Big Bend National Park - Camping In the Desert

© C.Calhoun 2012. All rights reserved.

When I was fourteen and in high school, I had the chance to take a month-long seminar. It was a trip to the Chihuahuan Desert in Big Bend National Park. The trip involved camping, backpacking, canoeing and learning about desert ecology. I was thrilled until the trip turned into a series of inopportune events....

The First Few Days - The Misadventures Begin

For many of us, high school is an experience not much different than a roller coaster ride. The ups, downs and in-betweens are fraught with friendships and un-frienships, moments of academic triumph and "who will sit with me at lunch?"

When my roller coaster took off to the desert, it started with an uphill climb. As a class, we were separated into the Red Group and Blue Group - depending on which 15-passenger van we took. Immediately one girl defected from the Red Group to the Blue Group. She gave me a look. A look. Was it me?

The ride from Colorado to southern Texas began. We had planned and learned about desert survival. Now, we were going to recklessly apply those skills, ready or not. On the way down, we stopped for lunch in an un-named town. I got out of the van and watched the tumbleweeds roll by. In the water-closet-style bathroom that smelled oddly of old-lady perfume, I looked in the mirror. There was a mysterious spot on my face that hadn't been there before. Uh...what's that? I thought. Hmm. I splashed water on my face, hoping it would just go away.

The next day, we found ourselves in Fort Stockton, Texas. All 23 of us were studying about desert plants and the signs of dehydration.

My teacher came around to check on our progress. He took one look at me and loudly declared, "My, what are those spots on your face?"

Immediately, all the other students - the nerdy ones, the cool ones, the popular and not so unpopular, glanced in my direction. I lost some popularity points in that instant; I don't think I had that many to begin with.

Suddenly he made an announcement, "Class, we are taking this young lady to the emergency room to get those spots looked after. You'll just have to stay in this park awhile longer and eat your lunch here."

What?!? Could I just crawl into a cave, NOW, please? A tear rolled down my face as I tried to contain my emotions in front of everybody.

Jerry and I got into the Red Van and headed to the Fort Stockton hospital. By this time I had something like 17 spots on my face. I wiped away another stray tear, crossed my arms and silently looked out the window.

We got to the ER and I had the dubious honor of pushing the Big, Red Button so that sirens would go off and I would be gallantly diagnosed with...impetigo. Strep on the face.

Unfortunate event number one.

I received a dose of antibiotics and explicit instructions on how to wash my face...even in the middle of the desert.

As we headed into the Chisos Mountains, my spots slowing fading away, I happily assumed my mis-adventures were behind me.

Ever heard that saying, "Don't ASSUME, because U Make an A** out of U and Me?"

We loaded our backpacks and began a 5-day hike into the wilderness. Day one was fine, no broken bones or anything like that. But I did get two blisters. I was terribly self-conscious, so I didn't say anything to my teachers. I'd already had enough mishaps and the trip was barely getting started. I attempted to doctor myself with band-aids.

Day two came and went, as well as two more blisters. Now I had four blisters to walk on, with a 75lb. backpack and the weight of my body. My feet were screaming and after two days in the hot desert - though it was January - they were smelly. Wool socks, no showers, hiking and sweating in the same shoes...ew. I was not going to tell my teachers. Once again, I attempted to doctor myself with more band-aids that sadly and annoyingly kept falling off.

Day three and four of the trip only elevated my level of agony. I now had a total of eight blisters on my feet. I went to one of the four teachers in the group - one that I thought I could trust. "Please don't tell anyone," I begged. "I have eight blisters and sitting out to burn up in the sun sounds like a picnic compared to what my feet are going through."

"I can't believe you suffered this long!" was her response. Well, I had principles and I had been embarrassed enough on this trip already. She gave me some Second Skin. I used up half the group's supply, but at least now I could enjoy the desert sunrises and sunsets without feeling like I had my feet resting on cacti. Later on that evening though, I overheard my teacher laughing, saying, "Yeah, she was too embarrassed to say anything." I rolled my eyes and crawled in my sleeping bag to get some reading done.

Our backpacking adventure yielded to a canoeing expedition. The first night we stopped at a flat area along the Rio Grande that would accompany the Red Group. The Blue Group rowed on to stay downstream somewhere.

Our teacher asked us to go write in our journals. I had the bright idea that I would go hang my feet over the steep banks of the river. I climbed a tall hill nearby, walked past some trees and held out my hand to feel the tips of the long grasses. I slowed down as I got near the bank. I couldn't tell where it was because the grass and other plants were hiding the edge. I stepped a little closer...and a little closer...until...there was nothing to step on.

Immediately, I could feel my body falling and instinctively grabbed on to handfuls of grass. The first fistful gave way in my right hand. I had my pen in that hand and watched while the grass and pen fell about thirty or forty feet below. The pen shattered on the sharp rocks as water - deceptively calm - lapped against their jagged edges. Desperately, I grabbed more grass and dangled there for a few long moments. If I fall, I thought, no one would know. I'd hit the rocks and sink to the bottom of the river.

Somehow, I still had my journal in my other hand and thrust it farther up the bank. I swung my body once, twice, a third and finally a fourth time to allow my feet to crawl up the bank. As I gained footing, I grabbed ever more clumps of grass until I was far enough away from the edge that I could sit, lay down, and recover.

I won't tell anyone about this, I thought. If I do, they might not let me be alone again...or something. Besides, I had been quite adept at embarrassing myself on this trip.

We stayed at this particular campsite for a couple of days and spent the better part of the next day hiking into the canyon up from the river.

The rock formations reached into the sky. Once again, our teacher had us start journaling to record our thoughts. I picked a rock toward the middle of the small canyon to sit upon. I soaked up the sun and began writing. I grew oblivious to my surroundings.

