Date: 2002-10-29
To: Wall of Death - Guadalupe Mts. - Texas
Miles today: 0.0

Guadalupe MountainsMonday October 28, and Tuesday October 29th9.6 miles2900¢ elevation gainWall of DeathMonday afternoon, I crossed the Texas border and pulled into the Guadalupe Mountains. The sight of those mountains on the short drive down behind shafts of sunlight filtered through the clouds was breathtaking. I stopped at the ranger station, ever the optimist, and was pleasantly surprised by two rangers who seemed (and it¢s the seeming that matters) as if they had been waiting all day for me to arrive. They had both hiked all of the trails extensively and showed me pictures of the views I would see from the tops of various peaks. Now that¢s what I call a ranger station. After the coyote thing, I asked up front what could kill me in the Guadalupe Mountains. I was glad to hear there were no coyotes, but there were bears and mountain lions. The ranger said the bears shouldn¢t give me any trouble because backpackers had been very good about hanging their food (so it does work!) and that she hadn¢t heard of any problem cats but had seen some whopping cat tracks and that I may see some lion kills (i.e., carcasses). The Guadalupe Mountains were very windy. I set up camp in the wind, made dinner in the wind, hammered out my bent tent stakes in the wind, and settled down in my tent to read a book, in the wind. At least it wasn¢t raining. I don¢t think I have a proper tent for wind camping. My tent is sort of a cross between a tent and a bivy sack ¢ you can sit up in it, but only if you are sitting in exactly the right spot. The tent didn¢t blow away in the wind, but it kept punching me in the head with every gust. Bright and early, I headed up Guadalupe Peak, sporting several layers and my new balaclava. The morning was a bit windy, but much calmer than the night before. I saw some deer, and they saw me. About a mile up, the trail wound around a hill, and I came upon a dark, shady, pine forest, about 20 degrees cooler, and was slammed into the rocks by the wind. I mean really slammed; I have bruises. So the wind was just playing a cruel game of hide and seek, and it never left my side again for the rest of the day. That is when the bear tracks started. I stopped to put on more layers and gloves continued on, slamming into rocks, singing the Nancy Griffith song ¢Let me take my chances on the Wall of Death¢ to scare away any lingering bears. (I believe that song is about a carnival ride, but it seemed applicable). About halfway up, a man with 30 years on me blew by wearing shorts and a T-shirt and made some encouraging noises in my direction. I made it to the top just before several people who started up much later than I did, looking fresh as daisies, dressed in jeans and cotton sweatshirts sporting the names of various Texas institutes of higher learning. I secretly hoped that they would get at least mild cases of hypothermia to justify my extensive synthetic fiber layering system. I was exhausted when I got back to camp. I washed up and lay down in my tent to relax. The wind was back. Gust after gust after gust. I had had enough, so I bagged my hiking plans for the next day, packed up the truck, and set out to tackle the vastness that is west Texas. I zoomed down a little used highway across a flood plain towards Interstate 10 to the sound of unseen jets roaring overhead.