In late 1977–probably during semester break in December–my high school friend and baseball teammate Kelly and I took a camping trip to Big Bend National Park. I write this almost fifty years after the trip; I have no notes, just some foggy recollections, a handful of Polaroid prints, and possibly a roll of 35mm film somewhere around here that hasn’t yet been digitized. We’d done some winter camping on some property owned by some friends’ of Kelly’s family. I wouldn’t say we became expert campers, but we learned some things; how to manage all the Coleman fueled items (stove, lanterns), how to pitch my ancient, huge Sears canvas tent, how to stay reasonably warm. It would be my second trip to BBNP, and I was itching to return.
Getting there
Kelly had a yellow Ford Courier pickup with a camper shell. Manual transmission of course. We headed out I-10/290W. The Interstate wasn’t completed at that time; I remember only a couple of things from the drive out there; it was a cold, drizzly day and I was concerned about slick spots on the road. I particularly recall driving down the switchbacks on US 290 near Sheffield, one of the last sections of 290 to be converted to I-10 to the north. And I recall we stopped for a burger in Sanderson; I forget where but it seems like it may have been a Dairy Queen, and I was a bit surprised by the number of folks there. It was still cold and drizzly there.
Arrival
We arrived at the park, and I remember it was partly cloudy, much warmer, and driving up Green Gulch stirred the memories of that same drive and wonder I had felt on my first trip there as a nine year old kid. Descending down into the Basin I remember smelling burnt rubber. We got a spot in the Basin campground; it wasn’t difficult I’m sure because it was rarely crowded back then.
We set up our tent; and I’m pretty sure I had my neighbor’s cot; I used to borrow it occasionally. It was wood and canvas and very likely from his dad’s WWII experience, or at least an army surplus item. The tent, a huge Sears family tent made of canvas and metal tubing, was spacious but probably weighed 30 lbs. or so. Kelly like to over-prepare a bit, so you can see in the photos plenty of Coleman fuel and two lanterns.
This looks like breakfast; I see sausage, bread, Nestle’s Quik. Cerro CastolonYours truly and the courier, somewhere on the unpaved road.Kelly, somewhere along the River Road I believe.
I have no idea on our itinerary really, but I distinctly recall some places we went. I know we drove down the Glen Springs road from the turnoff from Park Road east of PJ. I was white-knuckling it over some of the granite spots and other rugged areas. I suspect the current road may have been rerouted at some point. We stopped at Glen Springs and explored. I remember seeing tons of tin cans, and other garbage, and wondering what the history of Glen Springs was. I remember looking at the map and deciding to head on to the river, and then over to Rio Grande Village. The road was rough, but I also remember it getting easier along the river and I actually got going pretty fast.
I recall we did the South Rim. I remember Kelly taking a nap along the way, either up or down, somewhere past Boot Spring where there were some granite boulders warming in the sun.
I remember driving around the west side and seeing a lot of wild burros.
I remember making a phone call from the phone booth that used to stand by itself outside of one of the restrooms in the Basin campground, and talking to my friends back in Austin, “You won’t believe where I am right now!” (Long-distance calls from remote locations were pretty exotic in those days.)
P.S.–Oh, I remember one more thing. On the way in we stopped at some general store in Marathon. It was like you might imagine a remote general store in that tiny town in the 1970s, pretty sparse as far as camping gear. But I remember the high ceiling. And on the return trip we stopped at some gas station on the south side of US 90, remote and one that doesn’t exist any more. Maybe near Langtry/Comstock?
Gear:
Old Sears canvas tent
A lot of Coleman fuel, Coleman lanterns, Coleman stove.
In addition to whatever instamatic type camera we had, I could swear I borrowed my dad’s Ricoh 35mm rangefinder and shot at least one roll.
Schlitz beer and Marlboro reds
Blue jeans and flannel, and Tony Lama cream-colored wing tip boots
Hiking boots were some old high lace up work boots.
Lessons learned:
I learned I love it out there and it became a goal to head out there whenever I could–although it would be seven or eight years until my next trip.
A note about some of the photos here–I scanned many of these slides thirty years ago when I had to squeeze them onto floppy disks, so their resolution is poor.
