Big Bend had been on my list for quite some time – it’s widely known as the most remote park in the lower 48 states. It’s also one of the least visited in the lower 48, because of its remoteness. There is nothing close to it – no cities of any size. I think the closest US city with motels and restaurants is Marathon, TX, ~100 miles away. Alpine, TX is a similar distance. Thankfully, there is a nice lodge in the park which has a restaurant and store, and on my second trip I stayed in the ghost mining town of Terlingua (which still has a few hundred residents.) One thing the guidebooks don’t mention about Big Bend is its incredible, perfect silence. On a hike, my feet crunched on the gravelly desert floor but when I paused, there was no sound. Literally, no sound at all. Every minute or so, I might hear a distant bird chirp. The silence, the magnificently clean, clear, dry desert air, and expansive, grand scenery make Big Bend a destination that far exceeded my already high expectations. Big Bend is often claimed to be, in a sense, three separate parks, with its desert plains, river shores, and higher Chisos Mountains making three very different landscapes and ecosystems. In my own opinion, all parts of this park are impossibly beautiful. Big Bend looks like nowhere else, and its sweeping vistas make it probably the most underrated national park in the country. If you're looking for an incredible park that not that many people know, this is, in my experience, the best example.
Lost Mine Trail
This is the first hike I did in Big Bend, a short hike (under 5 miles for the whole trek), but perfect for the first day since I didn’t arrive until the afternoon. This is the most famous hike in the park, and for good reason: it offers stunning views for a trail that is neither long nor especially difficult. (As opposed to the magnificent South Rim, which requires 12+ miles of hiking and a lot more elevation gain.) The trail rises through the forest to a sweeping overlook into Juniper Canyon after only about a mile of hiking:
The trail turns left here (not right: that's a rugged climber's trail up Casa Grande Peak and much, much more difficult).
Here's a neat looking dead tree:
A stunning view into the canyon, with rays of the late afternoon sun coming in:
Lost Mine Trail continues its gentle ascent to a flat table of rock with rocky outcroppings around:
There are quite a few lovely overlooks, and you can watch the vegetation change from the lower elevations to the higher. Another neat looking tree precariously perched on the canyon's edge:
On the rocks at the end of the trail:
And, lastly, the unbelievable view of the setting sun through the Stonehenge-like monoliths at the end of Lost Mine:
This was the perfect time to be there in the natural temple at the top! On the way back down, I and a few other hikers ran into this mule deer (and a second who's not in the photo):
It didn't really have glowing eyes, it was getting darker and my camera flashed. The two mule deer were munching on leaves in the woods just off the trail near the trailhead. They were so close to the trail – maybe 2 or 3 feet off - that we approached cautiously. One glared at us and grunted and stomped a hoof. We backed off, he (she?) calmed down, and we waited for them to move farther off the trail. Deer don’t seem dangerous, but they certainly can be if they get mad. One more picture of a neat-looking cactus:
Why the name “Lost Mine”? The park’s signs explain it like this. There were rumors of an especially rich silver mine near this trail in the Chisos Mountains. Explorers and early settlers searched for the mine, but never found one. Nowadays, it is assumed to be a false story spread by the natives. There is no mine entrance (at least not that has ever been discovered), and geologists think it very unlikely that there is any silver in the region at all. Lost Mine is a trail that packs a lot of scenic beauty in its relatively short length. It won't take you all day and is really worth the trip!
Marufo Vega Trail
The big challenge for my first Big Bend trip was the mighty Marufo Vega Trail. 14 miles through the desert with no shade or water, this trail can be very dangerous in the summer when the temperature is usually over 100 F. In fact, someone tragically died on the trail the August before I went, so please think twice and then think again before trying this in the summer. But, thankfully, I was there in January when the weather was comfortable. I think the high that day was 70. I had wanted to do this trail because it seemed to be a challenging, lesser-known, rarely-hiked gem with incredible views.
Where does this trail gets its odd name? "Vega" is Spanish for plains, but Marufo comes from Gregorio Marufo, who used to herd goats through this expansive, rough country. The hike deserves to be a classic. Marufo Vega is exceptionally beautiful and crosses through several different terrains. It is long and challenging as well. The hike starts in a dry wash (I assume it is a creek after a rain), and then turns right for a strenuous climb up a hillside. From there, you cross a desert plain before entering a canyon.
The trail follows the canyon for quite some time, passing constantly changing walls and rock formations. I had heard that Marufo Vega could be hard to follow, and I was constantly spotting shapes in the rocks of the canyon and trying to remember them just in case I lost the way. However, there were cairns all along the trail, and there was never any trouble following the path.
