Enchanted Rock and Carlsbad, NM

A mother and daughter inspect fairy shrimp atop Enchanted Rock.

Fredericksburg, Texas:

Enchanted Rock State Natural Area was never a casual topic.

When the brag-worthy batholith was mentioned in conversation, folks couldn't quiet their praises.

Sure, of course I'd stop at the big granite dome once it crossed my route.

I was all set to visit- but my car had to make it there first.

-And that finicky Ford had other plans.

Chartreuse was being a real sweet, stalling stinker once I made it out of Austin, TX. 

I changed her oil, checked her fluids, replaced her spark plugs and drove her like a 20/20-visioned grandmother who never pushed the gas pedal too hard, but she didn't care. 

I still knew how to woo her. I'd shut her off, cool her down, give her some steering wheel kisses and bribe her with future-fuel promises. She'd start rolling, sort of.

After a bit of panic, I stopped at a gas station and the attendant reassured me that her "Check engine soon" light meant nothing urgent until it turned red.

It was orange. 

I drove to Fredericksburg and got much needed coffee from Greater Grace Coffee House and let Charty have a break. 

Andy White, owner of Greater Grace Coffeeshop, proudly sipping his coffee.

Inside, the cafe seemed less of a shop and more of a house. 

To make a long rant short, it was a phenomenal Christian mission home that also fronted as a cafe. They helped the community and kept the seniors fed for free. When I went, Andy White, the owner, explained the operations of the center while perfecting a maple syrup mocha.

I high-fived his commitment to his community and took my cup to-go.

Reaching the Enchanted Rock trailhead at last

the dome looked huge. It looked steep. It looked appropriately enchanting. 

The park ranger recommended I join the all-woman's hike at 9am and I hopped to the gazebo to find Rose, the guide. 

There she was, rosy cheeked and bright eyed, shaking my hand with a warm welcome.

We had a small group, namely just her, Megan and I, and she suggested we take the long route around the park.

Rose Ellis, our trail volunteer, pointing to plants in the vernal pools. 

She educated us on Nopalito cacti paddles, showing which fresh specimens were tastiest. She then swiped a bit of white gook from the plant, sharing that the red dye was cochineal beetle's juice and was once used to dye traditional Asian silks and Starbucks strawberry fraps. So much for vegan coffee.

She said there were vernal pools atop the dome that looked like steps. According to folklore, natives believed the pools were formed from footsteps of tormented souls, forever forced to walk the same path along the dome's summit. 

It wouldn't be so bad, walking along enchanted peaks forever. They had a good view. 

Little Dome's slab layers sliding down the granite over time. 

Rose then pointed out a set of slabs slipping down another batholith, Little Dome, next to Enchanted Rock. She said the sliding slabs exemplified the crumbling erosion from rain over time. The granite stayed busy.

And noisy- it heated in summer and made creeks at night as the rock cooled. People claimed to hear the rock growl on July nights. 

When we made it around the rock and back to the gazebo, our stomaches all growling, Rose bid the three of us adieu but insisted we contact her if we made our way back to the area again. We all exchanged numbers after talking about our separate sets of excursions.

"If you want to stay over tonight, June, let me know," she said in a voice like a long-lost, never-introduced aunt. 

"You can do your laundry and what not."

Albeit my heart melted and my humility hit new heights, I could't accept her offer, for I had my intentions set on reaching Carlsbad, NM. Enchanted Rock was merely a sweet pit stop. 

Carlsbad, New Mexico and the Carlsbad Caverns National Park: 

Stalagmites drip from the cavern ceilings in Carlsbad Cavern.

The drive to Carlsbad went less than leisurely. 

With the acceleration taking an eon to reach 60 mph, you might imagine my 6 hour drive took a bit longer than anticipated. Once I reached town, no vacant campgrounds remained.

I had zero desire to sleep in a Walmart parking lot that night.

Shamelessly, I stole WiFi from McDonalds, clicked into Couchsurfing and desperately sent requests to every host within the search engine's reach.

Two got back to me. One had a sick child. I was sick to my stomach. I dreaded the second email.

What if it said no as well? I held my breath. 

It was a confirmation message. 

I had a place!

Matt Boin, a beard rocking, fly-fishing outdoor-man had a couch I could crash on- so long as I didn't mind spending an evening hanging with another group of couch surfers staying over. 

I didn't give a damn, I was thrilled.

He gave me the tour- orange walled living room with nature photos, kitchen with kombucha brewing, bathroom with a double shower head, shelf with outdoor guide books. This guy was not like the rest of Carlsbad- he was a slice of Boulder, Colorado. 

All the couch surfers were dudes on spring break from Boulder, CO and learned he was from there. They were headed to the caverns in the morning and let me join them on their excursion. 

Eric, John and Sean were their names. 

They crashed in the guest bedroom after some pleasantries and party stories and we left for the park in the morning.

Eric, John, Sean and I outside of the Carlsbad Cavern.

 The cavern was 80 stories down. It was cathedral after cathedral of spectacular. It was absolutely futile to capture on film.

Diagram of Carlsbad Caverns, curtesy of Card Cow.

When we reached the natural entrance, we smelled an overwhelming aroma of bat crap.
A kid behind us shoved their sibling saying they farted.
The bats gossiped, echoing with every squeak. I couldn't help but think of how loud a fart would've been. We would've all known if that kid made a butt squeak.
Anyhow, the sounds of bats vanished the deeper we went and our night vision kicked in after a while.

 Then the cave grew vast. We could see all the limestone that dissolved from sulfuric acid and shaped into thousands of stalactite ceilings and stalagmite ground mounds. The features in Carlsbad dated back before the last Ice Age. We were walking through ancient earth and it felt pretty dang cool.

Every switchback exposed another angle of the endless, timeless towers. The canopies made me dizzy to look up and down at, and they only got bigger the farther we went.

As we made our way down, we crossed paths with the sweaty folks breathlessly making their trek back up. The elevator was broken. We were fated to walk right back up those 80 stories we so easily traversed down. We were adventurers, we didn't need an elevator.

Moving deeper, we reached the Big Room where the ceilings peaked at 255 feet, looking over a chamber 4,000 feet across. Numbers didn't do it justice, we felt remarkably small.

By the time we came out, the daylight burnt our eyes and the sun's forgotten heat stung our skin.
Our adventures as a pack were through, and we exchanged sweaty hugs before heading our separate ways.

To Corinne in Taos I roamed.

Abandoned bus on Highway 285 North.