Guadalupe Mountains, Texas and New Mexico

Our Lady of Guadalupe on a wall in Oaxaca, Mexico (2007).

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In 1531, a Mexican peasant named Juan Diego and his uncle, Juan Bernardino, reported seeing several apparitions of the Virgin Mary, a.k.a. the Virgin of Guadalupe and Our Lady of Guadalupe, near Mexico City. Subsequently, depictions of the purported traveling virgin became iconic, and innumerable places throughout Mexico and the Southwestern U.S carry her name. On a recent outing, we visited the Guadalupe Mountains of SE New Mexico and West Texas, a National Park and home to Carlsbad Caverns and it’s Brazilian free-tailed bat population, which had already migrated south for the winter when we were there, leaving only its guano behind. Summer visitors can watch thousands of bats emerge from the cave at dusk and spiral into the night sky.

Mid- to late-November is autumn in West Texas, but fall color doesn't come to mind in the desert, so we were surprised to learn that trailheads would likely be packed with leaf-peepers. After the five-hour drive from Silver City, we walked to Smith Spring, a short hike into the foothills from a historic ranch. A ranger told us that autumn foliage at the spring was spectacular despite peaking a week or so earlier, but we were skeptical as we walked across the Chihuahuan desert towards a dry-looking canyon. But inside the canyon, clear pools of water seeping from a sandstone layer beneath limestone cliffs created a wet micro-environment supporting a lush grove of yellow Gambel’s oak, red and yellow bigtooth maple, bright green ferns and grasses, and a few pale yuccas and cacti to remind us that the desert wasn’t far away. It was surprisingly spectacular. 

 

We spent the rest of the week exploring the Guadalupes and Carlsbad Caverns. We hiked up Guadalupe Peak, the highest point in Texas (8,751’), and looked down on a limestone buttress called El Capitan. Larry Scritchfield and I bootlegged a mountain bike ride beneath El Capitan on a rest day during a Hueco Tanks climbing trip sometime in the 1980s or 90s (I can’t remember exactly when) before the Park was so popular (and so well patrolled) and before I had a bike with shocks. Ellen and I hiked into McKittrick Canyon, another autumn color destination where a petroleum geologist named Wallace Pratt built an inviting stone cottage in the 1930s that he later donated to the Park. We climbed the three easiest rock routes in Last Chance Canyon, a limestone gorge north of the Guadalupe Mountains know for harder climbs in steep alcoves. And we hiked 750’ down into the earth through Carlsbad’s natural entrance on the switch-backing asphalt tourist trail. It led us and a bunch of other people, some making videos of every feature with their phones (I pity their friends and families), through a labyrinth of passages and rooms and eventually to the underground restrooms and snack bar (closed) near the elevator that most visitors use to exit the cave. We chose to hike out the way we’d come in and were lucky to have the cavern to ourselves after the last tourist entries at 2:30 p.m. passed us on their way down.

 

We’re told that spring is also lovely in the Guadalupes, with wildflowers and white madrone blossoms set off by the mahogany-brown bark. We'll return, and if we’re lucky, Our Lady of Guadalupe might appear in our latte foam at the Blue House Cafe in Carlsbad if we stop there to for a pastry and a pick-me-up on our way home. 

Smith Spring in Guadalupe National Park. 

Yellow bigtooth maple at Smith Spring.

Fall colors at Smith Spring.

Limestone fins in viewed from the trail up Guadalupe Peak.

El Capitan from the Guadalupe Peak Trail with West Texas stretched out to the south. 

Ellen near the summit on the Guadalupe Peak Trail.

A lone bigtooth maple in McKittrick Canyon.

Looking down into the maw of Carlsbad Caverns from the natural entrance. The trail descends 750 vertical feet into the cavern but doesn't reach the lowest levels.

The Virgin of Guadalupe peers out from a window in Oaxaca, Mexico (2007).

Edinburgh, Scotland

 

Edinburgh as seen looking east from the castle towards Arthur's Seat.

