On to Chisos Mountain Lodge

 After lunch in Marathon (March 8, 2023), our group headed south towards the Chisos Mountain Lodge. (Click on any image to enlarge.)

Nominally, it's a 90-minute drive, but we'll be making stops along the way. Our first pause was brief, at the Border Control Checkpoint just a few miles south of town.

Why so far  from the Mexican border? Because US-385 is the only passage through a gargantuan area of mountains and desert, the station can do its job at this convenient location.

In our case, the officers glanced into the van and asked if anyone present wasn't a US citizen. Then, off we went. Next stop: the border of the national park.

Springtime flowers were poking up.

And these big bend bluebonnets.

The road ahead, mountains on the horizon.

And a historical marker.

Further on, we stopped again to visit the Fossil Discovery Center.

In eons past, this area has been an ocean bed,

and a lush environment for the giants of the past.

Dinosaur through the glass.

Quetzalcoatlus is probably the largest flying creature ever.

Then came the "modern" era.

Rank upon rank of mountains in the distance. The Chisos Mountains are the southernmost in the lower 48 states, and the only mountain range entirely within a national park.

After a stop at the Panther Junction Visitor's Center, our van began climbing the mountains. (The highest point, Emory Peak, hits 7,825 feet elevation.) The lodge and campground sit in the caldera of the extinct volcano.

Joan and I ensured that our companions, Pugsly, Davis (the javelina we adopted at Fort Davis the day before), and Pig-O had a good view from our room.

After dinner, I grabbed this shot of the sunset seen through the "Window," a geologic feature our group would visit later in the trip, from both above and below.

Tomorrow, our van will take us to locations where we can stretch our legs.

Big Bend 2023

On March 6, 2023, Joan and I flew to El Paso, Texas, to join a small group tour of Big Bend National Park run by Off the Beaten Path. We checked into our downtown hotel and met our fellow travelers and our guide, Melissa, at dinner. This was a reunion of sorts -- Melissa had been our guide on a trip to the San Juan Islands back in 2011!

 

In the morning, the eight of us (including Melissa) piled into our van and began the long drive east and south, soon leaving Mountain time for the Central time zone. Today's track (click on any image to enlarge):

We had a pit stop and snack as we left I-10, then turned south towards the University of Texas McDonald Observatory. In the process, we gained altitude and passed through climate zones. Before reaching the observatory, we paused for our lunch break.

The McDonald, inaugurated in 1939, is remote, with excellent dark skies and a bit of altitude to boot.

The facility sprawls across the mountaintop, including facilities for visiting astronomers. Its dome is a classic.

The parking area is lower down; thus, we hiked the final stretch to the dome along an asphalt drive. Scenic viewpoints popped up along the way.

Some sections of the road had cracks or missing chunks at the edge. As we walked over to a viewpoint, Joan was ambushed by one of the missing edges and fell, injuring her right ankle. We were glad she'd been wearing her hiking boots. However, it was still painful, with the sensation of "shooting stars" in her consciousness as Joan hobbled up to the dome for the Harlan J. Smith telescope, which saw first light in 1968. Fortunately, she was able to take an elevator up to the talk.

The primary mirror is 107" across!

Later, we visited the site of the Hobby-Eberly telescope, which saw first light in 1996.

Its advanced design uses 91 hexagonal mirrors instead of one giant mirror, giving it an aperture (diameter) of 10 meters, or 30 feet.

A model of one of the 91 segments.

Then it was time to drive down to the small town of Fort Davis, where we would spend the night. Melissa had a treat for us; after unpacking we hopped into the van and drove to Alpine for a scrumptious dinner at the Reata restaurant. Chocolate tamale, anyone?

Back in our room, Joan and I attended to her ankle. It was purple and swollen. Ice helped, but we wondered how badly this would affect our trip. Melissa knocked on our door. She inspected Joan's ankle and said, "I don't think it's broken." But she reminded us that the rest of the tour involved a lot of walking. She said if we wanted to return home, deferring this trip for another time, we would have to decide by the next morning. After that, we would be so deep into the "middle of nowhere" that it would be difficult to arrange a return. As we prepared for bed, Joan and I were leaning toward staying with the group.