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Stephens County
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Continuing a tradition from the past couple of years, I headed out to Texas during my Spring Break for a county highpoint harvest. This proved to be a very lucrative trip, with 22 counties successfully completed. I did a bunch from all over, from the flatty in Midland County to a few in the Hill Country, to a bunch up along the Red River along the Oklahoma boundary. The weather ranged from nice to stormy, including one day where I evaded some twisters near Abilene. Bob Martin accompanied me on the first handful, then left to go on his way, while I spent a few more days on my own.
The highpoint of Midland county is just a small hump of land coming in from neighboring Ector county from the west. It's not a hill or bluff or break. Just a little bit of land that swells ever so slightly higher than the surrounding lands. Yes, Midland county is about as flat as a county can get. And even then I managed to botch my first attempt at the highpoint from a year ago.
In March 2002 I came to this area, map in hand, figuring this highpoint would go quick. Most of the time the maps are usually accurate enough with the roads and landmarks that I can figure my way to the highpoint with little difficulty. However, since this particular topo map was created, a new freeway has been built connecting Midland and Odessa. This freeway (TX-191) goes right near the highpoint area, but is not shown on the map. Not a problem, I figured. A frontage road along the west-bound lanes leads to a dirt road going north. This road is 2.5 miles west along the frontage road from its junction with FM-1788. There is a huge billboard at this dirt road's entrance. On my first go, I drove in this road, and realized pretty fast the roads on the map don't coincide with the roads on the ground. Hmm. I drove in about one mile, parked, walked the immediate area and called it "good". I drove back out the road and into Odessa, about 8 miles away, and immediately got a bad feeling. I decided to re-study the maps and give it another try using my GPS. But I had a problem! The photocopy that I had didn't have longitudinal tick-marks (i.e. my "x" coordinate) on it. It did have the latitudinal tick-marks, but only barely: some were cut-off by the copier. It's only by dumb luck I had what I had. But I had enough to determine at least my degrees and minutes, but not the seconds. For my longitude, I drove east again and parked at the county line sign, and took a reading. I then went back to this road, drove in a little bit further, and met my second problem: the road shown on the map no longer existed, and a new road trending more northwest than north took its place. With GPS I sort-of knew where I was but could not be sure. I decided to park, get out and make some random walks, noting my GPS readings, then I'd compare them when I got home a few days later. Well... one reading was close. and although I walked around a bit, I tentatively decided to give myself credit for Midland county. However, I found out later, after Bob Packard went in with a better map, that I had in fact missed the highpoint area by about 500 feet. That was frustrating news.
For my 2003 tour, I came back to Midland and met up with my highpointing buddy Bob Martin, who himself was feeling suspicious about his own Midland "ascent" from previous times. Together we went in and found our position exactly. I found where I had been the previous year: I was at the T-intersection near spot elevation 2,962, just south of the highpoint contour. Bob and I walked north of here, found the old road shown on the topo but now just a faint track, and easily and accurately found the highpoint area. My uncertainty gone, I can now claim this county as done, done and done. Lesson learned: have better maps! From here Bob and I convoyed southeast, had a look-at of Howard County, then tackled Irion County's various areas.
After our successful "redo" of Midland County, Bob Martin and I drove
about an hour toward Big Spring for a go at the Howard county highpoints. In this short time the
weather went from sunny with few clouds to heavy rain. We were not successful with Howard county,
eventually giving up after 3 tries from various directions, each time coming upon locked and posted
gates. The heavy rain wasn't motivating us, either, and we decided to move on and head south toward
Irion county, about 70 miles to the southeast via Sterling City.
Irion county has nine areas that breach the 2,740-foot level. Seven of these areas are found in the
Ketchum Oil Field, southeast of the intersection of FM-2469 and TX-163, about 10 miles north of the
town of Barnhart. The other two are on Ketchum Mountain, about 8 air-miles to the north-northeast.
This is a case where inconsistent scaling from one topo map to another makes what otherwise should
be a trivially easy county highpoint into somethig requiring a little more work. First of all, the
two areas on Ketchum Mountain can be ignored outright: the highest point reaches 2,741 feet, and
this is superceded by two spot-elevations down (or, should I say, up?) in the oil field. So we concentrated on just the
seven areas in the oil field. The "Ketchum Mountain" quad map contains most of these areas, while
the adjoining "Rocker B Ranch" quad map to the west contains a carry-over of the largest area from
the other map, and this area is the biggest, and contains two intermediate 2,750-foot contours. In
2002, Bob and I visited this county but only visited the two 2,750-foot areas, including one that
gets to 2,752 feet. A sight-level and GPS was useful to pinpoint our locations; the smaller of the
two 2,750-foot areas isn't prominent at all in the field. Afterwards, Bob had second thoughts about
not exploring the other 2,740-foot areas and he decided to not count Irion as done, and I went with
his decision.
So here we were a year later. We drove in the access road, located along FM-2469 about 4 miles east
of TX-163. I parked at an oil pump and rode with Bob. We visited the largest two of these
remaining areas, walked in them a bit, sight-leveled and each time concluded that at most the
elevation gain was about a foot at the most. We also made a hike of about 3/8 of a mile, round
trip, to get within a third contour, this one closest to the highway but off of the access road a
bit. The map shows this to have a spot elevation of 2,743 feet, which is likely the height of the
highest point within this contour. Three small areas off to the south were left alone; this land
does not feature the unlikely rocks or sudden elevation "spikes" that would vault one of the tiny
areas into contention. After knocking off these large areas, we feel confident that the two
2,750-foot areas that we visited in 2002 were the highpoints, and I'd give credit to anyone
just visiting those areas. The road in is public access, there are no fences and no restrictive
signs of any sort. The scape is pretty much the usual mesquite, juniper and low cactus; on this day
we had lots of blooming wildflowers, too. Very pretty. That night we car-camped in the hinterlands
of Sutton county to the south.
The area is named for the Ketchum boys, Tom and Sam, two brothers who became outlaws. They were born "near" modern-day Irion county (actually a bit to the east), near the time of the Civil War. While they may have been outlaws, they weren't very good ones: Tom attempted to hold up a train that his brother had held up not long before. The train people were ready for him and wounded him on the spot; he was arrested, tried and hanged in 1901. His brother Sam had been killed during the previous robbery attempt.
Kimble county's highpoint is very easy: it's just a single area of 2,460 feet along highway FM-1674
in the northwest part of the county. Bob and I came to this county after a night camping near the
Sutton County highpoints just to the west. We tried for Sutton's highpoints but quickly gave up
when we hit locked gates miles from the highpoint areas. So on to Kimble. Bob had already
done Kimble's highpoint years before, but he offered to go with me anyway. We parked along the highway roughly
four miles south of the county line sign. The highpoint area is just about 300 feet off the road.