I was twenty-six years old, still in the middle of my offshore oilfield career. I had read the old “Trails of the Guadalupes” guide, published by the Carlsbad Caverns Natural History Association, backwards and forwards while working on out in the Gulf of Mexico and had decided I needed to go see Guadalupe Mountains National Park (GUMO) and climb the highest mountain in Texas. But I also wanted to go back to the place I first fell in love with the desert mountains, Big Bend National Park. My last trip there had been when I was still a teenager with my friend Kelly, in 1977. I had also been reading, repeatedly, the Hikers Guide to Trails of Big Bend National Park. I was working offshore at this time, but had a week off and that may explain my odd departure times.
I decided I wanted to revisit a couple of backpacking trips I’d made years ago, partly because a lot of my earlier trip had been obscured by clouds and fog, and partly just to get out to a not too crowded part of the San Juans again. I would visit an area where I’d camped and backpacked going back almost forty years, the San Juan mountains and the Weminuche Wilderness. I first visited the San Juans on a long trip in 1986, car camping at Vallecito campground on the western side of the wilderness area, based on a suggestion from my parents. I returned for a couple of backpacking trips in the 1990s, in the Williams Creek area which is about thirty miles north of Pagosa Springs on USFS roads.
Williams Creek trailhead is about thirty miles north of Pagosa Springs on mostly unpaved US Forest Service roads.
My previous backpacking there had been going up to Palisade Meadows via the Williams Creek and Indian Creek trails, the Divide, and back down. Once I’d returned the way I’d gone up (1995), another time (1997) I’d made a loop continuing along the Continental Divide Trail (CDT), camping at Cherokee Lake, then returning down via the Williams Creek trail (the blue track on the map at the top). On that 1997 trip I’d spent night #2 at Cherokee Lake, up on the Divide, where I’d been hit with an evening mountain thunderstorm. (I was without a tent, only a tarp. The experience was…educational.) The following morning the trail was completely socked in by clouds–I could only see a few yards. I wound around the “Knife Edge” descended past the Williams Lakes and finally got below the clouds somewhere on the steep forested trail below Williams Lake. Some other memories of that hike are that I lost the sole of my hiking boot and used a bit of parchute cord to somewhat hold it in place for the balance of the hike, and at least one stream crossing somewhere not far from the divide where I pondered quite a long time on how to safely cross. I also recall having seen a distinct spur trail to a campsite in a meadow on the way back.
My concerns going into this trip were 1) stream crossings, 2) finding suitable campsites, and 3) my own general physical capabilities at age 66. The first two falling under the general heading of “trail info” that in this day and age usually isn’t an issue, but there is very little out there in detail for this trail. I had my old trail guides, one of which dated back to the 1980s; and a very few trip reports. Mostly fine with me; I prefer lesser known locations.
Intended route was up Williams Creek to the CDT, then return either via Palisade Meadow, or just an out and back. Also considered possibly returning the longer route to the West, via Cimarrona/Hossick. Ended up only going as far as “Campsite 20240905.”
Being substantially older than my previous trips there, and cognizant of some conditioning issues I’ve experienced, I trained quite hard for this trip. I’d already lost about fifty pounds over the past few years with diet and exercise, and specifically added hiking with a backpack to my regime. I’ve learned through the years that backpacking in the mountains requires more than just cardiovascular conditioning; you need to prepare your feet, your back, shoulders and other smaller muscles for the journey. I worked up to carrying an additional 50 lbs. a couple of times per week, and even brought my pack in to Gold’s Gym (where I do my daily cardio) and toted it on the treadmill at inclines up to 30 degrees.
I made a minor modification to my Gregory Pack: the sternum strap buckle is right over my, well, sternum and I can feel pressure there when I wear a heavy pack. I don’t know if that would cause an issue over time, but to be safe I wrapped the buckle with some closed cell foam and tape. Ugly but a nice cushion.
Practicing like this exposes any potential issues with ones feet; I filed off some bunion-caused calluses, wrapped my feet with Leukotape (I use this to replace what I used to use Moleskin for), and got some little latex toe booties for blister protection and relief.
Bottom line: I was in great shape for this trip, save for the one thing you can’t train for in Austin–altitude.
