Off to See the Guaddess- Camp night 5
I've spent the last month or so checking the forecast for Guadalupe Mountains National Park (GUMO) every day, watching for a break in the weather. I have wanted, needed to climb Guadalupe Peak before my week long trip near there in April, to remove that temptation from my mind. Spring can be brutal in GUMO, with winds gusting over 100mph, and so without a break in the weather that matched my days off, I would have had to wait possibly months for the perfect month. Finally, the weather, the stars, and my weekend were aligned. I got out of work early on my Friday (Weds) at 2:45 in the morning, got a quick nap, a slightly longer goodbye from Neecy, and was on the road by 10:15 Wednesday morning.
Four hours to the wonderfully weird and magical New Mexico. I stopped in for a green chili cheeseburger at a little place Neecy and I discovered in 2004 named Happy's. It was good, but just not the same without Neecy. Just the same, this trip was about being alone, and finding that lonely state of mind feeling. The only problem with this all, is that this week was Spring Break. GUMO was packed. Both of the main campgrounds were full, and boy scouts crawling over every exposed surface.
As with all of these photos, click for a larger, full view.
I made an hour long detour north of GUMO to the little known Guadalupe District of Lincoln National Forest to camp for the night. My poor little Corolla was forced to drive down forest service roads designed for four wheel drive vehicles. I had to move giant rocks out of the way, built rock ramps over holes, and accept a few fresh scratches in the paint. At 150,000 miles, I can trade a few blemishes for a good, quiet place to camp.
And it was quiet. Near dark I stopped in the bottom of a canyon under some pine trees for the night. There was no wind, and the air was absolutely still and silent. Seriously, besides two planes that flew over and the single coyote call in the night, the only sound I heard was the tinnitus in my ears. At one point in the night I had to speak aloud to prove to myself that bad hearing hadn't slipped to being deaf. And it was dark. So dark that I could make out constellations reflected in the back window of my car.
It was the perfect night overall. It got down to freezing that night, but I slept warm. At least I did after a quick fix. The zipper on my cheap sleeping bag messed up part way through the night. While I had been meaning to slip a couple of needles into my kit, it never happened. With a needle and some dental floss I could have made a real fix to the broken zipper, but without I had to just temporarily redo the zipper for the night.
The next morning I packed up camp, snapped a quick photo, and nursed the corolla back up the 1.5 miles to pavement. It was another hour's drive to the Pine Springs entrance to GUMO through high mountain desert.
The place was a madhouse. The campground was full, the parking lot at the trail head was full. I had to park down at the visitors center and walk up to the trail head. There was a boyscout troop getting ready to start up the peak as I walked up to the trailhead, so I bummed around for half an hour to give them a chance to get ahead.
The first mile was brutal. Even though I knew that the first mile was "supposed" to be the steepest, I kept asking myself "whose bloody idea was this anyway?" This trip was supposed to be my reward to myself for losing 50lbs, but during the first mile I started to wonder if it was a punishment. It didn't help that I was being stubborn either. I had wanted to make this climb when I was over 300lbs, but wasn't sure I could do it. So this trip I had a 20lb pack on to get me over 300lbs for the hike.
The awesome hat Neecy knitted for me.
There were tons of people on the trail. Probably 40, counting all the boy scouts. I got passed by more than a few, but surprisingly, I passed a few myself. Even with the fifty pounds lost, I wasn't really sure I was going to be able to make the entire hike. For all my outer ego, inside I knew that I'm still pretty damn out of shape. My legs held up really well. There were only a couple of switchbacks on which they felt tired. My heart and lungs did better than I though they would, but I huffed and puffed more than a little.
While stopping to rest after a really steep switchback, a really fit woman passed me going up wearing her well worn, high quality gear. The only way I can think to describe her would be to say that she was to hikers as Lara Croft is to teenage video game nerds. She stopped to rest and chat a moment, and she was huffing and puffing as much as me, so that made me feel a little better. (and it didn't hurt my feelings that she passed me like I was sitting still on the next switchback.)
