Guadalupe Peak - Highest point in Texas
You know that you live in a big state when you can drive west for nearly 8 hours and not leave that same state. Welcome to Texas! And that is what I did; I drove from Austin to Guadalupe Mountain Park with the goal of climbing Guadalupe Peak, the highest peak in Texas.
I have to say that I set out with the thought that “I just want to get this one over and done with.” How much fun can a mountain in Texas be? Let’s face it – I live in the ‘Hill Country’ of Texas, and there are no hills, just a lot of valleys. However, Guadalupe is a respectable 8,751 feet tall, an 8.5 mile round trip with a total elevation gain from the car park of a little over 3,000 feet. Like Mt. Elbert and Mount Massive in Colorado, there are actually two peaks facing each other with a bowl in between them. Guadalupe Peak sits a little over 300 feet higher than Hunter Ridge which lurks in its shadow.
I actually like driving; I can get into the groove of the road and just get myself so distracted with snacks and music and my phone that I hardly even know that I am driving. Now I know deep down inside that there is something fundamentally wrong with that last statement and that it goes against almost every part of the last two online safe driving classes that I had to take. I remained in that happy state until I came over a hill at 80 mph and caught the attention of Officer Johnson, a state policeman enjoying a doughnut in his car. His lights came on as I crested the top of the hill which means that he must have calculated the speed that I was traveling from the tippy, tippy top of my radio antenna – but heck, I was not planning to argue.
He was actually a very nice man, fabulous customer service, nice eye contact, just enough casual conversation and leaning into my truck to be able to ascertain that I was alone, that I had not been drinking, and that I had enough toys in the cab to keep me distracted from the job at hand – driving. He issued me a nice printed warning and let me go on my way. I stayed below 70 until I crossed the next county line and then, assuming that all police are like those in the Dukes of Hazard and had no jurisdiction over a county line, I sped back up to 80 and indulged myself in a little more slightly less distracted driving.
I finally made it to the camp site at close to midnight and found that tent site number 14 was empty and about to have my name on it. As I unloaded my tent, coolers, and strange assortment of camping gear, a gust of wind knocked my hat off, and I was reminded that the weather forecast had predicted strong winds. As I picked up my hat, I had no option but to concur with it.
I put the tent up without tent pegs in the ground and then filled it with my stuff to stop it from blowing away; clothes, bed roll, cooler of water, plastic box of cook ware, and the cooler of food. Ok, the sign said “Please keep your food coolers in your car because critters can unzip your tent and steal your food.” Hmmm…..stable tent or the risk of critters looking in my cooler and going ‘eugh…was he really planning to eat this stuff?’ I chose the stable tent. But I was tired and ready to be done, so I put on my long thermal underpants, a sweatshirt, gloves and a hat and got into my sleeping bag. It was not long before I was asleep.
I woke up before sunrise and lay there listening to the wind beating on the tent, the zipper was still shut, and the cooler was still closed, so I have to assume that no critters came to visit. I got up and got into my hiking gear and stepped out to survey the orange glow in the low flat eastern landscape. Turning to the west I got my first view of the Guadalupe mountain range, and I have to say that I was really impressed. It was a beautiful sight, and I went about heating water and making my porridge oats with great enthusiasm.
It appears to me that at some stage in history Texas realized that it needed a nice mountain range so it went and stole a chunk of New Mexico. It is even a different time zone over there! Over coffee and breakfast I read the trail notes that I had printed out and the little book on hiking the Guadalupe Mountains that I purchased before I left. I read, considered, chose, and then completely forgot what I had read and chosen – but I was happy.
I do not worry about carrying a heavier than necessary pack; it is good for character! I packed a first aid kit, small survival kit, warm clothes, over 4 liters of water and food for the trip. As I swung the pack up onto my back and buckled it down, I smiled to myself – not because I love to hike, not because I love the feeling of a heavy and well stocked backpack on my back, not because I was about to take on and beat another peak…no, not for any of those reasons. I was smiling because I knew that I would have to take it off again at least twice before I left the car park for one forgotten or misplaced thing or another – I was right!
But, when I finally stepped off on the trail I was happy – well, I was happy for exactly 17 minutes, and that was the point that I realized that I had traveled exactly 17 minutes down the wrong trail! After a total of 34 minutes I found myself starting on the actual trail to the highest point in Texas. I consoled myself by saying that it was a good warm up. The other shoulder devil just kept telling me that I was a dumb ass. Shoulder devils are like dandruff and other scalp scratching – you can try and sweep them off your shoulder but when you look they are back there!
