#53. Guadalupe Peak, TX: 20 April 2025

In early 2025, I had a companion ticket on Delta that would expire on April 29 burning a hole in my pocket, so Julie Hernandez and I scoured the map for a good mountain to hike during her spring break. My one stipulation: no snow. That quickly led us to Texas and back to Guadalupe Peak, the highpoint of Texas, which I'd hiked in 2016.

As had become the custom in recent excursions, drama preceded this trip. Three weeks earlier, I’d come down with a cold that curiously caused a flare-up in my knee. It seemed impossible that there could be a connection between the two, but the Internet set me straight. A viral infection can trigger inflammation elsewhere in the body. I took myself back to the family orthopedic specialist Dr. Heard (the one - we kiddingly claim - who gives us a family-and-friends discount, since Bill, Julie, and I all use him). His opening question was: “ How long do I have before you want to climb another mountain?“ My reply: "11 days.“ He gave me a steroid shot in the knee, reminding me that my limit would be two per year, and sent me back to PT for a few sessions before the hike. In the week that followed, on my daily walks with Roux, my knee continued to give me some discomfort and caused me to question the wisdom of trying to climb a mountain that would take us at least three hours up, two hours back. Miraculously, 48 hours before our departure, the knee was virtually pain-free.

Having climbed this mountain in 2016 with Charlotte Stetson and Lesley Straley, I was far wiser about the logistics. We flew into El Paso, spent the night at an airport hotel, and rented a car. A few blocks from the airport, the navigation system signaled to "go straight for 125 miles, then turn left.” In a few miles, we were advised "next service 90 miles." I had remembered how desolate this 2+ hour drive is, through flat desert lands with cacti and desert scrub dotting the otherwise sand-gray soil, an occasional deserted trailer along the roadside. On the horizon, remote buttes broke through the otherwise flat terrain.

We had an uncharacteristic luxury of choosing which of two days to hike. The weather report for Saturday showed high winds on a mountain known for spring storms, whereas Sunday promised clear skies and calm conditions. The decision in favor of Sunday was not a hard one to make.

With an extra day of our hands, we tried to visit Carlsbad Caverns but were unable to get tickets on short notice. Instead, we opted to take a warm-up hike on Slaughter Canyon Cave Trail, which Julie found on AllTrails. I immediately inquired what this warm-up hike might entail, since the last - now legendary - warm-up hike with Julie two years ago in Chamonix proved to be a demanding seven-hour ordeal, leaving me wondering if I'd have anything left for the main climb. She assured me that the trail meandered along an old riverbed between two ridges of the canyon; it would be flat and only five miles round-trip. OK, I was in.

We exited the 125-mile desert straightaway and headed toward a ridge line some 8 miles away down a dirt road; there wasn't another car in sight. I breathed a sigh of relief when we pulled into the trailhead parking lot to find one other hiker there. Although the stones along much of the riverbed made for uneven footing, the scenery was spectacular and the weather magnificent. Most importantly, my knee cooperated.

As for lodging, my previous experience had taught me to avoid staying in White’s City, the nearest town to Guadalupe Peak. In 2016, the town had one motel, no grocery store, no restaurant, not even a convenience store that sold beer; the only option for dinner was frozen pizza warmed in a microwave. Wiser for the experience, we opted to drive an extra 20 miles to the city of Carlsbad, with our choice of chain hotels and good Tex-Mex food.

On Easter Sunday morning, we got off to an early start and drove the 30 miles back to Guadalupe Mountains National Park. As we paid our entry fee, the ranger Leah mentioned in passing that they had had snow and ice on the mountain 10 days earlier. So much for selecting a mountain with the guarantee of no snow. She lamented that both the Park and Carlsbad Caverns had experienced deep reductions in staffing, thanks to the recent budget cuts by the Trump administration

We were on the trail at Guadalupe Peak by 8:30 AM. The weather could not have been more perfect. Crisp air, bluebird sky. The hike consisted of three parts: the first third was a moderately steep but manageable trail consisting of dirt, scree, and small boulders. The middle section was a delightful, gently inclined dirt path, often with welcome shade from the trees overhead. The third section, which I had conveniently forgotten, was a short but steep ascent through a series of switchbacks that took us to the summit.

From the start, I adopted a technique of leaning heavily on my trekking poles to minimize the impact of each step on my bad knee. With the help of two Aleve and the knee brace, it seemed to be working. Julie, who could have made it to the top in less than half the time it would take me, patiently waited at each turn for me to catch up. She encouraged frequent water breaks from the Nalgene bottles that I'd preloaded with Nuun electrolyte tablets and recommended a chocolate bar before heading up the final stretch.

Three and a half hours later, we turned the corner on the last switchback and found ourselves at the iconic triangular monument on the top.

As we sat down to enjoy lunch while gazing over the vast desert plains that stretched out on every side, Katy Bertrand pinged in from her own weekend excursion in New York where she was hiking with a friend and her dachshund rescue Peanut. One of her photos was labeled "Peanut in carrier." Julie snapped a selfie and sent back the message "Jane got out of the carrier this time."

I had feared the trip down might be worse than the trip up. Again, I inched my way down over anything more than a 12-inch drop, leaning heavily on the trekking poles, but otherwise made good time. Midway down, Julie began getting work-related text messages from our Congolese colleague in Kinshasa, DRC. “Arsene, don’t you know this is Easter! And besides, I’m climbing a mountain with Jane.“ She took a quick selfie to establish our location for Arsene, and then stopped for a 15-minute conversation to resolve the urgent problem.

Julie didn't dare to move from the one place she'd found cell reception, so I took advantage to make progress down the trail, overjoyed that we would have one stretch where she didn’t have to maintain her stop-and-go routine. Soon thereafter, I heard familiar footsteps behind me. She had trail-run the distance between us and proceeded to debrief me on the latest crisis in Kinshasa, adding as an afterthought, “I may have twisted my ankle on the way down.” By then, we had an hour to go, and soon the parking lot loomed below us in the distance.

We unpacked our gear into the rental car and started the 100-mile straight line back to El Paso. Julia and Jacob pinged in with an adorable photo of William Charles Bertrand, born three weeks earlier, nestled in an Easter basket. By the time I had forwarded that to friends and family, we were on the outskirts of El Paso. We stopped at two Mexican restaurants before finding a third open on Easter. The tacos al Pastor and beer hit the spot after our six hours on the mountain.

Back at the hotel, we showered and packed up for our 4:15 am wake-up the next day for our return trip to New Orleans. Julie was feeling the effects of twisting her ankle and anticipated that she would be paying for it for several days thereafter. Ironically, I was feeling no ill effects on my knee. Once again, I sang the praises of Dr. Heard, the benefits of PT, and the marvels of modern medicine.

As we rode to the airport on the hotel shuttle, I clicked on my Delta app to review the seating arrangements. Thanks to the amount of travel that both of us do, we were upgraded to first class in adjacent seats. Although Julie and I are joined at the hip for all things related to family planning in the DRC (including in the first months of my “retirement“) and mountain climbing, God help us that we'd have to sit next to each other on the plane. With one click on my iPhone, I changed my seat, providing us with the final convenience on what had been a near-perfect trip.

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