Riding Chumbas in Texas

"One does not squander the desert's shade."

     Conrad, Vince and I suited up right from the ranger station after checking in and went on a decent post 8.5 hour drive 16 mile ride, to a sweet defunct mine where the dead, man-made machines lay waste to the living desert and provide colorful contrast for our eyes to enjoy. The chome certainly popped a little brighter out there. It was really crazy finding a tank in the middle of it all and seeing a MFG stamp of Kewanee, IL. Kewanee is as small town three hours from Madison and 25 minutes from the beautiful Quad Cities. When you're out there looking at all this stuff, it's fun to think about just how in the heck the people got that incredibly heavy machinery way out in the desert. I wonder why after everything went belly up they didn't haul it out. The cactus and bush pay no mind to the twisted metal. It's like they're saying, "We told you so. We warned you not to stay too long and now look at you." The Earth will always win.

Riding in the desert at Big Bend is wildly unique and satisfying. One thing I had to absolutely remember to do was....look around! Sometimes that was tough because I was either chasing Vince or Conrad up or down or whatever. The terrain varies. It's fast and flowy, rocky and technical, sandy and sluggish, or.....steep. Sometimes, when you're descending the rocks sound like pottery breaking on the floor. It's a sound that reminds you if you fall, it's going to badly hurt, and if you do get hurt you'll probably have to be air lifted out of there. That thought is always drifting in the back of your mind: there's no help on the way. It's just another dynamic of the desert that one must consider. On the other side of that coin though is trust. If you don't trust in the desert it will hurt you, if you don't stop and consider the desert, it will knock you down a peg or two. It is in control. It has life.

The desert allows you to fogive yourself and others.  In its vastness, it reminds how small we actually are. Looking at the different colors of  rocks ribboned through any given range is proof that the mountains are millions of years old and we're here and gone in a second. Watching the shadows get pushed out by the sun every morning revealing the full color bloom of the orange and white and brown rocks was a constant reminder just how alive it all is. Vince mentioned that before he took a rock from the land he offered it water. My first reaction was that felt a bit silly to do, but after a moment or two, looking around and realizing that asking permission and offering something back is apropos, I promised a written word of thanks and importance. So here we are, talking the importance of a mountain, silly right? Faith is an interesting thing. In my opinion anybody can put their faith into whatever they choose; god or gods, food, relationships, careers, Earth et cet. As long as that faith keep you framed in a set of loving/giving rules that harms nothing or nobody. One's faith should never be judged. Questioned? Sure. Judged? Never.

I'm unsure If I'll get to Big Bend again. I'ts a dedicated destination; you don't just pass through it and decide to stop. It's hard to get to. It's nowhere. I've been lucky enough to visit twice but going back in the near future seems unlikely. Each time I've visited I took full advantage of the scenery. I slept on the ground, tentless and gazed up at the Dark Sky certified stars only to watch them be devoured by the 21:30 moon. I got to ride a lot of miles on the most incredible terrain imaginable and brought enough snacks for 100 miles on a 50 mile ride. After all, when you're not worried about having enough food or water you've already won. Most importantly, I've come to know and laugh with my friends from Texas a bit more. If you ever find yourself in the desert, remember these two things: long sleeves, and one does not squander the desert's shade.

Thanks for the drawing, Vince.