Desert Meditations

Journal Entry #59

February 17th, 2026

The desert southwest is a deeply happy place for us. It is a place that uniquely quiets our minds and helps remind us of perspective; of how small and fleeting we are against the backdrop of mountains and vast landscapes that are ancient and unchanging in human terms.

After the flurry of visits with family, and whistle-stop adventures replete with meals out, cocktail bars, live music, late nights and general carousing, it was time for an overstimulation detox.

Big Bend National Park, and the Chisos Basin was the perfect place for us to take a deep breath and clean the slate. I even convinced a recalcitrant Tom to join me on a literal detox. No alcohol for a full week. Keep in mind, I work in the wine industry, and produce a radio show called Amie’s Winehouse, which pairs cocktails with songs, so this is decidedly NOT our normal MO!

This was our third time in Chisos Basin. When we arrived at the campground, which is usually full, it was oddly deserted. We learned from the ranger that a drought taken hold, severe enough to shutter the entire lodge and all of the campground bathrooms in order to conserve water. For us? No water, no worries. We are self contained and had filled up with water before we made the 110 mile drive into the campground. The benefit of the drought was that trails were empty and as quiet as we had ever seen them. In our all-day hike to the South Rim, we encountered only one other hiker who shared that the East Rim (which had been closed when we had been here in prior years because of nesting peregrine falcons) was actually open. We took it as serendipitous news and decided to take the East rim to South Rim trail. It added an additional four miles to our twelve mile loop, but it was worth every extra step. We ate lunch on the East Rim. It was probably the most stunning place we’ve ever eaten PB&J sandwiches.

We spent three nights in camping and hiking in the Chisos Basin, unwinding and easing into a different slower, more thoughtful rhythm. I can tell when this begins to happen. I tune in and notice small things; A bright blue Texas Jay alerted to our presence, calling to their mate. The Cholla cactuses in bloom. A small desert flower growing in a crack of rocks. The waning sun, casting deep shadows on the burnt orange hills. Orion’s Belt, now bright enough to see his scabbard, moving across the night sky.

Our next target and another favorite place is camping at Aguirre Springs NM, in the shadow of the Organ Mountains. Unlike Big Bend, it is a first come, first served camping area. We’ve learned that to secure a camping spot in public lands, it is best to arrive into the area as other campers are leaving, usually around 10 am. Because getting to Aguirre from Big Bend was a five hour drive and we didn’t want to travel at the crack of dawn, we decided to book a reservable campsite for a night in the Franklin Mountains State Park just north of El Paso. This would make the next day’s drive just an hour and improve our chances of finding a decent campsite.

We were one of only three campers in Franklin Mountain and had the park to ourselves.

The following day, we moved to Aguirre Springs which has about as epic an approach as you can imagine…

Like Chisos Basin, we keep returning here. There’s just something about the desert mountains that draws us back. Two stunning hikes begin at this camping area: the Pine Tree Loop and the Baylor Pass Trail. This year we began with the Pine Tree Loop, a trail that meanders through strands of alligator juniper, piñon pine and the remains of ancient ironwood trees; silver-gray sentinels bleached by the sun. The loop still had the remains of a recent snow on the north faces of the path. Baylor Pass was covered with golden grasses that shimmered against blue skies and mountain peaks.

Our all day hikes frequently lead to situations that are best described with new vocabulary. Here are a few:

1. Vistumble- verb: To trip on something on the trail while admiring a scenic view.

2. Fotafail- noun: a picture that simply can’t capture the feeling of a place

3. Squatspur- noun: a small branch off of a main trail clearly used for people to relieve themselves

(This is a fotafail!)

One of the best aspects of camping in public land is few to no restrictions on campfires. If you know Tom, you know he LOVES a good fire. Tom loves the challenge of collecting wood (see our garage in Ithaca. IYKYK). After we return from our hikes, he slings his Katanaboy 500 Japanese polesaw over his shoulder and like a samurai, heads back into the forest just before sunset, moving stealthily through the brush to collect his prize. He seeks fallen dry branches, looking for oak to generate heat, and juniper and piñon for aroma.

I am the beneficiary of this obsession. Most nights we have beautiful campfires. It extends our time outside— while the days can be warm, desert evenings can see temperatures drop anywhere from 10-25 degrees once the sun goes down.

But beyond the practical warmth, the nightly campfire is also a ritual for us; it is meditative. It calms us. We reflect on the day. We absorb the warmth of the flames. We watch sunsets and the arrival of the night sky. The blanket of stars is so bright and numerous that familiar constellations, which stand out in our eastern sky at home — Orion, the Big Dipper, Sirius— are just neighbors to a vast field of so many others we can see out here. We are reminded of the immensity of time and our very small moment in it and grateful to be present in the moment.