Following up on my overall impressions of Big Bend National Park, today I’ll take you on a tour of the sights. Our first morning we drove up into the Chisos Mountains to hike the Chisos Basin Loop Trail. At an elevation of 4,500 feet over the desert floor, and with twice as much rainfall as down by the Rio Grande, the Chisos Basin is a surprising microclimate, with trees like alligator juniper, drooping juniper, Arizona cypress, pines, and oaks. Grasses grow in profusion here too although, as you can see, this area is also suffering from prolonged drought.

Havard agave and juniper

Here’s an agave that bloomed and then died. Its bleached bloom spike still stands…

…unlike this one, which has toppled over.

Mexican feathergrass

I don’t know what these pretty, white seedheads are. Anyone recognize them?

We spotted a few Carmen white-tailed deer in the Basin.

Carmen deer live only in the Chisos Mountains and in nearby mountains in Mexico, isolated here after the last Ice Age, as the surrounding country warmed and turned into a desert.

The Window View is a much-photographed spot.

As the day heated up and the sun grew intense, we spent time driving the park roads and ended up at a boat launch along the Rio Grande. Although signs prohibited it, we couldn’t resist strolling across an ankle-deep section of the river to stand on Mexican soil.

Santa Elena Canyon straddles the border with Mexico. This is the Mexican side of the canyon…

…and on the right is the U.S. side.

The next day we drove to Boquillas Canyon to hike, where I spotted huisache (Acacia farnesiana) in full bloom.

The flowers look like yellow pom-poms.

Just inside the canyon, a steep sand dune beckons the adventurous (and fit) to clamber up the deep, slippery slope, which you almost have to do on all fours. Only my husband made it to the top, along with a father and son from Belton, Texas.

Strategically placed along the trail, little beaded scorpions and roadrunners and carved walking sticks are offered “for a donation for the kids of Boquillas,” with only a collection cup and the honor system. We understood, from prohibitive signs in the parking lot, that Mexicans from the town of Boquillas, visible just across the river, were selling these trinkets to tourists, even though they risk deportation 100 miles away by the U.S. Border Patrol if caught. The signs advised that buying would only encourage the illegal trade and possibly result in the seller’s deportation and confiscation of anything you bought. What a sad situation. Before 9/11, the border between Boquillas and the U.S. was open, and the tourist trade flourished. However, the border crossing was officially closed after 9/11, destroying the Mexican town’s livelihood. According to Wikipedia, most of the residents have had to abandon Boquillas.

The day grew warm, but we headed next to the park’s hot springs, along with more tourists than we’d seen anywhere.

Apparently a dip in a hot pool sounds good even on a hot day. Volcanoes created Big Bend millions of years ago, and there’s still enough heat under the earth’s crust to warm the spring-fed pool.

This nondescript, upright shrub was alive with a deep humming.

Its branches were covered in pretty, purple flowers…

…and hundreds, maybe thousands, of busy honeybees. Does anyone know the name of this desert shrub? This is guayacan (Guaiacum angustifolium). My thanks to David R. for the ID.

Above, the mud nests of cliff swallows adorned the stratified cliff wall along the river.

This would be a fascinating place for a geologist.

Fresh, green mesquite leaves

Back on the road, we spotted Big Bend bluebonnets (Lupinus havardii). They are much taller than the bluebonnets in central Texas, as befits of place of such extremes. In case you’re wondering, all varieties of Texas bluebonnets are officially Texas’ state flower.

Because of the drought, the bluebonnets and other wildflowers were sadly sparse. In wetter springs I’ve heard the desert floor can be colorful.

We left Big Bend on Saturday for the town of Marfa via FM 170, which leads through Big Bend Ranch State Park, the largest state park in Texas. The scenery along the narrow, twisting highway, which climbs through ancient volcanic mountains, was as good as anything we saw in the national park. We stopped to hike Closed Canyon, a narrow slot canyon carved by occasional flooding that leads to the Rio Grande. There had been a thunderstorm the night before, but by the time we arrived the water was gone and a flash flood unlikely, so we hiked in, noting that should water rush in, there would be no escape up the smooth walls of the canyon.

The kids particularly enjoyed this hike. The canyon floor steps down along the way, with increasingly higher drops. Unsure we could get back up, we eventually turned around and hiked back to the car, wondering how the canyon ended: was it a box canyon or open at the end? I found the answer online when I got home: it’s open all the way to the river, but steeper drops near the end may require use of a rope.

Another ocotillo in bloom

Check out those wicked thorns.

The tubular flowers are sure to attract hummingbirds.

A last look back at Big Bend country.

To read my first post about Big Bend and the impact of the drought, click here. Next up: Terlingua’s ghost town and the Starlight Theatre.

By the way, my blog Digging is a finalist for Best Gardening Blog in the Readers’ Choice Awards at About.com. I’d love to have your vote. You can vote once a day (it’s on a 24-hour cycle) until March 21. So vote early and often! Thanks for your support! (And thank you to Pamela Price for the vote graphic.) Click to VOTE.