The first part of the climb was steep and rocky; on each side of the trail there were different cacti which just reminded me that I was way too close to Arizona for comfort! The trail tested my legs and lungs as I pushed hard to climb the first mile. I would allow myself 30 second and 60 second breaks, but no longer as I pushed up the switchbacks gaining altitude fast. It turned out that the first mile was actually the hardest part of the climb, and I had to keep reminding myself to take a 30 second break and look around. The mountains sat on the edge of a massive flat land that stretched as far as the eye could see to the east. Across the bowl I could see Hunter Ridge and the steadily climbing Tejas Trail. Below was the river bed that led back to the source of the bowl. It was a stunning view.
After the first mile the trail, while still fairly steep, became a steady climb – just what I love, a good incline and a hard driving pace, not fast, just steady and consistent, no stops, driving on. All of these climbs are about either fitness and endurance or (in the case of the Colorado 14K mountains) pure brute force and will of mind. Guadalupe is not a big challenge, but it is a great training trail.
I kept my pace up as I pushed around false peaks and kept driving towards the summit. I was told on Mt. Rainier that ‘slow is fast’ on a mountain, and I have always tried to remember that. I will speed up on the more gentle inclines and then slow down when I hit a steep stretch, and I will push the pace as hard as I can while maintaining an acceptable breathing rate (much easier at 6-8K feet than 12-14K feet!)
As I came striding round one corner in the tree lined area of the trail, I walked right into two people on the trail, a short, older, bearded guy with the look of a small biker and what turned out to be his 65 year old, Native American looking wife. All would have been good if (a) they had seen me and taken certain actions because (b) he was standing proudly in the middle of the trail, penis in hand, trying his best to pee out into the canyon and, as far as I could tell, all the way to Hunter Ridge. I stopped and looked the other way and waited for the (impressive for his age) stream of pee to die down and the source to be replaced within the clothing of the user.
Well, what do you do after that? “Errrr…Hi….errrr…..nice day for a hike.” The guy looked up at me, he squinted, twitched his long grey goatee, and said “We are fast hikers; we will go ahead of you.” And with that, he took off.
The first thought that came to my mind was ‘well, if you are fast hikers, why did I catch up to you?’ But he was off. What he did not know was that during the time that he had been sitting down an assortment of things had attached themselves to the ass end of his pants, so when he took off pine cones, unidentified bits of earth and maybe even a small animal fell behind him in his trail. I watched in amazement, just watching him go; he was like a small mountain goat on a strong mix of cocaine and acid – fast but not altogether singularly directional. Somehow I had managed to walk past his wife and as he took off, she politely said to me “I think that I should go ahead of you.” I think that I said “Be my guest,” and off she went.
I have been in this situation before and as I watched them go, I was reminded of my PADI Assistant Instructor training. During that course we had to do a 100 yard swim with fins, snorkel, and mask, and I was up against my buddy Alan Whitney. Alan went to a ‘streamlining coach’ prior to the swim and was pretty confident that he would kick my ass. I was actually pretty certain that he would kick my ass too. But when we started, he shot off first and at one stage was almost a length ahead, but over the course of many lengths, I slowly pulled my way back up to him. As we set into the last two lengths, we were neck and neck. In a last bid to beat me, he pushed a little too hard into his last turn and his fin came off, I giggled into my snorkel and enjoyed my last length to victory. Again – the steady monkey gets the banana!
So, I am guessing that in less than a mile I had passed the gnome’s (crossed with a mountain goat) wife, but I was not racing. I kept the same relentless pace as we pushed for the summit, over a really nice little ridge and up another long steep grinding slope, up a steep rock face buffeted by a strong wind. I had seen him ahead of me; then I lost him. But, as I stomped round a hairpin not more than 200 feet from the summit, there he was – laid out in the middle of the trail. Clearly, he was alive so I stopped to see what was up.
When we did reach the summit, he told me that he was a Vietnam vet that had been a biker in CA and that he had saved his wife from an abusive relationship 35 years ago and had adopted her twin daughters. In that moment of looking at him in the trail, I already knew all of that. It was written on his face and in the small hand with short fingers that was extended to me. I instantly liked the guy.
With his life history exchanged and assumed in a few short seconds of eye contact, he said “The wind on my neck makes my arm shake, I have already been blown over twice…..the downside of abusing my body for all these years.” I was really stuck for something to say, so I just said….”Get up, you will make it to the summit,” and I marched on. Literally two minutes later I was on the summit and digging through my bag to find food and warm clothes to protect me from the cold wind. I was happy; the achievement of another summit and the energy that brings after a long climb. I also love the solitude…well, almost.
By the time that I had dropped my pack and walked over to the sharply triangular monument that American Airlines had placed on the summit to commemorate the mail service, the mountain goat with the goatee struggled onto the flat rock of the summit and dropped down on the ground.
