Day 9 – May 31st, 2025: Big Bend National Park & Heading Home

It was my last morning in the mountains. The sunrise streamed directly through my car window. I opened the door and, for the first time, used time-lapse to capture the beauty of that moment. For so many reasons, I didn’t want the morning to end. It was absolutely silent—one of the most magical sunrises I’ve ever seen.

But like everything in life, we’re in constant motion. Everything changes, moment to moment. Nothing remains the same.

I reorganized myself, packed my backpack, and started driving toward the Emory Peak trailhead (10 miles), the highest point in the Chisos Mountains and all of Brewster County. It was almost 8 a.m. when I began the hike. Surprisingly, unlike any other park I’ve visited, there was a ranger station at the trailhead. Rangers were asking hikers if they had enough water and snacks, their estimated return time, and offering guidance on what to do if they encountered a bear or mountain lion.

The trail was relatively easy for most of the way up. I was amazed by the richness of nature in this park, especially the variety of birds—many I had never seen before, including countless bluebirds. I was also surprised to learn that Big Bend is home to both mountain lions and black bears.

I didn’t see many hikers until the last half mile, which was very steep—that’s probably why people slowed down. Oddly enough, I realized I’ve come to really enjoy the steep parts of hikes. In fact, I found it fun. The ascent to the peak was about five miles (Strava clocked my roundtrip at 10.27 miles).

At the summit, I met a few hikers, a group of three from Texas, one of whom works for Nelnet, a Lincoln, Nebraska-based engineering firm company. I also met Eddie and his brother. Eddie lives in a small border town, and his brother lives in Austin. They were both kind and polite. We exchanged cameras to take photos of each other and swapped social media contacts.

Coming down was fast—as usual, I’m nearly unstoppable on the descent. I finished the hike by 12:15, just a little over four hours. After visiting the gift shop and bathrooms, I saw Eddie and his brother again. We chatted briefly and took a group photo.

By then, I was ready for snacks and cold drinks, gearing up for the 16-hour drive home. With almost a full tank, I drove straight to where home is, Lincoln, NE and my first stop was Odessa, Texas. Put gas and order a pizza. While waiting, I chatted with the owner. He asked about my journey, and I vented about getting a second windshield chip today, thanks to loose gravel. He mentioned something about Bitcoin mining and how many Chinese and Russians are moving to the area because of it. Honestly, I had no idea what he was talking about.

A few hours later, curiosity got the best of me, so I looked up some podcasts on Bitcoin mining. Eventually, I learned a lot I didn’t know before. Driving along Hwy US-277 was eye-opening, with so many industrial zones and oil field constructions.

When I reached Oklahoma City, I argued with myself for a while about whether to stop, but I decided to keep going and finish the entire 16-hour drive. I listened to every podcast I’d downloaded and every song I could find. The drive was smooth until about an hour before reaching Lincoln, around 2 a.m.—I saw so many raccoons, deer, foxes, and rabbits that I was worried I might hit one.

Thankfully, I made it home safely, just before 4 a.m. I felt a mix of sadness that the journey was over, but also comfort in being back. Sad to leave but glad to be back.

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Day 8 – May 30th, 2025 - Guadalupe Mountains National Park

Woke up at 7 a.m. feeling truly rested for the first time on this trip. Packed up and walked straight to the Guadalupe Peak trailhead, just steps from my campsite. I brewed coffee and planned to have breakfast after hiking for a couple of miles.

The weather was cloudy, and as I climbed, I could feel myself entering the clouds, the moisture on my face, the mist in the air. At around mile two, I broke through the cloud layer and took some amazing photos.

I met a fellow hiker named Nathan. We talked about how lucky we were to have this view on our hike. We swapped cameras for photos. He hiked ahead, but I passed him about half a mile before the summit, which I reached around 10 a.m.

We spent a while chatting at the summit. Nathan is on a three-week trip, originally from Maine, now living in Maryland. He’s a musician and blogs about his travels. He gave me a sweet rice snack. We took a selfie and exchanged on social media. You can follow Nathan’s blog here: njhcomposer.blogspot.com.

I made a quick descent (as usual) and ran a mile down, greeting dozens of hikers on the way. One family asked if they were close to the clouds, and I told them it’d be another two miles.

