January 16, 2020
The leaves crunch as I set my pack down. It’s cooler here, a quiet forest inside the canyons of the Chisos Mountains. I pull out a small ziploc bag of trail mix and climb up a massive downed tree up to the top of a tall boulder in the middle of the dry creek bed. The sun feels soft and warm on my skin. The air is the perfect crisp and there is little breeze in this protected area. Not long after, I see a pair of big eared deer curiously making their way towards us. They pause and we acknowledge each other but they surprise me by not moving. As if they are sizing us up and hesitant to make a move. Jon hasn’t noticed so I whisper to him. We take turns looking at each other and then at the deer. Nothing changes, no one moves. I wonder if other hikers have fed them before – would that explain this behavior? I have enough time in this interaction to take out my phone and take a minute long video. Then I went on munching my trail mix and Jon back to his writing. They stayed to watch us for maybe five more minutes before other hikers showed and the deer finally scattered away.
We had only five miles between camps today and to our relief, most of it was downhill. Disappointed by the lack of flowing water to filter, we continued on rationing our water supplies. We reached our campsite by early afternoon, setup camp and decided to go out on another hike. By 2pm we had a smaller pack setup and were off on another 5 mile roundtrip hike to the 7,825ft top of Emory Peak, the highest point in the park. I was busy taking in the views near the top when Jon pointed out a large crowd coming down the trail carrying a woman.
Her leg was splinted with two hiking poles and some ace bandages. A dozen or so people were helping maneuver her down the steep and rocky trail yet I never saw her wince, cry, or yell. Was she in shock? We approached the group, offering our medical supplies. The very end of the trail to the peak, we learned, was a bouldering rock scramble with a good amount of exposure. She had slipped on her way down, fell about 6ft, and broke her leg. Luckily, there were several people at the top and they banded together their supplies and strength to begin moving her down the mountain. Emergency services were already called for and they had two park volunteers assisting them already. I recognized one of the volunteers as the woman who checked our permits just that morning. We helped maneuver her through a particularly tricky section and I offered her some humor. (i.e. “Imagine your favorite food in the whole world. Not the powdered eggs that you have back at camp! A burger, fries, and a shake…whatever you want. Now you KNOW you are going to get that the first chance you get. Heck, you’re can just ask one of these dozen minions you’ve got at hand right now to go through their stocks and you could get hordes of chocolate!“) She had a long way down and they weren’t making ground very fast over the difficult terrain. If she was in shock, the pain would eventually start kicking in. I whispered to the park volunteer if they had managed to get any painkillers for her – they had. Once past the tricky section, we were more of a crowded hinderance and decided to continue on our hike and return to them to check in on our way down as we would surely pass them again at their slow rate. The injured woman calmly but sternly warned us to be careful on our way back down the hike.
I was a bit spooked on the surprisingly exposed and difficult scramble up the boulders to the peak. At the top, Jon wanted to sit and write for a good long time amongst the beautiful 360 degree views but all I wanted to do was plan the route down to solid ground. We saw another couple attempt to climb to the top but after a few failed struggles (even after I yelled down to tell them the easiest looking route), they settled for the views from below the tree line. They watched me take the easy climb back down which to them apparently confirmed that it was too treacherous to go up. I looked at them then back at the wall and on the contrary decided that it was not a bad climb. I consoled them by explaining that my husband and I are rock climbers so perhaps we are more accustomed to heights. I felt more comfortable and confident only through the comparison and I was grateful for their presence.
Back down the trail, light was beginning to fade as we reached the injured woman again. Her stoic, stone face surprised me. “She’s one tough cookie” I thought to myself. An emergency responder was with the group, as evidenced by her neon orange badge and clear control of the situation. We were on a narrow ledge portion of the path so she had the group move the woman towards the mountain while Jon and I balanced-beamed across the edge to pass. There was much less chatter and we didn’t stay long to impede their progress as the responder immediately set off ordering movement. They were only a three quarters mile from major trail intersection which would be much simpler a trail in the dark. Jon and I continued down the trail. There’s a one mile portion down a steep face of the mountain with over 1,000ft elevation loss. We had already hiked down the harsh switchbacks that morning to our campsite, then back up them in the afternoon for the additional hike. As we descended, I couldn’t imagine the fatigue of getting that woman down this section in the dark. Before I could decide to stay to offer my own strength to the team, a group of emergency responders appeared around a switchback. Panting heavily, they were carrying a fabric stretcher with a huge rubber tire. We explained the location of the injured woman and crew, not much further along. Relief washed over their faces as they learned that she was in fact not still located at the very top but over the past few hours they had managed to get her through the tricky rocky sections and almost at the main trail. Getting her down this steep section would already be hard work for the crew. We parted ways and Jon dreamt up a life of being a park ranger.
Back at camp, thirst kicked in. I felt as if I would throw up as I force fed myself some dinner. A headache set in and much to Jon’s dismay I decided that I needed to drink 16 oz of water. He got his revenge by drinking the remaining 12 oz in the middle of the night. I woke in the morning upset to see my water bottle emptied. We have maybe 10oz of water left in his hydration bladder for all of tomorrow.
Stark West Travels 