You see the Deadhorse Mountains looming ahead, towering, hazy, flat-topped monoliths. The trail circles those mountains. After some lovely canyon hiking, I arrived at the fork.
Here's an amazing shot from near the fork. These are the Sierra del Caballo Muerto according to my map, the Deadhorse Mountains according to others. (Yes, I know it's the same name in Spanish.)
I turned left for the north fork which soon dropped into a steep canyon. Looking down, I couldn’t believe a trail could stick to the walls – the canyon is narrow, steep, and deep.
But, the trail manages to wind its way far, far down this narrow canyon and levels out.
The trail at last emerges from the canyon near the bank of the Rio Grande. All the way down, of course, I knew that I’d have to come back up all that elevation one way or the other.
Marufo Vega, at this point, clings precariously to a hillside just above the river and follows the river east for two miles. Here, due to the twisting of the Rio Grande, the river and Mexico are to the north. The rugged mountains and cliffs in Mexico just across the border are hauntingly empty and beautiful. After following the river for two miles, you turn right back onto the south fork. Then begins the nightmare climb, all the way back up the elevation I lost coming down the long canyon on the north fork. Here's a photo looking back down to the river (not visible) from partway up the climb out:
This part of the hike took a long time and was a grueling climb, especially since I had already hiked about 7 miles. The ascent (south fork) was more gradual than the descent (north fork), but goes on forever! I kept thinking I was at the top, then the trail kept ascending. But, I did at last crest the last hill and the trail leveled out. From there, the south fork, though longer than the north fork, is fairly level as it crosses through a rolling plain between the Deadhorse Mountains. Besides the craggy canyons and incredible mountains, there is plenty of neat looking plant life:
Upon arriving back at the fork, all that was left was to retrace my steps back through the long canyon to the wash and the trailhead. Here's a shot looking down into the wash. The trailhead is off to the left:
Marufo Vega is a lonely place. The hike is a 14 mile lasso, and took me about 6 hours. One the way out towards the fork, I met a group of three backpackers coming the other way, and I passed another lone hiker while I was ascending from the river and he was heading down. I saw no one else, and in the thunderous silence of Big Bend, it was a wonderfully eerie trip. Marufo Vega is a magnificent adventure hike. Quite long for a day hike (14 miles), strenuous in parts, and no shade make this a hike that you shouldn't take unless you're confident that you can handle the length and prepared with plenty of water and food!
Devil's Den
In the northeastern part of Big Band, just south of the north entrance, there is a trail into Dog Canyon. The trail has a less-advertised fork in it, though: after a mile or so across the desert, you can split left for Dog Canyon or right for a slot canyon called Devil’s Den. I would HIGHLY recommend a map and compass. The trail to Devil’s Den is not all that long – I think the whole journey from the trailhead to the tip of the trail at the top of the south wall of the canyon and back is less than 6 miles – but is poorly marked, with sometimes confusing, misleading cairns. To get to Devil’s Den, you must turn right and follow the wash. Ignore the first cairn trying to lead you out of the wash to the left. You’ll walk in the wash for about a half mile (very rough estimate!) before turning left into another wash. If you don’t seem to be going the right direction (according to your map and compass), you can always turn around. Follow this one until you spot cairns leading you out of the wash to the right. From up on this ridge, you will see, to your left, the Devil’s Den gradually forms, a deep, narrow, dark, craggy canyon with lots of harsh, jutting angles.
The trail hugs the south rim of the canyon, giving the hiker lots of incredible views down into the Den.
The trail and cairns peter out when the canyon ends, opening back out into the desert plain. Here's a photo across the east (far) end of the canyon:
That tiny shadow in the lower right is my shadow as I hold up the camera. I rested here for a bit, and watched a small animal (squirrel?) gamboling in the underbrush several hundred yards away across the canyon and far below me. I couldn't see it well enough to tell what kind of animal it was, but I could hear every move it made in Big Bend's endless silence.
The first time I hiked this (January 2014), I wasn’t aware that you could hike into the canyon itself. When I returned in March 2016, I wanted to try to hike straight through the canyon, as some guides claimed you could. Thankfully, I somewhat remembered the route, and was able to figure out the route to the Den despite confusing cairns. When the trail ascends out of the wash to the south rim of the canyon, I stayed in the wash and walked straight into the canyon.