We found a gate a bit to the south, and walked in from there. After a tiny bit of sight-leveling,
we both called it good. Bob took a photo of me. This otherwise easy county had significance to me:
it was my 300th county highpoint overall! From here we drove on into Junction, then up toward the
Mason County highpoint.
Caption for the photo at left:
When I took this photo I had this figured as my 300th county highpoint so I made up a simple sign to commemmorate this fact. But later on after some re-figuring my stats this highpoint got knocked up to #298. So with the magic of computer photo touch-up, my sign is still accurate!
Bob and I came to Mason county after a quickie in Kimble County, and a stop in Junction on Interstate-10. From here we headed northeast along US-377, then south and east along FM-385 and FM-1871 into Mason county. The map shows what seems to be a very promising route: an improved road snakes south off of FM-1871 to a house (?) near a radio tower inside one of the two 2,160-ft contours found atop Monument Mountain (technically, the range is called the Blue Mountains. Monument Mountain refers to the actual summit bump. Even so, the Blue Mountains are really just one huge mesa that stretches for miles). Alas, the road was gated at the highway and clearly private, so things didn't look promising. Frankly, I was ready to give up and move on, since I had lots of other things I wanted to do that day. But Bob was persuasive enough to convince me to go check out another possible route, this one coming in from the east along a dirt county road (Mill Creek Road). Everything was gated in these parts, and I had no reason to believe that the one sketchy road we were interested in would be ungated. I went down this long county road with Bob, fully expecting to find fencing and posted notices. Seemed like a waste of time.
Well, I was wrong! And happily so, for that matter. We found what seemed to be an abandoned residence and an open, unlocked, unposted gate. Still a little unsure if we were in the right area, Bob broke out his GPS unit, and rode with me as I drove in a little side road. Soon, Bob confirmed we were on the side road shown on the topo as the one getting very close to the summit! So I drove in with Bob shotgun. We had to pass one gate (unlocked, no notices) and drive past some lazy cattle. We managed to get as far as the windmill shown on the topo at spot elevation 1,847 feet. A second "gate" blocked our access; it was not locked but just some old metal gates and whatnot leaning up against a fence. Since we were now within 1.5 miles of the top, we decided to park and head in. We breached this second gate, entered into a field and a Y-junction, and proceeded to take the left fork. This turned out to be the incorrect choice. But we followed the left fork as it went in toward the mesa's sides. We found some cattle paths that helped us enter the brush, and in short time we were on the mesa top... but clearly not on any useful road. Bob's GPS showed us to be well southeast of the summit. The trees were thick, and line-of-sight navigation worked intermittently.
After about 20 minutes of battling the trees we came out to an ATV track, which led to a more substantial track, which eventually led to the road we should have been on in the first place. No problem. We had the top within view, and a short hike up a moderate slope, and some brief battles with tree branches, and we were on top! The hike from my truck had taken about 45 minutes. The top is about 200 feet long, and mostly flat with some trees and low cactus scrub amid grassy clumps. The other 2,160-foot contour area mentioned earlier was visible to our west... it has been graded flat and was clearly lower than where we were. After about 10 minutes we started down, following the good road all the way back to my truck. I was curious as to how we missed this good road going in. At the aforementioned Y-junction, the two roads look about equal in quality. If we'd followed the right fork about 200 feet we would have seen that the quality improved considerably. Oh well. We had been successful and only lost about 20 minutes anyway. The weather was warm and somewhat humid. We got back to my truck and drove out to Bob's truck, then convoyed back toward the US-377 junction, where Bob and I parted ways. My thanks, as always, to Bob for being so persistent. I very likely would have let this one go if I'd been by myself.
From here I looked at the McCullock highpoint, which I didn't do, then drove on to handle the Concho and Menard pair.
Update, April 2005: I received an email from the landowners of the Blue Mounatin Peak Ranch. They are very friendly and run a guest ranch at this mountain. Their link is Blue Mountain Peak Ranch. When in the area, look them up!
A single meandering hill located along the Concho-Menard county line, way out near their respective westernmost boundaries, conveniently gives both counties their highest points. The hilltop, so to speak, lies within Menard county to the south. There are two 2,430-foot contours within Menard county, one with a spot elevation of 2,432 feet, while two ridgelines coming in from Concho county to the north both reach 2,410 feet, and thus serving as Concho county's highest areas. One has a spot elevation of 2,413 feet.
I came to this area originally from the south after completing Mason County with Bob Martin. I drove up through the city of Menard. Bob had done these already but he gave me good information about this hike and these areas. In particular, he suggested coming in from the north since some (?) of the southern approaches are gated. Bob was not going to be with me on this hike as he was now heading home to Tucson. Coming out of Menard, I went north a little bit on US-83 and saw an FM highway (FM-3463) that veered west, right toward where I wanted to be. But a sign along this highway mentions the locked gates up ahead, so I turned around. Serves me right for doubting Bob! I eventually wormed my way toward the remote highpoint areas via long and interminable local roads from the north in Concho county, generally following the road net south and west of Eden (for reference, US-87 west out of Eden, then FM-176 south to the community of Live Oak, then any number of possible routes following local county (dirt) roads many miles west and south to the southwest corner of Concho county). A large radio tower serves as an easy reference point for many miles around. I needed to find this tower, then start my hike from there. I came to this tower around 3 in the afternoon, in good weather.
The plan was to hike due west of the tower, which lies virtually on the same latitude parallel as the two Concho highpoint areas. I used my GPS to key in the radio tower's position, and my compass to stay on a westerly bearing. My hike almost didn't get started! I nearly busted my ankle scaling the fence at the tower complex when I landed funny in some uneven rocks on the other side. It hurt for a bit but I walked it off. Roughly speaking, the first Concho highpoint area is about 1 mile west of the tower, and the second area about another mile further west. The first 0.7 mile or so was through moderate tree cover: not enough to make for slow going but enough to limit my line-of-sight navigation. Not a problem. I came to a fence line at about 0.8 mile, faithfully shown on the topo map. This proved to be tricky to hop as all the posts were flimsy; I found one beefy one and used it to get over. Some cattle watched me. I just put my head down and walked right past them. The land was more open here.