Getting there
I left Austin the day after celebrating Mom’s 92nd birthday with my brother who’d come in from California. I stayed the first night in Santa Rosa, NM(4,600′), followed by a night near the Williams Creek trailhead at Cimarrona Campground(8,400′). On the drive up from Texas, I started thinking about the elevation gain up to the Divide. On previous similar hikes I’d never really suffered from the altitude change (from Austin at ~550′) but then most previous trips I’d spent more than one night at altitude. I suddenly had second thoughts; “Geez, I shoulda maybe planned another day or two at altitude.” Oh well, there’s no way to ‘cram’ acclimatization.
The drive from Santa Rosa to Cimarrona campground was fairly short, although the last stretch from Pagosa Springs takes a while because it’s mostly on unpaved roads. I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of traffic, very few headed out my way on this September Thursday afternoon. I was hoping my first-come, first-served campground wasn’t full. I needn’t have worried, it seemed like most people were in the nearby Williams Reservoir site with boating and fishing. I drove on a bit past the campground to check out the trailhead for the next day. I vaguely recalled it from my visits the previous century. There were a few vehicles, and a few horse trailers, as there’s a horse camp site there now.
The site was great; large, with a picnic table, fire ring and grill. I hadn’t planned on a fire, but there was abundant wood left there, and the camp host also sold firewood bundles. Then I realized I couldn’t find my hatchet in truck. Oh well. I spent the afternoon going through my pack and making sure every thing was there, and fine tuning some last-second clothing and food choices. One troubling issue was the altitude. I felt fine, but on a whim I got out my pulse oximeter–86%! Had I been back home, I would have gone to the ER. Here however I knew it was just an altitude thing. I took a couple of deep breaths and it recovered to over 90%, still not ideal. I resolved to be extra-cautious the next day.
Did NOT want to see this on the pulse oximeter.
Williams Creek is not a trail used a whole lot, especially by backpackers. It’s mostly used by horse packers and those riding for a day ride; there’s a horse camp next to the trailhead. So there is much less information available than there is for the more popular trails.
Sign at Williams Creek trailhead. A lot, perhaps most, of the users are on horseback.
Underway
I broke down my campsite just before dawn and drove the short bit to the trailhead. (I’d used a different tent for car-camping so I had already packed up my pack.) I don’t know the temperature but it had been 38º the previous night at the campground so I’ll assume about the same. But the official (and the eyeball) forecast indicated a nice few days coming up, maybe a bit warm if anything. I was wearing my “experimental” ultralight layering system and headed up the trail around 9:00 AM.
Closest weather station I could find at a similar elevation (8,513′) was near Wolf Creek Pass1 or Rio Grande Reservoir (9,455′)2.
Not a quarter-mile and I ran into my first downed tree, requiring a slight scramble. “This doesn’t bode well, ” I thought, but it turned out to be the only significant tree crossing my path the entire trip. Right after that, I heard voices coming up behind me and a couple of guys and their dogs greeted me and passed me. They were going a bit faster than I was and eventually disappeared. A little bit after that I heard more voices and the pair had stopped to let a party of folks on horseback come down the trail. The lead horse eyed me very nervously, so I talked to him and the riders as they passed and moved as far off the trail as possible. As they passed, they told us about a “very big bear” reported up the trail. And not long after that we saw bear prints in a muddy section of the trail. At that time I joined the two hikers and we continued up together.
HIked the first couple of miles with these fellows from Oklahoma. One had gotten married on the CDT above here (on horseback) a couple of years prior, had since broken his leg and had vowed to recover and hike this again. We’re looking at bear tracks in the mud here.
During a pause at a nice resting spot, I got to know the dogs a bit and learned the owners were father/son-in-law going only as far as the Palisade/Indian Creek cutoff. The trail has some steep spots the first few miles, flattening out in the broad meadow where my friends turned around and I continued on (around 11:30AM).
I was moving fairly quickly, about 2-2.5 mph uphill with about a 40lb pack and felt strong, no effects felt from the previous night’s low oxygen readings. But I also wasn’t pushing too hard. I constantly was on the lookout for suitable camp locations, and soon discovered one significant difference since my earlier trips. There were substantially more trees down throughout the canyon. There was only the one crossing the path but along the sides of the trail the deadfall was piled high. Very few places up the canyon were open to wandering off the trail much let alone set up a camp.
