Created and Designed by Jonathan Smith, Sul Ross Senior

Deep In The Heart of Madera Canyon

By Sharon Collyer
Skyline Contributor

"Well, I prefer to use a poop stick," answered Pam Gaddis, Nature Conservancy volunteer and wilderness backpacking guide. I barked a cackle because I have hiked with Gaddis before and knew this was no joke. The four other women, members of the Texas Outdoor Women's Network (TOWN) of Austin, accustomed to gentler phraseology, shifted nervously under the weight of their backpacks. Only the sounds of clanging water bottles and rustling nylon trekking pants were heard in the aftermath of my piercing chortle. The ladies were hoping Gaddis was only trying to be funny. She wasn't. She really does use a poop stick.

Me? I prefer good ol' fashioned soap and water.

When Gaddis invited me along on a four-day backpacking adventure to explore the lower reaches of Madera Canyon, deep in the heart of the Davis Mountains Preserve, I jumped for joy. The 32,000-acre preserve is owned and managed by The Nature Conservancy, a private, non-profit worldwide organization that protects ecologically sensitive and vulnerable keystone ecosystems. Access into Madera Canyon through the preserve is tightly controlled by the Nature Conservancy, and the few existing downstream exit routes are highly restricted by private land owners. Thus, the bottom of the 900 foot-deep canyon is one of the most isolated and unscathed areas of Texas.

We had four days to walk fifteen miles in a creek bed. Plenty of time left over, or so I thought, to read all of "Children of Gebelawi" for Dr. Saka's class. Plenty of time left over to throw off our packs and take numerous naps under shady ash and maple trees, for lazy swimming breaks in crystal clear and icy spring-fed tinajas, to languidly listen for kingfishers and blue jays thrashing around in the riparian vegetation. Certainly, plenty of time for daydreaming and contemplating the incredible diversity of the Chihuahuan Desert…or so I thought. That was before we encountered the first set of house-sized boulders in our path, the extremely unstable and rocky creek bed, the forests of cat-claw acacia on the steep hillsides, and the wall-to-wall-water-filled frigid slot canyons.

"So what do we do now?" asked one of my fellow hikers when we reached the first of about a zillion deep pool crossings after a long day of precarious boulder hopping in the bright sunshine. Her tone clearly indicated that she had almost exhausted her generous sense of humor and competent adaptability. In other words, she had had just about enough of this outdoorsy crap, and the icy lake was standing between her and a hot reconstituted backpacker's dinner of couscous and chicken. Gaddis didn't miss a beat; she had her socks, shoes and pants off and waded across the hip-deep pool carrying her gear before the rest of us had a chance to take a picture of her bare behind.

"I guess I suggest just walking through," she dryly replied, pulling her pants back on.

The Davis Mountains are Texas' most extensive mountain range and the state's second highest, peaking at 8,382 feet with Mount Livermore. While the surrounding desert lowlands receive eight to ten inches of rain a year, the higher Davis Mountains receive an average of eighteen inches. Because of the added moisture and elevation, these mountains are a stronghold for vegetative species that would otherwise not be found at this latitude, such as Ponderosa Pine and Emory Oak, as well as varied cacti and grasses at the lower elevations. In turn, these native plants provide habitat to a wide array of desert, forest and mountain fauna, as well as serving as a stopping point for migratory birds.

All environmental circumstances considered, the Davis Mountains are an ecosystem like no other on Earth. And, here we were, the first all-woman team to travel that sixteen-mile stretch of canyon, 900-feet deep in its belly.

As we crawled out of Madera Canyon on day four and awaited our ride back to our hot showers and warm beds, I was exuberantly overjoyed with awe. After living and working in some of the most remote areas of the Big Bend for the last six years or so, I was convinced that I had experienced all there was to experience in the way of West Texas wilderness adventures. The Davis Mountains, the Nature Conservancy and Pam Gaddis proved me wrong.

On the cramped and precarious one-and-a-half hour drive back to pavement, Gaddis turned to me and asked "Ready to do it again?" Absolutely.

For more information about upcoming Nature Conservancy open weekends, day hikes, or guided backpacking trips, contact the Nature Conservancy at (432) 426-2390, or visit the website at www.nature.org
And don't forget your poop stick.

Letter to the Editor

For those of you who were there, you know the feeling. For those of you who weren't, there is no way I can explain.

Thanks go to all who did so much for this year's Alumni Homecoming reunion to make it so memorable, for those who came from North Carolina, Wyoming, Dallas, Sanderson, big towns and small towns. The shouts of laughter and recognition will stay with me forever. The presentation by Patty could not have been more appropriate. The emotion that filled her voice, filled us all.

As the days passed I sensed a mutual and uncommon respect, a respect that recognized what we had been and applauded what we had become. It was a wonderful and humbling feeling.

I have witnessed many heart-stopping moments in my life of athletics. But when thirty-something former Lobos were recognized one by one, with Mike Flynt sprinting across the field to meet them, it was a moment like no other. There was not a dry eye in the house. In truth, it was a moment that defies description.

Sunday morning as I was leaving town, I glanced in my rear-view mirror. There it was, as beautiful as always, Sul Ross situated proudly on the hill, with Twin Peaks in the distance. My heart was in my throat. I remember so many times when people asked "Why did you go to that God forsaken place?"

Now I realized the answer. This is not the place that God has forsaken. It is instead the place he comes to rest, for peace. It is where he creates his finest works of art, not art that fills a gallery, but art that fills our hearts. I love it most and always, Thank you all.

Randy Jackson, SRSU Alumni