“This is It?” – Hiking Ernst Tinaja
There is a saying in Texas, “God made Texas summers so hot, so we’d know what hell felt like.” I know what hell feels like. I live in Texas. I endure every summer here. But what really taught me a lesson about the heat of Texas was hiking Big Bend National Park and the Chihuahuan Desert, and my biggest lesson came from Ernst Tinaja. Our adventure taught me a whole new meaning of being hot as hell.
God made Texas summers so hot, so we’d know what hell felt like.
After a day of hiking trails all over Big Bend, we hit Ernst Tinaja for our last trail before we headed back to Terlingua. The trail was a must do on our list after seeing gorgeous photos of the tinaja and reading countless posts about all its wonder. We made a pack not to leave Big Bend without hiking the Ernst Tinaja Trail.
In Spanish, tinaja means “clay jar,” but it’s used in the American Southwest for surface pockets (depressions) formed in bedrock carved out by spring flow or seepage. Tinajas are an important source of surface water storage in arid environments. These relatively rare landforms are important ecologically because they support unique plant communities and provide important services to terrestrial wildlife.
The Road
The tires hummed under the Jeep as my husband turned off the smooth pavement of Park Route 12 onto Old Ore Road, a rutted-out trail that traversed across the desert. We stopped at the Old Ore Road sign before we continued. We read it, then glanced at one another, then back at the road. I stared down the rocky path, hoping we hadn’t bitten off more than we could chew on this one.
“Are you ready?” Danny grinned at me. “Let’s go find the trail.”
“Let’s go.” I grinned back, ready for another adventure.
He hit the gas, and we were off.
I bounced up in the passenger seat as Danny hit a rut in the road. The Trailhawk crept along the rough and rocky path as the tires eased across the rugged desert terrain. The National Park Service recommended a high-clearance, four-wheel-drive wheel for the journey to Ernst Tinaja. I understood why. He hit another deep rut. I bounced up again. “Maybe we should slow down?”
“Slow down? We are barely moving.”
I glanced at the speedometer. We traveled at 4 mph. “Maybe we should drive faster, then. Maybe you’re driving too slow.” I shook my head. “This is nuts.” He sped up. That seemed to help… a little. Or maybe I just thought it did. Maybe it didn’t help at all. We made little progress, and I still bounced around in the Jeep.
The road became rougher as we continued down the primitive, narrow, and rocky terrain. I questioned why they even called it a road. It was more of a rustic, rutted trail that cut across Earth than it was a road. They used the unpaved and primitive Old Ore Road in the 1900s to transport silver ore, zinc, and lead from the Mexican mines to the railroad station in Marathon… they never updated it. It remains as it was back then—rutted, narrow, and rocky.
The challenge of traversing along Old Ore Road’s rough and uneven path frayed my nerves. I wanted to hit the trail. We’d hiked over thirteen miles that day. It was hot, and it’d been a long day. We’d been hiking since the sun peeked over the horizon and hadn’t eaten. The temperature simmered over 100 degrees, and it was getting hotter. It was our last trail before we headed back to Terlingua for dinner. Hot, hungry, and parched as hell, I had little patience left.
He hit another bump, and I grabbed the dash. “Okay, maybe we should slow down.”
“Are you sure you checked the map? This is taking forever. Are you sure we are going the right way?” Danny glanced at me under knit brows.
“Yes, I’ve checked the map a hundred times. The only way to the trail is down this road.” He didn’t trust my directions. I assured him I knew where we were going because I did. I could take anyone anywhere if you just gave me a map. I had a map.
“We must be getting close. We’ve been driving for over thirty minutes.” He frowned again as he slowed for another rut. “It was only supposed to be five miles down the road.”
I released a long-held breath when we climbed out of the rut and found ourselves on level ground. “This part is smooth. Maybe the road gets better.” Within a few feet, I discovered I couldn’t have been more wrong. We came upon sharp rocks and deep sand with numerous washes, which required a steep departure. Then we hit a steep, rocky section that slanted sideways. The Jeep crawled forward through the countless washes, rocky rises, and encroaching vegetation. We traveled slowly, but we moved closer to Ernst Tinaja.
Juan de Leon
A little before we reached the trail, I spotted a solitary grave just off the road. “Hey, look.” I pointed toward the marker. “Can you please pull over? I want to check it out.”
“Absolutely.” Danny pulled alongside the road once we reached the gravesite.
Gravesite of Juan de Leon. Photo Sarah Johns
I grabbed my camera, slipped out of the Jeep, and made my way through the brush to the marker. The cross read, “Juan de Leon, Born June 24, 1906, in Boquillas, del Carmen, Coah. Died July 19, 1932.”
