Days Two Hundred Thirty to Two Hundred Ninety

There's really no excuse for the delay in this post, which is more or less the equivalent of two or three posts. However, the reality of hiking without a computer has made writing and blogging in West Texas somewhat of a challenge. If I have an article due, then I spend my time doing that and ultimately neglect my blog. I could spend more time in one spot, like I am now in Terlingua/Study Butte, but that comes at the sacrifice of distance and days.

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As always, here are my mileage estimates and stops with scattered journal entries. Enjoy.

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Day 230: Zero day in Muleshoe

Day 231: Highway 214, about 18 miles

Day 232: Enochs (with a short side trip to the Muleshoe Refuge), about 11 miles

Day 233: Beyond Lehman on Hwy 125, about 19 miles

Day 234: FM 769, about 22 miles

Day 235: Just outside Plains, about 26 miles

Day 236: Just beyond Plains on Hwy 214, about 6 miles

Day 237: Beyond Denver City, about 15 miles

Day 238: Outside of Seminole, about 15 miles

Day 239: Hwy 385, about 9 miles

Day 240: Andrews, about 21 miles

Day 241: Highway 128, about 23 miles

Day 242: FM 1218, about 20 miles

Day 243: Kermit, about 13 miles

Day 244: Zero day in Kermit.

Day 245: Hwy 302, about 10 miles

Day 246: Mentone, about 22 miles

Day 247: Hwy 285, about 14 miles

Day 248: Orla, about 12 miles

Day 249: FM 652, about 12 miles

Day 250: FM 652, about 18 miles

Day 251: Hwys 62/180, about 30 miles

Day 252: Backcountry, Guadalupe Mountains National Park (also started hiking on park trails), about 11 miles

Day 253: Dog Canyon, Guadalupe Mountains NP, about 18 miles

Day 254: Park Headquarters, Guadalupe Mountains NP, about 15 miles

Day 255: Williams Ranch House, Guadalupe Mountains NP, 9 miles

Day 256: Williams Road near Dell City, about 20 miles

Day 257: Dell City Junction (by way of Dell City), about 20 miles

Day 258: Hwys 62/180, about 20 miles

Day 259: Hwys 62/180, about 24 miles

Day 260: El Paso, 35 miles

Days 261-262: Two zero days in El Paso

Day 263: Anthony, about 22 miles

Day 264: El Paso, about 15 miles

Day 265: Zero day in El Paso

Day 266: El Paso, about 18 miles

Day 267: Fabens, about 18 miles

Day 268: Fort Hancock, about 22 miles

Day 269: I-10, about 15 miles

Day 270: Sierra Blanca, about 20 miles

Day 271: I-10, about 12 miles

Day 272: Outside Van Horn on I-10, about 19 miles

Day 273: Hwy 90, about 18 miles

Day 274: Outside Valentine, about 20 miles

Day 275: Hwy 90, about 19 miles

Day 276: Marfa, about 19 miles

Day 277: Hwy 67, about 15 miles

Day 278: Beyond Shafter, about 25 miles

Day 279: Presidio, about 20 miles

Day 280: Zero day in Presidio

Day 281: River Road, about 7 miles

Day 282: River Road, 12 miles

Day 283: River Road, 12 miles

Day 284: FM 170, about 20 miles

Day 285: Just beyond Terlingua Ghost Town, 8 miles

Day 286: Terlingua, about 3 miles

Days 287-291: Five zero days in Terlingua

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The World's Biggest Muleshoe, Muleshoe, Bailey County, Day 230

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Day 232: Camped in Enochs at a cotton gin! [A trio of men approached me and inquired as to what I was up to. I told them and we shot the bull for quite some time. One of them told me to just go ahead and camp at the gin if I wanted. I told him that I didn't really like to trespass if I didn't know for sure, and he said, "Shouldn't be a problem. I'm on the board of the coop!" I love small towns.]

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Clarity, Bledsoe, Cochran County, Day 234

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Day 235: Nothing in Bronco. Chatted with old woman at store. [It's amazing how vague I can be, even when I'm my own audience. I ran out of food in the morning and hiked into Bronco hoping for some grub. The store was closed, but I knocked anyway. A squat older woman answered, and I asked about food. Unfortunately, she only took cash. So I continued my trip into Plains and knew that I'd get food in the morning. Sure, I was hungry, but a 26 mile hike on a little trail mix and a health bar is no big deal. I still chuckle at the terseness of my journal entry, though. It's a good reminder that there's usually a lot more going on than a person cares to explain.]