Soon, I reached the first area, the largest area and the one with the 2,413 spot elevation. I took a GPS reading to ensure my latitude was good (it was) and I took some time here to walk in some looping arcs to pace this high ground. While it was clear I was on high ground, I wanted to be sure. The ground was clearly higher to my south... in neighboring Menard county. The "fattest" part of the 2,410-foot contour coincides with the spot elevation and I found this with no problem. Satisfied, I continued west toward a second fence line, again shown accurately on the topo. I could see the second Concho highpoint ridge just a little bit ahead of me.
It was about here I noticed a work truck and a trailer plopped up on the hill area to my left, roughly where the Menard highpoints were. I was about a half-mile north and unless they were looking hard, I wasn't very noticeable, even in the mostly open terrain. As I approached this second fence, I noticed a herd of sheep. Damn! Sheep are very skittish and sure to draw attention. Sure enough, they all freaked out when they saw me, and took off running to the north. I decided to take a water break amid a small batch of trees to bide some time and allow the sheep to get their energy out of their sheep systems. I also decided to work up my courage and go meet and greet whoever was in this trailer. As I walked up toward them, the lay of the land was such that I became more hidden as a result! They were up on a hillock, while I was below, hidden by the slopes. Well, I decided to forego making new friends and continued west. I hopped this second main fence, immediately entered some thick tree cover, and decided to play "lay low and out of sight" with the truck/trailer guys. (I should admit I never saw any person so it may very well be there was no one actually there.) The second Concho highpoint ridge was reached quickly. No one area stands out as "highest", but I walked the spine as best as I could. I was due north of the two Menard county highpoint areas, one of which I could see about 3/4 mile to my south.
So I continued on toward the Menard highpoints. I came to a 3rd main fence running east-west. The map shows this fence to be inside Menard county by about 1,000 feet, and my GPS reading confirmed this. The fence makes getting the northern of the two Menard highpoint areas easy, as it runs right over the top. Otherwise, the gentleness of the relief would make this northern area largely guesswork and GPS dependent. I made a quick visit to visit this northern area, then hopped the fence to seek out the (likely) higher southern area, with the 2,432-ft spot elevation. After some lengthy walking through intermittent trees, I came to what appeared to me to be the highest ground. It clearly dropped to my south, west and north, so I paced east a little bit to cover the general area encompassed by the 2,430-foot contour. While I couldn't declare what particular rock was the highest point, I did spend about 15 minutes walking the area, confirming with my GPS and by visual, and left feeling 100% confident I had been in the right place. Cattle dotted the area, which was a little more open with less tree cover.
Satisfied I had visited the four necessary areas to claim Concho and Menard, I began the long walk out, pretty much following my route exactly (including hopping the fences at the same places). The sheep were long gone, and the cattle had even moved to go feed. I walked briskly, but I did spend a little extra time at the eastern Concho area to walk the other fat part a little bit. I was back to my truck around 6 p.m., and it was getting dusky as I finally came back out to pavement and civilization. This hike entailed almost 6 miles round trip hiking, plus a gross cumulative gain of nearly 300 feet, when I include all my gains and drops. It was a very pretty area: lots of green, trees, rolling hills. I was expecting more ugly scrub but was thankful I had very little of that. The topo map was absolutely vital, and it helped that the main fences shown on the map were in their proper places in the field. A windmill roughly in the center of all this also served as a useful navigation item.
This was it for new highpoints for today. I was pretty beat and eventually drove north a ways and stayed in the town of Ballinger, putting me near the Runnels County highpoint for the next morning.
I spent the night in Ballinger, the county seat of Runnels county, and set out to get an early start. I had a lot on the docket, including a number of
highpoints requiring some actual hiking, so I wanted to get going pretty much at sun-up. Being in
Ballinger placed me within easy driving of Moro Mountain, a lone mesa in far-north Runnels county
that serves as the highpoint. I started by trying the northern approach. Driving up US-83 past
Winters and into the tiny community of Bradshaw, I followed some local county roads about 2 miles to
a locked gate in the middle of the road, almost 3 miles north of the mesa. Nonplussed, I returned
to US-83, went back south to Winters then east on FM-1770 about 5.5 miles to county road 171 on my
left (north), across from the junction with FM-2647. I went north 2miles to CR-172, right briefly,
then left onto CR-173, heading back north. The road turned east again then came to another gate
after about 3 miles. There were no posted notices on the gate. I parked my truck, got suited up,
put a note in my truck's window, and started in. I was at spot elevation 2,029 feet, about one air
mile southwest of the summit.
I walked north on the road's continuation for a half mile, then followed it east as it dropped
through a natural break, losing about 60 feet in the process. Soon, the road came to another gate.
I hopped this gate and immediately entered into the tree cover. At first, it was sporadic trees
with lots of low grasses and cactus; cow paths helped me wind through the brush. Shortly, the tree
cover turned to thicker juniper and the grasses gave away to bare soils and rock. And it got
steep. The actual climb up the mesa is short, strenuous and quick. I picked my own way up the
steepening hillside, periodically battling low brush, until I reached the caprock at the mesa's
rim. Finding a place to gain the rim was a bit challenging, as the caprock was easily 6-8 feet high
all around, like a rampart. I found a brushy cleft area with some big blocks that made it
relatively easy for me to scale the caprock. In short order I was atop the mesa, where it was a lot
flatter and less brushy. It was then a simple stroll toward the obvious rise to the highpoint. The
highpoint is interesting: mainly low scrub and cactus. I found what appeared to be an old cairn,
but the rocks had been spread apart. It had taken me about 45 minutes to reach the top from my
truck. I stayed just long enough to snap a photo or two, then started down. I found a better place
to descend the caprock, then re-entered the tree cover down low as I made my way to the main road.
I took another photo of the mesa as I hiked out, getting back to my truck about 8:30 a.m., a total
of just about 90 minutes of hiking with about 3 miles round trip, and a gross elevation change of
about 410 feet, including the 60 feet I dropped and regained twice.
The only downer was that somewhere along the line I lost my good sunglasses. They must have escaped
from me on one of my many unexpected butt landings while descending the rubbly slope (I had them hanging in my shirt collar). This is
limestone country. No one bothered me, and I saw no one, although I can't vouch 100% that this peak
has reasonable public access. But I did get the impression the top has been visited before. From
here, I drove east along FM-1770 to FM-382 and FM-153 to my next objective in Coleman County.
From Moro Mountain, it was about 15 miles of easy driving to get to the Coleman areas along FM-153, about 18 miles east of Winters and about the same west from Coleman. I turned north onto a county road, located about 1.2 miles east of the Runnels-Coleman county line and drove northerly a little over a mile on this road, passing over two cattle grates at fence lines. I parked in a pullout immediately after the second grate along a fence, noted accurately
on the topo.