I began to think I wouldn’t make it up to the Williams Lakes before time to make camp, and my concern about the lack of potential sites below the final ascent to the lakes increased. Doing the math in my head, I started thinking about a camp before that final ascent, as I really did not want to get caught on the steep forested slope in the dark. The few resources I’d seen had mentioned only a handful of possible campsites in along the creek and it was difficult to figure out where they were, likely due to the mileages being off by a few tenths of a mile. There were a few though, and I noted them as I passed.
Sometime after noon I began to notice I was slowing down. The trail wasn’t appreciably steeper (although the footing was a bit difficult in spots) and I wasn’t feeling particularly gassed, but I had slowed down to less than a mile per hour. It felt eerily similar to the time I’d run out of water in the desert a few years prior. I decided the prudent thing to do would be to find the next likely good camping area and stop. At around 9800′ the trail ran along the canyon wall, and I saw an expansive meadow about 100′ below me. I paused there, studying the far side of the valley, where Williams Creek ran. There were some “benches” (small rises) that seemed clear, not too many trees, and not too much deadfall from what I saw at that distance. It was only early afternoon, but I thought I’d much rather spend a pleasant evening camping in the remote San Juan mountains than a stressful afternoon up a difficult ascent not knowing how if I’d find a spot to stop. I’d hear marmots shrieking shrilly at me, and as I started down the steep rugged slope a marmot at the top of a boulder watched me intently but decided to let me pass. My goal was what seemed to be some clear areas on one of those benches that seemed to be a good spot to camp.
Marmot gatekeeper at the spot where I left the trail. Looking at the valley meadow where I camped, on the far side just left of center.
First Camp
I worked my way down to the bottom, past a few random boulders and through the high grasses and other flora and made a mental note of my path to retrace when I returned to the trail. At the bottom I was glad to discover it was pretty dry and there weren’t many buzzing insects. There was also another marmot on a boulder near the bottom, keeping an eye on me. (Are you the same guy that was at the top? ) I spotted a squarish area that seemed to have been recently flattened by some animal(s). Indeed! There was an old horseshoe hanging from a nail in the nearby tree. So others had found this a good camping area, too.
Flattened grass implies visitors in the not-distant past.
I went a few yards farther down the use trail and there was another small clearing, this one surrounded by a couple of hewn logs as benches, and an old fire pit in the center. The fire pit was at least a few months unused. I took off my backpack and sat for a bit on the bench. I looked around for potential widow-makers3. There was one possible one, but I determined it would have to be a very unlucky circumstance indeed for me to end up underneath its fall. So this was home for the night.
Somebody has been here before.View from the dining room.
I pulled out my chair zero and had a sit in the open area next to my site. It was still afternoon, so plenty of time to setup my tent and cook dinner. I had a snack and enjoyed the view; I heard Williams Creek off to the East a bit, the opposite side of the canyon from the trail. There was a thicket about 50 feet away that surely housed a few animals. The valley opened up to the south, back down towards where I’d started the day, and tree-covered mountains surrounded me. But on closer inspection I noticed huge swaths of the trees were dead. Climate change had led to an infestation of pine beetles in Colorado decimating many of the mountain forests. This was the reason behind the massive deadfall in the Weminuche, and why I was so concerned about widow-makers.
Mountainside decimated by beetle infestation.
View looking down the creek valley.Perfect campsite obviously used before.
Among the new gear I was using was a 10 liter Ursack for bear-resistant food storage. It was the first time I’d used a sack rather than either the old hang method or my tried and true–but oh so bulky and heavy!–Garcia Machines Bear Canister. I thought the chances of bear encounters were low but not zero, considering the tracks we’d seen.
Bear bag secured (hopefully) to tree. Don’t think I got it tied quite tight enough to ensure an animal couldn’t wriggle it free.
