NOT YOUR AVERAGE DESERT TREK

By CINDA CHAVICH

(Big Bend, Texas) - When Canadian mountaineers Jamie Clarke and Bruce Kirkby began planning for their monumental 1,200-km trek across the Arabia’s Empty Quarter in1998, it was challenging even for these seasoned adventurers.

Climbing Everest is one thing. But how do a couple of guys from Calgary learn to conquer the inversely severe environs of sand and sun, never mind coexists with camels?

Why, with a couple of equally-insane guys in southern Texas, of course.

Clarke and Kirkby went to the remote Big Bend Ranch State Park, deep in the parched wilderness of western Texas, to find naturalist David Alloway and camel handler Doug Baum. The two Texans were both making their livings in this stretch of the Chihuahuan Desert, Alloway  teaching state border patrollers , customs officers and Air Force pilots how to survive the harsh desert environment; Baum teaching school kids about the historic Texas Camel Corp with his menagerie of friendly dromedaries.

But it was only after the Canadian adventurers came to Alloway  and Baum for a desert primer, that the pair pooled their skills and designed a similar soft adventure  program for the general public. Now almost anyone – Baum has had guests as young as nine and as old as 83 - can explore this empty quarter of Texas from the back of a camel.

Soft being the operative work, it sounded like a good choice for a city girl like me.

While it may sound wild, even a little crazy, to take a camel trek in the continental U.S., it’s a low-risk kind of adventure that’s perfect for the rugged urbanite looking for great bragging rights. And I felt a bit like a Canadian adventurer myself, albeit no match for the adrenaline junkies who came before me, as I headed out across the packed, hardpan plain, perched precariously in the sky-high saddle (a camel’s hump is a dizzying eight feet off the ground). I had signed the waver and opted to wear the geeky riding helmet, just in case I landed on my head, which I am prone to, even from far lesser heights.

These ancient beasts of burden may be considered domestic animals but they are very large and unpredictable – 2,000 pounds of massive body, elongated neck and a hilarious head, atop spindly legs, with leathery knees that fold at will whenever something savoury appears at ground level. As they say, the average camel looks like something designed by a committee and slapped together on a Friday afternoon. The six smelly steeds in this gangly group are no exception.

My mount is Chewbacca, a mature and once-feral camel from the Australian outback that Baum rescued from an exotic animal dealer. Chewy (aka Robert E.) carried Martin Sheen in his recent film, A Texas Funeral, so I’m feeling both privileged and safe. That is, until he peers at me with one big brown eye and tries to pin my leg against the corral fence.

It’s just a test. I yank my knee up and he takes the steel crossbar in his own ribs. It’s enough to resign him to the fact that we’re going out for a walk, and I’m riding.

Baum tells us how the original Texas Camel Corp was born in the 1850s, with two dozen camels that took government surveyors into this remote corner of Texas to scout for settlement sites. Then he gives us all the standard safety spiel, explaining that camels like Chewy, Sam and Chug can get nasty, but not before warning you with a regurgitated spew of slimy cud.

“Camels don’t spit, they puke,” he explains, clearly enjoying our citified reaction.

“I’ve never had a guest bitten or kicked,” he adds, “but, before a camel bites or kicks or addresses your lineage, they will vomit first.”

Lovely. Well, information is power, but I’ll be sure to keep my distance from both ends of our cranky conveyances.  I’m hanging on – for dear life, really – to the wide handle across the front of the customized saddle that’s tilted on the back of Chewy’s massive hump. Baum has determined that I will lead the pack of six riders, our camels tied together in two strings, which seems mad, until I realize that he will be on the ground, a firm hand on Chewbacca’s lead. This, I surmise, is likely the best place to be, closest to the boss.