The next words out of his mouth will stick with me for awhile – it started with “My wife must have fallen behind because she is on the phone.” No, actually she was glad that someone was between them so that she did not have to keep up. “Her daughter just gave birth to twins prematurely” and then something about “One in the womb and the other in the birth canal.” At that point I turned my left ear to face the easterly wind and let the air blow through my head and out the other side, blotting out all the remainder of this conversation. I had not expected to hear the words ‘birth canal’ at the summit of Guadalupe Peak!
After about 15 minutes his wife joined us and he happily shouted out that I had been his motivation to make it to the summit. I smiled, she did not mention anything about child birth and we sat for awhile; he confirmed my suspicions that he was a Vietnam vet, with a biker history that saved his Native American wife from an abusive first husband and that he adopted her kids and that one was having twins prematurely. I could also have assumed that they were driving across the country in a Dodge van with a futon and a kitchen cabinet – but I did not at the time, so I will not claim that!
The world was now in balance, the circle of assumptions had met the verbal confirmation, and they took pictures of me with the Black Dog flag next to the summit monument. I took pictures of them at the summit with their camera and then I drifted away to a quiet spot to eat a little food and find that summit moment that I love, just for me. Just for the record, I love bread and baby bell cheese wheels when I am climbing!
After a few self portraits I headed back down the slope; it took me 1 hour 58 minutes to get up there and 1 hour and 50 minutes to get back down. You would think that going downhill would be faster, but it is not, because you have to pick each step on the slippery rock of the downhill slope. But I took the time to look about and enjoyed the ride down. I really like the way that you start cold at the summit and then slowly take clothes off as you descend. I wait until I feel that prickly warm feeling and then another layer comes off. I am always glad of the big pack and the extra clothes!
As I ended the trail and walked into the car park, I looked to my left and there was the Vietnam vet with his rescued Native American wife next to their Dodge van waving at me! Is this just a bad case of déjà vu? Nope, they are really there!!
I walked across the car park and headed past my truck to camp site #14 and was immediately struck by the fact that my tent was stretched up as tall as it could be looking over the wooden fence at me – it looked odd!
As I approached I realized that the wind had shuffled all the contents of the tent to the middle of the floor inside, allowing the whole tent to balance on a small center point. Clearly I needed to do something about this, so I made a collection of the largest rocks that I could find and deposited them all around the perimeter of the inside of the tent. I then took a tie down from the truck and tied the tent to a low mesquite tree. If that blew away now – it would not be worth chasing the remains of the tent.
When I got back it was 2.00 pm and I was in no mood to sit on my behind for the rest of the evening, so I grabbed the hike book and saw that there was a 4.5 mile trail to the Devils Hallway. Why did they take something as beautiful as the Devils Hallway turned out to be and give it that name?
The hike was actually a simple march up the dried stream bed over rock and through the stunning color of autumn vegetation to a 100 ft tall, 15 ft wide gully that was cut by the force of water over millions of years; it was simply stunning, and I am so glad that I took the extra hike that day. Given the two trails and my early mistakes, I covered about 15 miles of trail that day. I was happy.
I was also happy to get back and find that my tent was in place and that no zipper-zipping critter had made off with any of the contents of my cooler!! Another great thing about camping and hiking is that you can cook and eat what the hell you like, and it will always taste good!! On this evening I had English baked beans with chopped sausage and two fried eggs!! It looked disgusting; it smelled disgusting, but it tasted great!!
With dinner done and with the effects of food and darkness wrapping me in a happy contented mood, I decided to get dressed for bed. The weather reports were not good; 40 mph plus gusts of wind, freezing temps….no fun. But I got dressed up and crawled into my sleeping bag and actually slept well until the first rays of the morning sun woke me up.
I literally jumped out of bed and started rolling rocks out of the tent and breaking down the tent and packing everything into the truck. My legs were sore but I was happy! A breakfast of porridge oats and coffee, pack filled with clothes and food, and I headed out on the 8.5 mile trail to Hunter Ridge – the second highest peak in Texas.
I am not going to take the time to write about that hike, but I would have to say that it was better, more attractive, and more challenging than the peak. It left me with a strong desire to go back and use this spot for hard day hike training and to develop my overnight back country camping skills. There are miles and miles of remote trails out there, and I will be back to explore them all.
In the final analysis I have to say that the Guadalupe Mountain Park is one of the nicest places that I have hiked. It has all the challenge that you need without the extreme conditions of 10K foot plus altitudes. I will be back in Colorado in the spring, but I will also be back in Guadalupe Mountain Park this winter.
As for the drive home – it was long, and I had the very great (and shared – with the animal) misfortune of hitting a skunk. That is an experience that you do not easily forget, and after 8 hours of driving, I parked the truck in a visitor spot well away from my apartment!
