strangest is the collared peccary, or javelina, a wild pig common in Mexico and Central America but only found in the United States in Southwestern deserts. While the javelina is something of a tough hombre (its main diet is prickly pear), its ferocious reputation is undeserved; people who think they’re under attack are usually just getting a closer look by nearsighted, curious beasts who would rather run than fight.

The javelina, like its fellow Chisos residents the gray fox and the coyote, is mostly nocturnal. The park also contains bobcat, badger, mountain lion (rarely seen), and many smaller mammals that are hunted by slightly bigger snakes and lizards.

Trees Offer Shade

Plants thrive in these canyons, especially large trees. Maples, Ponderosa pine, a variety of oaks and Arizona cypress give shelter from the sun.

In their shade grow the smooth-skinned Texas madrone, drooping juniper, and pinon pines, with short trunks and spreading lower branches.

Among the grasses grow prickly pear and yucca, reminding one that this is desert, the lushness a marginal concession.

Boot Canyon is such a place. Set below Emory Peak, with two trail intersections and a reliable spring, it is the rough center of the south rim trail system.

A prime bird watching area, it also affords photo prospects--of the peak, “the boot” (a rock tower resembling an upside-down boot), and, east past the canyon’s mouth, the slopes of Juniper Canyon.

In the distance curves the Rio Grande and the limestone walls of Mexico’s Sierra del Carmen. Not surprisingly, Boot Canyon is a popular spot to camp and day hike.

From there we walked to the south rim. Probably the Chisos’ most distinctive feature, the rim formed when a second flow of lava spread over this end of the already-formed mountain cluster, topping it with a flat, erosion-resistant ledge.

From this cap the upper Chisos’ southern cliffs drop as far as 2,000 feet. Below are the convolutions of the lower Chisos--the Sierra Quemada, Tortuga Mountain--through which winds the outer mountain loop.

Overwhelming View

Farther out, the land stretches through a jumble of faults, crags and twisted hills. It is hard not to be overwhelmed, especially at dusk when the light shifts strangely over the gray contours of the land below.

Many have been, judging by the area’s legends and stories. The word Chisos, for example, was long thought to be Spanish for ghost-- even though there is no such Spanish word. But if the word’s original meaning is unclear, this interpretation suggests the power of the place.

The light is unearthly. Sky and air have their own presence, sometimes spectacular, sometimes shading your impressions with great subtlety.

Numerous stories tell of strange lights in the night. These range from flickering, localized pulsations to entire valleys lighting up.

The smaller lights are probably fox fire, the phosphorescence from rotting wood, or moonlight reflected from mineral grains embedded in rocks. The larger lights bring stories of ghosts and Indian spirits.

Indian legends are a staple of the area’s rich folklore. One explains the shape of a mountain that resembles the profile of a man looking skyward--Alsate’s Face.

On the northern edge of the Chisos, this formation takes its name from a chief of the Chisos Apaches. Surprised by Comanches on the flats one day, Alsate and his band retreated to the mountains, where Alsate was killed.

At that point, writes Ross Maxwell, “The earth shook, rumbled and moaned, and the mountains rose.” The startled Comanches, looking around, saw the newly formed profile of Alsate’s face on the ridgeline and fled.

Bandits and Riches

The variety of Big Bend stories is surprising, considering the area was settled at the turn of the century, and then only sparsely. Many, like that of Alsate’s Face, concern place names.

Others tell of bandits, lost riches and murderous deception. One of the lighter tales concerns Guy Fenley, “the boy with X-ray eyes.” Fenley, who lived around the turn of the century, claimed to see streams of water underground.

His skill was vouched for by ranchers and eventually by a lawyer named Wigfall Van Sickle. Fenley is at the top of a long list of “water witchers,” as they are called, some of whom claimed other powers, such as curing fevers by their touch.

But the psychic and the supernatural provide only a small part of Big Bend’s wonders; quiet observation reveals many more.

A canyon wren wedges its nest into a crack, a tree frog clings to stone with suction-cup feet and ravens float up the face of Mt. Emory. As the day ends, the light slants, finding in the lava shades of burnt orange and umber, then fades.

Occasionally the nighttime silence is broken by a rustle in the brush--a fox, perhaps, or the myopic, half-crazed javelina, the coyote. Brilliant stars wheel slowly overhead. Given all this, who needs wild stories?

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The Big Bend area offers a variety of lodging possibilities, the most convenient and scenic of which are the lodge rooms and cabins in Chisos Basin.

These range from $51 double a night for a lodge room to $56 double and up for the rustic but comfortable stone cabins, some with porches, among juniper and oaks.

Meals can be taken at the lodge’s restaurant. It’s a good idea to reserve well in advance for these in-park accommodations.

Just 26 miles west of the park is Study Butte, where the Chisos Mining Co. ($35 double) and the Big Bend Motor Inn ($50 double) offer the next most convenient locations, as well as dining.

Another 20 miles west is the storied ghost town of Terlingua, location of Villa de la Mina, where cottages rent from $20 to $50 double.

The Villa boasts the area’s most flexible eating arrangements--you can cook for yourself in the cottage kitchens, have meals prepared by the owners, or, if you’re lucky enough to get rooms there in October, eat at Terlingua’s raucous World Championship Chili Cookoff at the Villa.

Alpine, 80 miles north on U.S. 90, offers a convenient place to stay on your way to or from the park. It has a Ramada Inn (about $40 double) and the Antelope Lodge, a group of red-roofed stucco cottages with kitchenettes at $22 double.

There are other possibilities, too. For more information, contact the Big Bend Natural History Assn., P.O. Box 68, Big Bend National Park, Tex. 79834, or phone (915) 477-2236, and ask for a catalogue and a brochure.

In general, lodging, meals and the area’s limited but unusual shopping are inexpensive.

You may, however, need the extra shopping money for gasoline. If any place may be said to be in the middle of nowhere, it’s Big Bend.

The closest major airport is Midland’s, 250 miles away. And driving means hours crossing the desert--on U.S. 90 from the west (El Paso) or the east (San Antonio), or on U.S. 385 from the north (Midland). All those roads lead to Alpine.

You can save the long drive by taking Amtrak’s Sunset Limited to Alpine, where rental cars are available. From Alpine, head south on Texas 118; when the road starts climbing an hour later, you’re almost there.

For further information about Texas, contact Texas Tourist Development Agency, P.O. Box 12008, Capitol Station, Austin, Tex. 78711.