We arose at 5 am which is not a good time of day for me. I often rise early but Marty has learned the danger of attempting conversation with me in the early morning. After once or twice receiving a response worthy of a mother bear asked to part with one of her cubs, he learned to limit himself to a very short greeting first thing in the morning. He now knows a groggy stare and a limp wave is the best response he can expect.
So, even though I don’t enjoy rising at 5 am, I knew the park visit would be worth it. We showered and had our free breakfast at the hotel. Marty said that rain was predicted for the day. I was unconcerned. We once again headed down the straighter but longer highway 39 toward the park. It was dark when we left. As the sun slowly rose, we were able to see many deer in the fields next to the highway. We continued on with a few sprinkles on the windshield. We arrived at the park just minutes before the 8 am opening time.
We were very pleased to see that there were only 6 people in line. We quickly purchased our tickets and we hoped this was a good beginning to a good day. The park ranger in the office gave us a receipt to tape to the inside of the windshield. We got in the car. The previous day, we had to stop at the gate. Now we waved to the ranger at the gate and drove on through. We had been told there was a restroom just one mile into the park, so we headed there for our first stop.
After using the restroom we both wandered around the rest area taking pictures. It was a little difficult. The combination of the early morning light and the cloud cover meant that any pictures required a slow exposure on the camera. I have read of several techniques for holding your camera still without a tripod: brace the camera against your body or hold your breath. I was no good at either of these. I snapped a few pictures. They looked ok on my 1” x 1 ¼” camera monitor, so I decided not to worry. We returned to the car.
I noticed that the end of the parking lot did not appear to have an exit. I also saw people getting out of their cars and walking toward the trees. “Where do we drive the car?” I asked Marty. “I think we may have to walk,” he said. We consulted the map that we had received at the ranger station. “Maple Trail 0.8 miles, East Trail 4.6 miles, West Trail 4.9 miles,” I read. “What’s this area marked ‘steep’? I don’t think I’m up to walking very far with my bad back and I think it’s going to rain. We don’t want to get out too far.” Marty said. “Oh, come on!” I chided him. “Don’t wimp out on me. You can handle a short little walk in the woods.”
We decided to start out on the shorter Maple Trail. Marty’s camera does not have a lens cap, so because of the rain, he decided not to bring it. I thought about carrying his tripod for my camera, but it was really heavy, so I decided that I could do without it. As we started on the trail, it began to rain. We had left the umbrella in the car. Marty pulled his jean jacket over his head and I pulled my leather jacket over mine. We carefully walked on the large rocks that were slippery with wet, loose leaves.
The ranger told us that a few days ago; the leaves had reached their peak of color. Many of the leaves had fallen. They
made a beautiful orange-red carpet on the ground. Occasionally there was a tree full of yellow leaves that made a nice contrast with the red maples. The maple trail climbed along the edge of a hill with stone steps leading up and over the hilly ground. The trail had been constructed with a wooden railing alongside the stone path. At intervals, there was a stone or wooden bench to rest on. Every direction we looked was like a perfect scene. As the rain slowly drizzled down, we were completely alone in the woods.I snapped pictures all along the maple trail. The shutter speed was slow and I knew that the pictures might be blurry, but I would have beautiful blurs of color, if nothing else. We reached the end of the maple trail and it merged back into the east trail.
“Do you want to continue?” I asked Marty. “I’m not sure about that steep part of the trail. What do you think that means?” he said. “I’m sure it only lasts a short distance. We can handle 10 or 15 feet of difficult walking,” I replied. So, we continued on. Several people had joined our path from the east trail and we were no longer alone. The rain had stopped and Marty and I walked along together in the silence for about 20 minutes.
“How much further do we have to go?” I asked. Marty consulted the map. “I think we have a long way to go. We haven’t even reached the composting toilet yet.” We didn’t know what a composting toilet was, but it was one of the few landmarks on the map, so we were looking forward to reaching it. We continued walking. The path was mostly level, but it was rocky so we couldn’t walk very fast. Despite the fact that two younger couples passed us, I am sure it was the rocks that slowed us down. We were getting hungry, so we each ate the snack crackers we had put in our pockets earlier. Finally we reached the latrine, about ¼ of the way down the east trail. I decided to take advantage of the composting toilet, although after using it I still didn’t know what made it different from any other outhouse. We hurried on from there because we heard the voices of many school children behind us and they seemed to be getting closer.
