La ruta del desierto:
A winter journey through the Chihuahuan Desert

By Daniel Muñoa

Last winter, my dear friend George Altgelt, his wife Rosita, and his mother Meg invited me to stay a few days with them in Candela, a small town in northwest Mexico about 140 kilometers southwest of Laredo.
Candela is neatly nestled at the base of a mountain range known as El Cerrito del Burro. There was a time when this mountain range could be seen from Laredo any day of the year; however, increasing pollution and degradation of the Earth's atmosphere has stolen this precious view from the western skies of Laredo. Nowadays, the only time the range can be clearly seen is when the northern wind has pushed the toxic haze in the sky southward.
Our trip last winter included a day-long visit to an ecological preserve known as the Pozo Azul ("the blue water hole"), located 160 kilometers west-southwest of Candela on the outskirts of the small Mexican town of Cuatro Cienegas. Endemic populations of fish reside in the spring waters of the Pozo Azul, waters that remain consistently warm throughout the year regardless of air temperature or changes thereof. Our trip concluded with an exploration of the spring waters that feed into Candela. As much as we had seen, we knew we had barely scratched the surface of what the Chihuahuan Desert has to offer in terms of pristine natural beauty. George and I vowed to return and explore the many wonders of this beautiful desert.
Exactly one year later to the day, on the 26th of December, George and I packed his Toyota pickup with the camping gear we would need for a six-day excursion with one purpose in mind: to visit as many natural wonders of the Chihuahuan Desert as possible. By the time we saddled up, crossed the bridge, and picked up our permisos, we were chasing daylight as we drove non-stop to the ecological park at the Pozo Azul near Cuatro Cienegas. We arrived around 19:15 hrs that evening, welcomed by a strong northern wind blowing between 35 to 45 m.p.h. We were Last winter, my dear friend George Altgelt, his wife Rosita, and his mother Meg invited me to stay a few days with them in Candela, a small town in northwest Mexico about 140 kilometers southwest of Laredo.
Candela is neatly nestled at the base of a mountain range known as El Cerrito del Burro. There was a time when this mountain range could be seen from Laredo any day of the year; however, increasing pollution and degradation of the Earth's atmosphere has stolen this precious view from the western skies of Laredo. Nowadays, the only time the range can be clearly seen is when the northern wind has pushed the toxic haze in the sky southward.
Our trip last winter included a day-long visit to an ecological preserve known as the Pozo Azul ("the blue water hole"), located 160 kilometers west-southwest of Candela on the outskirts of the small Mexican town of Cuatro Cienegas. Endemic populations of fish reside in the spring waters of the Pozo Azul, waters that remain consistently warm throughout the year regardless of air temperature or changes thereof. Our trip concluded with an exploration of the spring waters that feed into Candela. As much as we had seen, we knew we had barely scratched the surface of what the Chihuahuan Desert has to offer in terms of pristine natural beauty. George and I vowed to return and explore the many wonders of this beautiful desert.
Exactly one year later to the day, on the 26th of December, George and I packed his Toyota pickup with the camping gear we would need for a six-day excursion with one purpose in mind: to visit as many natural wonders of the Chihuahuan Desert as possible. By the time we saddled up, crossed the bridge, and picked up our permisos, we were chasing daylight as we drove non-stop to the ecological park at the Pozo Azul near Cuatro Cienegas. We arrived around 19:15 hrs that evening, welcomed by a strong northern wind blowing between 35 to 45 m.p.h. We were could gain access to the flat-topped mountain known as the Rancho Mesa Cartujano, that beautiful expanse of 13,000 hectares (33,500 acres). We headed back to our guest quarters in Candela to set up for the night.
The next morning we checked our gear for the mesa trip even though we were still not certain as to its accessibility. By the time we were done, we suddenly realized we had less than an hour before the start of Tijerina Menchaca's swearing-in ceremonies. After breakfast, we headed towards the new local civic center, and as we approached, we saw a large gathering of locals, mainly vaqueros, rancheros and their wives. Minutes after noon, Javier’s convoy pulled up to the crowd that cheered him on. Javier emerged and walked towards the entrance of the building where he stopped to greet the other members of the municipal government. One of the last people who entered and shook hands before the public was allowed entry was Señor José Gamez, a veteran vaquero and land man, who is said to have gained the respect of nearly all the area ranchers as a senior ranching authority. After the ceremonies, George and I headed back towards the house to rendezvous with Rosita and Meg, who were driving in from Laredo. They arrived just as we finished cleaning the house. After they touched down, George and Rosita and I boarded the Toyota and headed towards Bustamante for an afternoon drive. We enjoyed tacos at a local puesto and drove to a high point to catch the sunset at a mountain pass on the outskirts of town. We also stopped at a local panaderia for pecans and pan dulce and also picked up lamb chops that were came off the freshly killed carcass right before our very eyes. At the rustic house in Candela, we built a fire, prepped dinner, had a chat at the dinner table and called it a night.
Though it seemed at times that we might not put together all the keys and permisos to traverse the ranches on the way to the mesa, we did.
We peaked the Mesa at 14:20 hrs that afternoon and made our way to the Hacienda headquarters in search of Don Mundo, the head vaquero of the Rancho Mesa Cartujano. We told him we hoped to see as many of the mesa’s natural wonders as possible, and started our journey by visiting a canyon seven kilometers from the Hacienda. After the Cartujano Indians were exterminated from the mesa the founders of the Rancho Cartujano began several work projects, including a church made from limestone that was quarried from the top of the mesa as well the canyon which had been dammed in 1862. The original owner of the mesa after the Indians was Goverdanor Vidaurri.
