Everything’s Different in Texas
Street signs decorated the walls of our Airbnb. Glowing rocks littered the sidewalk outside. Bob Marley lurched through a reggae tune on the record player. The ambiance was perplexing, yet somehow it made complete sense. After all, everything’s different in Texas.
Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/Cv47dU1SACZqc2LCA
February 19th, 2024 - TexMex Day 4
Our day began as many others do: with a hike. Our seven-mile jaunt into McKitterick Canyon featured spectacular weather, a quiet trail, and excellent desert views. It also featured a pile of scat in the gravel rocks of our trail. Having grown up on farms, Tyler and I always watch where we’re walking. Anyone who has accidentally stepped in a pile of malodorous barn cat poo forms this habit quickly. This is fortunate for us because many wild animals seem to enjoy pooping on hiking trails. Ordinarily, we just step aside and don’t think anything more about it. This particular pile, however, caught our attention. It resembled dog scat, but it was dotted with berry fragments and hair. The biologist in me couldn’t help but snap a quick photo, intending to do more research when I had regained phone signal. However, with the rest of the hike in front of us, I quickly forgot about it.
As I prepared to write this blog post, I rediscovered the picture. After some quick research, I learned two very startling things: 1) there are bears in Texas, and 2) one of them pooped on our hiking trail. There are actually two subspecies of black bear that live in Texas: the Mexican Black Bear and the New Mexico Black Bear. Both subspecies are endangered, but they are entirely capable of thriving in the desert, particularly the Guadalupe Mountains. As I write this, I am sitting comfortably at home with a cup of coffee. No black bears are wandering around the corn fields behind my house (I just checked). Within my comfort, I am surprised by the resiliency of bears. Black bears live in the desert of Texas. I just recently learned that black bears also live in the swamps of Florida. Are there no places where bears cannot live? I now recall the joking boasts I occasionally make before leaving on a trip. “No need to worry about me! There’s no bears in the desert! There’s no bears in the swamp!”
It seems I have been humbled by bears. They are much more enduring than I ever considered. This would make a great inspirational angle for this blog post, but frankly, I’m too surprised. Should I be looking for bears everywhere now? Maybe there actually is a bear in my corn field. Should I look again? Do they live in Ohio now? Are they in my house?
Humorous bear paranoia (bear-anoia?) aside, we had a good hike in the Guadalupe Mountains. We journeyed to a stone cabin that had been built in the heart of McKitterick Canyon. Surrounded by the arms of the canyon, the cozy stone home was nestled between trees and shrubs. A pair of rocking chairs gently swayed on the broad front porch. Here we rested our legs, gazing up at the tall mountains in front of us. A mile or so beyond the cabin, a stone hunter’s shack also rested in the shade of the mountain. Cacti grew atop the crumbling stone walls. The canyon was quiet and peaceful. It was lovely.
On our way back, we stopped at a fork in the trail. To the right was the path back to the car, but to the left… the left was a mystery. I attempted to access a map on my phone, but the stone walls of the canyon blocked any semblance of a cellular signal. I checked my watch. It was still early. The trail was begging to be explored. Not wanting to disappoint the wilderness, Tyler and I looked at each other.
“Wanna try it?”
I shrugged. “Might as well!”
So we tried it. Sitting comfortably at home, I now have the advantage of the Internet. The National Park Service website says, “The journey to the top of McKittrick Ridge is ‘the toughest hike in Texas.’” The entire trail is 21.3 miles, 4,700 feet of elevation gain, and often hiked in two days. We didn’t know any of that when we started. But my knees sure could tell! When I was in high school, I got chewed on by a Lyme disease-carrying tick. We treated it quickly, but I’m pretty sure that darn tick gave me a touch of arthritis. With each stone step carved into the mountain, my body groaned a little more. Still, we pressed forward. Not having a map, we assumed that the trail ascended to a stone arch we could see perched on the mountain. We kept our eyes on the arch, occasionally encouraging each other with silly things like, “It’s getting closer!” and “I bet it’s only a mile or so now!”
When the trail began to curve away from the arch, we threw in the towel. Somehow our progress toward the arch was now making progress away from the arch. Ahead of us, the trail stretched up and up and up. Where was the end of the trail? What was the goal here? Squeezing the tiniest bit of signal out of my phone, we suddenly realized the truth. The trail continued for miles. SO many miles. It kept climbing the mountain, weaving back and forth snakishly, until disappearing into what was ominous labeled “the backcountry.” The backcountry is a scary place to day hikers like us. We’ve never camped on a trail. In this way, we are “soft hikers.” And in Guadalupe Mountains, we weren’t interested in attempting anything different.