As I studied the grave, so many questions filled my mind. I wondered who Juan was, why was he out here, how did he die, and why did he die so young. In 1932, what was he doing in this secluded desert that caused him to lose his life? What story did he have to tell and couldn’t? Was he on his way to or from the tinaja?
I scanned the desert terrain. Yuccas, prickly pear cactus, creosote bush, and ocotillos surrounded me. Nothing else. What a lonely and terrible place to die. As I stood there, a sense of sadness for Juan washed over me. The lonely grave site left me wanting to know more of his story, so I took a picture of his marker and made a mental note to find out more about the mystery of Juan once I returned home.
I headed back to the truck with a heavy heart. It’s difficult to understand what some must endure and suffer in this world. And some, like Juan, pay the ultimate price.
To learn more about the unsolved case of Juan de Leon, click HERE
The Trail
After careful maneuvering and forty-five minutes later, we pulled off the harrowing road into the parking area for the trailhead. I glanced at the temperature. 103. I mentally prepared myself for another scorching hike. At least it was only 1.9 miles round-trip. Piece of cake.
When we stepped out of the Jeep, the rush of frigid air from the A/C followed us out the door and vanished into the furnace of the desert. The searing heat slammed into my face as I closed the door behind me. The intense rays of the sun beat down on my hot, dusty, and tight skin. Within seconds, sweat trickled down my back. I grinned. I was ready for another hot hike one last time.
We pulled our gear from the back, locked up the Jeep, and made our way to the trail head and to the tinaja.
“I’m ready to head back after this. We need to eat.” Danny adjusted his backpack and checked his water. “Besides, our water is getting low, and we need to get out of the heat for a while.”
“Okay, sounds like a plan.” I strapped my camera across my shoulder and followed Danny down the trail.
A Mountain Lion?
When we reached the limestone canyon, rocks scrambled down the side of the canyon wall. I stopped dead in my tracks and surveyed the rim. Another trail of dirt and rocks avalanched to the ground. Did I see movement? Something caused the dirt and rock to rain from the cliff to the ground. All I could think about was a mountain lion. The mountain lion would see me before I saw him. I scanned along the top of the canyon again.
“What are you looking for?”
“A mountain lion.”
Danny gawked at me with wide eyes. “What? Why?” He spun in the cliff’s direction and scanned along the rim. Color drained from his red, flushed face.
More rock and dirt fell. Rocks clattered together in the sliding dirt as it spilled down the canyon wall.
“Something is up there. The dirt falls in a pattern like something is walking along the rim and following us. See.” I pointed to the tumbling dirt. The rock and dirt fell along the cliff in the same direction we walked. “It’s like it’s following us.” My heart hammered a little faster than it should as I continued to scan the area. I focused on the rim but couldn’t spot a thing. I hesitated, then turned toward Danny. “Do you think we should continue? What if it’s a hungry mountain lion?” I emphasized the word hungry because a hungry mountain lion concerned me. I couldn’t imagine they found much food out in this scorched, barren land. Mountain lions were the one animal that put me on edge. Not a single bear scared me, but a mountain lion anywhere close to my environment terrified me.
I researched the mountain lions in Big Bend before we left for our trip, and I discovered since 1984 several encounters with cats in the park resulted in attacks on people. It may have been hot as hell and the sun still sat high, but it was 5 p.m. and creeping toward evening, which increased our likelihood of an encounter. If a mountain lion stalked us, we’d never know. They kept themselves hidden and only let their presence known when they wanted it known. I turned back to the rim and studied where the dirt and rock had rained to the ground. Again, nothing.
My anxiety crept into the corners of my mind. We were all alone on the trail in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere. There wasn’t a soul around for miles and miles. It was just us… and possibly a mountain lion.
Danny stood frozen in his tracks. His gaze traveled from me to the rim and back to me again. “What do you want to do? Should we turn back?”
I studied the rim again. There wasn’t the slightest breeze. Nothing moved. Everything was so still, so silent. The still, fiery air made it almost unbearable to breathe. It burned when I pulled in a breath. “Keep going, I guess.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, we came all the way out here, drove down that horrendous road, and who’s knows when we will make it back out this way.” I shrugged. “Plus, I cannot see anything along the rim, so let’s keep going.” I figured we might as well finish this adventure. Maybe heading back to the Jeep was in our best interest, but I wasn’t about to quit now. I did not know what was in store next, but I was ready to find out.
Danny glanced back at the rim and studied it a moment before he took a step. “Okay, let’s do this.”