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Day 236: So walking out of Plains from the library, I was talking on the phone, and an older hispanic lady was walking my direction [on the opposite side of the street]. She stopped to cross the street - no cars, nothing - but didn't go because that would have put her near me. It's bizarre to be having a nice conversation with someone and to simultaneously be feared by someone else.

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Memorial, Gaines County, Day 237

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Food for Thought, Gaines County, Day 239

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Day 240: I've now read about 700 pages in 5 days, or 1000 in 15 days. That's a lot for me, far more than average. True, I'd already read [one of the books], but the other two were new. Am I tuning out my hike? [Note: I'd like to think that I'm coping for the lack of mental challenges out here. Physical, emotional, and spiritual challenges abound, but sometimes you just want a good book or puzzle.]

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Dunescape, Andrews County, Day 242

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Day 242: [An interesting side note to these Winkler County days: My brother Charlie was looking at Google maps before I entered this section and was worried by all the blank spots on the map, the blankness being sand dunes. A lot of the desert plants had grown over the terrain, but it was crazy to see a few miles of land that looked like it was imported from the Middle East. Long story short, it was no big deal, but some of the technology available to my family and friends is sometimes a little less helpful than they'd like to believe.]

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Bottom-left Corner of Texas Panhandle, Winkler County, Day 242

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Unidentified Object in Bag of Peanuts, Winkler County, Day 242

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Day 242: [I bought Spanish Raw Peanuts from the Ellis Pecan Company in Andrews, Texas, but took the picture a day or two later in Winkler County. I found the above object in my bag, and it was a little disconcerting, to say the least. I wrote the company and received a pat answer, that it was probably a root or something. I don't claim to know what this is, but it's hard, really hard, and I find it difficult to believe that it's a root. That said, I have to take the company's word while I'm out here and look into more thoroughly later. I like their product, but if I find out that this is something less benign that root matter, I am going to be one unhappy camper.]

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Lined Up, Loving County, Day 246

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Tan Lines, Loving County, Day 249

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Day 249: [I realized my farmer's tan was intense when it looked like my feet were put on. Had to share.]

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Beginning of the Day, Reeves County, Day 250

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Roadside Minutiae, Culberson County, Day 251

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Guadalupe Peak, Culberson County, Day 252

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Guadalupe Mountains National Park, Culberson County, Day 252

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Day 254: Might have camped at Pine Top Campground, but there was a loud obnoxious family there. Kids out of control. I was 3.6 miles from headquarters with the sun 30 minutes from setting, and I went for it. Arrived at night. Found an M&M and a Rice Crispy wrapper on the way down. Hmm...

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The Cairn Sentinel of El Capitan, Guadalupe Mountains National Park,

Culberson County, Day 255

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Sunset from Williams Ranch Home Porch, Guadalupe Mountains National Park,

Hudspeth County, Day 255

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Day 256: When I made it to the main road, I entered the world of sand and dust. The wind had started back in the dunes, but out on the road, the conditions got nasty. It's not the big granules that do it; it's the little ones. They cover everything and make it hard to open your eyes. And the little ones are never-ending. They're on my hands as I write this, on the notepad, on my mat, shirt, hair, everything with the possible exception of my mouth, but when I eat or drink, that will be another casualty.

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Looking Back, Hudspeth County, Day 257

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Oasis, Cornudas, Hudspeth County, Day 258

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Sunbather, Hudspeth County, Day 259

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Day 259: Checkpoint. Chatted with two officers; both reluctant to talk about border.

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Western Corner Marker of Texas, El Paso County, Day 263

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Checkpoint, El Paso County, Day 266

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Mission of Corpus Christi, El Paso County, Day 267

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Enter the Raisin, El Paso County, Day 268

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Day 268: Made it to Fort Hancock... with a dog! I found a small, dark, and dehydrated terrier mix puppy in Fabens, and she put her stock in me. I fed her a little peanut butter, then trail mix, and loads of water. She was tick and flea infested - no telling how long she's been out. She walked with me, complaining along the way until we reached Clint. She was begging for food from everybody, not yet attached to me. I got her some rice and chicken (after a conversation with my cousin Cat) and she ate well. I call her Raisin d'Etre, or Raisin for short.

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Day 271: I met I guy earlier named _____. He drove me to the courthouse [in Sierra Blanca]. Kind of a nut. Talked about black ops, having two PhDs, knowing the president. I just let him ramble.

