Shooting Stars and Jumping Cars

Palo Duro Canyon is not scenery you’re expecting to come across in West Texas, the land of ugly. This became an essential Tour de Polkahontas stop when a guest at the ranch told me it was the ‘Grand Canyon of Texas’. Upon arriving, I got my park pass and quickly found a short trail to hike and a rock to do yoga on before the sun started setting. When I got to the parking lot of the campsite there were two other cars. One belonged to a couple. The other belonged to a group of (cute) guys who looked like they were packing up to leave. I went over to say hello to the guys. You know…..just to be friendly. Blayne, Devin, Daniel, and I chatted about trails in the canyon and Colorado life for a while before I went to set up camp. I hiked in to find a good spot, then fired up my camp stove and started boiling water for my vegan pad thai. Not much time passed before I heard one of the cute guys approach my site.

‘Hey, Darrah. Do you by chance have jumper cables?’ I poured the water into the noodles and left it to steep as I walked back out to my car and parked it in front of the boys’ Jeep. When I handed them my cables, they shared a look with each other and then looked back at me.

‘Do you by any chance know how to use jumper cables?’ Blayne asked sheepishly. I stifled a giggle. It’s no time to gloat when men are THAT vulnerable. After teaching ‘Car Jumping 101’, I went back to camp to set up my tent. I didn’t actually end up sleeping in it, but it was nice to know it was there if I wanted to. Dinner was filling and afterward I prepared for bed, had a cup of tea, and read my favorite book by light of my headlamp. When the last remnant of sunlight was long gone from the canyon walls, I blew up my sleeping pad and rolled my bag out next to my tent. I shed a few layers and my shoes, then crawled into my camp bed and pulled my scarf over my nose and mouth. The hood of my sleeping bag was pulled tight so that only an oval window allowed my eyes to star gaze, making me feel like Charles Deane in the first copper diving helmet with only a small window to take everything in. The moon was half full and so radiant that only the brightest stars were visible around it. I watched three stars fall and made wishes that will never come true. I sighed deeply, soaking in the moment and letting its beauty fill my heart with appreciation for this experience. Under the brilliant moon and deep, dark blue sky, I drifted off to sleep.

In the middle of the night, I faintly heard the couple arguing. A woman’s voice insisted that it was too cold and a hotel was necessary. The crisp night air filled with the noise of their zippers pulling and their car doors slamming. Their engine got quieter, further away until they were gone. I snuggled down deeper into my sleeping bag. Silence. I was alone. For all I know, I could have been the only soul in the canyon that night.

I woke up a few more times to darkness. One of these awakenings was due to a strong wind that was whispering secrets through the trees. I put my back to the wind and tried to calm a panic that came over me.

It should be light by now. How long have I been out here?  I considered checking my phone to see if there was an emergency notification saying the sun wasn’t coming up, like how it goes off when there’s an Amber Alert in the area. The announcement would read ‘Attention; Sun cancelled today. Find alternative source of light and energy’. The trees rustled and it frightened me. I searched my mind for stories from the psychiatric penitentiary where serial killers walked state parks in search of their next unsuspecting victim. Nothing came to mind, thankfully. I reasoned with myself that even if there were a serial killer who normally does so, he or she would probably take the night off because it was cold and windy. I counted stars. I calculated how close I am to reaching 10,000 hours on a tennis court (I’m at about 3,000). I sang Train songs and watched the moon slug across the sky. I considered hiking back to my car, but forced myself to take 25 deep breaths before I did that. By number 11 I was fast asleep again.

The morning did come, as it usually does. I made tea with my Jetboil and savored every sip while I watched the sun rise, as if I was drinking the sunshine itself After packing up camp I studied the map to find my trailhead. With the click of my pack around my waist, excitement set in. Like in the minds of Pavlov’s dogs, the sound aroused something in me. But instead of salivation for meat, the click spurred anticipation for beauty and struggle through the 8 miles in front of me. The hike was absolutely beautiful. Early morning hiking is my favorite. It starts cold and slow. Then the canyon comes to life as the sun lifts off the horizon. The wind kept up, but I didn’t mind. The sun was shining and that’s more than I could ask for. It highlighted each crevice in the rich red clay of the canyon walls. It was truly a gorgeous morning. Upon returning to the trailhead hungry and tired, I got in my car and inhaled a PB&J. Palo Duro Canyon: done.