Climbed a mountain just to see the other side

There aren't words that have been created yet that adequately convey the beauty of creation atop the South Rim of Big Bend's Chisos Mountains. Nor are there words to properly describe the grueling experience of making the 13-mile walk up the Pinnacles and down the Laguna Meadows trails.

The Boy and I are both sore beyond measure today, so the next question may be: Was it worth it? Take a look at the photo on the right underneath the large photo and you find your answer. I am a lucky lucky man to have a 14-year-old son who finds a good time in a hike and time spent with Dad as well as a boy who can appreciate the peace atop this natural cathedral.

The South Rim is not listed as one of the Wonders of the World but it is surely because whoever made up the list has never been here. It would qualify not just for the mountain range, but for the views the rim itself offers. On the way up, a quick peek from the trail as it passes the East rim offered a bonus view amid the haze of the day, something I was not expecting at all: of El Pico, which juts high above its host range, the mighty Sierra del Carmens, in Mexico. To see the east wall of Juniper Canyon and El Pico in the distance was alone almost worth the walk. And on the way down, the views of Mule Ears and Elephant Tusk and the other lunar-type features of the western part of the park were equally difficult to describe using only words.

But the South Rim experience is remarkable for another reason: Standing alone where the mountains end and the desert floor begins far below there is a sound like no other sound I have ever heard: the sound of nothing but wind blowing. Not the wind we hear in Midland everyday, the kind that brashly elbows its way through our lives and town, but here, a soft, flowing, almost mystical sound. Vegetation at the rim is not excessive and the desert 2,500 feet below certainly isn't causing what we heard. Just sitting and listening to the softness of the breeze and the occasional call of a bird was unlike anything I've ever experienced. It was, quite literally, the sound of total peace.

To experience the South Rim, though, you must be in tune mentally and physically. I am far from a seasoned athlete though neither do I lie around on the couch flipping the remote every night, but the South Rim hike is the single hardest and most demanding thing I have ever done in my life. The Boy hiked Guadalupe Peak last fall. I asked him Sunday to compare the rigors of the two. "Guadalupe," he said, "was like a nature walk." I second that.

Regardless the degree of difficulty -- "very strenouous" in all assessments I've read -- the view from the top is unbeatable. The feeling you get at having summited Guadalupe, it being the highest point in Texas, is one of grand accomplishment, and the pastoral beauty looking southeastward from Mt. Locke in the Davis Mountains is memorable, too, but standing atop the South Rim ... there is no way to compare it to either.

The words from Stevie Winwood's new song, "Fly," at the top of this entry told the story of our weekend  trip, and the two of us chuckled about it as the song played on the CD changer in the car after our descent, but it is Don McLean's "Castles in the Air" that better describes the feeling of being on top of this exquisite place:

"Hills of forest green where the mountains touch the sky, a dream come true, I'll live there till I die."

Comments

[Jeff]

Jimmy, that IS one of the best views Texas has to offer ..... not everyone is able to see it in person, but that just makes it more special.

[jimmy]

Jeff, I take it you've been up there, eh?