I hopped the fence at a gate and walked shortly west-northwest to the obvious first area, a rise in a field of low cactus and general scrub. The second area, and the one containing the benchmark, was a walk of about
0.5 miles to the northwest. Here, there were good-sized trees to make for nice viewing, but not enough to foil line-of-sight navigation. The rise is obvious, and I happened right upon the witness marker set in a concrete block. The benchmark "McCord" is located immediately north, in a concrete block, and surrounded by three piles of rocks that seemed to form a triangular
cairn at one time.
The third area is a short walk to the west-southwest, requiring one fence to scale in the process (and again on the way back). There is a large concrete water tank on this area. I didn't sight much between the areas; all three are easily visited. The middle may be the highest. Total mileage: about 2, in about 1 hour of walking.
When I came back to my truck, I noticed a sign tucked amid the brush near the gate. It was completely bare of lettering but I was able to determine that it once said "No Trespassing". It was not hanging on the fence and it was obviously very old. The fields through which I walked seemed to be unused for the most part. I felt comfortable being where I was.
From Coleman County I drove east a
ways through Brownwood on US-84, then north up US-183 toward the Brown county highpoints, located on
Hog Mountain near the community of May. Five areas along the ridge comprise Brown county's highpoint, although three can be pretty much deleted from contention. But the remaining two are on separate private properties and I didn't feel like wasting time to bother, especially since one looked like it was way back on some pretty overgrown land, so I let these go and popped into neighboring Comanche County to gain its highpoint, a hill/mesa part of these same Hog Mountains. There are actually three areas in Comanche county that reach 1,920 feet: one with a large area and a spot elevation of 1,929 feet, and two tiny ones that almost certainly don't get that high. Besides, Bob Martin had been here in the few days before me, had sighted these smaller areas with his level from atop the big area, and showed they were lower.
The easiest access is via FM-1689, then local county roads 175 and 177 south and west to a bend in the road immediately north of the highpoint. It looked to be a short hike up and an overall easy highpoint. However, this one proved to be by far the brushiest, viniest, stickeriest hike of any I did on this trip. I parked at the fence along the road, and started up the immediately steep and loose slope, coming upon an east-west fence fairly quickly. I found a breach in this fence and wriggled through it. So far, so good... sort of. I had slipped a few times on the rubbly slopes on the way up, and this was already kind of a nasty hike. But it got worse, fast. There was no clear way to gain the final 40 feet to the mesa top without barrelling directly into a mish-mash of low, dense vines and foliage. I simply bashed through waist-high brush, in shorts, encountering sticker vines, and cutting up my legs pretty bad in the process. When will I ever learn? But I was successful in gaining the top. Mercifully the brush wasn't as bad on top, and I was able to hike south about 500 feet in intermittently open areas, with game trails helping in the brushy areas. I didn't find anything that looked human-made to mark the top, although I did find a bare rock area with what seemed to be a 2-rock cairn, but this may be just accidental, too. In any case, I spent about 20 minutes walking the top, trying to sense the highpoint and the possible location of the 1,929-ft spot elevation. After a while I waved my hands and declared Comanche good, and started back... the only route I knew... through the damn vines again. Yup, I got scratched some more. I made the
quick hike back to my truck, and tried to soothe my cuts with water. I cleaned up as best I coulda and drove into Rising Star, a community not far away, where I used a gas-station bathroom to soap and water my cuts better. The whole trip was about a mile with about 230 feet of gain in less than
an hour.
The community of Sabanno is located along FM-569, just south of its intersection with TX-206. The Sabana Creek runs through the areas, with its "highlands", so to speak, a series of small hills running along the Eastland-Callahan county line. The map shows no name for these hills, so I have creatively dubbed them the Sabana Hills. They actually extend more inside Callahan county, reaching up to around 2,100 feet. Just a few pointy hillocks lie on the Eastland side. Three separate hills reach elevations of 1,973 ft, 1,975 ft and 1,976 ft. Luckily, a larger hill mostly in Callahan county includes a single 1,980-ft contour extending into Eastland county. Otherwise, I'd be obliged to scale all these other hills to ensure I get Eastland's highpoint.
From the intersection of TX-206 and FM-569, I went north a tiny bit on FM-569 past the Sabanno Cemetary then turned left onto the first county dirt road I came to. I followed it as it bent north, then northwest, then north again, parking at a gate just north of spot elevation 1,798 marked on the map, right at a road shown trending northwest, also shown on the map. I suited up, put the usual "I am not a hunter" note in my truck window, and started in. This gate proved to be unique. Normally I go over them if they're sturdy, or squeeze through or under them if they're flimsy. This one was sturdy, but not directly attached to the fencing other than by two chains, and there was much growth and weeds where it was chained to the fence. So in this case, I laid on the ground, and lifted the gate up and over me to get in. There were no restrictive signs placed anywhere.
The hike follows the road. It's a hard-pack two-track that seems to see regular use. It unexpectedly junctions near a pond. I went left but it was clear pretty fast this was the wrong way, so I backtracked and resumed straight on the main road. It starts to gain a little bit and becomes heavily eroded. After about 0.5 mile it comes to a 3-way fork. The left-most fork is the correct route; it curves around the hill 1976 and then comes to a grassy saddle west of hill 1976 and east of the highpoint hill. The final hike up the 100 feet or so went fast, and I came up upon the flattish top amid the usual low cactus, various shrubs and some trees. I continued straight and passed through a small straight stand of trees into a cleared area with a north-south fence, presumably at the county line. I identified the highest area along the fence, and also any other seemingly highspots in this area, and called it good. The round trip covered about 2.5 miles, about 190 feet of gain and about 40 minutes. From here, I went north into an increasingly ominous storm to gain the Stephens County highpoint.
The Stephens county highpoints lie in two distinct areas in the southern portion of the county.
Four flattish areas are located along FM-1852 about one mile north of the Eastland-Stephens county
line, at County Road 123. A fifth area is about 4 air-miles west, on Gunsight Mountain, on a
portion that juts into Stephens county. I came to these areas after just completing Eastland County; it was about 1 p.m. in humid, mostly sunny weather, but the starting of a big storm was up to my north.