A little while later, I felt a thud and rubbed the back of my head. There was blood! Then I heard, "Oh, sorry!" from a group of boys on the far side of the narrow canyon. They were throwing rocks to pass the time. Of course one hit me on the head, and as if guided by an unseen hand of rock-y energy, it hit my barrette, cutting my scalp. I began to feel slightly nauseated and willed my head to stop hurting. I tried to concentrate on my writing, despite a rather pronounced episode of vertigo. It would be an interesting descent out of the canyon.

That evening, I decided to help out with the campfire. I was feeling better, and wanted to contribute to the group's efforts at our meal. I was speaking with a friend as I carried wood to the fire. As I passed by some of the canoes, I stepped into a small rabbit hole, twisting my ankle.

The wood flew out of my hands and I fell, landing on top of a couple of the canoes.

My friend yelled, "Hey, Jerry! You'd better come here!" I writhed as I endured pain that shot up my leg. I looked over at my friend and asked him why he called Jerry. I had simply twisted my ankle and it would be fine in a few moments!

Jerry looked at me as if I were a cloud of bad karma. I was wondering myself as well: what in the world I had done to have so much bad luck?

"Stand on your feet," Jerry commanded. I hadn't yet put any weight on my foot and winced as I put it down. But, the shooting pains had already stopped and I was pleasantly surprised that only a dull pain was now present. Jerry tried to give me ibuprofen, but I refused. I tried willing my body to heal itself - on my head and on my foot - without drugs.

The next morning, Jerry called me down to help out with breakfast. I had laid my sleeping bag at the top of the hill next to the campfire and proceeded to walk down, forgetting the fact that my left ankle was weaker after twisting it. I was looking right at Jerry when it gave out and I tumbled and rolled and fell all...the...way...down...the...hill...before coming to a stop at the bottom. I opened my eyes and saw Jerry standing over me, once again shaking his head at this kid who seemed to have a nebulous veil of misfortune at her back. He gave a slight incredulous chuckle as he reached out his hand to help me up.

Once we got out of the river basin and our days of canoeing were behind us, I sighed in relief to be on the last leg of the trip before heading home. Little did I know, I would endure a few other mishaps before it was all over.

The day we finished on the river, we made camp somewhere in the vicinity of the Rio Grande, not too far from the river's edge. I helped our Red Group pitch the two tents needed to shelter all of us. I schlepped my camping gear inside one of the tents. I'd roll out my sleeping bag later. It was dinnertime and I felt grumbling stomach pains after a day on the river and not much food. Later that evening after warming up by the fire, I returned to my tent to find my gear staked outside. I peered in and four other girls had taken up residence - no room for a fifth. There were four boys in the other tent, and besides being full, I knew I couldn't stay with the boys. I thought about just sleeping under the stars, but it looked like it was going to rain. I went over to one of my teachers - the only female - and asked if I could stay in her tent. I didn't want to - I was already a rather goofy kid, and if I had any semblance of fitting in with my peers, I destroyed it by begging my teacher to stay with her. She made room in her tent for me, though. I promptly fell asleep.

The next morning, we headed back home. We stopped at a youth hostel in a little town in New Mexico. One of my acquaintances on the trip was feeling rather gloomy. In fact, she was so downtrodden that she took out her pocketknife - we all had knives for camping. But instead of using it for normal camping things, she began to cut herself. I broke out in a sweat. "What are you doing? Why are you doing that?" I gasped.

She ignored me. Growing desperate, I ran for other people that I thought she had grown close to on this trip. I knew that if I called an adult immediately, I'd break some code of etiquette among teenagers or something. You just didn't involve adults on matters like these - at least not yet, I reasoned. I called them into the room and begged them to talk to her. Concerned, they obliged...and shut me out. But that was all right. I was rather tramatized from seeing someone willingly cut into her flesh and I went out for a walk.

When it started getting late, I asked my teacher if I could sleep in her room again and she replied, "No, you snore too much. I need to be alert for driving tomorrow." I snored? When?

Gingerly, I knocked on the door to the girls' room. They let me in and I immediately looked to the girl who had started to cut herself. She was laughing and as I yanked out my sleeping bag from its stuff-bag, they began to involve me in their conversation.

I was changed after that entire trip. Scarred, scathed and otherwise exhausted, I watched the world pass me by from the van window until arriving home in Colorado. When I arrived home, I never felt a greater appreciation for the safety, tranquilty and love of family and home.

Despite all the trials and tribulations on this trip, I always laugh when I tell this story. People always marvel at how in just three short weeks, I endured all this.

I'm not sure. I've always loved Nature and took solace in the fact that she was truly earning my respect.

I haven't gone on a long backpacking trip since then, though. Even though I love mountain biking and working outside, I am reluctant to partake in too many extreme activities. Plus, I think I get rather beat up - just look at how I had to survive in an emergency.

I wish this hub on Tent Camping for Beginners existed before I set out on my fateful trip.

If you're going to try your hand in the wilderness, check out this hub on Tent Camping - Food and Meals. You can eat amazing food that rivals no other!

If you have a Dutch oven, you can take it camping with you. You'll be the envy of every camper with your gourmet food. Learn more at Campfire Cooking with a Dutch Oven.

Oh yeah, one of the other students on my trip must have had yummy food. A bear cub came and stole her stuff! Read about Camping with Kids...and Bears!

Find out what camping and outdoor gear you need over at this hub on Camping and Outdoor Gear.

Out of 23 people on my trip, there were only 7 girls. I really wished I had been able to read the hub, Hiking Guide for Women and Girls. I think my whole experience would have been a lot better!

Review a few of the basics before going out on a canoeing trip. Check out A few Basics of Wilderness Canoeing.