Lost and Found in Big Bend

Some times, you’ve just gotta get out there and get lost.  How else will you ever be found?

Saturday afternoon I decided to go out for little three hour ride to the Lajitas Trails and back.  Swinging a leg over Isabelle’s top-tube I hit the trails, always happy to be out under the desert sun, riding by myself.  Nearing the half-way point of my ride I noticed a cyclist coming towards me.  However, it was neither Pecos Tim nor his pal Dave King as I thought it might be.  Nope, never seen this person before.  She rolled up, stopped and we said hello.  Melinda, who has been out here a few times before was having trouble finding Fun Valley.  We looked at her map, I gave her a few instructions and she rolled off.  “Have fun!”

Thirty minutes later I came upon Melinda again…and yes, she was still lost.  We went over the directions again and she seemed fairly confident she could get herself to Fun Valley and back to the trail-head.  Part of me wanted to ride with her, just to make sure she did actually find her way out; there was only two hours of sunlight left.  “Nah, she’ll be okay,” I convinced myself.

Back at Desert Sports–and lamenting the crack I found in my frame–who should drive up but Melinda, coming to tell me she did in fact make it out alive.  We met again later that night at a local watering-hole and agreed to go for a ride Sunday.  However, she was committed to riding with her father and I had intended on joining the Sunday Desert Sports mountain-bike ride.  No matter, we would figure it out.

After two hours on the trails with my Desert Sports posse I was back at the trail-head and considering calling Melinda to see if she still wanted to ride.  Who should roll into the parking lot with her father?  Yup, Melinda.  Refilling my water bottles and gladly accepting her father’s uneaten PB&J sandwich, we set-out for what would be a five hour ride.

We had a blast!  We saw a rattlesnake–pretty sure it’s a mojave because the back end of it was pale green–and even saw a badger.  Apparently badger sightings are a very rare event; less than ten sightings a year down here.  We climbed amongst the abandoned mines, ate sandwiches, chatted and laughed.  Eventually our ride took us to the highway and we grunted out the eleven miles of asphalt to the Ghost Town as the sun set behind us.

Back in Austin, Melinda sent me a message thanking me for helping her Saturday afternoon.  “It was so awesome to find you in the middle of nowhere!  Or maybe you found me. I was the lost one.”  Honestly, I’m not sure who found whom, who was lost or who needed to be found.
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What I do know is that you don’t find this special place.  It finds you and when it does, you know you are no longer lost.