Some work has already been done regarding narrowing the possibilities for this county's highest
point. John Garner, a previous visitor, has used his laser-equipped surveying gear to show that the
spot elevations of 1,628 feet in the largest of the four east areas are superceded slightly by lands
that reach about a foot higher, within that immediate region. Since the contours are spaced in
10-foot intervals, a 1,629-foot reading places much weight on that point (or points) being the
highest point. Bob Martin, my venerable Texas hiking partner, had been here in the week previous
and had sighted with his level to conclude the smaller areas can be ignored. I, of course, was the
beneficary of all this! However, the western area on Gunsight has a very good chance of possibly
equalling, if not exceeding, the 1,629-foot mark, as it is a good little hill with good definition,
and intrapolating into the highest contour at least suggests that it is a good contender. So, in my
mind, to count Stephens as good, I'd need to visit the western area and just the largest of the four
eastern areas.
I came to the western area first, driving north on Eastland CR-331 off of TX-112 (which aparently is
a new designation as my map had it as TX-69). At the county line, the dirt road becomes Stephens
CR-154. I followed it about another mile until it curled west, and parked in a pullout north of
some oil storage tanks. I hopped the fence (no restrictive signs) and followed the road south and
west toward the brushy hillside. Ugh... more bushwhacking. I started directly up the hillside,
which wasn't too bad, but still slow going. I breached an old fence about half-way up, and came out
to the top after about 20 minutes from my truck. The top was more open, and I walked north and
south along this noticeable hump, stepping on anything that looked promising. Satisfied, I
descended pretty much the same way, and was back to my truck after about 40 minutes. The big storm
to my north was now almost right over me, and I had some sprinkles. I didn't waste time driving out
back to pavement.
As for the large eastern area, I parked at the junction of FM-1852 and CR-123, where one 1,628-foot
spot elevation exists, and made a very brief walk within this flat area. Frankly, the storm was
spooking me. I even sat in my truck and watched it for about 10 minutes to see what it would do.
Once cloud had a prow-shaped protrusion coming from underneath the main cloud... precursor to a
twister? Sufficiently impressed, I drove south a little bit to Ranger, and had lunch, waiting out
the storm a bit. Then it was on to Palo Pinto County. Read that report
to see what became of this storm!
I had just completed Stephens County areas and in the process stayed clear of a progressively worsening storm that was brewing
immediately to my north. I drove to the town of Ranger on Interstate-20 and took a lunch break,
partly to lay low for a while and see what this storm's plans were. I was heading in its general
direction and I'd rather not be driving into tornadoes and the like if I could help it. I found a
Subway sammy shop in Ranger where I parked myself for this hour. It was about 3 p.m. and when I
went back outside, the storm had moved further to the east, which was good for me. My next
objective was the Palo Pinto county highpoint, which wasn't too far in air-miles from Ranger.
Continuing east on I-20, I went north on TX-16 to the town of Strawn, then just under a mile north
to the junction of FM-207. West (left) on FM-207 for 4.5 miles brought me to Hohhertz Road on my
north (right). I went in on this road and it was evident the storm had dumped quite a bit of rain in
the past hour. The road was very slick and muddy, with lots of standing water. I went north on
this road about 3 miles, not entirely sure if I was going to get a chance to hike the little hills
on the road's west side... too many residences, ranch complexes and other buildings. I went a
little more north than I needed to, then doubled back and parked in a pullout near a set of three
oil storage tanks marked as "Delta Oil & Gas - J. N. Stuart". I was lucky: there was a clearing
from these tanks all the way up the hill, from which the highpoint would be an easy stroll on the
hill/ridge top.
After changing into my boots, I hopped the sturdy fence (no restrictive signs) and made my way up
this steep, muddy clearing, staying clear of numerous exposed oil pipelines from the many wells in
the area. After about 15 minutes, I'd gained the 120 vertical feet and was now on the ridge top.
This clearing was a blessing as otherwise it would have been another ordeal in the brush to gain the
top, and I'd had enough of those already today! Once on the ridgetop I turned north and walked
about 300 feet toward an obvious rise. I found the remnants of a north-south fence that at first I
thought may be the county line (the highpoint straddles the Stephens-Palo Pinto line), but this
fence clearly did not agree with the map. The rise was obvious and I achieved the rounded top after
another ten minutes of strolling amid the open land. A building (storage shed?) to my northwest
served as a good navigation item, agreeing with the map, and a GPS reading confirmed my position
beyond all doubt. I paced the high area for a bit, then returned back to my truck, a total of about
1 mile round-trip hiking and about 40 minutes of fun.
The ground was quite muddy and my boots were encased in the heavy goop. I was parked in mud... so I
couldn't change into my sandals without placing my mud-laden boots in the cab of my truck. To make
a long story short, I tied the boots together and hung them on my rear-view mirror as I drove out to
the main highway. There I put them on again and walked on the asphalt to sand away the mud. For
reference, the place where I parked to do my hike was 2.9 miles north on Hohhertz Road from FM-207.
The name "Hohhertz Hills" is another of my own doing: the map doesn't have a name for these little
hills, and I liked the name "Hohhertz". Nice assonance!
While driving east on TX-16 and US-180 toward Mineral Wells and my next objective, Wise county, the
big storm had now pretty much stalled over Weatherford and Mineral Wells, and it looked mean. In
fact, I saw something very peculiar, like a dust cloud... then I turned on the radio and they were
talking about the twisters that had been spawned in Weatherford and along I-20 - basically exactly
where I was looking! Did I see a tornado? I am not sure. I wasn't too concerned as I had sun
above me and it was generaly sunny in the direction I was heading. But still... I may have
witnessed my first tornado, albeit from about 20 miles away!
The previous day had been very successful: I had knocked off six county highpoints, all of which required a fair bit of hiking and including some steep hilly-bushwhacky mesa hikes. As the day progressed the weather deteriorated and I spent the latter part of the day dodging a big thunderstorm that eventually spawned some tornados near Dallas. I eventually worked my way to the city of Bowie in Montague county, about an hour's drive north of Fort Worth. Although I had mostly clear skies above me, the entire region was under a tornado warning. I found a nice hotel called the Park's Inn, which advertises itself on big billboards along the main highway (US-287). After I showered, I went to the little restaurant adjoining this hotel but they had closed at 8 p.m. and were cleaning up (it was about 8:15). But they were kind enough to fix me up something for take-out. So, if you're in Bowie, stop by the restaurant for some good "home cooking"!
