I laid in my sleeping bag watching the hills come alive with the sun. I couldn’t hear anything. There wasn’t a creature scuttling around, no breeze, it was just dead quiet. Suddenly, a pack of coyotes yipped in the distance (or were they close by?). It was impossible to know. Big Bend National Park is simply remarkable! Riding bikes was the perfect way to experience this remote, vast landscape—just out of cell signal, far away from city lights, and deep into my own psyche.
Admiring a collection of typical Big Bend succulents… between an ocotillo, yucca and the purple prickly pear cactus.
Gravel grinding through the hard pack, and here—the soft pack.
Snack stops
From the window of an old dwelling at Mariscal Mine, abandoned in the 1940s.
First night camp at Talley.
Minor desert delirium.
I never thought I’d appreciate a bear box so much! A place to lean the rigs, and a place out of the dirt to “explode”.
Yucca Ave.
The Chisos Mountains dripping in purple as the last light fades.
Consulting our ripped, nearly-lost, definitely-run-over, trusty… map.
Miles of packed, glorious gravel. This image was taken minutes before our pannier rack broke. It was quickly mended on a first attempt with a ratchet strap—always handy!
Taking in views of the Chisos Mountains before a ripping paved descent.
Everything in the desert is out to get you, pack tweezers.
Soaking in the last sips of winter sunlight at camp.
An ever-inspiring desert palette.
Peepin’ the crescent moon at dusk.
Sunrise on the Chisos Mountains.
Frigid mornings call for tent coffee.
