never climbed a mountain in his life.
He screamed every time he stubbed his
toe on a rock and his worn black sneak-
ers didn’t prevent him any pain. You’d
think the rocks were beating the breaks
off that boy from how loud he was
screaming and cussing.
I voluntarily took on the backpack
just to give him some relief. However,
within the first hour of hiking Kenny
hit a devastating breaking point.
He laid out on the trail like a dead
jackrabbit, collapsed and motionless.
We sat down with our fallen soldier for
the time needed. He was exhausted
from the mental and physical exertion
of his first mountain expedition. After
doing his most beastly screaming on
the ground, he stood back up and
agreed to press onward.
The warmth of the West Texas sun
made us work up a good sweat. We
looked hotter than some goats in a pep-
per patch. Thankfully the natural
world had our backs as we discovered a
shady turning point of the Bear
Canyon Trail.
The desert scenery smoothly transi-
tioned into a jungle-like canyon, where
large boulders and eroded walls offered
us a lush refuge. It was the quietest
place of the entire day, where we
decided to rest up. We all took advan-
tage of the cool shade and sat on the
ground together.
Two of us ate peanut butter sand-
wiches and all of us just submerged in
the moment.
After resting in the canyon’s shad-
ows we journeyed into another stun-
ning transition of pine and Douglas fir
trees along the Bowl Trail. This pleas-
ant woodland trek eventually took us
straight up to glory – the summit of
Hunter Peak.
That moment of seeing the moun-
taintop ahead of us was truly exhilarat-
ing. Especially for Kenny. The views
were definitely earned and we gazed at
the scattering of mountains and the
vast stretch of flatland around it.
We took some victory pictures, cele-
brated with some trail mix and then
took time to just soak in the
Guadalupes. It was 50 degrees and
sunny at the top. The cooler temps felt
amazing.
Sadly, the wondrous pinnacle of the
Hunter Peak mountaintop is not where
this story ends. Our descent was as seri-
ous as a snakebite.
While finishing off the Bowl Trail,
we had a brief moment of getting lost.
You don't want to be lost in the woods
with only a few water bottles and a
small box of trail mix to survive on. We
scratched our heads and ventured
deeper.
Kenny seemed to be rejuvenated
after making it to the top. He took on
backpack duty again and things were
beginning to get enjoyable for him.
Unfortunately, he was about to sit on a
large rock but didn’t notice that it had
a small agave growing out of it. He sat
down on the spiked edges of the cactus
with full-force.
“CACA FACE!!” he roared at the
top of his lungs. His voiced loudly
echoed a jumble of cuss words and
groans, which caused birds to fly out of
the trees. The ruckus of Kenny's
mishap carried on until we finally
found a trail sign, where we decided to
take on the Tejas Trail.
The Tejas gave us a great start and
we even found a baby horned toad.
The rare little critter was actually a
West Texas species called the moun-
tain short horned lizard that specialists
have found exclusively in the Davis
and Guadalupe Mountains.
After traveling over the mountain
and through the woods, the Tejas Trail
abruptly spat us out onto a jagged path
of more winding switchbacks.
It was our final transition of scenery,
and the area looked like it belonged on
a post card. As spectacular as the views
were, it was some of the most grueling
wandering imaginable, with limited
shade.
It wasn't your worn down hiker-
friendly dirt path. No, this path was
made up of uneven rocks of all sizes
that gave our feet some painful stone
bruises to go home with. I still salute
Kenny for doing this in his sneakers; at
least Nate and I had on hiking boots.
Our water bottles were running low
and so was our energy. We turned a
corner and discovered that the Tejas
Trail continued on as far as our eyes
could see.
That reality check changed every-
thing. We went from longing for the
top to greatly longing for the bottom.
We went from admiring eagles to talk-
ing to the turkey vultures soaring above
us.
“We're not dead yet,” muttered
Kenny to the vultures as he handed
Nate our very last water bottle. We had
some fortunate light rain hit us during
our hours spent along the strenuous
Tejas trail, and things kept getting
weirder within our group.
Maybe we were all in a delusional
trance of trying to stay alive, but Nate
started chanting, “I am an ostrich, I am
an ostrich.” The Tejas Trail is a real
leg-burner, which is probably why
Nate tried to convince himself that he
could summon and acquire the leg
strength of an ostrich.
Suddenly, Nate slowed down and
squinted his eyes. I took a step back-
wards after seeing what his eyes were
locked on. We had crossed paths with a
rattlesnake.
Thankfully for us, the previous hik-
ers did some major damage to it. It was
a disgusting mess. The suffering rat-
tler's intestines were all spilling out of its
body as it still squirmed around in
blood and dust. Nate took a fast picture
and kept walking like business as usual.
Kenny's complexion went from sweaty
red to pale white as he walked past it as
fast as he could.
We kept our eyes on the invisible
finish line, and the Tejas Trail finally
ended in a vast valley. “Parking lot
in view. Parking lot in view,” said Nate,
who had started saying everything
twice after his ostrich moment. I could-
n't believe it. It felt like a mirage or an
illusion. I wiped the sweat from my
eyes; it was real. When we reached
Nate's hatchback, I plopped into the
passenger seat and said, “That was
crazy.”
It was a rough day for some ama-
teur hikers, but we lived to tell the tale.
We didn't survive without a scratch,
but we got up the mountain and it was
good for the soul.
We spent time in God's creation
unaffected by the day-to-day doings of
mankind. We made it back to the car
before sundown. We made unforget-
table memories that were rugged and
wild. We got to breathe in the desert
air, smell the pines on our way up to
the summit, and we only accidentally
left one flannel shirt behind on the trail.
If you find it, we don't want it back –
mic drop.
BEHIND EVERY PROJECT IS A
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SERVING ALPINE & THE BIG BEND SINCE 1928
ALPINE, TEXAS 79830
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Cenizo
Second Quarter 2017
13