That night the weather varied between calm and rain with thunder and lightning, and although the tornado warning was still in effect, I wasn't too scared - more curious than anything. I crashed around 10 p.m. then awoke about 2 a.m. to a huge thunderclap and heavy rain, accompanied by a low, loud rumble. In my tired state of mind, I immediately thought that rumbling was a twister tearing its way through Bowie! I jumped out of bed, looked outside and saw (to my relief) that it was just raining. The low rumble was a train passing not far away! For someone who only (maybe) saw his first twister the day before, I was simultaneously excited about the whole thing, and scared too. Anyway, I did manage to sleep and the next morning, I got on the road before 7 a.m., another long day ahead of me. The plan was to do all (hopefully) of the counties that run along the Texas - Oklahoma border, from Cooke in the east to Hardeman in the west. If I was successful, I'd have a complete line stretching along the Red River (the border), to Texarkana! So Cooke was first on the docket.
I left the hotel in heavy rain and headed east along TX-59 about 20+ miles to the town of Saint Jo, where I went south briefly on US-82 before catching FM-2382 northeasterly about 4 miles, passing into Cooke county. The Cooke highpoint is a noticeable hump of land in a field on the west side of the highway, very near the county line. I parked along the road and walked into the field through an opening at a dirt-road entrance. The walk out to the highpoint was quick and straightforward but very muddy and generally miserable in the unrelenting rain. I hit the high area after about 10 minutes of brisk walking, and just returned right back to my truck, all the while getting soaked and collecting mud on my boots. Back out on the road I spent some time trying to kick the mud off before getting back into my truck, and heading back west toward the Montague highpoints. Cooke was easy and successful, and I had one down, about nine to go!
After knocking off the Cooke County highpoint in heavy rain, I headed back west along TX-59 and tried for the Montague county highpoints - 5 areas spread around in a field just west of Saint Jo. However, my plan for doing all the counties along the Texas - Oklahoma border was defeated by Montague county. While I did hike out into a field just north of TX-59, I did not visit the four smaller areas to the north. Heavy rain and a boatload of cattle in the area suggested I just move on. So if you look at my Texas map, you'll see one blank along the long wiggly Texas - Okie border... that there's Montague county, pronounced "Mon-taig".
So anyway, I pressed on, heading along TX-59 still southwesterly to the small community of Newport, which put me close to the Clay highpoint: a nice hilly break in cattle pasture in southeastern Clay county. From Newport I followed local roads that in the rain had become extremely slick and muddy. I needed 4-wheel drive just to get any traction, and I eventually made it to a corner along these lonely section roads, where I parked and started in. From where I parked, the highpoint was about 3/4 mile west-southwest of me. The rain was still falling heavily, and while this made it generally miserable for me comfort-wise, it may have helped me stealth-wise since no one else was likely to be out and about in this weather. I hopped a fence (no restrictive signs anywhere) and started across an open pasture westerly, hopping another fence (an east-west fence) and then pretty much heading for the obvious highest area. I could see ranch complexes way off to my south, and a dog's non-stop barking came from that way. Whether he was barking at me I don't know. The hills are in moderate-to-heavy tree cover, and I decided to go right into the trees and battle my way to the highpoint from there. Cow paths helped, and in short order I came out to the open, elongated ridge of this little hill, spending about 10 minutes walking it to discern any possible highest clumps of rocks. The map shows a spot elevation to be in the southernmost portion of the contour, and my instincts semed to agree. The land rises very gently from the north and cuts away abruptly to the suth, so it stands to reason the highest point is probably close to the edge and near the bluffs. Satisfied, I beelined back to my truck. By the time I returned I was soaked from the knees down, and my boots were waterlogged. I changed into sandals and put my boots on the passenger floor and blasted the heater at them to dry them out a little bit.
From here I drove north about 4 miles to check out another area that reaches the 1,200-foot level. A house sits on this tiny area. From the road, sitting in my truck (which puts my head at about 6 feet above the ground), I could eye that the ground on which the house sat was nearly level with my head. Since I estimate I was at about 1,195 feet (according to the map), the likelihood of this little area reaching 1,205 feet is essentially zero, so I didn't bother, and got a move on to my next objective, the Young & Jack County pair.
After I left Clay County, I headed west
down through Jacksboro then caught US-281 northwesterly to TX-114, which took me west some more to
the small town of Jermyn. The rain that had been dumping on me all morning started to abate and by
the time I was in the Jermyn area, all I had were occasional sprinkles, which was a real nice
treat! On the docket now were the highpoints of Jack and Young counties. The area south and west
of Jermyn is sprinkled with a series of low but distinct hills. One saddle-shaped hill just so
happens to straddle the Jack/Young county line, with the western bump serving as Young county's
highpoint, and the eastern bump serving as Jack county's highpoint. This certainly was convenient!
From Jermyn and TX-114 I crossed west into Young county and then south onto Shephard Lane for about
1.2 miles, then west on Oliver Lane for about 0.5 mile, south on Burdick Road for 1 mile, then east
on Monument Road for 0.5 mile... then south on Cox Mountain Road for just a few hundred feet, then
east on Rooters Mountain Road for about 2 miles until I came upon the "Bottles and Wheels" ranch.
The highpoint hill was just about 0.7 mile south; a tower of some sort stuck out above the trees on
the Young county side. The gate to the road leading up to the house was locked, and from the road it didn't look like
anyone was home. So I got my boots on and walked up the quarter-mile long driveway to the modest
house. A pretty brown horse with a white snout was in the field to my east, watching me as I hiked
up. As I approached the house, there was no hint of current habitation, but the sheds and fencing
and corrals in the ranch area all looked new. My best guess is this is someone's weekend getaway.
I walked to the front door of the house and knocked. No one home, as I figured. The house seemed a
bit haggard; the front porch had some missing wood planks.
So I continued up the main road and up a rocky clearing corresponding with the road shown on the
topo, and quickly reached the saddle between the two counties' highpoints. Now it was just a simple
decision as to which one to go get first. I decided to save the tower for last and went east into
Jack county first. A clearing along the spine of this hill makes for easy walking, and I reached
the end of the long broad ridge after about 10 minutes and maybe 800 feet of walking. The top is
distinct but gently rounded, and I even had some pleasant views out over the countyside. Jack
county, check.
Back at the saddle, I now went west into Young county to the lookout (?) tower, which sits pretty
much at the highest natural point. I didn't dare climb this relic tower. After a brief scan of the
area I returned back to the saddle, then out back to my truck. The two highpoints are both about
40-50 vertical feet above the saddle. The Young side has a spot elevation of 1,522 feet, but the
Jack side has the larger contour and may be higher as a result. The total time was just under an
hour with about 1.5 miles of walking. I bid adieu to the horsy and got back to my truck, and went
out a much less confusing way than I came in: stayed east on Rooters Mountain Road until I
met up with FM-1191, which took me north right back into Jermyn. I retrospect I'm not sure why I
came in the way I did. But the weather remained mostly dry and for that I was very grateful. It
was now about 11 a.m. and I had four counties already done! Now onto the really easy Archer and Wichita county drive-ups.