There was actually quite a bit of snow on the north face. It made for some interesting walking. There was a well packed trail for most of it, but it was becoming very slick. I found it easier to move up the slope a little and kick steps (I guess it was worthwhile to read Edmund Hillary's autobiography) I was really glad to have my trekking poles. At one point one of the boyscouts slipped and slid 30' feet down the slope. I think it was firm enough that he could have kicked steps back up, but there was a big deal made by people on the trail about the scouts having enough rope to reach him. (I saw at least three scouts carrying climbing rope slung over their shoulders. which is normally pretty damn silly for this type of hike.)
I started passing groups of scouts before long. I'm not going to bash the scouts here (at least too much,) but they were annoying. They would rest in the middle of the trail, with their trekking poles and walking sticks sticking across the way. They were split into several groups, but would yell and scream to the other groups. I would also find piles of toilet paper here and there. People, bury your shit, and either burn the paper, or better yet; carry it out in a ziplock. Burying the paper does little good, as animals will just dig it up, and damn sure, just leaving it under a rock does nothing. Damn scouts, or at least, damn scout leaders.
Crossing sections of slick snow and ice continued for the last mile of the hike until the trail wrapped back around to the south face, but not before crossing over this bridge.
I got to the summit and rested just below while a group of kids filmed having a dance party on the top of Texas to the music of their ipod. It looked like they were having a great time, and it gave me a chance to get my wind back before stepping up to the top. Soon, they climbed down, and I stepped up.
Of course, Mickey Mouse made the climb up with me.
Guadalupe Peak is listed somewhere as being the 13th most difficult state high point to climb. That sounds pretty impressive, and the Guadalupe Peak trail "ain't no punk," but one has to realize that some state high points are less than 500 feet above sea level. Number 12 on the list in Wheeler Peak, the highest point in New Mexico, and I might try it in June. It is about the same amount of actual climbing, but starts out at the elevation at which Guadalupe Peak tops out. The top of Wheeler Peak is just over 13,000 feet. That is above the tree line, and the air gets pretty thin. I'm not at all sure I will be able to do it, but we'll see.
Being on the top of Texas made me feel just like about everything thing else I have longed for and then achieved; content, happy, full of pride. And empty, knowing that it is done. There is a poignancy in that moment when one has to just shrug and turn around that I have always wanted to capture, but have never been able.
It took me less than half the time to come down as it did to climb. My lungs and heart really held their own, and I had to stop to rest only twice for the entire 4.2 mile descent. My legs were stiff, and shaky by the time I got to the car.
It was near dark, so I hopped in the car and headed out to find a place to camp in the desert. Which I'll talk about next time.
Four hours to the wonderfully weird and magical New Mexico. I stopped in for a green chili cheeseburger at a little place Neecy and I discovered in 2004 named Happy's. It was good, but just not the same without Neecy. Just the same, this trip was about being alone, and finding that lonely state of mind feeling. The only problem with this all, is that this week was Spring Break. GUMO was packed. Both of the main campgrounds were full, and boy scouts crawling over every exposed surface.
As with all of these photos, click for a larger, full view.
I made an hour long detour north of GUMO to the little known Guadalupe District of Lincoln National Forest to camp for the night. My poor little Corolla was forced to drive down forest service roads designed for four wheel drive vehicles. I had to move giant rocks out of the way, built rock ramps over holes, and accept a few fresh scratches in the paint. At 150,000 miles, I can trade a few blemishes for a good, quiet place to camp.
And it was quiet. Near dark I stopped in the bottom of a canyon under some pine trees for the night. There was no wind, and the air was absolutely still and silent. Seriously, besides two planes that flew over and the single coyote call in the night, the only sound I heard was the tinnitus in my ears. At one point in the night I had to speak aloud to prove to myself that bad hearing hadn't slipped to being deaf. And it was dark. So dark that I could make out constellations reflected in the back window of my car.
It was the perfect night overall. It got down to freezing that night, but I slept warm. At least I did after a quick fix. The zipper on my cheap sleeping bag messed up part way through the night. While I had been meaning to slip a couple of needles into my kit, it never happened. With a needle and some dental floss I could have made a real fix to the broken zipper, but without I had to just temporarily redo the zipper for the night.
The next morning I packed up camp, snapped a quick photo, and nursed the corolla back up the 1.5 miles to pavement. It was another hour's drive to the Pine Springs entrance to GUMO through high mountain desert.