But for the rest of the way to the tinaja, I couldn’t stop thinking about a mountain lion following us, ready to pounce off the ledge onto my head at any moment. And as we made our way down the trail, every once in a while, I caught Danny, glancing back to the rim. I think he thought about the mountain lion as much as I did.
As we wandered up the wash, the tilted layers of bedrock emerging from the blanket of stream gravel fascinated me. The walls exposed tilted and folded rock layers, with patterns of red, orange, purple, and gray. I studied the vibrant orange swirling striations in the rock. The unique landscape held such beauty. I forgot about the mountain lion long enough to soak in the beauty that surrounded me.
The Tinaja
Somehow, I arrived at the tinaja before Danny. I turned and called back to him, “This is it.” I slid down my sunglasses and peered at the 13-foot natural rock pool. “Hmmm. Not what I expected.”
“Why?” Danny stood beside me, peering down at the kettle of water.
I glanced at him, then back to the pool of stagnant water. Hundreds and hundreds of wasps and bees swarmed the smaller pools around us, fighting for a drink.
“What? This is it? This isn’t beautiful. It looks nothing like the pictures. We went through all that for this?” He stared down at the pool, his brows drew together.
“I guess so.” Laughter bubbled up inside me. We endured the hour bumpy ride, and the103-degree heat to arrive here, and now, hundreds of wasps and bees swarmed around us as we stood staring down into a stagnant pool of water. “That was quite a journey to see a stagnant, smelly waterhole. Now wasps and bees surround us.” I swatted a wasp away from me. “The landscape is cool, though. Look around.”
“It looks nothing like the photos you showed me.” He glanced around for a second, then his gaze fell back to the wasps and bees encircling us in the smaller pools of water. “We could have skipped this death pit.”
There wasn’t any way to bring Danny’s attention back to the terrain. His focused remained on the wasps.
“It’s the lighting. They took those pictures early in the morning or at the golden hour. Not when the sun sat high and scorched down like right now. Nothing looks pretty in this heat or during this time of day. Plus, someone heavily edited them for sure.”
Wasps swarmed everywhere, surrounding us. They seemed angry at our presence, as if we might steal the only precious water around for miles and miles. Or maybe it was the heat…. the unbearable heat, beating down on all of us. The excruciating heat that put us all on edge.
“We need to get out of here.”
I worried about Danny as we backed away from the swarm. He’s deathly allergic to any sting. “Did you bring your epi?”
“I forgot it.”
“What do you mean, you forget it?” I pulled my hat low, hoping for a little relief from the intense rays. “How could you forget that, of all things?”
Danny shrugged. “It’s expired, anyway.”
“At least it would have been something. Are the allergy pills in the Jeep?”
“I don’t know.”
I sighed. Of course, the pills weren’t in the Jeep. “You better get away from here. We cannot take the chance of you getting stung.”
“Let’s head back. It’s too hot and I’ve seen enough.” Danny stepped farther away from the tinaja toward the sandy wash, leaving me alone with the angry bugs.
“One second.” For the millionth time, I wiped the sweat from my eyes. “I need to get some shots.” I did not come all this way for nothing. Something was going to come from this 103-degree hike. Plus, maybe the mountain lion was still stalking us along the cliff. Maybe I’d get lucky and get a shot of him. My heart hammered a little faster at the thought. I turned and scanned the ridge. Nothing.
“Be quick. You’re going to get bit.”
“I’ll hurry.” I focused my attention back on the tinaja. Wasp and bees swarmed around me while I attempted to get at least one good shot before we turned back. They grew angrier at my presence and buzzed around me in a frenzy. I couldn’t escape them. It was time to go. I stepped back, snapped a couple more photos, then strapped my camera across my shoulder. “Okay, let’s head out.”
Danny stood down in the sandy wash, waiting. I rushed to him. “Well, that was a memory.” I grinned at my hot and disappointed husband.
Danny laughed. “Yep, it’s always an adventure with you.” He reached for my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
With our fingers linked, we made our way back to the Jeep in the scorching heat. Not one time during our trip back did dirt and rock fall from the canyon ridge. I guess the mountain lion must have left.
In the End
I’d hike it again. Only during a different time of year and earlier in the day. Our experience wasn’t the best, but we definitely made a memory. And next time, I’d hike past the tinaja. I’ve heard there are some cool sites farther down the trail. That’s the rumor anyway…
Getting There
Ernst Tinaja is near the southern end of Old Ore Road, about 5 miles north of the paved road.
The Old Ore Road is rough and rocky. They maintain it for high clearance vehicles only. Following rains and heavy use, the road becomes extremely rutted and requires 4-wheel drive. Past the Ernst Tinaja campsite, the Old Ore Road becomes rougher. Always ask a park ranger for current road conditions.
Travel and Wander…