Like the Bedu guides that led the Canadian trek through Arabia, both Baum and Alloway are on foot as we head out toward the natural pools carved out of the rock at Cinco Tinajas. Thus, the pace is slow and easy, no faster than the pair can amble, while pointing out interesting flora and fauna along the way. In this environment, the camels seem at home, stopping to strip the small leaves from a scraggly stem of ocotillo with their big, yellow teeth, vocalizing their opinions on the pace, with low, guttural growls.

“They’re not angry, just chatty,” explains Baum, using the kind of baby talk I reserve for my spoiled house cats to address the big, rangy beasts. Baum is a former zoo keeper who clearly loves these camels, many that he’s bottle fed from birth. Soon you begin feeling like you’re out for the day with the family pet straining at the leash.

Chewbacca seems calm and I soon get used to his rolling gait. There’s no galloping on these camels. The trickiest motion is matching their bouncy downhill trot.

“They’re not prone to stampeding – they’re not really given to running,” drawls Baum with a smirk, “but it is a little nippy today and camels can become a little spirited in the cold.”

I’m prepared for the worst but the trip is uneventful. The ride is actually calming with its rhythmic swaying motion and spare but dramatic scenery.  Dubbed el despoblado, or the uninhabited  land, by Spanish explorers, this area sees only 3,000 visitors a year, still a stretch of empty wilderness where you’ll find nothing but quiet solitude.

Big Bend Ranch State Park is one of the newest and most remote parks in the country, an undiscovered extension of the larger and more well traveled Big Bend National Park next door. Opened in 1997, it’s 287,000 acres of desert, dotted with spiny cactus and crossed by only one interior road. From the locked gate just past Fort Leaton in Presidio (where you must buy a permit to get the access code to enter), it’s 56 km of mostly rough gravel to the Sauceda Ranch where the treks begin.

Until recently, this was a massive private cattle ranch and the state maintains a herd of resident Texas longhorns in keeping with the area’s history, animals you may encounter as you head along the 30-km main trail that rings the park. There are other animals here, too – cougars, coyotes, kangaroo rats, geckos and javelina, a kind of tusked feral pig that gather s wherever one of the region’s many underground springs breaks the surface to form a small, life-sustaining pool.

But like everything out here in the desert heat, wildlife is scarce and scattered. There is virtually no shelter – the flat, rocky landscape is punctuated with short shrubs, small clumps of creosote, rainbow cactus and the ubiquitous prickly pears, their masses of flat paddles adding sage green and burgundy contrasts to the miles of buff, sandy soil. Occasionally you’ll find a shady respite from the burning sun, a “riparian area” where a turbid spring-fed stream supports a few ragged cottonwoods and a flock of chirpy wrens. But this is mostly a parched place, with a bleak beauty born of immense emptiness.

Coming from Canada, where wilderness survival usually depends on staying warm and dry, not cool and hydrated, it’s easy to underestimate the dangers of this back county.  Without sufficient water, even a car breakdown in its blistering 120-degree summer heat can be risky and visitors are encouraged to have emergency kits, extra food and water when traveling here.  Alloway, a former park ranger and the first non-Australian to complete the 200-kilometer Pilbara Trek through Australia's punishing outback, teaches people to be respectful of the desert, but not fearful.

“People lived here 12,000 years ago and if they did it, we can do it, too,” he tells the hardy men and women who sign up for his survival schools. “Over time, we’ve become more urban and we’ve lost the ability to save our own life, but these are skills you can learn.”

Clarke and Kirkby didn’t rely on GPS systems and neither will you if you study with Alloway. Like some latter-day Comanche tracker, he uses the sun, the moon and other natural clues to keep himself oriented. He’ll show you how to start a fire with nothing more than elbow grease, where to dig in a dry creek bed for water, and how to sew with the spines and fibrous core of a spiky sotol leaf.

Alloway looks the part in his a felt cowboy hat and army surplus sweater, a Texas version of Crocodile Dundee. Part naturalist, part survivalist, he’s the kind of guy you’d want to have on your side if you were lost in this endless and empty desert wilderness.

