Vastness, wilderness, and silence converge in Big Bend National Park

“Wild country, completely untamed by man, but a good place to come to get your problems in perspective.” Lady Bird Johnson.

Used as we are to the commodities of the United States Highway System, my mom and I drove to Big Bend National Park without much thought. “It is lonely out there. Make sure you have extra gas and blankets” a close friend warned us before we left San Antonio. Winking at each other, we thanked her and went away.

Agave, also called Century plant. 

We had been to west Texas before. We had studied the map (or so we thought!) We knew that we would find a gas station and a hotel in any town along the road, as we had always experienced. Highway 10 lead us west to Kerrville, Junction, Ozona, and Fort Stockton. Yes, it was lonely. Yes, it was a long road. But as we had predicted, the town had its share of hotels and motels. Since it was early in the evening, we ditched motel row in Fort Stockton and headed south, to Marathon.

Weathering and erosion carved the park's mountains. 

Road 385 showed us a new shade of solitude. We did not see a car, a truck or a motorcycle during the whole drive. It seemed unusual, since the estimated 300.00 visitors to Big Bend start arriving in November. Their busy season, we had read, runs from Thanksgiving through April.

Although the sunset greeted us with warm hues of orange, pink and purple, the threat of darkness was looming in the air. Luckily, as the sun disappeared, the first houses of Marathon popped up.

Loneliness was then a thing from the past. People gathered around the historic Gage Hotel; motorcycles roamed the main road, and the smell of grilled food filled the night. Even though Marathon’s population does not exceed 500, visitors seemed to make up for all the activity around.  

Cactus and the Mule's Ears Mountains.  

This exciting scene, however, was not for us. We could not find a room in town. We then headed west, towards Alpine, where plenty of nice rooms awaited hikers, hunters, and workers alike.

In the vastness of the Texas landscape, the sun shone early. We drove the empty road towards the park entrance on the west, and after a quick glance to the map, took the road to Santa Elena Canyon. The landscape welcomed us with its desert vegetation and eroded mountains resembling effigies, ruined castles, or mule ears. The end of the road is the beginning of Santa Elena trail, a rewarding moderate hike that reminded us of the power of water and time.

The end of Santa Elena Canyon trail. 

As a whisper, the canyon walls reminded us also that a whole different country lies behind them. For centuries, Mexican vaqueros and early American settlers made a living there. Farmers, hunters, and cattlemen were the lords of the land before 1944, when the territory became a National Park.

As the sunset light shone against the Chisos Mountains, we headed to the lodge. On the road, a javelina, a roadrunner, a skunk and a coyote showed up. We missed, though, the wild donkeys that sometimes roam from one frontier to the other through the park.  

After dinner, the Milky Way guided our thoughts as we sat quietly in the balcony of our room.

We woke up early, eager to hike Window Trail. However, the possibility of running into mountain lions or bears deterred us from completing the mission. Going downhill, the solitude, the sound of cracking leaves nearby, and our lack of experience convinced us to change our plans. We had heard enough of mountain lion and bear attacks. The Chisos basin loop trail looked like a rewarding, yet safe alternative to being in the wild. The expanse visible through the many views on the trail explained the solitude we felt, despite the fact that the lodge was full.

We left Big Bend longing to see more of the intriguing weathered mountains, the wilderness of the desert and the abundant life around the Rio Grande.