The Log

DAY 11, JUNE 9, 1993

(CHRIS) We all slept pretty well despite the heat and had dry Tooti Fruities and canned fruit for breakfast on the morning of the 9th. We cleaned up camp and drove from there (Rio Grande Village in the SE corner of the park) to the central part of the park. We hiked five miles round trip in the Chisos Mountains up Lost Mine Trail. The weather was great ; it never got too hot, maybe 85. The hike was fun. There was a Mountain Lion Warning in effect but we never saw one. We were prepared though: First, we were gonna make ourselves small so he would attack, me filming it. Then Sam would flex and scare him away. The way up took 2 hours. We took our time and listened to Sam reading the plant descriptions at all the markers. At the top, we baked on the rocky peaks and talked about falling long distances. The hike down was less than 45 minutes. We drove a short distance to the Basin, which had a motel and a store. Resisting one temptation (to splurge and get a motel room), we caved into another one and bought a gallon of chocolate ice cream for four bucks. With a knife, we cut the block of frozen entertainment/nourishment in 4 and chowed down with paper bowls and camping spoons. It was delicious. We looked odd, the 4 of us in a row under the store awning, sitting with our backs to the wall on the sidewalk.

Then we drove to the Cottonwood Campsite on the SW end of the park - on the Rio Grande again. While Sam composed his perfectly organized post cards on separate pieces of paper, the 3 of us waded into the dirtiest river in the nation (we saw that fact on a sign). The water was brown, as always. We let the current take us a ways down when some huge, slimy thing splashed up against my chest. I screamed and all 3 of us booked out of the water on the Mexican side because it was closer. We scared the grazing cattle away, walked up stream, and went out to the middle and skipped stones for awhile. Back at the campsite, we took our by-now-famous outdoor showers from the five gallon water bag. We never did figure out what the slimy thing in the river was. I think maybe the leftover chili that we dumped in New, Orleans may be following us.

At about 6, Jon took the van and went to call his woman, agreeing that he would be back at 7, at the latest. At that time, we would drive 8 miles to the Santa Elena Canyon hike. At 7:20, with no sign of Jon, the 3 of us walked the 1/2 mile to the store where the phone would be. The phone was broken, the store was closed, the town was deserted and there was no sign of Jon. The three of us amused ourselves in various ways on the walk back. I was plotting different ways to kill Jon if returned alive; Matt tried to kill rabbits with rocks; and Sam - well, Sam stayed placid and calm as always.

After 8 pm, with dinner just getting started, Jon showed up. He had driven over 30 miles each way to Panther Junction. AND HE COULDN'T EVEN GET THROUGH TO HER! So we ate our beans-chili-hot dog mix in relative quiet. Jon apologized and, since we're all so easy-going, we let it go at that. Gee Willikers, what a man will do for his woman! If it had been any other reason, we may have quietly barbecued Jon over a nice camp fire.

So we decided to get up early and see Santa Elena. Sam and I tried to sleep as it got dark, but it was too darn hot, It must have been at least 85 degrees still. While Matt played Christie's recorded Irish song for all of Big Bend to hear, a plan was hatched to move the campsite. Jon discovered that the part of the campground farther from the river was cooler. So we carried the tent down there, still erected, with each of us on a corner. The other campers looked upon us strangely. I suppose they thought a UFO was landing. When we got to the new site, we said rosary, saw some heat lightning and some shooting stars. It didn't take us long to realize that it was still HOT. So Sam and I mocked out Jon and Matt for making us move. Then we told some Hooter jokes, laughed innocently and tried to sleep.