Back at the parking lot around noon, I prepared for the final stretch: driving to Big Bend National Park. It was about 5 hours of driving. I had a full tank and didn’t stop until I reached Marfa, Texas, a small town with a heavy police presence. I got gas, snacks, water, a burrito from Angel’s Restaurant, and some canned food from Dollar Store.

Before reaching Big Bend, there was heavy construction and loose gravel. A rock flew up and chipped my windshield—which really pissed me off. Maybe I was just exhausted from the long drive, but Big Bend felt like it was in the middle of nowhere. Almost unreal. It took forever just to reach the entrance sign.

The visitor center was closed—it was past 5 p.m. Campsite options were limited, but I secured a primitive roadside spot at Paint Gap. After a bumpy drive on gravel, I got there—completely alone, surrounded by silence. I couldn’t hear or see another soul for miles. Most people were camped at Chisos Basin, about 10 miles away.

                                         

I organized my gear, cooked dinner, and took a walk into the open wilderness—no trails, just space. By the time I returned, it was too late to set up my tent. So, I slept in the car. I’d seen signs warning of mountain lions and javelinas, but I felt safe.

My sleeping setup in the Corolla Cross was very comfortable (Not the first time). That night, I got exactly what I needed: total silence and peace.

 For travel recommendations and advice, feel free to reach out 

nizarrasho01@gmail.com

+1 402.450.7495

 

                                                          

Day 7 – May 29th, 2025 - Carlsbad Caverns National Park

Woke up to a beautiful view of Lake Holloman in New Mexico. After soaking in the scenery, I hit the road toward Carlsbad Caverns National Park, about a 3-hour drive. I passed through the Lincoln National Forest and stopped at the charming town of Cloudcroft for a coffee and a warm sandwich.

The road after the forest, all the way to Morningside town, was dry, hot, and scenic in some ways, and very isolated. Driving through it felt like entering a cinematic silence: endless plains and sun-blasted rocks. For miles, I barely saw another car, maybe one every 30 miles. I sped up a bit, why not, once in a while.  

Along the drive, I noticed abandoned homes, gas stations, factories, and entire towns left behind. I couldn’t help but wonder about their stories. Why were these places empty and unlivable anymore?

Crossing into Texas, it was no surprise to start seeing oil fields and those constant gas flames. Very industrial, I thought: this land must be very rich.

Then I came across a massive group of classic cars—maybe around 100 of them. It felt like a car club or some sort of veterans’ ride. Interestingly, they all seemed to be heading to Carlsbad Caverns, too.

I arrived at the visitor center around 11 a.m., located on a hill under dramatic stormy skies. The wind was picking up, and you could smell the rain in the valley. The bathrooms were under construction, but there were porta-potties available.   

                                                 

I showed my annual pass and began the cave tour through the natural entrance. The entrance itself was incredible, and once inside, looking back up, the opening looked like a giant eye. It reminded me of Cennet Mağarası in Mersin, Turkey, which I visited during my college graduation trip in 2013 (also known as the Heaven & Hell Caves).

The trail to the rest area and lunchroom was about a mile long. Then came the Big Room, North America’s largest cave chamber, about two more miles. Hiking back to the surface makes it roughly a four-mile round trip, though there’s also an elevator most people take to avoid the very steep climb.

Highlights of the cave included Mirror Lake, Crystal Spring Dome, Bat Cave, Green Lake, and Devil’s Spring. Carlsbad Caverns truly showcases incredible geological formations. I moved quickly through the cave with my headlamp on. It felt magical, like being inside a complicated dream.

But I have to admit, it felt overused. Way too many people, including kids, are yelling and touching everything. There was even a restaurant, gift shop, and restroom inside the cave. It made me wish there were more restrictions, maybe allow access only through guided tours. There was electricity all over the cave and built-in trails, and even an extra seating rest area. A place this sacred deserves more protection.

I hiked back up quickly—only saw one other person hiking; the rest took the elevator.

Afterward, I browsed the gift shop and asked the rangers if there was more to explore. Besides a few hiking trails and waiting for the bats at 7 p.m., there wasn’t much else. I skipped the evening hike since I had already done over 40 miles this week and had more ahead.

I grabbed some food at the visitor center restaurant, then booked a camping spot online at Pine Springs Campground in Guadalupe Mountains National Park. I filled up on gas since it’s a remote area, then drove through a storm with heavy rain. It was an intense, beautiful drive.           