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Cloud Cover, Hudspeth County, Day 272

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Beware of Fish, Hudspeth County, Day 272

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Hiking for Love, Culberson County, Day 273

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Day 273: [I found this little popsicle cross beside a roadside marker made by Carol Cruise. Ms. Cruise, wearing a prosthetic leg, is walking around the entire United States. She started in 2002 and is hoping to finish this December. She is a reverend and is reminding people of God's love. Notice that her odometer stands at 8,592 miles. By now, she's in central Texas.]

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[In Van Horn] people kept complimenting Raisin, and she ate it up. One woman gave me a leash! She had a spare and was heading to Arizona. She thanked me for "saving another one."

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Day 275: Took a break under a train trestle. NOT the most peaceful place when the train rolls by at 40 mph.

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Street Jesus, Marfa, Presidio County, Day 277

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Country Art, Presidio County, Day 277

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Day 280: [Bob Phillips and his Texas Country Reporter crew showed up in Presidio. I spoke with Bob about recent developments in his life (he got married two years ago), and we chatted about my hike and Raisin. I spent the bulk of my time with one of the producers Mike and the cameraman Dan, both really nice fellows. The show comes out in mid-July.]

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Mary, Redford, Presidio County, Day 282

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Day 282: Found a church in Redford and got water... later found out that it tasted like rubber because of the water hose. Ahhh!!!! [I lost two liters to this mishap and lucked out by finding a water hole in Closed Canyon, shown two pictures below.]

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View from the Ruins, Presidio County, Day 282

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Closed Canyon, Big Bend Ranch State Park, Presidio County, Day 283

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Another Roadside Attraction, Presidio County, Day 283

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Day 283: [Annie sent me a book called "Smile While You're Lying" by Chuck Thompson. There's one line in it that haunts me: (paraphrased) "We revere what we destroy, but we destroy it first." The teepee rest stop seems to illustrate this perfectly.]

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Contrabando Set, Presidio County, Day 284

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Day 284: Strange to visit the Contrabando movie set after already having seen it three days ago [with the Texas Country Reporter crew]. Maybe I'll watch Streets of Laredo. [Contrabando was a B movie set in the old west, filmed about 20 to 30 years ago. They abandoned the set which was later adopted by the park service. It's kind of neat in its own way, but a bizarre sideshow to the area. There are only a few buildings, all constructed for the purpose of making one movie and later adopted by other movies. It's not real, and yet people, myself included, stop to investigate it.]

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Found a camping spot called Rancho Topango. After mild negotiations, I secured an indoor place and shower and hard-boiled eggs for $13. I didn't know what to expect [when I showed up]. When I started calling out "Hello? Hello?", no one answered. Then I found an older fellow sitting down looking at me. I said, "Hi, how are you doing?" and he continued to look at me saying nothing. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, and he cut it off before it became weird. "What can I do for you?" he began.

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Ghost Town Art, Terlingua Ghost Town, Brewster County, Day 285

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Terlingua Local, Brewster County, Day 285

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Day 286: I arranged with Greg and his maintenance man Mike to do some work for a river trip... only not immediately. [The trip has kept me in town for several days now. I just went yesterday on Day 290.]

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Art for Sale, Terlingua Ghost Town, Brewster County, Day 287

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Day 290: [Beautiful day. There was a group of about ten of us and two guides, and we hit the water by nine o'clock. We canoed up Santa Elena Canyon. The water felt great, and the upper body exercise was good for me. There were five kids in the group, and they kept us adults in check, fooling around in the water, jumping off rocks. There was one boulder in particular that stood just a bit back from a large pool of water. The kids were afraid to jump because of the distance, but I went for it, hitting my legs against the shallow bottom. I warned them, but it was too late. Several more went for it, enjoying the challenge and scariness of it. I love being an instigator.]

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That's all for now. Until next time...

Raisin the Dog!

Say hello to my little friend.

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I found a little dog on the outskirts of Fabens, Texas on the morning of May 22nd, and I decided that she would be my birthday present. She was small, dark, and dehydrated, so I called her Raisin. Upon further reflection, I named her Raisin d'Etre, a pun on 'raison d'etre,' a reason for being here.

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Raisin is little and very cute. She chases butterflies and barks at antelope and beetles. When I caught a butterfly in my hands and let it out in front of her, Raisin wagged her tail. In the morning, Raisin wakes me up by licking me, and I like to think she's excited about the day, though she's probably just hungry.
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Raisin is headstrong and likes to get her way, but we are learning about one another. This is a tough hike for her, and she gets worn out pretty quickly (Although on some milder days, she's surprised me with how much she's walked. Her one-day record is around 19 miles!). In the short time we've been together, she's grown on me, perhaps me on her too.
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Enjoy the pictures.
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Until next time...