The only functioning vehicle on the mesa today was a four-wheel ATV. Additional vehicles on the mesa include a WWII vintage Willys that was hauled up on burros in pieces and then assembled once on top. Additional equipment is flown onto the mesa by plane. The landing strip is located a quarter-mile from the hacienda and the owner is said to pilot his own plane.
We loaded and strapped our gear onto the front of the ATV while George and I sat on the rear of it. We were off towards the dammed canyon. As we rode the rough trail towards the canyon, I noticed the vegetation began to thicken from a few shrubs and many cacti to a dense forest of cedar with intermittent cacti in clearings between the cedars. The ride was arduous, but the scenery kept our minds busy. Don Mundo wasn’t kidding about the dam. It stretched 40 yards or so across what used to be the watercourse of the canyon. At one end of the 15-foot high dam was a marble stone with the year 1862 inscribed on it. The spillway leads to a 60-foot waterfall that must have the roar of a god in heavy rains. The waterfall over the years has caused a giant tinaja (a bowl formed into the rock as result of years and years of water pounding into it from above) at the base, the relief of the canyon walls is covered with ferns, lichens, moss, and a variety of algae.
After the tinaja, we continued for another seven kilometers to the turreted, castle-like fort built in the 1800s for our overnight stay on the mesa. We unloaded our gear, cleaned the tower out a bit, and asked Mundo when the earliest pick-up could be scheduled for the following morning.
After camp was made we trekked on foot westward to the west side of the mesa. Sunset was a little over an hour away and we figured it would be spectacular to watch the sun set over a mountain known as the Pato de Gallo. The velocity of the wind continued to intensify. At the edge of the mesa, the wind gusted past 50 mph, for it shook us violently back and forth. George had mentioned that our good friend Michael Short, who had been to the mesa several times before, said that he has experienced winds on the edge capable of blowing you right off if you didn’t hit the ground and ride the wind out. The good thing was that the wind was coming in waves so when the earth blew hard, we hit the deck. When the wind calmed, we stood again and continued to take pictures of Los Pajaros Azules, the name given to the range that faces the backside of the mesa. As the sun began to descend behind the range the wind died down and were able appreciate the tranquility of the earth and richness of life all that stirred in the canyon below that separated the mesa from the mountains. Shortly after sunset, we walked back to the fort to begin preparations for the night. Before venturing off to see the sunset, we had left the doors to the fort open so the wind could clear some of the dust out. It was of little use. After preparing our dinner over a small fire, we took our sleeping gear to the rooftop of the fort and slept underneath the glorious cover of a star-lit sky. I went to sleep gazing upwards at the sky. I had never seen so many stars nor the Milky Way stretch from the northern to the southern end of the sky as I did that night. The sky was so clear that falling stars became common place.
We were up the following morning about 30 minutes before sunrise. George prepped his tripod and camera once more to capture the rising of the sun illuminating Los Pajaros Azules. The morning air was silent, crisp, and refreshing. After breakfast, we packed our gear and loaded our camel packs with filtered water from a nearby waterhole. We heard the rumble of the approaching ATV. Our pick-up was on time and we were ready to journey across the earth once more. Our final trek was to the southern end of the mesa, where the paintings of los Indios Cartujanos were said to be present under southern sandstone relief on the very edge of the mesa, precisely above of an otherwise vertical wall of rock. Our first stop was at the hacienda where our driver had chores to take care of. Mundo and his 10-year-old boy, José Luis (Pepe), said they would take us. It took about an hour to reach the paintings. At first, we couldn’t find them and had to search a bit. It was Pepe, running up and down alongside the dangerous vertical drop-off of the mesa like a little mountain goat, who spotted them. We slowly and carefully climbed downward about 20 feet or so to the paintings. We were stunned at how well-preserved some appeared to be. We took a great deal of pictures and couldn’t thank Pepe and Mundo enough for having brought us. We slowly climbed back up and returned to the hacienda. The time was 11:40 hrs and Mundo was telling us of yet another spring and caves with Indian paintings that we have yet to visit.
As much as George and I wanted to go, we knew our time was up, for Rosita and Meg were awaiting our return in Candela to make an early launch back to Laredo. We said our good byes, and began the descent. An hour later, we were back to where we had left the vehicle. We made fast tracks back to the house in Candela on generous loan from Wawi and Omar Tijerina. We arrived at 14:30 hrs, but were too late. Rosita and Meg had already departed. George and I cooked a quick lunch, cleaned and locked the house down, loaded the truck once again, and were back on the highway chasing daylight with the Ridgeback in the bed of the truck. As we drove back to Laredo, I couldn’t help but think of how blessed we had been on this journey, to have seen so much, to have met many friendly people all the while, and to know that even still there is more to been seen and heard on the diverse landscape of the Chihuahuan Desert.
I end this story with a thought from a friend who’s an avid environmentalist, a Buddhist, and a lover of this life. He says, "Earth our bodies, wind our breath, water our blood, fire our spirits."
I say more must be done to protect our planet before there is nothing left to save. Peace, love, and a great new year.

(Daniel Muñoa, a senior studying chemistry and biology at Texas A&M International University, is an environmentalist, an organic gardener, a triathelete, and a Fellow of the American Society for Microbiology.)