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Arthur’s Seat is a volcanic mound rising above the east end of the Royal Mile, the busy heart of Edinburgh tourism. On our second full day in town, we walked upwards through thick fog to the top and imagined the view if one could see more than a few feet into the grayness. On the descent, a substantial Scottish man slogging upwards with his family announced to his wife in a thick (to us) accent, “I could be drinkin’ in the pub, but instead I’m up here with you in the mist.” 

 

I’m not a patient city tourist. It’s not that I don’t like what cities offer, but after a few urban walks, however interesting, or museum visits, however engaging, I find myself looking forward to quiet breaks from the crowds and my attention narrowing to the next restaurant choice. But cities have their charms, and we easily filled a couple of days in Edinburgh before heading out to the Isle of Skye and the Highlands. 

 

To be fair, Edinburgh is a great city—it’s chocked full of historical buildings, the restaurant scene is lively and diverse, people are friendly and polite despite all the tourists, transportation is easy, and there is no end of things to do, including festivals, museums, tours, hikes, and drinking. We jumped in with both feet—walking up and down the Royal Mile, visiting the castle, hiking up Arthur’s Seat, eating good Indian food—before driving out of Leith on the “wrong” side of the road in our Eurocar rental. There's much more to embrace in Edinburgh than its tourist hub for those with more city energy than I have, but we were excited head north. 

Once on Skye, we were happy to be walking “in the mist,” safe in the knowledge that even in the windswept wildness of the Hebrides, a warm pub was never far away.

A bagpipe busker on the Royal Mile. When you walk out of Waverly station, tired from 24 hours of travel, the pipers, out to earn a pound or two, make it clear that you aren't in Southern New Mexico anymore.

Stained glass in Tron Kirk, a former parish church that has been converted into a craft market.

On our arrival in Edinburgh, we sat in a small square behind Tron Kirk waiting for check-in time at our Airbnb so that we could go to sleep. I thought this guy looked sketchy, but soon young women and their mothers were chatting amiably with him about his dog, eroding my American distrust of strangers.

A street parallel to the Royal Mile.

An old sign from the days before tourism at the entrance to a "close" (side alley used to access residences) off of the Royal Mile.

A detail in the ornate ceiling of St. Giles Cathedral. St. Giles is the patron saint of lepers and was also popular in medieval Scotland. 

A cathedral in the mist.

A "wynd" (winding side street) off of the Royal Mile.

Headstones at the Cannongate Kirkyard date to 1600s. We stopped here to explore on our way to Arthur's Seat, and I was surprised to stumble upon the grave of Adam Smith, the famous economist.

In another close, a poster reproduced descriptive passages from a reference book published in the 1700s by James Tytler called "Ranger's Impartial List of the Ladies of Pleasure in Edinburgh".

Ellen in the mist on our way down from Arthur's Seat.

A ruin above Holyrood on Arthur's Seat.

Hiking the West Highland Way, Scotland

The West Highland Way.

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Near the end of our sixth day on the West Highland Way, we passed an ancient graveyard and the ruins of St. Fillan’s Priory, now reduced to low moss-covered stone walls in a grove of trees by the trail. We didn’t linger, foot-sore and eager to get to Kingshouse, a couple of miles farther on, where we could probably buy a latte and something to eat, but we learned from interpretive signs that St. Fillan was an 8^th Century Irish missionary who had settled in this part of Scotland. He was believed to have had healing powers and as an extra bonus, a left arm that glowed in the dark, which came in handy during Scottish winters as he huddled by a guttering fire copying religious works. I can imagine other uses for a glowing arm but also downsides: for one, it might attract midges, the obnoxious biting flies that famously swarm the Highlands during the summer months, driving hikers crazy. 

Mental illness in the 8th Century was mysterious and difficult to treat, but near the priory, a Holy Pool in the River Fillan offered hope to the afflicted or at least to their long-suffering caregivers. According to interpretive signs, the ill were led to the pool where they were released to wade in and recover stones, which were then placed carefully around a stone circle. Then they marched naked back to the priory to be tied “hand-and-foot” for the night to the altar beneath St. Fillan’s Bell with nary a glowing arm to light the darkness. If in the morning they had managed to escape, they were considered cured. It’s unclear what became of them if they didn't, but I doubt that it included lattes at Kingshouse, where we headed in haste, trying not to dwell on the 8th Century mental health safety net.  