After my Young and Jack Counties success, I
continued west into slightly better weather and on to some really easy highpoints. After a morning
of four hikes in mostly bad rainy weather, I was looking forward to some trivial ones to pad my
count. The Archer county highpoint sits right on a public road! No worries about hiking, access or
troublesome locals. Just show, photo and go. I drove west through the towns of Jean and Olney
toward the town of Megargel. I quite honestly don't recall anything mildly interesting about these
towns or this stretch of road.
Just short of Megargel I took Wilhelm Road north to Megargel Lake Road, then east about a mile to a
gentle but obvious rise in the road. This was it! Here lies the highpoint! In fact, someone even
went through the trouble to mark the spot with a large flat polished stone celebrating this spot as
the county highpoint. It's rare that any county highpoint is marked in any way, much less a
flattie like Archer. At the very least it made for a nice photograph.
In some earlier email discussions about rating hikes (the normal ratings are Class 1-6), someone
asked what to rate drive-ups or hikes that encompass trivial walking, and what the cut-off should
be. This "trivial" rating would be Class 0. Anyway, I proposed that if you can leave your car
running and hear the radio playing (at normal levels, no bass-booster rap crap) while standing at
the highpoint, it's Class 0. Archer county allowed me to test my proposal in the field. Yes, I
left my truck running, and I had the radio playing some REO Speedwagon song (Keep On Running, I
think). This one was definitely class 0. Now, onto another easy one in Wichita County.
As an aside, Archer City, the county seat, is well-known to movie fans (and fans of Cybil Shepherd!) as the locale of the movie The Last Picture Show, based, set and shot in Archer City.
From Archer County I headed north through some pretty remote hinterlands from Megargel toward the town of Electra, about 50 miles north. This was mostly scraggly ranch and oil lands, and not much color. The Wichita county highpoint is a single area in an oil field south of the town of Electra about 25 miles west of Wichita Falls. I followed TX-25 north to get near Electra, then drove to its junction with FM-1811
just south of town; the highpoint is a half-mile south from here. I backtracked a half-mile and
found the road into the oil field. This road was not gated nor posted, and I drove it about a
half-mile west up to a rise near a storage container. This was the highpoint. The land here has
been altered: the tanks sit on large flattened plots of land with berms. I dutifully stepped here
and there, knowing full well these were man-made. I also briefly walked out into a small, seemingly
"natural" spot of land just south of the road, to consider the county done. Well, that was easy!
Now about 1 p.m., and with 6 counties done today, I headed west about 30 miles along US-287 to
Vernon, where I took a lunch break at a McDonalds. The weather was also starting to kick up a bit, but nothing like I'd had this morning or yesterday. Nevertheless, I kept my eye out for anything interesting.
From Vernon I headed west until I passed into Hardeman county. Just west of the Wilbarger-Hardeman county line (and about 2 miles east of the town of Chillicothe), I turned south onto FM-925 and followed it southerly. At the second bend, less than 3 miles from US-287, I turned right (west) onto a dirt road. I
drove in just a few hundred feet and parked underneath a power line, as shown on the map.
The hike is short, as the highpoints (2 small areas) are just a few hundred feet back behind brush and who-knows-what. I immediately entered the low brush, using game paths to wend through it, then just as quickly I came into a small field. The first highpoint area was to the right and was marked by a hunter's stand. There is a dirt road that leads over this area. I could not tell whether the small hill on which the stand sat was natural, but I hiked to it anyway. Another, more "natural" area, was nearby off the road a tiny bit. The second distinct area was easily reached by hiking back into the field, then up a small thicket of dog-hair trees with mercifully light underbrush, but lots of leaves. Some humps of land mark the top, but the trees prohibit comparing to the other area. If the hunter's stand in the first area sits on a natural hill, then that point is almost certainly the highpoint. Otherwise the two areas are pretty close. There were no gates, fences nor restrictive signs. There seems to be plans for the construction of a dairy in the field north of the highpoints in the future, or so said a sign in the area.
Hardeman County was important to me: it was the last county I needed to attach my eastern Texas county glob (30 counties or so) to my main glob (pretty much from the Pacific Ocean to central Texas). If I was successful, I'd have a complete continuous run of counties from the Pacific to the Arkansas border! The day had started back in Cooke county in bad, rainy weather, then it got better and drier, but now there was some iffy-looking storm clouds kicking up in the Quanah-Childress area. I hoped they'd remain calm to allow me to do my thing.
Hardeman county has 10 areas reaching 1,850 feet, with two having spot elevations of 1,852 feet. The ten areas of Hardeman county are located along a county road near the Hardeman-Childress county line. If coming in from Childress, take FM-268 east about 14 miles to the Hardeman county line sign, then turn north onto
Hines Road (dirt). If coming in from Quanah (which is what I did), drive west on US-287 to FM-268, which goes north then west to Hines Road.
Eight areas are congregated along a ranch road heading west 2.6 miles north along Hines Road, at spot elevation 1,848. The two large areas along this road should be paced a little bit; in both instances I felt that higher areas were on the north side, but I hiked both sides just in case. A small area on the road between the two larger areas is clearly not as high. About 0.35 miles in, the road forks near a gravel pit, and the remaining five areas are found along or beside the road. The tiny areas are clearly out of contention. The gravel pit has spawned some man-made piles which I visited as well. I found the gate at this road open, but a hanging lock suggested that it probably is closed most of the time. In questionable weather, I took advantage of the open gate (and lack of restrictive signs) and drove in to expedite my time. The walk from Hines Road would have been no more than a mile round trip. The land here is scrubby mesquite and low grasses and the ubiquitous cactus.
The remaining two areas, both of which contain an 1,852-ft spot elevation, are in a field to the northeast. Continue north on Hines Road 1.4 miles to Lindsey Road, then turn right (east) on Lindsey for 1 mile to an open, ungated and unposted two-track that goes south for a half mile. I parked my truck off the road near a closed gate in very soft sand. This section is plowed and furrowed, although it looked mostly fallow while I was here. The closest area containing an 1,852 spot elevation was reached first. It still has some native trees and brush on its top. The second area containing an 1,852-ft spot elevation was another 0.4 mile walk to the southwest. A fence line helps show the rise and fall in the land; the highest natural areas seemed to be a few feet in either direction of the fence, amid trees. Make some educated guesses while there. I stuck my leg through strands of a wire fence to "tag" the mound on the other side of the fence. The field was very sandy and made walking laborious. Beware! I inadvertantly drove off the two-track about 5 feet and immediately sunk about 8 inches into soft sand! I extracted myself with low-4wheel drive. I was concerned about the rain, which would turn this into a sandy quagmire, so I didn't dawdle at all. By 4 pm I was finished and on my way south. I had completed my goal! Now it was just mop-up time. I had a couple counties way down south by Abilene I wanted to get, then it was the start of the long drive home. Later this same day I visited the Fisher County highpoint areas, in the dark pretty much.
