November 21st – 28th, 2021
Tucson, AZ → Carlsbad Caverns NP → Marfa, TX → Big Bend NP
Our trek from Gilbert Ray Campground in Tucson, AZ to Big Bend National Park (where we’d planned to spend Thanksgiving) was one of our few remaining long-haul tows (about 10 hrs) before we spend the month of December relaxing with family in Austin, TX. Along the way, we wanted to see Carlsbad Caverns NP as we crossed through the corner of New Mexico, so we planned to stop for a night at a well-known boondocking area called Chosa Campground — a great base camp for both Guadalupe Mountains NP and Carlsbad Caverns and a nice way to break up the drive.
What ended up happening was that we got a bit of a slow start leaving Gilbert Ray (wrapping up homeschool tasks, work calls and market activity that required Tim’s attention, organizing the trailer and truck for the drive, towing the trailer over to the dump station to refresh our tanks for another couple of weeks without hookups, cooking and freezing some posole soup in anticipation of being in a fairly remote area over Thanksgiving, taking some parting photos with the Saguaro cacti, our friendly companions of the last week, etc)… It had the makings of becoming a very long day.
Finally en route, we stopped for dinner in Mesilla, NM at a terrific spot called Andele for Taco Tuesday, where we had the most massive taco platter imaginable and helped ourselves liberally to the salsa bar.
Exhaustion set in after about Las Cruces, NM. The road was a single lane, solitary and shoulderless. Tim has endless stamina for driving, but the kids (and Gideon) were reaching the end of their ability to sit in the car. We had about 30 or 45 minutes until we’d arrive at Chosa Campground, but the thought of arriving there at night (which, based on the reviews we had read and the satellite reconnaissance we do to evaluate backcountry campsites or boondocking locations, we expected to be essentially a gravel area off the side of a highway with no lights) began to feel daunting. We were in the literal middle of nowhere — so remote that we are careful to buy gas at basically every station we pass — and out there, the night feels darker and later than it is. Exhaustion set in.
As always seems to happen when we reach the end of our rope, an oasis appeared in the form of the loveliest (and most aptly named) rest stop: the Pine Spring Safety Rest Area. Tim spotted it and pulled in. As always, we scoped it out for signs of shadiness (yes, grandparents, we are mindful of safety). There was a school bus of student athletes emptying out near the restrooms, a couple of 18-wheelers, and one RV towing a jeep, both with Vermont plates (Vermonters!). The entire area was brightly lit. We confirmed on Campendium that this spot had good reviews. We all breathed a collective sigh of relief, pulled into a long parking spot next to the Vermonters, plugged the Airstream into the truck, grabbed Gideon, and hopped into our tiny shiny home on wheels to fall right into our delicious beds.
The next day, we had just about a half hour drive to reach Carlsbad Cavern. Tim parked in the RV area and stayed in the Airstream to work while Sara took the kids in to tour the cave, which both kids declared was their favorite national park of all time (they say this about most parks). Despite the crowds (this was Thanksgiving week and there were a lot of families) something about exploring a cave sparks the imagination. Tim and Sara both remember childhood visits to caves and decided it’s a parental obligation to take your kids to a cave. Done.
After Carlsbad Caverns NP we drove all afternoon. We drove right through Guadalupe Mountains NP without stopping — there’s so much wildness and beauty to be found without even leaving this continent, it’s impossible to see it all even if you devote an entire year to doing little else.
Once again, tiredness set in and an oasis appeared just in time: Marfa, TX. Dinner at the Waterstop was delicious, and the families there enjoying relaxed night-before-Thanksgiving meals made us feel nostalgic and cozy. We decided that continuing on to Big Bend that night (where we were due to arrive at our primitive backcountry campsite) was too much, so we did a quick search on Campendium and realized that the Marfa Lights viewing area was in fact an overnight parking location — cheers all around the table! With a reprieve from a night of driving, we ordered wine, and then dessert, and lingered around the table enjoying the fire and lights and carousing teenagers outside and older couples at the bar.
A half dozen miles later, we pulled into the Marfa Lights viewing area. We popped Gideon into the Airstream, marveled at the Milky Way that stretched overhead like a sparkly night rainbow, grabbed a couple of blankets, and headed out; we passed a bundled figure who said to us “they’re out!” (meaning the lights). We decided that the Marfa Lights probably made a courtesy appearance on behalf of all the people who had descended upon the town for the Thanksgiving holiday. Indeed, we saw them immediately, glimmering and fading and glowing on the horizon. It was admittedly mysterious, as by daylight it’s clear there’s nothing out there but the high desert. Tim and Sara, winking to each other, abandoned their usually scientific outlook, suggesting all manner of supernatural etiologies, which provoked Graham and Emma’s indignation. “Must be someone out there with lights!” they said disdainfully, but with a little less certainty after a few minutes of observation. The lights are truly weird.