After another 10 minutes walk, the path began a steady incline. A sign next to the path read Steep Trail next 1
.5 miles. “Look,” said Marty, “here is where the steep part begins.” I said, “1.5 miles, it can’t be that far.” We started up the hill. The path was laid out like a stairway. Up ahead of me I saw about 25 steps. “I can do this I thought.” I didn’t want to embarrass Marty by speeding by him, so I let him get ahead. The steps turned out to be harder than I expected and halfway up, I was getting out of breath. It was then that I thought about the blood pressure medicine I had been taking for 3 years. The symptom that drove me to consult the doctor was getting breathless after one flight of stairs. Well at least I was almost to the top.I was surprised when I reached the top. Instead of leveling out, the path turned and began an even steeper incline. The path was no longer laid out like stairs. It was more like those pictures of mountain goats in their natural habitat. Those pictures of steep mountainsides that always made me wonder, “How could any creature live there?”
Marty continued to stay ahead of me. It was not a matter of letting him be first, my breathing was so heavy I had to go slowly. How come this guy who has to walk carefully across the carpet lest he throw out his back, was leaving me in the dust on the rocky hillside? At least the sight of his back gave me a goal to shoot for. I kept thinking, “Just a little further. Just a little further.” Each time he turned a corner out of sight I would call out “Do you see the top?” “No, not yet,” was the continual reply. As I was huffing and puffing with every step, I heard a young couple coming up the path. They were laughing and talking and passed me quite easily. “Nice to be young,” I thought. Then an older Asian couple approached. I had to step aside as they rapidly ascended the hill.
“I see a bench,” Marty called from above. “See if you can make it.” I was breathing hard and my heart was pounding. I feared a stroke if I continued to push myself, but I did anyway. Finally I reached the bench. I sat down and took short, quick breaths. I rested there for about five minutes as two more couples passed us by. Then I saw a rotund young man coming up the hill. He looked a little out of breath. “Would you like to sit down?” Marty offered. The young man looked a little doubtful, then replied, “I guess I better.” We all sat there for a minute, then I said, “Let’s go.” I wanted to be faster than somebody.
We saw another young man coming down the hill. “How much further?” we said. “Not long” he said and he was right. We didn’t reach a summit where we could see below, but the terrain gradually flattened out. We walked on for a while and encountered several more people going in the opposite direction. As they passed us, it started to rain.
We pulled our jackets o
ver our heads as it started to rain harder. We saw a large display with a map of the trail. “Looks like we are about halfway,” Marty said. “Halfway!” I moaned. I was wet and cold and my legs hurt. I had pulled a muscle in my right thigh on the trip up the mountain. Every time I took a step with my right leg, a pain shot through my hip. I had also twisted my left foot a little. When we stepped down to pause at a scenic overlook, I felt a pain in my left ankle. I took a picture of the view looking down the hill. The Guadalupe River was at the bottom and on the trail next to it, was another composting toilet.We reached the descending part of the trail. Every step down caused a pain in my left ankle. It was not as steep as the trail up, but it was rockier. We had to concentrate on keeping our balance to prevent tumbling down the hill with the rocks. The descent down the hill was shorter and less dramatic. At least this time we had gravity on our side.
We got to the bottom of the hill and the other composting toilet. I didn’t need to go, but it was my landmark and I was glad I finally reached it. We paused to catch our breath and admire the view of the red leaved trees reflected in the river. After a few minutes I asked Marty, “Are you ready to go to the parking lot?” He started laughing. “What’s so funny,” I said. He showed me the map. We had another 1 ½ miles to walk.
We started back on the trail. The rain had stopped and there seemed to be people everywhere. Through my weary eyes, they all appeared to be more physically fit than me. We walked on until we came to the entrance of the west trail. I just looked at Marty and we kept walking.
We came to the parking lot, the overflow lot. It had about 20 cars in it. It was not the parking lot where our car was parked. We kept walking. We got to our parking lot. Our car was parked at the other end about ¼ mile away. We walked on. Finally we reached the car, opened the doors and collapsed inside.
This day had not been like we expected. The solitude of the park had turned out to be a crowded tourist attraction. The photo opportunity had turned out to be much less than perfect. The relaxing driving tour had turned out to be an exhausting climbing tour. Every time I stepped on either foot, I winced with pain. But, the maples were beautiful. The water in the river was crystal clear and there was no trash to be seen anywhere. Was all this rain and pain, frustration and exhaustion worth it? Absolutely.
