I had two days between when one athlete left Dallas and before the other one arrives. Despite the 96 degree heat, I was determined to have an opportunity to experience the local wildlife via a lengthy wilderness hike and camp-out.
I settled on a 14 mile hike between Juniper Point and Rock Creek on the South side of Lake Texoma--a ginormous lake that straddles the North end of Texas and Oklahoma.
As my cell phone is a piece of crap and refuses to be useful for anything other than an occasional call, I diligently wrote out the directions via map quest. I'd drop off Laurie at DFW airport, then head to my destination.
Texas, despite its huge growth is still made up of loads of wonderful small towns, sprawling farms and farm-to-market roads labeled FM 121, for example (rather than Hwy 121).
I headed up Hwy 377 with the directions to take a left on Liberty, which I did. It dead-ended at the end of an up-and-coming fancy neighborhood. Clearly I was lost. I asked a local for some assistance, but he wasn't sure what I was talking about and his directions lead me to the lake shore on the opposite side. Finally, by a lucky twist of fate, I wound up at a blocked off road where a lady was sitting under an umbrella ensuring no one would pass.
I inquired as to the location of Juniper point. She told me she was pretty sure it was still closed.
You see, Texas, after seven years of searing drought got 10 years of rainfall in the span of a month. Not only were the water tables completely filled during this torrent, lakes and reservoirs had reached all time recorded highs. The flooding was massive.
I inquired about Cedar Bayou instead. It was a mid-way point, and my series of wrong turns had stolen about an hour away from my day. It was getting late, and I wanted to get in a few hours of hiking before nightfall set in.
She gave me directions to Cedar Bayou, not sure if that was open either, but I set off to find out for myself, as I really wanted to get a move on.
Cedar Bayou is a small marina with about 30 boats docked there. All I knew was I saw a sign for a trailhead with another sign indicating "hikers park here". Good enough for me!
As the weather was hot, I brought 7 liters of Gatorade in my back along with my tent, a sleeping bag and a sleeping mat. I also brought loads of protein bars for food and assundries like night-lamps and toilet paper. Even though the trail map online indicated a lake was near, I didn't want to risk running out of liquid, as I wasn't certain how near.
By the time I got on the trail, it was 6 pm--not at all ideal, but at least it was a start. My plan was to hike in as far as I could, get up early the next morning, hike to the end of the trail at Rock Creek, then hike back. I figured round trip the whole trail would encompass around 18 miles.
The trail was marked with green and red arrows--green for hikers, red for mountain bikers. I set out on the green trail, which was a challenge to find at times.
Right away, it was evident just how far the water had risen. Although the rains had ceased well over three months ago, there was a grey residue that lay over everything. The water line had receded from 8 feet deeper than where I was walking. The ground was ankle deep in mud in many places, and I fought to keep from falling as I crossed murky stagnant tributaries. The foot prints from animals were plentiful. I took pictures of what could be coyotes or wolves, bob cats, and what I originally thought must be deer, as the tracks were clearly of hooves.
There were so many tracks! Clearly loads of wildlife lived here.
I walked in mostly shaded areas, struggling to find the markers that were said to mark the path. Many times I was sure I was lost, only to pick back up the trail marker and realize I was found.
The trail was narrow and lead up through thick forests with light trickling in. It was hot. Sweat poured off my chin.
Fortunately I'd done some research about heat stroke. I donned a long-sleeved wicking shirt, and as it was entirely sweat drenched, it kept me exceptionally cool. I bought a cheap straw fedora to keep the sun off my face, and it was helping too. I carried my Gatorade in hand, as I am notoriously bad about drinking frequently enough, and I wanted to ensure a steady stream of hydration every 20 minutes or so.
The first foot bridge I came to was entirely washed out. I made a wide swath around the murky pond, regaining the trail on the other side. I continued on, sweating profusely, walking as quickly as I could, determined to make as much ground as possible in the span of time that remained in this day.
The second bridge was in tact, and I crossed it easily. The trail meandered circumventing the lakes amoeba-like shape before diving deep into the forest, away from the water.
The trail wound up, up and nice sized hill (no mountains here), and as I traversed the other side, I froze in my tracks.
Two eyes peered from me from not 25 feet away. At first I was sure it was a black panther, and I was baffled, as the animals I'd read about in this area did not include panthers. Bobcats, yes. Panthers no.
I stood silently, holding my breath, hoping it wouldn't see me. Then it moved. Completely tense, I watched it as it walked out from behind the tree and headed up the hill. It wasn't a panther at all. It was a black wild pig!
No sooner had he passed, then a baby spotted wild pig followed behind. Oh my God. I knew wild pigs could be vicious, and especially sows with babies in tow. I stood motionless. Frozen.
Another pig followed behind those two, then another. Larger pigs and baby pigs all scurried up the hill, their noses to the ground, looking for grubs and roots. A pink baby pig with large black spots stopped and looked right at me. I quickly assessed the situation. There was a tree not 2 feet in front of me with a small enough circumference I could easily scale it, and tall enough I could readily get away.
Then he looked away. He made no alarm to the others. One after another, a dozen pigs including 4 piglets made their way up the hill crossing the trail from which I had just traversed.
Hooves. Now I knew those were not deer prints I had seen, but rather herds of pigs.
After the last one had crossed the path behind me and was out of sight, I set back off on the trail, which was fortunately headed in the opposite direction. I kept looking back over my shoulder, but the pigs were no where in sight.
Amazing!!! I can't believe I had just witnessed something so spectacular! I felt lucky to be alive and blessed by the good fortune of running late enough that I was able to catch this spectacle of nature.
I continued on, the trail once again meandering along the lake. The sun was starting to set, so I decided to set up camp at a breezy spot along the lake.
The dirt was soft and spongy, and I could hear the waves slapping up against the shore. Cicadas and crickets created a deafening symphony, and I felt peaceful about the day.
It was hot and humid still, so I decided to leave the rain flap off my tent, sleeping under a virtual screened in view of everything around me. I wrote about the days events, the turned off the lamp. It was pitch black.
I lay awake, sweating. The dried sweat from earlier today caused hairs to prickle and itch. It was nearly impossible to relax enough to sleep. I felt a swoosh run by my tent. My hairs stood on end! I wondered to myself whether it would be better to be able to see anything looking in on me, or whether I'd feel safer knowing they couldn't see me either. I got up, donned my headlamp and covered my tent with the rain flap. It was so blistering hot, however, that within minutes I opened the front of the flap to let in some air.
Now there was no view from my tent or into it except out the front door, which was facing the lake.
I lay there itchy and hot for several hours.
I wasn't afraid, but sleep wasn't coming either.
Then, out of nowhere, I head a deep growling not 30 feet away. It was a deep growl followed by a series of yips.
OMG. It was a coyote or wolf, and I was sure he was signaling to his pack that dinner was close by sandwiched in a tent. I sat up slowly, carefully pulling both knives from their sheaths and pulling the air-horn in close, which I keep for emergencies. I had forgotten my bear spray, so it was the next best thing.
If the bull-horn didn't scare them away, I'd fight them off or die trying with a freshly sharpened knife in each hand.
I sat there, motionless, for at least 40 minutes. Nothing.
Finally, I lay back down, my hands still on my knives.
At last I heard them barking and yipping. It appeared they'd decided to move further from me. They seemed to be communicating with one another through a series of noises. No matter, the sounds were clearly at least a mile away now.
I lay back down and sunk into sleep.
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