Revisiting the nostalgia for the Summer of 1978, when I spent 10 weeks in the Eagle Mts. of Hudspeth County, Trans-Pecos, Texas. [Scroll down for Parts 1 and 2.]
From my current internet explorations, it is quite different than it was 42 years ago. It seems that there is an FAA radar dome on Eagle Peak, the 8th tallest peak in Texas. And it seems that if you secure permission from the proper authorities, you might be able to drive part of it. [Don't take my word for it, though.] We had permission for the places we visited in 1978.
And instead of entering the mountains from Eagle Flat (on the east side), it seems that you now enter from Red Light Bolson on the west side. If that is the case, here are some photos taken on the west side of the mountains, while helping Dan for his SW quadrant project. They are also "semi-orphans" as I didn't label them properly, either. But I did spend more time in the SW quadrant than the NE. Also, I sadly spent no time in the NW quadrant.
And instead of entering the mountains from Eagle Flat (on the east side), it seems that you now enter from Red Light Bolson on the west side. If that is the case, here are some photos taken on the west side of the mountains, while helping Dan for his SW quadrant project. They are also "semi-orphans" as I didn't label them properly, either. But I did spend more time in the SW quadrant than the NE. Also, I sadly spent no time in the NW quadrant.
Figure 1. Standing Eagle.
Figure 2.
I am not sure if the strata on the lower slopes are volcanic or sedimentary.
Figure 3.
While "Measuring Sections" sometimes we would climb 1,000+ feet in elevation per day. As we were collecting samples as we climbed, the backpacks got progressively heavier. As we also had to carry water, sometimes I would omit the extra weight of a 35 mm camera.
Figure 4.
Horse Crippler Cactus, I have been told, is a distant relative of Peyote.
Though I wasn't "into" photographing flowers much at that time, this beautiful Horse Crippler Cactus was hard to miss. It was in one of the valleys on the west side of the mountains.
I remember that when we returned from our climb that day, we were greeted with a flat rear tire. To retrieve the spare tire, I had to crawl up under the truck, which I normally hated, but it was about 105 degrees and it was a nice, cool bit of shade underneath the truck.
We usually set out in the cool of the early morning and then returned to the campsite about 1 or 2 PM for lunch and a siesta for 2 hours or so. We then grabbed a snack and headed back out until 7 PM, then came back for dinner. As we were in our mid-20s, "dinner" was usually a sandwich and chips (less of a fuss and less of a cleanup).
Afterward, we usually built a campfire, had a beer, and chatted until we turned in about 9 or so. After the day's heat, without a TV, and in the usual overwhelming quiet, it was hard to stay awake longer than that.
As there was a windmill and "cattle tank" the with a connected trough at two of the campsites, sometimes the resident animals e.g., deer, coyotes, elk (imported for hunters later in the year), mountain lions, and "who knows what" would visit in the night for a drink. During a visit home to Georgia the previous Christmas, in a conversation with my Uncle Robert - a long-experienced hunter - he mentioned a "coughing sound" that mountain lions (aka cougars) sometimes make.
We were awakened late one night at East Mill, by that distinctive coughing sound. I was safely in my Jeep camper, but Dan was in his tent. Wrapping my hands around my old 7.65 mm Mauser rifle, just in case, I called out to him to ask if he wanted to make a break for my truck cab. He said he was OK. We didn't hear any more sounds from the beast that night or any other time.
Another interesting aspect of East Mill was the evening Matinee down at the open-top cattle tank. Approaching dusk each day, dozens of bats would descend on the cattle tank for a drink or two before flying off somewhere for their evening meal. Dan and I used to stand at the edge of the cattle tank and watch the bats as they circled down and skimmed the water surface. Sometimes, they would "swoop" within a few inches of our faces.
We were awakened late one night at East Mill, by that distinctive coughing sound. I was safely in my Jeep camper, but Dan was in his tent. Wrapping my hands around my old 7.65 mm Mauser rifle, just in case, I called out to him to ask if he wanted to make a break for my truck cab. He said he was OK. We didn't hear any more sounds from the beast that night or any other time.
Another interesting aspect of East Mill was the evening Matinee down at the open-top cattle tank. Approaching dusk each day, dozens of bats would descend on the cattle tank for a drink or two before flying off somewhere for their evening meal. Dan and I used to stand at the edge of the cattle tank and watch the bats as they circled down and skimmed the water surface. Sometimes, they would "swoop" within a few inches of our faces.
Figure 5.
Figure 6.
Figure 7.
Figure 8.
Figure 9.
Figure 10.
Figure 11.
In the background, you can see part of the well-developed "Bajada" marking the transition from the Eagle Mts into the Red Light Bolson. When looking at topographic maps, the bajada is well-defined. Figures 8 & 10 are a bit south of this one, and the surface of the bajada appears more "hummocky". Is this due to gully-erosion of the bajada surface or is it related to past landslide activity?
Figure 12.
Another west side "orphan photo" (I don't know the location). The rock type is assumed to be a pyroclastic "Ash Flow Tuff". The "blockiness" suggests that it is more "welded" and resistant to weathering than the more easily-eroded outcrops of (presumed) lightly-welded Ash Flow Tuffs of Figures 8 - 11.
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