Retirement Ride to Blue Creek Canyon
Part Three of my Retirement Ride was a combination ride plus hike. Of course. The most enjoyment of retirement life thus far is having time to take time; experience all the small and varied nuances of life. I would much rather be poor and live a simple life than be a slave to a paycheck, stuff and all the trapping that come with it.
With hiking boots and hat packed in one side bag, camera in the other, and a water bottle in the tail bag, the New Boyfriend (DR350) and I rode down Maxwell's Silver Hammer Road to the pull-off for the Homer Wilson line camp and Blue Creek Trail.
Although I had been once before, this time I wanted to examine some details of the thick rock-walled building. Of course, as usual, I was side-tracked before I got there. Chatted with an overweight and sweaty couple coming back up the steep trail about the Wilson place. Either the Park display does not reflect accurate history of the camp or they didn't read it thoroughly. I explained that the Wilson's did not live there; it was not their home, but that the rock building was a line camp for working the sheep: sheering, dips, sorting, etc. Their home was instead a Sears & Roebuck structure hauled in by mule wagons and erected further north and closer to the base of the Chisos Mnts.
I recommended the book, 'Under the Window', written by the daughter of Homer Wilson. I suggest this book to anyone interested in the real history of Big Bend National Park and what life was like for the hundreds of people that called that land their home. Little did I know I would be running into the same couple several times that day.
Then there was a lizard in the trail. Sloooowly, carefully, I squatted and slooowly carefully pulled the fanny camera pack to my front. Sloooowly, carefully pulled the skinny little camera from the pocket and quietly uncapped the lens. Then sloooowly, carefully put the camera to my head and tried to move said head closer to said lizard without scaring the ever loving tail off him. I was somewhat successful, but there is also a thin line where the giant eyeball attached to the gigantic squatting thing gets too close and those things run like lightening.
It was a juvenile earless lizard that blended in so well with the sharp black rock that I was surprised I saw it in the first place. Apparently this is his favorite place to hang out because hours later, there he was again as I huffed back up the trail. "Blend in, blend in"!!
I made my way down to the wash in front of the rock camp and then was side-tracked by the many flowering plants! One non-flowering plant was a vine, and one I had never seen before, and cannot for the life of all Chihuahuan desert plants, identify. No flowers or seed to help with ID.
As I photographed the vines for later reference, a younger couple asked me if I had found anything interesting. I was so engrossed in examining the specimen that I had not heard them approach. I suppose my curiosity was obvious since I was on my knees and elbows amidst the rocks and gravel. Not a very comfortable position, but when one’s attention is focused, perception seems to be drained from elsewhere, including physical discomfort.
After standing again, my attention was caught by the taller than tall apache plumes! I would see them all along the creek later at various stages of flowering: flower petals (a first) and the more eye-catching plumes. However, these plants were taller than me, much taller than the previous specimens I had seen elsewhere. And I finally was able to see the plants in flower, rather than just the seed heads.
I resumed my hike to the rock structure while noting that the arroyo had deepened since my last visit here. I had to hunt for the path that left the arroyo and progressed to the building. There was now a foot or so high bank to step up where once was a level path.
This structure was built in the early 1930’s in Blue Creek Canyon as a secondary home and line camp for Homer Wilson’s sheep and goats. Although the Wilson’s primary home and headquarters (a Sears-Roebuck mail order house; another story) were in Oak Creek Canyon, this camp was the major working location for the ranch operations: shearing, dipping, lambing, training horses, etc.
The 24’x60’ structure has a 16’-wide screened porch on the south side. Originally, it consisted of 2 bedrooms, a kitchen, and a large living room near the middle. A large fireplace in the middle of the north wall includes a mantle constructed with long slabs of horizontal stone. Some of these slabs are up to 8 feet in length and placed in a colorful arrangement.
Mrs. Wilson wanted a traditional roof and ceiling which was used in most vernacular adobe and rock structures in pre-modern southwest buildings: a reed ceiling with the adobe mud on top. However, these roofs tend to leak water during rains. Homer therefor devised a double roof system: he used a 2-inch concrete mixture in place of the adobe mud. Above that, he added a sheet metal roof, thus making the house leak-proof. The ceiling was made of reeds in the pattern that has been used for centuries by inhabitants near the rivers. The double roof is supported separately by large wooden posts, some replaced in the last several decades.
This double roof was not only leak-proof but also made the house much cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter because it created an air space between the metal roof and the ceiling. The interior walls carry little if any support for the roof, as sturdy poles set in cement hold up the weight of the ceiling and roof.
Nearly all materials for the construction of the building came from nearby. The stone, sand, and gravel came from Blue Creek Canyon floor, the timber from the Chisos Mountains, and the reed from the Rio Grande river edges. The large flagstone floor inside the building was also sourced from nearby.
The interior flagstone and concrete porch floors provide thermal mass for solar heat retention in the winter and cooling during hot summer months. Another feature is that the building is partially bermed: the long north wall is built in partially dug-out earth and the porch floor meets the grade on the south. The temperature difference, at least 10 degrees, can be felt by stepping inside both the porch and the camp, even with no doors or window glass.