The place was a madhouse. The campground was full, the parking lot at the trail head was full. I had to park down at the visitors center and walk up to the trail head. There was a boyscout troop getting ready to start up the peak as I walked up to the trailhead, so I bummed around for half an hour to give them a chance to get ahead.
The first mile was brutal. Even though I knew that the first mile was "supposed" to be the steepest, I kept asking myself "whose bloody idea was this anyway?" This trip was supposed to be my reward to myself for losing 50lbs, but during the first mile I started to wonder if it was a punishment. It didn't help that I was being stubborn either. I had wanted to make this climb when I was over 300lbs, but wasn't sure I could do it. So this trip I had a 20lb pack on to get me over 300lbs for the hike.
The awesome hat Neecy knitted for me.
There were tons of people on the trail. Probably 40, counting all the boy scouts. I got passed by more than a few, but surprisingly, I passed a few myself. Even with the fifty pounds lost, I wasn't really sure I was going to be able to make the entire hike. For all my outer ego, inside I knew that I'm still pretty damn out of shape. My legs held up really well. There were only a couple of switchbacks on which they felt tired. My heart and lungs did better than I though they would, but I huffed and puffed more than a little.
While stopping to rest after a really steep switchback, a really fit woman passed me going up wearing her well worn, high quality gear. The only way I can think to describe her would be to say that she was to hikers as Lara Croft is to teenage video game nerds. She stopped to rest and chat a moment, and she was huffing and puffing as much as me, so that made me feel a little better. (and it didn't hurt my feelings that she passed me like I was sitting still on the next switchback.)
There was actually quite a bit of snow on the north face. It made for some interesting walking. There was a well packed trail for most of it, but it was becoming very slick. I found it easier to move up the slope a little and kick steps (I guess it was worthwhile to read Edmund Hillary's autobiography) I was really glad to have my trekking poles. At one point one of the boyscouts slipped and slid 30' feet down the slope. I think it was firm enough that he could have kicked steps back up, but there was a big deal made by people on the trail about the scouts having enough rope to reach him. (I saw at least three scouts carrying climbing rope slung over their shoulders. which is normally pretty damn silly for this type of hike.)
I started passing groups of scouts before long. I'm not going to bash the scouts here (at least too much,) but they were annoying. They would rest in the middle of the trail, with their trekking poles and walking sticks sticking across the way. They were split into several groups, but would yell and scream to the other groups. I would also find piles of toilet paper here and there. People, bury your shit, and either burn the paper, or better yet; carry it out in a ziplock. Burying the paper does little good, as animals will just dig it up, and damn sure, just leaving it under a rock does nothing. Damn scouts, or at least, damn scout leaders.
Crossing sections of slick snow and ice continued for the last mile of the hike until the trail wrapped back around to the south face, but not before crossing over this bridge.
I got to the summit and rested just below while a group of kids filmed having a dance party on the top of Texas to the music of their ipod. It looked like they were having a great time, and it gave me a chance to get my wind back before stepping up to the top. Soon, they climbed down, and I stepped up.
Of course, Mickey Mouse made the climb up with me.
Guadalupe Peak is listed somewhere as being the 13th most difficult state high point to climb. That sounds pretty impressive, and the Guadalupe Peak trail "ain't no punk," but one has to realize that some state high points are less than 500 feet above sea level. Number 12 on the list in Wheeler Peak, the highest point in New Mexico, and I might try it in June. It is about the same amount of actual climbing, but starts out at the elevation at which Guadalupe Peak tops out. The top of Wheeler Peak is just over 13,000 feet. That is above the tree line, and the air gets pretty thin. I'm not at all sure I will be able to do it, but we'll see.
Being on the top of Texas made me feel just like about everything thing else I have longed for and then achieved; content, happy, full of pride. And empty, knowing that it is done. There is a poignancy in that moment when one has to just shrug and turn around that I have always wanted to capture, but have never been able.
It took me less than half the time to come down as it did to climb. My lungs and heart really held their own, and I had to stop to rest only twice for the entire 4.2 mile descent. My legs were stiff, and shaky by the time I got to the car.
It was near dark, so I hopped in the car and headed out to find a place to camp in the desert. Which I'll talk about next time.
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