Guadalupe Mountains and the Trek to El Paso

When I finally arrived at the Guadalupe Mountains National Park, one of the park rangers joked that he'd already eaten my cookies. My parents had sent a care package to me, which had arrived a few days before my arrival, and the sheriff from Mentone had called ahead to let the park staff know I was coming. Both of these facts led the staff to wonder just who was showing up and when. What held no mystery was my appetite.

I got a backcountry permit and headed up Guadalupe Peak, the highest elevation in Texas at 8749'. I figured that I could go cross-country to Bush Mountain in the same day. This is perhaps possible with better planning and a better understanding of the terrain. I had neither.

Getting up Guad Peak was easy enough (aside from my pack being as heavy as a sack of potatoes from all the water and food), and the first half a mile of bushwhacking was straightforward as well. That's all the freebies I was going to get.

For the next four hours, I whacked bushes. Sharp thorny bushes. There were shrubs that weren't even especially dangerous, but because they were growing right on top of one another, they became a veritable briar patch of ouchies. I say ouch, but the truth is that I sometimes screamed in pain.

I could've turned around, but I didn't want to give up so soon into the journey. Then after a couple of hours of barely making much headway, I didn't care what it took to finish. I was going cross-country to Bush Mountain even if my legs looked like a whipping boy's.

I remember crouching like a skier on the ridge, the wind blowing tumultuously around me and the trees and brush. Only I wasn't moving. At times the gusts must have been 70 mph. To move would have meant to cascade uncontrollably down the mountain. Unfortunately for me, that happened anyway. Without the cascading, that is.

I was negotiating some shrubs and rocks and had leaned too far forward. I caught myself with my hiking sticks, but because I hadn't fastened my waist belt (the heat was causing a rash on my hips), my backpack kept going. I flipped. Down a mountain.

But I stopped. My arms and legs were pointed to the sky. I was like a flipped turtle. I squinted in the sun, got my bearings, and slowly edged out of my backpack. My shirt was shredded in the back, I had a cut or two, but otherwise I was fine. The vegetation I'd been cursing had saved me from a very nasty fall. Even steven.

That night, I camped in a dry run-off area. I hadn't even made it to the top of the next mountain. That took four hours. The next day, it took an additional six to get to Bush Mountain. After that, I stayed on the trails.

I hiked to Dog Canyon that evening. The next day I hiked back to park headquarters (I had run out of food). Along the way, I met a great fellow, Kevin Wass, who was happy as can be being in the mountains. A Texas Tech music prof, he had gotten his grades in and hit the mountains within 18 hours. I think he was in better shape than I am, too, as he had hiked in with 30 pounds of water (I had only done 15!). We had a long conversation before I continued down to park HQ.

I arranged for another excursion, only this time I wouldn't be coming back. A state trooper had been nice enough to pick me up some groceries, so my food resupply was waiting for me when I got there. I planned a trip along the El Capitan Trail and northwest along the old Butterfield Stage route. I was off again.

The El Capitan Trail is now my favorite in the Guadalupe Mountains. Rated as a moderate hike, it skirts the outside edge of the range, allowing for wonderful views of the countryside and the mountains themselves. I only saw two other hikers on this hike who stopped halfway and turned back. Since the trail is a dead-end, it's understandable but also a pity. I felt like the visually bolder parts of the trail were in the second half.

I camped at an old restored cabin at the base of the mountain. It had been built by a man named Belcher about a century prior, a present to his new wife. I suppose she didn't like it because she only stayed a night! The isolation might have been a little much; there is nothing around it, no civilization for miles. I sat on the porch and watched the sunset, and I couldn't imagine a better way to end a hard day.

The next day proved to be hot and long, though in looking at a map, I might not have cleared much more than fifteen miles. I crossed the Salt Basin Dunes, part of the Chihuahuan Desert. Cacti, flowers, brush, yucca, grasses, and sand covered my path. There were stones too, where water used to flow and perhaps still does when it's a wet year.

Using a topo xerox that a ranger gave me, I found my way across the desert. I may have walked a little on the old Butterfield Stage route (first coast-to-coast route in the USA, connecting a well-used route to St. Louis to destinations in California), but I never actually found a road for it. Everything was one big desert. I could see the water tower of Dell City, some 30 miles off, but I realized after a little hoofing that it didn't matter if I walked that historic route or not. I needed to focus on getting to Dell City, and so I did.