                                                

When I arrived at Guadalupe, which was only about 45 minutes away, I found my reserved campsite had a tag saying it was already booked for May 28–29. Confused, I called Recreation.gov. They confirmed it was under my name and told me to go ahead and use it. The person on the phone could not answer why there is a tag that says this place is reserved.

I set up camp and cooked dinner. After the storm, the rainbow over the Guadalupe Mountains was massive—one of the most incredible I’ve ever seen. I crawled into my tent early. That night, in the quiet of the mountains, I finally got the rest I’d been needing.

For travel recommendations and advice, feel free to reach out 

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Day 6: White Sands National Park – May 28th, 2025

 I woke around 6 a.m. in Lordsburg, New Mexico, to the sound of countless birds singing with the sunrise. I stayed in my tent for almost an hour, simply listening. Some of the bird songs I had never heard before; good start.

After packing up my tent, I stopped at a nearby gas station for coffee. I didn’t need to arrive at White Sands until 5 p.m., since I planned to stay for sunset and had read that the midday heat can be brutal. Plus, it’s not a very large park, so arriving later made sense.

That coffee was easily the best I’ve had on this trip. Caffeinated and energized, I rolled down all four windows and opened the sunroof to enjoy the New Mexico morning breeze. Music up loud all the way; my SoundCloud library encompasses ten years of music, and honestly,  sometimes I feel I could be a DJ with a little training.

Around 10 a.m., I stopped at the Las Cruces Overlook rest and picnic area and spent about an hour there. Workers were watering the trees and gardens, and the smell of straw instantly transported me back to my childhood. It was an unexpectedly nostalgic and unforgettable hour.

Thirty minutes away from White Sands, I saw a sign for the Space Murals Museum/admission free. I turned back to check it out. It wasn’t open yet; I was there just before 11 a.m., which was the opening time, but another car pulled up. I rolled down my window and said, “It’s closed.” The driver replied, “Oh, I know the lady — let’s go in.” So, I followed them.

We were greeted by a sharp, kind older lady from New York who lives onsite and manages both the museum and the gift shop. She gave me a personal 30-minute tour and shared stories behind many of the exhibits, mostly focused on NASA’s presence in New Mexico. The museum was small and local, but warm, inspiring, and filled with care.

After the tour, I chatted with James, one of the guys I’d met in the parking lot. While browsing the gift shop, I found a NASA license plate, perfect for my brother in Germany, who collects them. James lit up when I told him, he said he’d always wanted a German license plate. I promised I’d send him one after my trip. A few minutes later, he gave me his watch as a gift and bought me a postcard with his contact info on it. Turns out, his last name was German.

Before I left, James and the New Yorker recommended visiting Elephant Butte Reservoir, saying it was a great detour since it was still early for White Sands. I checked the map and to the lake we go.

Elephant Butte is the largest lake in New Mexico. When I arrived, I found just a few boats and some large military vehicles. It was midday and boiling. But the water was shockingly cold, and I couldn’t resist. I pulled out my paddleboard and went for it; I managed about a mile, but the boats made large waves, and it didn’t feel too safe. But still paddling alone in a cold mountain-fed lake in the desert was an unforgettable moment.

 

I made sure to leave by 3 p.m. and arrived at White Sands right around 5 p.m. It was still extremely hot. At the visitor center, I asked about camping inside the park, but nope, not allowed. They gave me a map of nearby campgrounds.

I decided to do two hikes: the 2-mile Primitive Backcountry Campsites trail and the 5-mile Alkali Flat Trail.  The sunset hike was amazing. I took a lot of photos of the white sand hills, then sat on one and just enjoyed the sunlight, shadows, and quiet. It was a place like no other, I felt thankful and amazed to be there. 

I left the park just past 9 p.m; stopped by the visitor center to refill my water, and searched for a place to camp. Just four miles away, I found Holloman Lake, a public site with no amenities — but it was perfect. No other campers, just peace, stars, and the glow of moonlight reflecting on the water.

I pitched my tent, cooked some noodles, and lay down under the stars, trying to get some sleep.