It was not an easy hike – jumbled boulders, sometimes dense vegetation (which, in the desert, has needles and brambles!), and bees made for a slow hike as the canyon deepened and narrowed. The Den is a bit claustrophobic once you’re inside, and the walls rise higher and higher over your head. A ways in, I found myself stopped by an especially narrow spot where some choke stones forced a climb up through a little skylight, and I lacked the climbing skill to make it any further. While I experimented with ways to get up, a group of boy scouts came by, and a few of them WERE able to clamber up, but even after watching them I couldn’t manage it (and neither could the other adult-sized hikers who were there with me). Though I couldn’t get up, I thought I could easily slide down it. So, I hiked back out of the canyon and back to the trail, which leads past the canyon on its south rim. When the canyon ended, I scrambled down the hillside to try the canyon from its other end. Devil's Den's eastern entrance from the canyon floor:
Almost immediately inside the canyon’s mouth, I was presented with a terrifying drop onto a narrow ledge over another dangerous drop. It did look possible to slide along the tiny ledge and climb down… but very unsafe for someone alone, with no rope; and I didn’t think that I could get back up even if I got down there safely. Getting trapped in the Devil’s Den was not an attractive option, so I turned back and scrambled back up to the trail. Devil's Den is a neat place to explore! If you're comfortable hiking somewhere with intermittently clear trails, give this a shot.
Santa Elena Canyon
I took this short trail the same day I first explored Devil's Den. It is quite easy, just a mile or so in total, but has stunning views deep inside a striking canyon. Santa Elena Canyon's entrance:
That river is the Rio Grande, and the left cliff is in Mexico while the right in in the U.S. The trail ascends a bit as it enters the canyon, giving this view down into the river:
The river flows west to east, which in this photo means it is flowing towards me. Obviously, it is flowing downhill, because that is the only way rivers can flow. However, once I hiked back into the canyon, the river appeared to be flowing uphill! How? The rock layers in the cliff face opposite the trail are close to horizontal, but are tilted a bit. The rock layers are your only visual reference inside the canyon and fools your perception into thinking they are flat when they are not - and the river looks to flow uphill! It is rather disorienting, a bit like those tourist places built at an angle (often called "mystery hill") but natural. On the way back out of this canyon, I got this dramatic shot of the canyon mouth as the sky began to go dark:
Santa Elena Canyon is a hike for everybody. Under 2 miles, quite easy, stunning views. If Big Bend's long, difficult hikes are a little much for you, this one is very worth your while!
Emory Peak
Emory Peak is the highest point in the Chisos Mountains, and also the highest point in all of Big Bend at 7825 feet according to noted Texas geology expert Wikipedia. (It is not the highest point in Texas, which is 900 feet higher: Guadulupe Peak in Guadulupe Mountains NP.) Emory Peak, however, is more prominent and is a hike of greater length and about equal difficulty. I started, conveniently enough, from my lodge room, which was right by the trailhead. To get to Emory Peak, the quickest way is to ascend as if you’re headed to the South Rim, but take the left (east) fork near the start, towards Pinnacles Trail. Pinnacles ascends quickly, a rough, rocky, difficult trail which switchbacks up the Chisos Mountains. Big Bend claims to be almost three different parks because the scenery and ecosystem is vastly different from river to desert to mountains. Going from Marufo Vega and Devil’s Den to Emory Peak illustrated that fact perfectly: the former trails are on the desert floor, while the Chisos Mountains trails are higher up and cut through a completely different world. In the mountains, there are trees and shade, lots of blue Mexican jays, and many more signs of animals (i.e. poop). This jay wasn't afraid of me, and let me get this close for the picture:
This bird's been tagged - see the little yellow band on his foot? I suppose the park tracks their movements. After climbing more than 3 miles, there is a junction and the right turn (clearly signed) leads up to Emory Peak. (Continuing straight sends you through Boot Canyon up to the South Rim.) The trail continues to climb constantly, and winds its way up to the highest peak in the park. At the top, there are two tall rock piles. Which one is the peak? I tried the left, then realized the right was in fact higher. The right pile is indeed Emory Peak’s summit, and requires a 25 foot somewhat exposed rock scramble. The beginning of the final scramble:
The summit itself is unremarkable – a slab of jumbled rock the size of a large bedroom, adorned with a radio antenna, but the view from the top is unbelievable, 360 degrees of stunning desert and mountains. A view (I think looking northwest) showing a steep drop-off:
Another expansive view looking south:
And the radio antenna:
Another fellow was relaxing at the summit so I was able to get some pictures with me in them for a change.
As is often the case with these trails, the trip back down (after getting back down the scramble) was enormously easier – all downhill! This hike's tough, and the scramble at the end might not be for everyone. But if you're prepared for some elevation gain, the views are worth the effort!
South Rim Loop
I didn't get to Big Bend's most famous long hike on my first trip (having done Marufo Vega as my big, long hike the previous time). However, when I returned to Big Bend in March 2016, the South Rim was at the top of my list. Without any of the extra paths, the loop is a difficult 12.4 miles, as the sign informs us:
Also, extreme fire danger. They were in a drought at the time.