I avoided tall grasses and was constantly looking around. Even basic glances become more trying the hotter it gets. The wind picked up, so I walked often with my head down, letting my hat field some of the wind and grit. I was a little nervous because of the heat (not even yet extreme by Texas standards; probably in the 90s). The whole thing felt like a toaster oven, like I was being burned alive between the sand and the sun. But I eventually saw electricity poles, and using those, I made my way to town.

The wind was something else, at least for me. There were gusts in the 30s to 40s range and big clouds of sand and dust. I walked a lot with my eyes closed, feeling my direction with my sticks. When I saw a sort of lean-to, I went straight to it, even though it was on a fenced-in section of land (it was strange; the building was on a 20'x20' parcel of fenced-in land). The wind blew for hours more, and I ended up staying the night.

Dell City, Dell City junction, Cornudas, Hueco Village. I passed all of these places on the way to El Paso. The mountains were by now a common occurrence, and my attention drifted toward finding good Mexican food. But you can't escape a mountain's presence.

Walking I finally reached El Paso, I looked around: I was surrounded by mountains. The name literally means "the pass," the route through the mountains that people traveled to reach what is now known as New Mexico. They were probably a massive pain to someone walking or riding a horse and, during the wrong time of year, extremely dangerous. I see them as tall and elegant, a destination in and of themselves. I don't see these mountains as an obstacle that I must find a way through, rather something I want to find a way into.

I saw my first West Texas mountains from over 50 miles away. Walking slowly toward them has been one of the pleasures of my trip, perhaps of my entire life. I'm surrounded by mountains now, and will be for several weeks, but I'll remember the Guadalupe Mountains, how they rose from nothing and ushered this weary traveler into their world.

Until next time...

Flowers of the Guadalupe Mountains & Chihuahuan Desert

When I was approaching the Guadalupe Mountains, I started taking pictures of flowers and cacti of the Chihuahuan Desert. I entered the mountains and continued the practice, trying to capture just how vibrant some of these desert and mountain plants really are. Below is a sample of the beauty of the region. If I knew my flowers, I'd include their names, but I don't. Enjoy them as I did, as colors and shapes against the sand and sky.

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Until next time...

Faces of Texas

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"I'm going to be your mom for a minute. Go sleep at Annette's place."

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- Magann Rennels, and her son Gil, giving advice to me in the evening. Magann and Gil run a local news program and were tipped off by Annette Orozco that I had come to town. They came by and did a quick five minute interview. Magann didn't use notes, yet her questions came rapid fire. At the end, she still made a minute to be my mom.

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Muleshoe, Texas

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"I told Roper to come over for an interview, and he said, 'But I won't miss any school for this.'"
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- Terry Brewster of the Muleshoe Journal, pictured with Roper Kerby, a high schooler, on being shadowed by a student. The interview (arranged by Annette below) occurred during the evening, outside of school hours, so Roper had to sacrifice his own time. The pair were a fun team and the only double interview of my entire trip.
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Muleshoe, Texas
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"Everybody else has internet. We have An-nette."

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- Cliff Crabtree on the interconnectedness of the family. Cliff's sister Joyce is the one that arranged our meeting. She called Annette who organized dinner and everything else and told all the key players. Cliff's remark was right on, but he also had a great sense of humor. On the day I left, he drove out ten miles to see how I was doing. He stopped smack in the middle of the road, partway on both sides, and we had ourselves a conversation. Without even trying, he was making me smile.

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Muleshoe, Texas

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"He came up to me before bed and asked, 'Mom, could you learn how to play chess?'"

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Annette Orozco, pictured with son Reese, on her son's interest in chess. Annette and her husband Rudy invited me to couchsurf at their house before I continued hiking in the morning. I gave Reese his first chess lesson and later told Annette how well he did. Already calculating that he needed a chess partner, Reese roped his mom in before going to bed.

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Muleshoe, Texas

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"You ever heard a rattlesnake scream?"

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- Rudy Orozco on his extreme encounter with a rattler. Rudy and Cliff were riling me up with rattlesnake tales, but this one was different. Rudy had been out on a hike with his son Reese and had stepped around the edge of a rock. He unwittingly stepped right on a snake, which then screamed. Rudy had stepped far enough up on the snake that the reptile couldn't reach back to bite him, though it repeatedly tried. He pivoted, took one big step with his other foot, and ran.