But I’m not sure I’d enjoy learning all he knows. His intense, three-day survival treks focus on finding water, not food, and sound like a great way to lose weight. Dumped in the desert with seven other survivors, two quarts of water, a knife, compass and emergency blanket, graduates of his survival workshops can work on their fire-starting and interpersonal skills in a real life and death situation. Sure, there’s always a radio nearby, and instructors monitor the group “from a discreet distance,” but it’s all too close to reality TV for me.

“With enough water a healthy person could walk out of any area in the continental U.S. before starving,” he tells potential students. “If you are not physically able to go three days without a large meal you should not be attending the advanced courses.”

I’d much rather learn what I can from this rugged Texan while we’re parked on a comfy couch, next to the big fireplace at the Sauceda Ranch bunkhouse where we are spending the night on our camel excursion. This cheap and cheerful accommodation for 30 is the best place to start any exploration of the park.

The bunkhouse is set up like a hostel, with separate men’s and women’s wings, where you’ll get a semi-private bed, complete with linen, for only $15 (US) a night. There are showers, a central sitting room and a kitchen that turns out inexpensive and hearty meals. The big breakfast, including eggs, coffee and the Texan tradition of biscuits and cream gravy, is $4, while our supper of spicy beef fajitas with rice and all the trimmings was a reasonable $9. Truly a bargain and a treat when you’re this far from civilization.

If you’re into even more luxurious digs, the original 1905 ranch house, known as The Big House, is a rambling adobe with three bedrooms (room for eight guests) and an awesome screen porch where you can ruminate in a rocking chair, all for $40 per person.

In the end, a camel trek proves to be a great way to explore the Big Bend. I enjoy riding safely above the rattlesnakes, tarantulas, stubborn cholla cacti and other desert wonders that bite, sting and stick to stay alive. Chewbacca is  a stalwart and friendly companion  – by lunchtime,  he’s nibbling baby carrots out of my hand and I’m talking baby talk to him as I swing confidently back into the saddle.

According to Sand Dance, Kirkby’s book about his desert adventure, the saddest thing about completing the trip was saying goodbye to his trusty camel. Like him, I had a big smooch for Chewbacca when we parted company in Texas and a feeling that I had accomplished a trek that was truly unique.

IF YOU GO:

Big Bend Ranch State Park is in the extreme southwestern corner of Texas, along the Mexican border. It’s a 560-mile drive from Dallas, or a more doable 225 miles from the nearest airport in Midland/Odessa.  American Airlines offers daily, non-stop flights from most major Canadian cities to Dallas/Fort Worth. Air Canada, Continental, United, Delta and US Airways also offer service to Texas.  Then it’s a short secondary flight to Odessa/Midland.

Even if you don’t venture into back country, you can see part of the park from highway FM 170, one of the most spectacular drives in the U.S. Known as the River Road, it’s a 70-km scenic strip between Lajitas and Presidio that skirts the park along its border with the Rio Grande river, offering amazing views the red volcanic rock mountains and canyons.

Late fall, winter and spring are the best times to visit the region – in summer temperatures can soar to 120°F. There are about 42 km of hiking trails within the park with primitive, back country campsites ($6 pp/pd) - make sure you take precautions and can read a topo map before venturing out.  To reserve campsites, or the park’s bunk or ranch house rooms, call 915-229-3416 or visit www.tpwd.state.tx.us.

Baum’s Texas Camel Corp heads out for spring and fall camel treks in Big Bend, $690 US for a two-day trek with camping or $990 for three days (max. 6 participants). He also has day rides ($250 US). Contact him at 866-622-6357 or www.texascamelcorps.com.

To join David Alloway’s Skills of Survival programs, visit his web site at www.skillsofsurvival.com

A useful guide to the area is Adventures in the Big Bend by Jim Glendinning(The Alpine Company Press). For more information about Texas and special discounts for Canadian tourists, contact Texas Tourism at www.TravelTex.com.

(first appeared in the Globe and Mail)

©Cinda Chavich

www.tastereport.com