 

We spent eight days in September hiking the West Highland Way from Milngavie, a northern suburb of Glasgow, to Ft. William, a largish town nestled between Loch Linnhe, an arm of the sea, and Ben Nevis, the tallest mountain in the U.K. The walk begins in the Scottish Lowlands and passes through rolling farmland and patches of forest before crossing a fault defining the edge of the Highlands. From there, a long rocky traverse along the shore of Loch Lomond leads to classic Highlands terrain—vast open moorland and u-shaped valleys beneath steep vegetated peaks called Munros if they rise to over 3,000’, Corbetts if they’re between 2,500’ and 3,000’, and Grahams if they're between 2,000’ and 2,499’. The trail in this northern section mostly follows an old military road, paved in stones in places and reduced to single-track trail in others. It descends at the end into Ft. William where one can board a train back to Glasgow or Edinburgh.

 

At well-spaced intervals along the way are small towns where walkers can stay in comfortable lodging if they plan ahead or campsites if they tough it out with full backpacks. Somewhat untypically for us, we chose the former, reveling in hot showers, comfortable beds, and hearty pub-meals and complaining only a little about the walking, barely laden with tiny daypacks stuffed with unused rain gear (we enjoyed unheard-of perfect weather) and snacks. Each night, our luggage was waiting for us thanks to a luggage transfer company that stays busy through the hiking season shuttling suitcases from place to place for hikers from all over the world. 

 

Trail cohorts leave Milngavie at the same time each day, often following similar itineraries, so hiking the WHW is social. We bonded with a couple from New Zealand and another from Canterbury (southern England) and joined them in the evenings for dinner and on the trail to chat when we could keep up, helping the miles go faster. We met hikers from the U.S., Canada, Israel, Thailand, France, Romania, and Germany, most when they passed us as we plodded along, wondering how people walk so fast. And of course, some people run the WHW and a few ride it on bicycles. Others have enough energy to bag Munros along the way, a sport of its own. If you bag all 232 Munros, you are dubbed a Munroist in Scotland, an honor that I will never attain. 

There are myriad websites and blogs providing fine-grained detail about the WHW, so I won’t go down that road, but I’ll add a few logistical notes after the photos below. We enjoyed the hike quite a lot, especially the northern half in the Highlands proper where more of the walking is away from busy roads and the scenery is gently spectacular. Knowing what I know after walking the WHW, I might choose to piece together something a little wilder if I were to return, but it’s a beautiful introduction to Scotland, and even with the crowds and the proximity to roads, walking it sure beats being tied naked to an altar beneath a bell without a glowing arm.

Ellen walking out of Milngavie, a suburb of Glasgow. The first few miles are in urban parks before the trail leaves that behind and enters rural farmland.

Typical terrain during the first day or two of the walk through rolling countryside divided by old stone walls. Once forested, most of this land has been cleared for farming and grazing. The tree in this image is a European mountain ash, thick with red-orange berries.

European mountain ash berries.

For Ellen, a near-vegetarian, all haggis is aggressive.

Speaking of haggis, here's an example of Mexican-Scottish fusion cuisine (Sco-Mex? Mex-i-Sco? Haggidillas?).

Ellen at the Clachan Pub in Drymen. Supposedly, this is the oldest licensed pub (1734) in Scotland, though I imagine there are many unlicensed pubs that go back further. The shelf all along the ceiling is lined with bottles of scotch from different distilleries. 

 

Scottish countryside near Drymen on the 2nd day of the walk.

Ellen descending Conic Hill toward Loch Lomond. Workers were busy using large boulders to build the trail, which made it tedious to navigate. I asked one of them how they managed to get the boulders up there, and he said, "this is where I have to make up a story about helicopters--nobody believes in magic anymore."

Forest near Balmaha was reminiscent of the Pacific Northwest.

Loch Lomond is a huge lake that we hiked along for two days before breaking out into more classic Highlands terrain.

