Anyway, I’m headed down the road to meet some of the other contributors of JPFreek and have a small adventure. What memories will be made here? What fools shall we make of ourselves (and each other)?
No offense Longhorns, but I rarely have a need, or desire, to drive into Texas. Having grown up in Arizona, I’m used to thousands and thousands of acres of public land (such as BLM and National Forest) at my whim for exploring, adventuring, and other forms of doing nothing in particular. Texas, you know, is nearly 100% privately-owned land, which makes it tough to take off on a spontaneous (or planned) trip down an unpopulated back road. It’s owned by a Jimmy or a tall rough guy named Tex or something. But there are a few exceptions. Guadalupe Mountains National Park is one of them.
While a prickly pear cactus bloomed here, a bill was passing in Congress in 1966 to set aside this region east of El Paso, Texas and south of Carlsbad, New Mexico. Geologically speaking, the Guadalupe Mountains are rich and valuable; ecologically speaking, the Guadalupes are filled with diverse life, both large and small. The nation had decided that this area was special enough to be set aside and valued by the citizens. So here we meet, a ragtag team of Jeep-owning outdoor lovers to check this place out, hike to its highest point, explore its lowest canyon, and sleep among its sotols and stones.
I roll into the park at 2:00am and spread myself over the front seats of my TJ to sleep. It doesn’t last long. Then the adventure begins.
Knock knock. I’m wondering why the lights aren’t on in the Ellis’s roaming homestead yet. We’re supposed to meet now and walk up this mountain. Alan and Jackie may drive an RV, but they’re heavy-hitter adventurers in the process of ticking all of Colorado’s fourteeners. The idea this morning is to be about a third of the way up by sunrise. Geez, Alan even said he wanted to be on top at sunrise. And they’re not up yet? Let’s go kids, let’s get chasin’ that crazy west Texas moon.
Jackie opens the RV door in her pajamas. “We must have over slept. We’ll be right out.”
So I take a walk around the parking lot to keep warm. Cold weather isn’t my style. If I had to take my pick, I’d rather hike on 116-degree day than a 40-degree morning.