Back down the mountain we went. By the time we reached the car, we’d done 10.5 miles and an extra 1,000 feet of elevation gain we hadn’t planned for. My knees were done with the day. But hey, it was a fun experience! The scenery from our mountainside amble provided some phenomenal photos overlooking the geography of MicKitterick Canyon. Had we not decided to explore, we would have remained under the tree branches shielding the desert canyon floor. There’s always a silver lining!
The rest of our day was spent resting as we drove from the Guadalupe Mountains to Van Horn, Texas. Along the way, we stopped at some scenic areas to stretch our legs. At the El Capitan Viewpoint, Tyler demonstrated his speedy reflexes when the wind repeatedly attempted to topple our phone tripod. Lunging forward, he managed to catch the falling tripod multiple times. I’m still impressed!
The most unique part of our day was Van Horn. With a population of only 1,900 people, Van Horn straddled the line between village and town. One of the ever-present Texas railroads split the town in two, dotting the roads with bumpy crossings and striped barricades. There was only one stoplight and one hotel in Van Horn. Above us, a brilliant Texas sunset painted the sky with strokes of coral pink.
We knew that our Airbnb, a converted rock shop, was an eclectic place to stay. However, nothing prepared us for that first look when we pulled into the driveway. Sitting just off the main road, the rock shop was a squat concrete block building with a tin roof. A Joshua tree shot tall spikes into the sky. An ambling wall of boulders accented the rusted metal decorating the exterior walls. At first glance, the rock shop was a little creepy. It reminded us of Darwin, a foreboding town outside of Death Valley. There, we received the distinct impression that we were being watched by unfriendly eyes. In Darwin, we were unwelcome. At the rock shop, we were warmly received by a collection of art. The boulders out front were actually massive crystals. Some of them were stacked to resemble mushrooms, or Stonehenge (I couldn’t quite tell). Sun-faded street signs littered the walls. One was a five-foot blue “Rest Area” sign with an arrow pointed towards a plastic bucket. I wasn’t sure if this was intentional or not.
Inside the rock shop, a massive bed dominated the right corner. To the left, a kitchen was up on an elevated concrete platform. Two throne-like chairs sat between the refrigerator and the orange counters. A thick leather Bible lay open between them. A painting of Bob Marley hung above a record player and a stereo system. Between the large speakers sprawled a massive record collection to which I was immediately drawn. The collection was diverse and well-used. A handwritten sign tacked on the door gave us permission to use the record player, so I pulled out a Bob Marley record for later. The sign also prompted us to go explore the backyard. Our host specialized in repurposed art and rock collecting. His gallery stretched all throughout his yard. One of the rock shop’s most iconic features was the glowing rocks. When equipped with the big UV flashlight that had been left on the dresser, we could see orange and green spots illuminated in some of the rocks. Elsewhere in the yard, street signs colorfully decorated the wooden fence. Unique rocks tumbled in piles and rows. A stack of file cabinets leaned like the Tower of Pisa. A big metal tub was plumped in the middle of the dirt yard.
And then we met James.
James grew up in the rock shop. Back then, it was an actual rock shop owned by his grandparents. He inherited the place and, when rocks went out of business, he kept its memory alive through the Airbnb. James was a man in his 60s, blue eyed, very tan, and energetic. He was an old hippie who just loved to do what he loved. On his Airbnb page, he lists his work as “upcycle art.” His most useless skill? Plumbing.
James chatted with us for quite a while. In the same breath, he regaled us with the history of the land, the best places to find neat rocks, and a hundred things we should do on our next visit to Van Horn. He took particular time describing a brick-like rock he had once discovered. He called it his alien rock. It had a triangle of circles carved into the top of the rock and, strangest of all, it was magnetic. He promised to show it to us. We probably would have stayed there all night talking with him, but James had to go. He had to meet up with his “sign connection” to buy more road signs. With that, he climbed into his rattley old white Ford and drove off with a belch of exhaust smoke.
Supper that night was a thick-crusted pizza from Big Momma’s down the street. We cozied up on the rock shop couch with our pizza box on the coffee table. We’d found a lighter and lit the mismatched candles for a romantic rock shop vibe too. Bob Marley blasted from the record player. Above my head, a red street sign read “Almond St.”
Texas, what a place to be.
Hiking trails and places of interest:
Pratt Cabin trail to Hunter Line Shack
El Capitan Overlook
Salt Basin Dunes
The Rock Shop: https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/50460279?source_impression_id=p3_1731950802_P3oWBIt5DV5CDLxk
Some Texas bear information for those interested: https://tpwd.texas.gov/huntwild/wild/species/blackbear/
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