"Honesty Boxes," few as fancy as this refrigerated one, are scattered along the trail for hikers. You're on your honor to leave money for any snacks and drinks you can't resist.

The view north into the Highlands from Loch Lomond.

The classic bar at the Drover's Inn at the end of our 2nd day. It opened in 1705 and supposedly, the famous Rob Roy (Scotland's Robin Hood) stopped in, though those stories seem a little like "George Washington slept here."

A stream along the trail. The landscape is gentle but streams cut into bedrock and are full of waterfalls, slots, and rapids.

Another stream incised into rolling hills.

A fencepost along the trail.

Beinn Dorain, a Munro, on day 5.

The Bridge of Orchy over the River Orchy at the end of the 5th day of our walk. The bridge was built in 1746 but has no trouble supporting a modern road. We sat beneath it soaking our tired feet until we could check into our comfy hotel beside the river.

The River Orchy in morning fog as we started out on day 6.

The slabs of Stob Dearg, another Munro, rising out of the fog on our 6th day. Climber note: There are technical slab climbs on this and other nearby peaks with "adequate protection" which, given Scottish climbing tradition, should make your palms sweat.

Ellen on day 7 with the trail stretching out before her.

The view down the Loch Leven valley with "The Pap" in the distance, called that "for obvious reasons" according to a local taxi driver we talked with.

Ellen approaching a stone ruin on the last day (8th) of the walk.

The infamous Ben Nevis near the end of the hike. At over 4,000', this is the tallest peak in the U.K. The side you can't see in this photo is craggy and has been the scene of Scottish mountaineering epics for centuries.

Ellen at the end of the walk in Ft. William. The WHW is supposed to be about 96 miles long, but Ellen traced it at over 110 on her GPS, and our feet were ready for a few days off.

Logistics

There is a wealth of detailed information online about hiking the WHW since it is probably the most popular long-distance trail in Scotland. I'll add just a few notes here.

Walking Companies: There are many companies that you can hire to make accommodation and luggage transport arrangements, and for us, this was a worthwhile and not very expensive way to set up the trip. We used Contours, and they did an excellent job--all of our accommodations were upscale, and transfers all went smoothly. Book as early as possible! We booked late (early June for a mid-September hike), so on several nights we had to take taxis (arranged by Contours) from where we finished walking to available accommodation. It would be much nicer to sleep where you finish walking each day. Do your research before choosing a walking company--Contours was great, and there are other good companies, but we heard from other travelers and taxi drivers that some companies are "rubbish."

The Walk: The walk is generally easy, without too much climbing and descending at least compared to what we're used to in the U.S. West where we do most of our backpacking. We did the walk in 8 days, which is fairly common (people do it in much shorter or a little longer times). This was reasonable, but we had some 17-mile days in the first half of the walk which felt long. Most of the latter half required only 9-12 mile days which is more relaxed. You could create an itinerary that breaks up those long early days. If you want a wilder walk with less people, there are many options, but they may require a little more planning to arrange.

Food: Our accommodations provided breakfasts, and they were hearty. We carried snacks for lunches, but you can buy packed lunches if you want something more substantial, and many of the towns along the way have places to buy food. We ate dinners out at universally good restaurants and pubs. Food is expensive in Scotland by our standards, but we went for it. There were always at least some vegetarian options at restaurants, including vegetarian haggis (made from vegetable livers and hearts wrapped in a vegetable stomach?).

Transport: Transportation to the beginning of the walk in Milngavie and from the end in Fort William is easily accomplished and inexpensive by train. See the Scotrail website.

Isle of Skye, Scotland

An Island near Harlosh on the Isle of Skye.

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The bedroom windows of the cottage we rented for a week on the Isle of Skye looked out on the Harlosh Peninsula where ruins, some dating to the Iron age (1200 – 800 BC), are being subsumed by the boggy vegetation that dominates the island. The peninsula is sandwiched between two saltwater lochs—essentially bays—leading to the North Atlantic. Ellen and I walked the peninsula to its tip, trying to keep our feet dry while not disturbing peacefully grazing sheep and stopping to explore old stone foundations. 