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Muleshoe, Texas

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"Get over here, Mary Jane. He wants something he can throw sticks at."

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- Red Ryder, pictured with wife Mary Jane, on the photo I was about to take of them. I met the couple and their daughter Leona at Meme's restaurant in Denver City. We talked the entire meal, of Red's West Virginia origins, of Leona's music degree and subsequent year on the east coast trying to jumpstart a career. I enjoyed their descriptions of east coast life, relating to the Texan point of view entirely. Though this was not the most profound thing Red said, it made me laugh and put me in a good mood for days.

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Denver City, Texas

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"People that ask that don't understand what you're doing."

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- John Reed, owner and operator of The Winkler Post, the area's online news source (http://winklerpost.com/), on the question 'What have you learned?' John and I had a great conversation and interview, and when it came to a close, I mentioned that several interviewers had asked me what I had learned. He took offense to the question. John later met me in Orla and informed me that he had left three quarts of water along my path. His interest in and comprehension of my project made him a real pleasure to work with.

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Kermit, Texas

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"The barbecue is my life; the kids is my joy."

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- Christine, owner of Christine's Blues-N-BBQ, on work and family. I had the pleasure of meeting Christine and her partner Thomas (he doesn't do pictures) while eating at the family business. Thomas handled the barbecue preparation while Christine did customer service. The records and album covers hanging up all over the restaurant belonged to Thomas who took the time to tell me about the music he grew up with and its history. Then Christine told me about their three kids and seven grandbabies. They're not babies anymore, corrected Thomas. Christine agreed, but you could tell, she still thought of them as her babies.

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Kermit, Texas

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"There's not a coyote, rabbit, or rattlesnake that moves that I don't know about."

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- Ben Klein, a retired navy medic, on the happenings in the area. Ben lives by himself on a long stretch of desert between Mentone and Orla and runs a little shop he calls K&K. I stopped by his shop of odds and ends, looked at the hundreds of signatures that visitors had left on the porch of the building, and perused his used books, models, and trinkets. Ben liked to say he knew everyone for fifty miles around. Before nightfall, we checked up on a driver whose vehicle had broken down not far from K&K. He and the tower were a little surprised to see us, but Ben treated them like they were old friends.

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Hwy 285, Texas

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"That is a good man."

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- Jeanette Scott, postmaster of Orla, on her husband Ronnie. When Jeanette showed up to the post office in the morning, I was already there. She screamed. Jeanette quickly realized who I was (she had been receiving mail for me for some time), and she and I had a running conversation throughout the day. Jeanette introduced me to every customer that came in, told me about her family, recounted the loss of a daughter, asked about my trip. She also called her husband and asked him to bring me a couple of cedar posts for walking sticks, which he did. A quiet man, Ronnie asked just enough to be polite, then headed off to work. Jeanette watched the door close and spoke as much to me as to herself when she said the words above. It was my favorite moment of the morning.

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Orla, Texas

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"That's a Texas Horned Toad. We used to play with them as kids."

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- Deputy Sheriff Chris of Mentone on an unidentified picture I showed him on my camera. I had met Chris just as I was leaving Mentone, and he hooked me up with internet at the courthouse and let me stay the night there, too. (Locals later told me that thought he was locking me up.) When I saw Chris this day, I was just past Orla (about 30 miles from Mentone), and he was checking up on me. When I asked about the picture, he told me that he and his friends used to stage massive battles with little green army men, then introduce a Texas Horned Toad as an attacking dinosaur. He hadn't seen one in a long time.

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Ranch Road 652, Texas

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"But I don't wanna be the dinosaur!"

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- The Texas Horned Toad (or Lizard) on playing war with little boys. Though I didn't touch it or place it amidst several platoons of green army men, I later read that when threatened the Texas Horned Toad can squirt blood out of the corners of its eyes or mouth up to five feet away.

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Ranch Road 652, Texas

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"Everyone I know who has stuck with what they wanted to do -- art, music, writing, etc. -- is doing it."

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- Kevin Wass, Associate Professor of Music at Texas Tech University, on staying true to your dreams. I met Kevin at the Tejas Campground on the Tejas Trail at Guadalupe Mountains National Park. He explained that he had gotten his Doctorate of Music Arts with a specialization in the tuba. All sorts of people tried to dissuade him, but with support from his wife and mother, Kevin went back to school for a degree that would qualify him for one of about sixty positions across the United States. After graduation, he got one of them.

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Guadalupe Mountains National Park, Texas

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