Wilson’s ranch foreman, Lott Felts, lived at the camp for several years. Out buildings served as chicken coop, bathroom, tool shed and a small camp house for additional helpers. To obtain water for livestock, a pipeline was run several miles up the canyon to a spring. Domestic water was obtained from a cistern built on the hill by the modern parking lot.
A petition to the Park agency was approved in 1975 to retain and restore the line camp house and the chicken coop. The site was deemed a significant example of local ranch life in the Big Bend area before it was added to the Texas and federal park systems in the 1940’s. (Unfortunately, the main Wilson home in Oak Canyon was bulldozed, which is unfortunate, and, in my opinionated opinion, a ‘crime’.)
I continued on my hike, this time towards the proper of Blue Creek Canyon. The trail is primitive and hard to follow except for a few cairns that have survived the more recent flash floods. The beginning of the trail mostly follows Blue Creek, but even the creek has diverged and formed new branches. The main guiding landmarks are the red hoodoos that tower overhead. And, of course, I was side-tracked several times examining and photographing tracks, scat and plant life.
Many shrubs and perennials were flowering after the last rain. The purple flowers of the cenizo set off the small gray-green leaves and were the hit of the desert floor throughout the Park. This was magnified by the many cenizos in and along Blue Creek.
Trumpet Flower, a favorite shrub for Big Bend home landscapes, were also flowering all along the creek. It wasn't until I found many of this shrub's flowers during a Fort Davis hike that I realized that they form an extended bright yellow tube, then slowly the ends of these tubes pop open to form the drooping mouths of the trumpet. If you look close in the photo below, you can see both open and closed trumpets.
A squeal of delight was emitted when I found dozens of my favorite indigenous vine of the Chihuahuan Desert: Old Man's Beard (Clematis drummondii). Considered a weed by many, but treasured by a few weirdos such as myself, this vine can be spotted growing on mesquite or other gangly brush along roadsides in West Texas, especially along fences. Here in the creek, it was in its element and in all stages: insignificant and small greenish-yellow flowers to full feathery seed heads. Needless to say, it will be found within a few years at El Punto Coyote.
In the photo below, you can see the shiny thread-like elongated seed heads of the female plant.
Within 24 hours or more, these threads will expand into silky feathers that wave in the slightest breeze. They are almost fairy-like. They simply captivate and delight me like a child. They almost exude an invitation to come and play.
After deliberate restraint ("No more photographs of flowers!!!"), I continued on my hike along Blue Creek. Ahead, but still in the distance are the towering red spikes and hoodoos that mark the bottom of the Chisos Mnts. I knew the trails eventually climbs up into the mountains, but by now, the sun was unrelentingly hot. I was almost out of water.
'Okay, just a little further.'
I think I told myself that at least ten times.
'Wait, just a bit further.'
Finally, all the voices in my head agreed: 'Enough! Head back.'
After hiking back up the trail to the parking lot, removing my hiking boots and socks, letting my aching feet cool off and air dry, I geared up with one place in mind: Castolon Store, iced tea and ice cream. So, on I rode on the pony with a destination in mind.
By now, the store clerk new the drill: "There's cold iced tea in the cooler and some new ice cream in the freezer chest." Gee, am I that predictable??
Sure enough, there was the couple I ran into during the first part of my hike. The husband was quiet, but the wife told me about their park visits after we first met. I nodded. "What's the name of that book again?"
Then along came the younger couple. "Are you a botanist?" It took me a minute to recognize them; I really didn't pay them much attention while I was on my hands and elbows with the camera stuck to my face.
"Biologist, but botany was my field work."
We then chatted for a good half hour. Both lived in Austin and his Asian wife was employed at U of Texas. We shared academia stories, biology information, etc. It was a good visit, but I was getting dry again and tired of talking. I think my repeated nods revealed that I was done, and they waved good-bye.
I stopped at a pull-off on the way north, a place I've always wanted to stop and usually just blow by. Not this time! I've always marveled at the painted terrain, hillsides of white tuff, brick red volcanic rock and spikey formations. I spent a refreshing 30 minutes just absorbing it all.
During dinner with Randy and his buddies several days ago, I commented that this area of Big Bend is a geologist's 'wet dream'. I'm not a geologist, but it is for me, too. Geologists often comment that rocks and the earth's surface features are like reading a book and they will 'talk' to you.
I can't help but wonder and gaze at most of these formations and try to piece together a historical story of how they came to be. And it always reminds me how insignificant we as species really are. And how much we spend too much time in trivial aspects of day-to-day life when all the most wonderful things are already surrounding us. And how much we should respect them. They really are much more significant and powerful than we are, and than we pretend to be.
And that is why I love it here. Because I am not important; I am only a participant, and I like that. These lands, and all the animals and plants that share its surface, are important to me.
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We all had some good $1 tacos this evening!
I had a fun ride with Bob last March in the ranch. I think he knows every road, path and creek in the area. He always new exactly where we were, explained where every road we could see went, and he did not use a GPS. He racked up some serious miles on his little Kawasaki last winter!!