 

Skye is the largest of the Inner Hebrides, and it is connected to Scotland’s northwest coast by a short bridge, making access easy and encouraging tourism. The island is a collection of peninsulas anchored to the craggy Cuillin Mountains, a destination for climbers keen to traverse its serrated ridges or ascend its isolated spires when the weather isn’t too horrible, which isn’t very often. Even more than on mainland Scotland, Skye is a wet and windy place, with 59-79” of rain per year and even more in the higher peaks. One wonders how 3,000-4,000’ peaks can be the setting for so many gnarly mountaineering epics until you experience Scottish weather.

 

Skye’s history dates to Mesolithic times (7,000 BC), and the island has subsequently been occupied by Celtic tribes, Vikings, and Scottish Clans, most notably the MacLeods and the MacDonalds who were prone to getting violently into it with each other. More recently, the island has become a tourist destination and a second home for hale British retirees, but as recently as 2001, a third of the population still spoke Gaelic. 

Despite typical Isle of Skye weather, we enjoyed our week there before leaving to hike the West Highland Way, a topic for a later post. Photographs below are of our outings on Skye. I’ve included descriptions of our wanderings and a few words at the end about logistics, but there is plenty of information available online for anyone planning a trip. 

Ellen on the Harlosh Peninsula, where we stayed while on Skye.

The view east from the Harlosh Peninsula.

On our first full day on Skye we drove east and north from Harlosh through the capital town of Portree to the alarmingly large and full parking lot at the trailhead for the Quiraing Loop, one of the more popular hikes on the island. Despite its popularity, the hike begins from a winding one-lane road punctuated by "passing places" (small pull-outs) that we soon learned were common throughout Scotland. From the road, the trail ascends into the mist, tracing the top of a precipitous cliff overlooking (if you could see through the fog) a complicated jumble of landslide debris in the valley below where the return leg of the loop threads its way among rock formations. We suited up against the intermittent rain showers and headed out, defying our arid-land instinct to sit in the car and wait it out, which in Scotland might take weeks or years. Despite or even because of the weather, the hike was beautiful, even with all the people. 

Ellen hiking in the fog below on the Quiraing loop, one of the more popular hikes on Skye.

The Quiraing Loop.

Ellen on the Quiraing loop hiking through heather.

The view north towards the Old Man of Storr (not visible), a famous rock spire, from near the start of the Quiraing loop.

The weather seemed too inhospitable to hike high into the Cuillin Mountains, so instead we walked below them from a campground at Glenbrittle at the end of Loch Brittle to the tip of another peninsula called the Rubha an Dunain (means point of the little fort). The wind picked up as we got nearer to the point, eventually knocking us around enough to make it challenging to stay on the trail when we could find it. Despite the weather, this was one of our favorite days on Skye. The end of the peninsula was thick with ruins, and a small lake was connected to the sea by a manmade channel labeled "Viking Canal" on our maps. Although it isn't obvious to me why the Vikings would have needed to access the lake with their boats, apparently it served as a protected harbor, and Norse boat timbers carbon-dated to AD 1100 have been pulled from the water.

A stream flowing from the Cuillin Mountains to the sea.

Sheep are everywhere on Skye including on this remote peninsula.

Ellen working to keep her balance in 50 mph wind at the Viking Canal near the tip of a peninsula called the Rubha an Dunain near the southern end of the island. The canal linked a small loch with the sea.

The Viking Canal outlet to the sea.

The closest substantial settlement to our base in Harlosh was Dunvegan, and the nearby Dunvegan Castle has been home to the MacLeods for 800 years. They still live there, but parts of the castle are open to the public (for a price). We did the obligatory tour, but more compelling for us was a walk to the coast a few miles north of the castle to a small ruin called Fiadhairt and then onwards through a basalt-lined valley to the ocean.

An inlet off of Loch Dunvegan that we passed on a hike north of the Dunvegan Castle.

The ruin of a double-walled structure called Fiadhairt north of Dunvegan.