All material © 2006-2012 by Pam Penick for Digging. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited.

On Saturday we returned to the Hill Country to see Westcave Preserve, a 75-acre nature sanctuary located about 40 miles west of Austin. Westcave is known for its beautiful grotto hidden at the end of a sheltered canyon “created more than 100,000 years ago by the gradual collapse of an immense limestone cave.” Cedar elms along the rim were at peak color.

Our trail guide stopped often to talk about the diversity of native plants growing in the savannah along the rim and in the moist canyon below.

Texas palmettos (Sabal minor) appear as soon as you descend into the canyon.

As you near the end of the box canyon, where the cave and grotto are hidden, the sense of enclosure can only be alleviated by looking up at the sky.

A wooden bridge crosses a leaf-strewn creek toward the looming monster’s mouth of the cave opening.

Our guide led us inside the dripping cave to show us “soda straws” and other calcereous formations, along with the remains of a prehistoric oyster bed embedded in the cave wall above our heads, marking the level of an ancient inland sea that once covered central Texas.

Exiting the cave and looking to the right, you see a grotto that was formed when part of the cave’s roof collapsed, opening up this section of the cave to the sky. It reminds me of Hamilton Pool, which is just a few miles down the road from Westcave and was indeed formed the same way.

Stairs lead visitors into the grotto behind the waterfall that flows over the lip of the roof. Most of the fragile grotto is off limits to protect it.

Ferns hang from the roof, catching moisture that seeps and drips over the edge.

A steady waterfall patters over the grotto’s roof, plinking into a deceptively deep pool below—25 feet deep, our guide told us!

Westcave Preserve may be less dramatic than expansive Hamilton Pool, but it has a tranquility and sense of mystery you don’t often find there. You must take a guided tour to see Westcave, so be sure to check the website for a tour schedule and admission fees.

All material © 2006-2009 by Pam Penick for Digging. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited.

After a decadent Thanksgiving Day feast of turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie on Thursday, we needed a little fresh air and exercise, so on Friday we headed out to Pedernales Falls State Park, about 35 miles west of Austin in the rolling green Hill Country of central Texas. Locals Texify the pronunciation to “Purdanalez,” but however you say it, this is a beautiful place.

Geology enthusiasts might like to know that, according to the park’s website, “the cascading falls are formed by the flow of water over the tilted, stair-step effect of layered limestone. These river limestones belong to the 300-million-year-old Marble Falls formation and are part of the southwestern flank of the Llano uplift. These layers of limestone were tilted by the uplift, then eroded long before early Cretaceous seas of the 100-to-120 million years ago covered this part of Texas and deposited sands, gravels, younger limestones, and marine fossils.”

The river wasn’t running high on Friday, but that can change in a matter of minutes, signs warn. Thunderstorms upstream of the falls that you never hear can cause dangerous flash floods, and you’re advised to run for high ground immediately if you see water levels begin to rise or muddy water suddenly running into clear water.

Eons of rushing water have turned the limestone riverbed into a labyrinth of curving slots, tunnels, and caves. People were clambering all over these towering, river-smoothed rocks, peering over the edges into deep, still pools or, on the other side, a scary-looking rapids where the river tumbled through a narrow bend.

Swimming and other river activities aren’t allowed at the falls because of the dangerous rapids and currents, so climbing was what everyone was doing. These young people had managed to cross to the far side—private property according to the website—and were fearlessly exploring caves…

…and clambering up and down crumbling cliffs.

Another cave. Notice how the rocks have been worn to a silver sheen? It was beautiful.

Amid tumbled limestone boulders, cedar elms and other trees added golden fall color.

This section of the falls was flowing nicely.

A water-carved channel. The slot looked about 10 feet deep.

Hill Country beauty

Texas sotols (Dasylirion texanum) grew thickly amid the boulders alongside the river. I walked among them enviously, wishing for a handful like these in my garden. A lovely golden-leaved tree in their midst captivated me, but I’m not sure what it was.

A close-up of its golden leaves.

And a closer look at one of those stunning sotols.

OK, here are a few more, with Ashe junipers (Texans call them cedars) in the background.

Yellow leaves

This yellowing cedar elm supported two vines, one turning yellow, the other red.

Or maybe it was one vine with red and yellow leaves?

Purplish blue Ashe juniper berries looked so pretty against the fragrant green foliage.

Virginia creeper blazed against a juniper’s shaggy brown trunk.

Above the river, a woodland trail through juniper trees led past more Texas sotols, twistleaf yucca, and Texas nolina, all growing happily in the dappled shade and rocky soil.

Pedernales Falls is a lovely place to spend a morning or afternoon, or you can camp there overnight. For more, check out this short video of a park ranger talking about why he loves Pedernales; it includes video of tranquil Twin Falls, which we missed this time. We’ll be back to see it.

All material © 2006-2009 by Pam Penick for Digging. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited.