La Monilla

Over the past several years, I’ve established a tradition of setting out over new year’s eve for a solo bike-packing adventure. And boy, have they every been memorable! This year, however, I changed things up a little bit.

Although I rode my bike to the trail-head Monday morning, I spent the next three days back-packing the Monilla Canyon area of Big Bend Ranch State Park. Furthermore, rather than doing so alone, I brought Mark Yuhas along. It would prove to be an incredibly rewarding trip, bringing me closer to this special place while affording me the chance to share the adventure with a good friend.

Day 1. December 30. With packs on backs and sun-screen on noses and necks, Mark and I soon found the unmarked trail that would take us above and around the mouth of the canyon. While the trail is well established, it doesn’t appear on any map generally available to the public. Thankfully, a friend shared a more detailed version and our plan was set.

Having explored it a couple of years ago, I knew that a substantial pour-off made the canyon impassable early on. It was a slow grunt up, over, then back down into the canyon about two miles from where we left the car and my bike. Once back in the creek-bed, we plodded along upstream for another two miles to find our water source.

La Monilla, a stacked rock, one-room house maintained until some time in the 60’s is also the sight of a natural water spring. Little pools of water within the creek-bed, shaded within a narrow section of rock, full of plants, trees and insects; truly, a desert oasis. With bellies full and bottles filled, we continued on for another two miles or so.

When we got to the area I’d imagined we’d make camp, in classic Viejo style, Mark plopped himself unceremoniously to the ground and announced that he was done, he’d go no further that day. I laughed and agreed. Making camp out of the creek, we gained a few precious degrees as the sun set and temperature dropped. Although just six miles, with full packs it was a full day indeed. We ate and were asleep before 9pm.

Day 2. December 31st. Up before the sun, I made coffee, enjoying the desert’s silence. As daylight broke, we discussed the day’s plan over instant oatmeal. We decided to head west a little ways, following an old road-bed before turning right, heading up another drainage. We didn’t really have a goal, we just agreed on a mesa to head towards; we’d figure it out as we went along. With packs filled with what we would need for the day, we smiled and sauntered off, free of yesterday’s burden.

After more than a mile of gaining elevation, we turned left at a fork then decided to come steeply out of the drainage and head over-land to the top of the ridge-line. Then it happened. After nearly two hours of hiking up hill we were suddenly slapped in the face with a view like no other. Awe struck.

Passes that are considered a tough climb on the bike lay far below us. The Davis Mountains were visible way beyond San Jacinto Mountain to the north. The Chinatis, The Chisos, Mesa de Anguila, Lajitas Mesa with more mountain ranges far off in Mexico to the west, south and east. We found a spot out of the wind to take it all in and eat our lunch. It would seem we weren’t the first ones to do so; the remains of a tiny rock wall were evident, blocking the north wind while affording a strategic view up and down Monilla Creek and the old road that connects it to Arroyo Primero.

Scrambling down the mesa, often times over small, loose marbles of decomposed granite, we had to work hard to keep our footing. Back in the creek, we made our way the two miles to camp. All in all, we figure about six miles on the day.

Exhausted but elated by the day’s adventure we watched the sun set as we ate pork asado and offered cheers to the new year.[happy birthday dbt!] We were again asleep before 9pm.

Day 3. New Year’s Day. Time to head home…sorta. From our perch the day before, we spied a peak atop a mesa that stood out in the desert like a nipple. We also wanted to head down the canyon past the trail to see what those huge walls and massive pour-offs really looked like up close.

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Although overcast and a fair bit cooler than the two previous days, we were buoyed by the ease of heading down-stream with lightened packs. We refilled our camelback bladders and carried on to the drainage we believed we could use to access the mesa atop which the nipple poked.

When we arrived and took off our packs, the drainage appeared full of huge boulders. We shrugged our shoulders and scrambled directly up and over the mesa. It was a pretty tough go, steep and oftentimes very loose. Climbing straight up the final 20′ using tiny hand and foot holds, we summited the nipple to another stunning view.

As we headed back down, we decided to see what the drainage looked like that we had ignored earlier. Perhaps it would offer us a better way back down? Ha! Not a chance. It ended with a huge box canyon, walls several hundred feet high. Massive spires of rock stood precariously close to tumbling. Far below, the white rock evidenced very recent rock falls, older, sun-beaten rock piles nearby. We’d get close to the edge, take a few steps back and realize we were constantly crossing over deep fault lines. We looked at each other and laughed a little uneasily. Forced to take our original route back to the creek bed and our packs, we made for the canyon.

Just passed the start of the trail that would return us to the car(and my bike!), the canyon got narrow as the walls soared high above us. The ground rock was worn smooth by eons of rushing torrents, tinajas holding water since the last rain. After about half a mile our progress was arrested. An incredibly steep, smooth, narrow pour-off plummeted about fifteen feet, forcing us to turn around.

Another two miles and we were back at the car, my bike pulled from it’s hiding place. About 8.5-9miles for the day. While I could have ridden the 27miles back to town if I had to, I really, really didn’t want to. I was spent. I happily hopped in the car as Mark chauffeured me home.

My life aboard the bicycle has taken me to some pretty magical locations. I’ve seen so much that simply would not be possible in a motor-vehicle or if you wanted to walk. That said, the bicycle limits the adventure to the road or trail.

Riding through much of this desert paradise over the years, I’ve also ridden passed much of it. Changing cleats for boots, helmet for hat, hiking affords me the opportunity to know this place even more intimately.

Equally, Mark and I have ridden countless miles together, both on the road and in the dirt. He’s become a good friend, I hold him in high esteem and I enjoy his company greatly.

To back-pack in the desert for three days, however, is to see someone with fresh eyes, to experience them in a way not obtainable in a more familiar setting. As I know this land better for having spent three days in it’s fold, so, too, did I deepen my friendship with Mark having spent three days in his company.

With that in mind, I wish you all a most happy 2020. May we seek to see our world anew and to love it ever more.