Campground Canyon

This is a little hike I went on today to attempt to locate the Rufous-capped Warbler for my co-worker, Jim, or so I was led to believe. I still think it was a put-up job he sent me on to get me out into the stickerbushes. (He just loves to do that.) I'm headed up into the canyon almost dead-center in the photo.


And here we are on our "game trail" attempting to figure out where the hell to head next. Sometimes these trails are readily seen, sometimes not. This is one of those not times. There will be more.


These little bastards were everywhere, and one false move or one lapse of attention would result in a perforation of the hide. You can see the results of this guy's presence on my glove. There would be more. (In Jim's defense, he told me this might happen, so I came prepared with gloves and my Trail Crew brush pants, with two layers of cotton duck on the front of the legs. True life-savers. Neither helped my exposed arms, though, as you can see.)


Well, we're getting there, wherever that may be. This, to me, was to be the final destination -- this spire with the trees on it. There is a saddle between it and a smaller spire which I would stop and eat lunch at, after climbing up the smaller spire, of course. Because it was there.


On the way up the smaller spire, I stopped long enough to take a picture of this lichen. I've taken a liking to lichens lately, lest they leave us lost in limbo. (Good God! What the hell did that mean? I got way too much sun today.)


Ode to Frans Lanting. I popped up over the ridge and saw this startlingly archaic vision of what this place must have looked like during creation, and immediately thought of Frans Lanting. It has a kind of timeless quality he strives for in his photography. Now if we could just do something with that road.


And here we are up top, looking back down at the Chisos Basin Campground. If you look really hard (or if you click on the image) you can see Pepe down there waiting for me in the Amphitheater parking lot. He's almost dead-center in the photo.


One last look. This is a shot I took looking back on my way down. This, too, is very reminiscent of Bryce Canyon on the Navajo Loop Trail. More trees, though.


Oh, boy! This is what can happen when you follow a "game trail" if you're not careful. Hell, this can happen even if you are careful. Anyway, here I am in a stalemate as to what to do. I've just slid down a dirt/scree runoff for about 10 yards and am confronted with nothing but plantlife that has prickly things sticking out of it. (Prickly pear, cholla, sotol, etc.) There's absolutely no way I can scramble back up the slope, so it's time for much pondering -- and recalling my vocabulary from my Navy days to describe Jim and his low-down ways! Fortunately, I was able to scramble over to the next runoff -- stepping on several small, woody bushes (I'm sorry) -- and was able to slide down that one without perforation and continue on back to the campground and Pepe, though the going wasn't easy. It was a long, hot day and once again I got slammed with a mild case of heat exhaustion for my efforts, but all in all it was fun. (Just don't tell Jim! Guilt can be a useful tool.)