We returned to the trailer, but clouds had appeared, obscuring the Milky Way. A strong wind picked up overnight, howling around the Airstream. The next morning, we awoke at the Marfa Lights viewing area and made a simple breakfast of coffee and OJ and toast, bracing ourselves for one more drive to get to Big Bend NP where we looked forward to a relaxed, off-the-grid kind of Thanksgiving. After securing the trailer for towing, we exited the truck and found the most gloriously massive specimen of tumbleweed that had blown into our rig and become pinned against our hitch. After photographing it and romping around gleefully with it, Tim and Graham released it to continue on its rolling, tumbling journey (right before we realized it would have made the perfect Christmas tree!). We hopped into the truck and headed through Alpine, TX and past the most gorgeous ranches, south toward Mexico, past intimidating border patrol checkpoints, past the ghost town of Terlingua, and into the mountains and mesas and remote, expansive wildness of Big Bend NP.
Thanksgiving is the high season in Big Bend NP, because visiting in warmer months can kill you. There are signs everywhere warning you to be off hiking trails by 10 am. There is no shade. There are many venomous things (parents silently communicated about hospital distances, drive times, contingency plans in case someone was bitten). So far, the national parks we had visited were mostly in shoulder season (and some higher-elevation locations, like Mesa Verde NP, had already basically closed for the season by the time we rolled through in October). This was the most crowded national park we’d ever been to, which was incongruous given how remote it felt. But, Texans are sturdy long-distance drivers. Sara has a high school friend whose family had a suburban with dual gas tanks — perfect for long, remote stretches.
Our campsite was primitive, having no amenities and requiring you to pack everything including trash out, and it required a backcountry permit, which we had secured 6 months earlier before our Airstream and truck were even on the assembly line. We had scouted the campsite thoroughly, reading reviews and park service advisories, and using satellite images to get a sense for how remote it was. Still, when we turned onto the rocky dirt road that led to Grapevine Hills, we gasped. We’d never asked this much of our brand new Airstream before. This road was rough, rocky, deeply potholed, and long, gradually narrowing over the 3.8 miles we had to drive to reach our site. To make matters worse, the trailhead for a popular hike was located 6 miles down the road, and we’d arrived around mid afternoon when the hiking crowds were finishing up and heading out; there was a steady stream of traffic coming down the road at us, trailing plumes of dust. Each time we passed a car, we had to pull as far to the side as possible and roll to a stop, allowing them to carefully skirt our rig.
One clueless jerk in a dually wagged his finger at us as he passed by, as if to say “no no” — maybe he didn’t realize there was a backcountry camping site halfway down the road and presumed we were dragging our trailer all the way to the trailhead. Despite the fact that we’d researched the site and obtained a permit, his finger-wagging planted a seed of doubt, and after a long exhausting drive into the park, plus the nerve-wracking experience of towing our new rig down a rough dirt road for the first time, we white-knuckled it all the way to the campsite, worried about what we’d gotten ourselves into. Did he know something we didn’t? We were all envisioning the nightmare it would be to have to reverse up the entire road at 5 mph with a trailer (it was way too narrow to have managed to turn around — there was effectively no going back once we’d turned down the road). After what seemed like 45 minutes, a small clearing appeared to the side of the road — Grapevine Hills sites 2 and 3, plus a bear/javelina box. We whooped shouts of joy and relief as we rolled in. This had been another close-to-rock-bottom moment when things turned around just in time.
That evening, we decided we were too spent from driving to cook Thanksgiving dinner, so we had some leftover posole soup and a perfectly ripe avocado that needed to be eaten.
The next day was the Friday after Thanksgiving, our officially declared Thanksgiving day. We decided to see what was so great about the hike at the end of the road, so we unhitched from the trailer and joined the hordes of people flocking to Balancing Rock on the Grapevine Hills trail. Lovely spot and fun to drive the rest of the way down the unmaintained road to the trailhead in the new 4×4 truck. We observed that Texans have a very distinct hiking ethos. In particular, they’re not as mindful of the stay-on-the-trail policy, seemingly unbothered by social trails and happy to clamber up rocks or forge their own way, unhindered by big government/national park rules. The whole vibe was very different from hiking we’ve done elsewhere. Despite the rule-breaking, there was a loud and festive air as large family groups hiked together. It was congenial and grateful and everything a turkey-trot hike should be.
We returned to the Airstream and spent the afternoon and evening cooking and eating and playing Scrabble.
Saturday, we made teff pancakes for breakfast, visited a Visitor Center and ventured to the U.S.-Mexico border at Santa Elena Canyon. More loud crowds, but we managed to see another tarantula and soaked in the beauty of the canyon and the novelty of an international border that’s defined as the deepest point in a river. At this time of year, the Rio Grande is more of a stream than a river, and the temptation of crossing the river to Mexico illicitly was strong. Judging from the visible footprints crisscrossing the clay bottom of the river, many people had done just this. Apparently, border patrol isn’t too worried about this stretch, as the Mexico side is a sheer 1500’ canyon wall.
On the long and scenic drive back to the Airstream, we had thoughtful family discussions of why people migrate and what makes it legal vs. illegal, asylum seekers and refugees, and also vigilantes vs. “upstanders”.
We’d hoped to do a hike in the Chisos basin, but the park service was restricting traffic up the road, and we decided to head back to our backcountry site and lay low. Sadly no chances to see the stars in this most dark corner of the country due to cloud cover. No javelina sightings either. We slept well and woke up Sunday eager to return to civilization… Needed to do laundry and dump tanks, plus too many days without internet access frays Tim’s nerves. The two Texas towns next on our itinerary are some of our all-time favorites, and we were ready to ring in the holidays in style.
The Peace of Wild Things 