Surprises

My trip has been full of surprises. For one thing, I am shocked that I've driven 3500 miles and have been on the road for three weeks and have just said, "so long" to Texas today. I am happily surprised to find that I now have a favorite national park, one that I hope to return to over and over. Guadalupe Mountains NP isn't all mickey-moused out like so many of our parks. You get to experience it, not just look at it. You can't see the park unless you hike. There are no driving tours, and hardly any roads, but there are 85 miles of trails. I can't wait to see more. From my campsite, the closest place to buy ice was 35 miles to the north, in White's City. That's where I got a shower for $3 yesterday, and you would have thought I had won the lottery. Headed south out of White's City toward the park, there's a sign that reads, "Next Services 180 Miles." Translation: Getting price-gouged for gas isn't nearly as bad as running out in the middle of nowhere.

Snakes are always surprising. I've seen a few ground snakes, but not until I was almost on top of them. One snake warned me today that I was getting too close. I heard a noise that didn't fit in with the rest of the noises, like my boots on the limestone rocks, the occasional bird, or a scurrying lizard; so I stopped. I looked up to see if there was something in the grass. I heard it again, and looked right at it. It was my first encounter with a rattler. I back up a few feet and stood there for a bit, unsure of how I was going to get off the mountain or how much berth to give the snake. It kept rattling at me, so I figured it needed a lot. I finally climbed over the boulder on the other side of trail just to be safe. I had been climbing up a lot of big rocks on that trail in a wash on the canyon floor, which was a lot of fun, so I felt like the expert by then.

Tuesday, I took a hike up a mountain that used to be a reef. I got to see fossils of critters that haven't existed for 250 million years, give or take. The only people on the trail were me and a geology class from A&M. I was surprised by their lack of curiosity. By the end of the trail, they didn't even know what the rock was that we were walking on, nor did they care. They acted like it was ludicrous that I even asked. One girl said she thought I was crazy for hiking up there just for fun. Granted, she was exhausted by the top of the mountain, and I confessed to several of them that I probably could not have made it to the peak by my senior year in college. By that point in my studies (of nachos and positing non-nachos at the Kettle all night), I was just an exhausted, smoky blob. I asked another student if they were going to Carlsbad Caverns, since they were only staying a few miles away. He said, "I don't think so. We're geology students." Ok, I was actually more appalled than surprised. I may need to reconsider my assumption that I will be teaching college students one day.

I don't want to sound too cynical. When you are traveling, you frequently rely on the kindnesses of others, and people have been overwhelmingly kind. Half of those disinterested college students got to the bottom of the mountain before me, and they cheered for me as I finished. A site host at some waterfalls I lazed at yesterday gave me explicit instructions on how to get to a grotto that was not marked with signs, nor on the map. He told me all about some great drives in the area. He even gave me some moleskin for my blistered heels before I set off to find the grotto. Today, I stopped at a roadside stand that had a petting zoo, a fishing hole, cider, and very clean restrooms. The owner told me where the cheap hotels and nice hotels were in Alamogordo, and which roads not to take. After I pulled out of the parking lot back onto the highway, he actually waved at me. Very cute. After realizing today that my atlas isn't in my car, someone gave me a NM map. Over and over, people have used their time and resources to help me locate paths or roads, the names of lizards or birds, and whatever else I needed, or merely had an impulse toward. People have been very kind.

I think of the trails that I have been on, and there is often a moment when a shift occurs, when it just takes your breath away. On "The Window" at Big Bend, I was hiking along a creek that was guarded with wasps and dragonflys, passing back and forth over the water, concentrating on each step (I'm no mountain goat). I looked up, and instead of canyon wall curving in front of me, there was an opening where the creek spilled into the canyon below. I could see a big rock with a slit down the middle, and past that, Terlingua, and past that, another mountain range. As I was climbing along the wash today, I looked up to see two towers in front of me, making a window for me to see a jagged peak beyond. As I climbed on, I entered what was called "Devil's Hall." This was not a place you would want to be if there was a flood. The rock walls went straight up, and the space between them was only about 15 feet. The silence. . . was. I don't think I had ever been in a grotto before yesterday. It was another silent place. I knew immediately why so many grottos are considered holy places. The water was so still and clear, I could look at it and see the reflection of the sparking light pattern it cast on the rock ceiling above. In other words, I could see the reflection of its own reflection. Huh.

I was surprised by the resolutions I made, and reported in a previous blog. I did say that I would start being vegan after I finished what I had in my cooler, but I found myself unable to eat the rest of the meat and eggs. I guess once you make up your mind, it's made up; but that still kind of weirds me out, especially since I really really hate to waste food. I didn't come on this trip to figure out how I needed to make some major changes, but it happens. I think we should send our youth out on vision quests when they come of age, whenever that is. So much of who I am has been shaped by my travels, and they're not over yet.

There is a billboard in Alamogordo, where I am staying tonight, with a group of smiling people in the front and three fighter jets coming around them toward the observer. The caption reads something like, "Alamogordo: The Friendliest Place on Earth." Yikes! I'm in Alamogordo because it's close to White Sands, where I got to go play this afternoon. I got to go sledding and make sand angels (devils?) in the soft, cool sand.

I am going to the Pecos Monastery tomorrow, so I won't be posting for at least five days. This was also unexpected, but it came to me quite clearly this morning. Peace, friends.

An individual dies when they cease to be surprised. ~Abraham Joshua Heschel

Get thee to a nunnery! ~Hamlet