Today had been wildly successful: 8 new counties, including the successful connecting of my two big Texas globs into one; I now had a complete run from the Pacific Ocean to Texarkana... over 1,600 miles! From the Hardeman County highpoints, which I'd finished off around 4 this afternoon, I made the 120+ mile drive south through Childress, Paducah, Guthrie and Aspermont to eventually get myself into Fisher county. From the town of Roby, I followed routes US-180 to FM-611 south, then FM-1606 west toward the community of Pyron and the six large, spread-around areas comprising the Fisher highpoints. One has a benchmark "Pyron" at 2,405 feet; another has a spot elevation of 2,402 feet but a radio tower on it (which suggests possible higher land). The four other areas, for various reasons, are unlikely to supercede 2,405 feet.
The northeasternmost area is small, rounded and topped with a 2,402 spot elevation. A second area north of the highway and less than a mile west breaches the 2,400-ft level. Inspection and a very short hike convinced me neither of these two areas is likely to be the highpoint. A large area to the south of these two areas has a radio tower on it, and I drove the dirt county roads to this area. The corner of two roads is listed at 2,402 feet, and I walked to the radio tower complex, which entailed maybe 1-2 feet or more rise. It was about 6:30 pm in mostly dark conditions so I didn't spend a whole lot of time sighting. Back out to the main highway, I went west about another mile to the largest area, the one with the Pyron benchmark. A residence is to the north, while some high areas are on the south side of the road. I found a cement pillar (witness post?) and made some short walks. This area is probably the highest point.
In increasing darkness I drove south along dirt roads to the remaining two areas, passing the townsite along the way. Pyron isn't a town these days as it is just a few spread-out homes and farms, but there was a large, burnt-out building in the middle of all this, which might have been something interesting in the old days. Maybe it was just in disrepair: in the dark it was hard to tell. For the two southern areas, the visits were short, and by my instincts and inspection, they almost certainly do not contain the highpoint. They are flat fields with years of plowing likely having reduced any high areas to nothing. By this time it was totally dark. Nine counties today! I drove some more to Colorado City along Interstate-20, took a cheap hotel, then bagged Mitchell County the next morning before starting my long drive home.
The previous day I had nabbed nine county highpoints along the Oklahoma border, and covered over 650 miles of driving. I was essentially done with this trip, but I had a few county highpoints I wanted to take care of before I started the 900-mile drive back to my home in Phoenix. I took a hotel in Colorado City, located along Interstate-20, and slept in a little bit for the first time in five days. It felt great! I didn't get on the road until about 8 a.m. On the docket today was just one county: Mitchell county's highpoint, an attractive mesa called Stepp Mountain located in its extreme southeast corner, about 25 miles southeast of Colorado City.
Stepp Mountain is just one part of an extensive series of mesas that stretch out in this part of Texas. Most of this mesa "range" is inside neighboring Nolan county, and a lot south in Coke county. It is visible from about 15 miles away, near a small town called Silver. I took TX-208 out of Colorado City to the Coke county line, and then immediately turned north onto a dirt road, directly across the way from where FM-1672 junctions and starts going south. I followed this road north about 1.2 miles, then east about a mile, going slow and matching side roads to roads on the map until I came to a road heading south, just inside Nolan county. This all was within the McCabe Oil Field, and this area was nothing but oil pumps, oil storage stations, and one grim little residence along the "main" dirt road. Anyway, at the above-mentioned road heading south, marked "Shenandoah Petroleum Corporation, Walker", I opened up the gate (no restrictive signs, no locks). It was one of those wretched wire-stick crumple gates that fall into a heap when opened, and difficult to close. But I managed it fine, drove south a tiny bit, then west a tinier bit to an oil pump clearing. This was great! My truck was way out of sight from the main road, and I was basically right up on the northern slopes of this mesa.
While driving in there seemed to be no good way up this mesa. It's heavily forested with juniper and brush, and steep, and ringed by a very large caprock and in some places, genuine cliffs. I made my way up the slopes, crawling on my hands and knees more than once to get through some heavy brush sections. Toward the top, it just got plain steep, with lots of rubbly limestone rocks. I took it slow, slipped more than once, and eventually reached the caprock, maybe 20 minutes of hiking and about 200 feet of gain; I could still see my truck. The caprock proved to be pretty imposing: it was taller than me easily, maybe 8-9 feet tall. I checked it out a little bit in each direction and found one broken section that I clambered up, doing some honest climbing using hands and all that... albeit just for this short section. This put me on the mesa top.
The mesa top was just as heavily forested as its slopes. I walked south, snaking my way through the trees, grass and cactus and stepping on any rise of land that looked like a contender for the highpoint. I also spied a 15-foot wooden "pole" off in the distance: a 4x4 wood lath held up by guy wiring. I walked to it, figuring it may be something. I picked apart some rocks and brushed away dirt and found the benchmark "Stapp" (not a misprint), elevation 2,574 feet. Now, I'm not convinced this is the highpoint, as many areas along the hike seemed to be as high (maybe...). In any case, it was a tangible thing to claim, a nice hike and forced me to walk pretty much the length of the mesa. I started back, descended the caprock and somehow found my way back to my truck - the whole hike taking about an hour. All in all, very nice!
From here I started the loooong drive back home, done with Texas for this trip. I stopped at a Dairy Queen in Sterling City, which proved to be a waste of time, and drove west in very windy, dusty weather as well as increasing storminess. I spent some time in Sierra Blanca in Hudspeth county, trying to get more info on Eagle Peak, which has been vexing me for three years now. The weather was now just really bad: 30 mph winds, and cold. I got what I was after and managed to get as far as Lordsburg NM before getting a hotel for the night. I was back home by noon the next day.
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(c) 2003, 2006 Scott Surgent. For entertainment purposes only. This report is not meant to replace maps, compass, gps and other common sense hiking/navigation items. Neither I nor the webhost can be held responsible for unfortunate situations that may arise based on these trip reports. Conditions (physical and legal) change over time! Some of these hikes are major mountaineering or backpacking endeavors that require skill, proper gear, proper fitness and general experience. |