You can ascend either Pinnacles Trail (left, goes near Emory Peak) or Laguna Meadows Trail (right) and descend the other to complete the loop. I chose to go right and began climbing Laguna Meadows. The trail climbs steadily into the mountains. Here I turned around and saw a nice view of the Window from above:
Look at that sky! It really is that deeply blue in Big Bend. And this isn't some dawn or dusk shot - it's probably about noon. Laguna Meadows trail gradually climbs all the way to the South Rim, about 6 miles from the trailhead. Along the way, a few other trails branch off into the canyons and forests. I wish I could have explored all of them too! But the South Rim Loop is long and difficult as it is. The path meanders by a tranquil desert meadow (the namesake Laguna Meadow) and eventually skirts the rim on the west side of the Chisos Mountains. The views are already getting better and better, but the best come as the trail turns left and crosses the South Rim itself:
This is on the very southern edge of the Chisos Mountains looking over the foothills and plains of the southern part of the park. The half-mile or so that the trail follows the rim is breathtaking.
Looking southeast, at another wonderful view and impossibly blue sky:
The South Rim is not easy to reach - a long uphill hike, and then you have to go all the way back - but is worth every bit of effort. Here at the top, there is a trail that leads to the southeast rim, but it was closed at that time to protect nesting peregrine falcons. Instead of taking that side trip, I continued the loop by heading back down Boot Canyon Trail toward the Pinnacles Trail. This is a very nice walk, and totally different than the way I ascended: Instead of the broad vistas and rolling meadows of Laguna Meadows Trail, Boot Canyon trail follows a narrow, confined canyon which snakes its way down the mountain. Why is it called Boot Canyon? Because this is at its entrance:
...A rock shaped like an upside-down cowboy boot. From here, I reached the Emory Peak junction and returned back to the trailhead, retracing my steps from two years prior when I climbed up Emory Peak. The South Rim is the Chisos Mountains' greatest trail for views, even better than Emory Peak. The hike is quite strenuous - over 12 miles, the first half rather steeply uphill - and will beat up your knees and feet. However, it leads you to arguably the best views in the park!
Terlingua, TX
On this, my second trip to Big Bend, I stayed in the wonderfully unique town of Terlingua, TX. Terlingua is a mining ghost town. Several hundred people, many of them retired or artists, live in the town, most in mining ruins that they've hacked into a liveable space or in trailers. (The area never gets very cold and there isn't much rain - it's probably as good a place as any for makeshift houses.) I stayed in a couple's spare trailer which they rent out with Airbnb. Terlingua has one paved road, a few restaurants, a very old general store, and even a few informal hotels where you can stay in mining ruins. I saw a few bumper stickers that said "Terlingua: Hotter'n Hell. Cooler'n S**t". It's such a unique place that I've got few photos of the town as well. Here are some mining ruins:
The Starlight Theater is one of three or four restaurants in town:
If you're there over Spring Break, be prepared to wait, wait, and wait some more for restaurants. They're just not set up for the crowds which come at that time. I had good luck with showing up 15 minutes before opening and waiting in the already forming line. This sculpture was made from a ruined piece of an exploded oil rig:
Terlingua's old cemetery is one of the spookiest I've seen. Some of the graves are from 1906 when they mined mercury, some from last year. Most are piles of stones with a makeshift wooden cross laid across them. Many have simple hand-written gravestones.
A giant bug sculpture:
Upper Burro Mesa Pour-off
After two long, difficult days of hiking (South Rim Loop and a long exploration of Devil's Den, probably ~24 miles in two days), my feet were getting blistered. I found a shorter trail for this, my last day, Upper Burro Mesa Pour-off, which is in total just under 4 miles. This is a very neat shorter hike in the western part of Big Bend. You have to do some simple scrambling to scoot up and down over rocks. The trail follows through small, pretty canyons and gradually descends down a wash.
This is kind of neat, a window in the rock on the right side of the wash:
I climbed up into that window, and here is the view from within:
The trail ends in a big, cathedral-like grotto with a towering rock ceiling over your head. I slid down a smooth rock slide into the grotto, and followed the wash to the other end of the grotto... where it abruptly dropped over a 100 foot cliff. This is the end of the trail. It's a beautiful spot, but I couldn't come up with a way to photograph it. From here, the only thing to do is walk back. Upper Burro Mesa Pour-Off is not well-known, but is a really nice shorter hike. The trail is easy with some light scrambling, the views are pretty, and the end is gloriously dramatic.