After dinner, I secured my bear bag for the final time and spent the rest of the evening watching the sun set and admiring the scenery. Elk(s) bugled loudly. Any concerns I might have had about buzzing insects were allayed as there were few; I assumes it was late enough in the season that it was sufficiently dry. Or perhaps my treatment of my clothes with permethrin had helped. Either way, I resolved to try to stay awake until 10 pm if possible as I have sleeping problems and didn’t want to wake in the middle of the night. My efforts were futile as I gave up and went to sleep around 9:15. Sure enough I woke a few hours later; following good sleep hygiene principles I got into my chair zero and spent about a couple of hours reading and thinking.
My wearable biometric recorder–the Whoop strap–would later tell me I would get a lot of deep sleep that night, and i did go back to sleep and wake after sunrise. It was a bit chilly, but I lounged in the pleasant sunrise, made breakfast, and thought about the day. I felt good but not particularly full of energy. I would later find out my pulse oxygen sensor in the Whoop strap measured my O2 that night at 82%! That’s quite low, and I’m glad I made the decision to skip the rest of the trip to the Divide and just return home.
Looking up the valley toward the divide. That dead tree behind my tent was the only possible “widow maker” and I was pretty confident it wouldn’t reach me.
Returning
I packed and left camp around 10:45 and started back. Made my way back up the steep off-trail path where marmots once again eyed me. The hike down was uneventful but I spent a lot of time enjoying the scenery when I could, and focused on looking for potential campsites for the future. The “spur trails” mentioned in the guides I’d read were nowhere to be found, but that was mostly due to the number of downed trees, and to the fact that the GPS mileage may have been off a bit from what the guides had had making them difficult to sync with my observations.
I think this would be a nice place to camp and also to explore.Possible spur trail to campsites.
I did see a number of areas that looked promising for campsites, a couple on each side of the trail, in nameless meadows surrounding the creek. The hike was pretty comfortable, and I moved reasonably well. I’d taken about six hours on the hike up; the descent took me about 4:45. Although I felt strong maybe I didn’t look it; while I hadn’t seen a single hiker since the previous morning, I did encounter two or three horse parties, and one of them seemed overly concerned for my well-being. The last one was a couple about my age, leading a third horse. They told me they could help me out if I needed, I chuckled, “No, I’m just old and a bit slow. Feel great!” Just then the horse they were leading took a slight stumble. “He’s kind of old, too.”
I arrived at the trailhead shortly before 4:00 PM. I found the couple tending to their horses near their trailer and told them I’d made it back ok and thanked them for their concern. The truck was roasting in the arid sunshine, so I took a moment to let the A/C take effect and took off my boots, but since the campground was just a bit down the road didn’t spend much time decompressing,
Profile for ascent and descent. I left the recording on after I finished, so ignore the time and distance totals.
Triple Crown Button Down Long Sleeve | Evergreen UL*
Unisex Super Thermo T-Shirt Base Layer with Inlay – Navy, XL*
Helinox chair zero
Ursack Major Bear Sack – 10 Liters*
Opsak
REI Backpacker Low Gaiters XL Black*
*New item for me
I tried a few things different this time, moving more ultralight than plain old “light”. Intrigued by Ryan Jordan’s (the founder of Backpacking Light) podcasts and articles, I spent a few dollars to dabble in ultralight cool to cold weather layering options. The 1x Alpha 60 Hoodie is so incredibly lightweight you have to hold it to believe it. It’s obviously not too good blocking wind, so I also wore my Patagonia rain jacket as a shell at times.
I also used gaiters for the first time; wasn’t sure what the terrain would be like, and also was curious to see if they’d help discourage water from getting in over the tops of my boots in stream crossings. Verdict: They did help keep my feet dry, but a major caveat is these “XL” gaiters are pretty small, and I had to loosen them to their extreme limit just to manage to somewhat fasten them. So they’re actually “L” at best (I wear size 13).
Lessons learned:
Don’t neglect acclimatization! I knew better; should have spent at least one more day at the campground at over 8,300′.
The ultra-light garments performed well. Almost a little too warm at times, in the sun and with no wind it was a bit unseasonably warm at times. The Thermo T-Shirt base layer and Triple Crown Button Down seem hardy; I’m not so sure about the Alpha Hoodie. It’s so fantastically light though.
Lightening my load really helped. Total pack weight, whatever it was, was much less than I’d been training with (up to 47 lbs.) and load was comfortable (although I’ve had to modify the sternum strap on the Whitney pack.)
