Summiting the Guad

Your Intrepid Traveler (L) and Andrew (not left)

201009 SUMMITING THE GUAD.
I don’t recall when I decided to make it a personal goal to climb Guadalupe Peak. It might have been the result of a being over-served Tequila, or it might have been after I read the book “Seven Summits”. That was the book about a group of mild mannered, and rich, businessmen who set off to climb the highest mountains on each of the seven continents. After reading that, I figured that the highest mountain in Texas, all 8,749 feet of it, would be a worthy goal for me.

Guadalupe Peak is in the middle of Guadalupe Mountains National Park. This park is located at the base of the Texas Panhandle, where New Mexico joins it. To the south of the Guad, is “El Capitan”, which is perhaps the most famous peak in the state. Most people assume El Capitan is the taller of the two peaks, but it is better known only because it had a better publicist, and a troubled childhood. This area of North America was at one time covered by ocean. All the rock formations here are actually ancient reefs, exposed after the earth cooled, trapping water at the poles which caused the oceans to recede. Sorta like my brother-in-law’s hairline.

More than five years would pass after I considered making the climb before, I finally had the time and opportunity to try it. My daughter’s boyfriend, Andrew is an avid hiker and outdoorsman. He and I talked about making the climb together but I credit Andrew with setting the target date so we wouldn’t keep putting it off.

Andrew knew what we should take on the hike. As he was loading his backpack, Andrew brandished an all-purpose camping knife in my face. He told me he was ready if he had to cut off my arm, like the hiker in Yosemite did a few years back. Hmmm. I wasn’t quite ready for that level of commitment on this hike. His backpack held all the water for both of us for the day, along with tortillas, smoked turkey slices, mustard, packaged snacks, and fruit for energy. He also had packed soft drinks (in ice), a first aid kit, binoculars, sunscreen, extra shirt, and probably a fondue pot. Not to be outdone by the young upstart, I loaded my backpack with a compact digital camera, a piece of gum and a Chap Stick. For those of you who are thinking that my load was slightly less of a burden than my energetic friend’s backpack obviously does not realize the detrimental effect to an expedition that chapped lips can cause.

8 a.m. We were off. We signed the Park’s registration log to show that we were going up the mountain. Oh good. No one else had signed in ahead of us. This meant we should be able to get to the summit alone and enjoy a quiet moment of Zen with no one else to intrude on our accomplishment.

Even though it was Mid-April, in West Texas, the temperature had dipped to below freezing during the night. And it was still a brisk low-40s temperature as we began our assent. I started out strong and energized, but it was not long before fatigue crept over me. My boots felt like they had lead weights in them. I was hiking in slow motion. So slowly, in fact, that several groups of men, women, children, dogs, cats, and vegetables managed to dash right past us on the way to the top. Most disheartening to me was the guy in a bathrobe and slippers, carrying the morning paper under his arm, who sauntered by holding a steaming hot cup of coffee. Geez.

Andrew and I finally reached “base camp”. This is an area about a mile below the summit where overnight hikers can camp. We stashed our backpacks here in order to make the final assent easier. Funny, though, I did not feel any lighter without my backpack on. We plodded on up the trail.

The final half mile was torture. I knew we were nearly done, but my rubbery legs just did not want to take any more steps. The incline was getting more severe. I think I left claw marks in the limestone as I struggled to pull my boneless chicken legs along with the rest of my body. Andrew called encouragements down to me from above. I knew I could do it; I just didn’t know if I could do it in this lifetime.

The summit at last! I staggered up to a small level area of the limestone formation which meant I had finally reached the top of Texas. The summit was perhaps the size of a volleyball court. Placed in the middle, at the high point stood a 6-foot-tall stainless-steel marker. It was a four-sided elongated triangle, each side facing the four directions of North, South, East, West. (Not necessarily in that order). The photo accompanying this writing shows the author, on the left, and Andrew on the right of the Stainless-Steel marker.  Up here we had a full 360-degree panoramic view of the state of Texas to the East, South and West, and could see New Mexico to the North. The view was spectacular. I could not speak. Perhaps it had something to do with trying to catch my breath. I sucked in the fresh, clean air as I collapsed and absorbed the awesome views.

There is a vast beautiful emptiness of desert surrounding these mountains. We could see for hundreds of miles nothing but creosote bush and cacti. There was only an occasional shiny glint which betrayed human activity. The most obvious evidence of man’s use of nature was the bright green saucers of color seen to the west. These were “pivots”, which are giant irrigation systems that pivot around a single water pump. Each pivot pumps out millions of scarce gallons of water on to the rich soil. These pivots were growing wheat and the contrasting hue of the green crop against the surrounding purplish brown desert fauna was surreal. There were dozens of pivots, arranged in tight formation. From our vantage point, it looked like a giant Twister game board.

We took photos and I called my called my wife Gwen to tell her of our success. She marveled that it only took us 4 hours to climb up the mountain. She asked what we would do for the rest of the day. I said, “check myself in to a hospital”. She laughed and said, “no, really”. I said “yes, really”.

Thirst and hunger prompted us to head back down to base camp to eat lunch. I was starving and needed to stretch out for a while. We gorged ourselves on Andrew’s bounty. I felt it was my duty to help him reduce his pack weight by eating as much as I could. After all, we were a team.

We rested a long while and eventually I felt ready to tackle the return. It is, after all, downhill. How hard can it be? I felt fine until I stood up. It was then that I knew this was going to be tougher than I imagined. We staggered down. An older, silver haired fellow, jauntily hopped by me as I paused on the trail. I was half expecting him to turn around and kick limestone dust in my face too. I muttered “show-off”, under my breath but I must have said it too loudly. He turned and gave me a go-to-hell look, but fortunately kept heading down the trail. I decided I’d better stop with the smartass remarks since I was too fatigued to defend myself. A nun with a ruler could have taken me out.

By this time, I had a lot in common with the walking zombies of Hollywood. I had their slow pace, their vacant look, and their cranky attitude. Sorta like a Democrat. As I trudged along, I noticed a flock of buzzards circling above. They gave me the final motivation needed to pick up my pace and get off the mountain.

I was disappointed in myself that I did not get better physically prepared for this trip. Here are a few suggestions for would-be mountain climbers and for the park service. First, if you are a middle-aged Gulf Coast Flatlander, like me, perhaps you should start a little sooner and work a little harder than I did to get physically fit for such a trip. And don’t do 8 miles of hiking the day before your mountain hike. And your toenails probably will grow back. And for the Park service: How about a few handrails along the way? Or a massage therapist at the top? And would an elevator hurt?

I am fully recovered now from my conquest of the tallest mountain in Texas. It was difficult, but worth the effort. And I know that, just like all great adventurers, I must find a new goal to concentrate on. Perhaps climbing the highest peak in each of the 50 states? That might be a worthy goal. I think I hear a tall sand dune in Florida calling my name. I need to schedule it with Andrew. And what did I do with that Chap Stick?

END