Ward Spring, Big Bend Nat'l Park, TX

I followed a bear this morning, along a lush desert trail, past prickly pear in bloom, down a gravel wash with over-reaching roots, into a densely shaded spring - a hole in the desert, a life source.

Bent, dry ocotillo and cane cholla flanked me on the uphill side, lush and green desert on the low. A good reminder of how little nature cares, how quickly life can change, how sometimes just being in the right place at the right time can be so important.

I set out early today, preferring the uphill in the cool, the sun on my back for the down, and now I climb. A gentle, meandering trail through the foothills of the Chisos - up and down, in and around. Rocky and uneven ground ubiquitous of course; the namesake spring nowhere to be seen.

At various places trailside rocks are piled around and on top of cat claws, put there by well-meaning but unknowing hikers. I stop and undo the damage, discarding the shield to let the cactus breathe again.

If you can’t watch your own feet in the desert you don’t need to be here, I think to myself as I glance down to see fresh bear tracks side by side with my own.

Immediately I take stock. A cursory review of the land reveals no obvious movement - only jagged rocks, a ridgeline below a ridgeline, a looming castle wall above. I move along, more slowly now, being sure to step over the prints and not disturb them as if doing so might somehow reveal my presence to the animal.

As elevation rises, a cluster of green appears to the northeast and now I can see the spring source – a low seep among soaring walls. Crumbs of broken yucca leaves litter the trail ahead and I remind myself to stay observant. I begin to hum gently, announcing my presence as the path bends and narrows deeper into the foothills.

Eventually both trail and track lead into a gravel wash. The desert asphalt morphs from scorched rust to a palette of pastels – violet, pink, beige – as if the sun has set and left its imprint behind for all to see.

Massive volcanic dikes dominate the landscape above, cutting a hard line across the uplands and from afar, they are the only things seen from the road.

But in the desert, life flourishes in the low, and in the folds and base canyons of these mountains lives a secret world. A micro-forest of deep green vegetation, a spring draped in walnut and sumac, dappled shade rippling across damp ground like water. A delicate tapestry of moss and twigs balancing on an overhead branch - as if at any moment it might disconnect and float away like a dandelion seed in the wind.  

I am transported.

The bears always know the best trails.