A microcosm of fern and moss on the stone wall of the Fiadhairt ruin.

Blooming heather on the Fiadhairt ruin.

A view of the Dunvegan Loch from the Dunvegan Castle, which has been occupied continuously by the MacLeods for 800 years. They were originally a dominant clan on Skye.

A cemetery near the town of Dunvegan.

We spent as little time in the capital city, Portree, as possible, since we didn't need any t-shirts or whisky, but we stopped there twice on our way to or from outings to eat and resupply at the Coop grocery store. The town is attractive, but it's crawling with tourists and busy with traffic.

The harbor at Portree, the largest town on Skye and its center of tourism.

Waterfront buildings in Portree.

The northernmost peninsula on Skye is called the Trotternish and it extends north from Portree past the Old Man of Storr and the Quiraing to a more remote area close to its tip. We visited a castle ruin there (Duntulm Castle) and then hiked to a bothy (shelter) overlooking Rubha Hunnish, the northern point of the peninsula, with views to the Outer Hebrides to the west. We returned to our car by hiking along the shore through bogs occupied by the ruins of old croft houses. Crofting is landholding system in which farmers rent and work small pieces of land, and crofting is still common today in Northwest Scotland.

A classic phone booth (with phone) along a rural road on the Trotternish Peninsula near the northern tip of Skye.

Ellen having lunch in a bothy with views across the North Atlantic to the Outer Hebrides.

Looking south along the coast of the Trotternish Peninsula.

Distillery visits are de rigueur in Scotland, so before we left the U.S., I scheduled a tour of the Talisker Distillery on Skye. Unfortunately, these tours are popular and bookings get filled, so we found ourselves sampling lightly peated Talisker scotch at 10:30 a.m. the day before we left Skye, which contributed to a less aggressive agenda that day than we had enjoyed during the rest of the our visit. Oddly, Skye is not a great place for a distillery except that it has an abundance of clear water, which is essential for making whisky (spelled without the 'e' in the U.K.). Barley doesn't grow well on Skye, so it is shipped in from Scotland's east coast after being dried (with heat and smoke from burning peat). Once distilled, the scotch is shipped out to age on the mainland. Still, the complexity of a distillery was fun to see, and the tasting at the end of the tour was engaging. 

An old boat along the shore near the town of Carbost, home of the Talisker Distillery.

Huge stills in the Talisker Distillery at Carbost.

Somewhat reluctantly we left Skye after a week to return our car to Glasgow and stage for an 8-day hike on the West Highland Way. As we drove towards the bridge connecting Skye to the mainland, rare glimpses of sunshine lit the Cuillin Mountains making them more enticing than they had been in fog and driving rain.

A last view into the Cuillin Mountains as we left Skye.

The road back to mainland Scotland where we were headed to hike in the Highlands.

Logistics

There's no end of information online about visiting the Isle of Skye, since it is one of the most popular destinations in Scotland, but I'll provide a few specifics here from our trip that might be useful.

Transportation: We rented a car (Europcar) in Edinburgh and drove to Skye. Exploring the island would be nearly impossible without a car, though there are some local buses and paid tours are popular with some travelers. The rail system is easy to use in Scotland, and in retrospect, it might have been easier and even cheaper to take a train to Fort William (or anywhere close to Skye) and rent a car there to minimize driving hassles (driving on the left side of narrow roads and all of that) and gasoline expenses.

Accommodation: There are an innumerable vacation rentals on Skye. Portree is the epicenter of tourism on the island and has the largest concentration of shops and restaurants. If that's appealing to you, you'll need to book well in advance of your trip because everything fills up early. Instead, we stayed in a quiet and lovely cottage at Harlosh called the Seascape Cottage, which you can book directly with the hosts (who are botanists!) or through Airbnb, etc.

Weather: We visited in September, and it rained every day, which is typical any time of the year. Bring warm clothes and good rain gear. In the summer months, bugs (midges) are a nuisance, but they didn't bother us in September.

Online Information

Comprehensive travel information is available here.

TripAdvisor has links to travel information.

Sites like this one have information specifically for photographers.