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Day 5 – Saguaro National Park – May 27, 2025

 I woke up around 6 AM—not sure if it was a great night of sleep, but at least my Garmin watch said I had a couple hours of deep sleep. I packed up my tent and hit the road toward the nearest town for coffee and to refuel. My next stop: Saguaro National Park, West side. Wasson Peak; is the highest point in the park on either side (East or West), and my goal for the day.

The drive took a little under two hours, winding through rural areas outside of Tucson. The landscape was classic southern Arizona: dry, dusty, and scattered with farms and industrial lots. Arriving in town the day after Memorial Day gave me that familiar feeling—you know, when you’re still on vacation but everyone else is back to work.

I pulled up to the west entrance around 9:30 AM. The visitor center was closed, but I refilled my water and started exploring. A lot of this park can be appreciated just by driving—many areas are accessible by gravel roads that cut through cactus forests and desert valleys.

Around 10:30 AM, I arrived at the Sendero Esperanza trailhead, ready to hike. Almost instantly, I was blown away by the richness of life in this desert. The trail was full of burrows and holes—evidence of all the creatures living beneath the surface. Birds and lizards dominated the scene. I kept hoping to spot a snake, especially after noticing so many things were moving in the brush, but I never caught one with my own eyes. Well, I saw a large red/white lizard.

For most of the hike, I didn’t see anyone. I eventually ran into two hikers, and I asked them if I could take a loop instead of coming back the same way.  We looked at the trail map together, and the only way back to my car was the same way I came through. (Tip: If you’re heading to Saguaro, take your time studying the trail system). A bit before the summit, I crossed paths with two more hikers and wished them a good day—they seemed European.

 

I reached the summit of Wasson Peak around noon. It was blazing hot by then, after snapping some photos of the iconic cacti, I focused on descending quickly before the heat got worse.

I ran about half the way down, and just before reaching the trailhead, I passed a solo hiker. Back at my car, I noticed the couple I thought were European sitting in a car. The woman soon approached me, clearly distressed, and asked if I had any extra water. Her husband wasn’t doing well. She even offered to buy it. I gave her all the water she needed. I said I have plenty.

After a few minutes, she asked if I could help them find their car. They had become disoriented and weren’t sure where they parked. I cleared space in my car and gave them a ride took 21 minutes. The AC was blasting. Her husband, clearly dehydrated and overheated, and overheard that he has kidney issues, gradually came back to life. Apparently, the hiker I’d seen earlier was a friend of driver in the car, but both had declined to help them, something the couple was really shaken by. I think that’s part of why they were so grateful to me. I just told them, “I had the ability to help, and you needed it—why wouldn’t I?”

They insisted on repaying me, offering gas money and gifts. I refused, but I told the wife that I work for a nonprofit, and she promised she would donate. Before parting, they gave me three bottles of ice-cold water, which I appreciated even though I rarely drink cold water. We shook hands, and they were on their way, looking much better than before. Both were from Ohio and have been to up to 40 National parks, and they take photos and print them as books with descriptions.

I stopped by a local museum nearby, but skipped going inside—it wasn’t free and seemed more geared toward kids. And well… I’m not a kid anymore.

From there, I decided to drive to the east side of Saguaro since it was on the way to White Sands National Park, my next destination. It was about a four-hour drive, and I wanted to drive two hours today so I won't have to drive the whole drive tomorrow. I arrived at the East Visitor Center around 3 PM, grabbed a few items, and hit the road. I was getting tired.

I aimed for a KOA camping ground in the tiny town of Lordsburg off Highway 10 and got there just before 7 PM. I was able to reserve a tent spot for $43. The staff member (old man) told me the pool was closed, which disappointed me, but then I noticed the sign said it closed at 8, not 7. When I told him, he brushed it off and rode off on a three-wheel motorcycle.

Turns out, the pool was open. So I went for it. I stripped down and dove in. The water was cold, but I had the entire pool to myself, and it felt incredible after a desert hike.

Later, I tried walking to a restaurant, but too many loose dogs around people’s yards made me nervous. I drove instead, picked up some Mexican food and a Coke, then returned to camp and enjoyed my simple dinner. One final try at using the telescope I’d borrowed… but again, no luck. That was the last attempt.

KOA was a solid experience overall—clean showers, a sink to wash dishes, decent privacy with each spot walled off, and even Wi-Fi and electricity. Not bad at all.

For travel recommendations and advice, feel free to reach out 

nizarrasho01@gmail.com

+1 402.450.7495