Howling Winds of the Chisos Basin

When researching for the “perfect” place to camp in Big Bend National Park, Katie and I came across a plethora of recommendations to reserve our stay in the Chisos Basin. Considering the windy conditions, we opted to remain within a basin for our first two days of travel, hoping to steer away from the heavy winds.

What I didn’t expect from camping in this dried-out depression was the echoing effects of the strong winds. Our first night in the park didn’t give our tent any difficulty in setup or shifting, however, I found myself wide-eyed by what I interpreted as wolves howling at the moon deep in the desert mountains. With no time wasted, the howling wolves darted closer toward our campground until they filled the entire basin for just a few seconds before dissipating among the distant stars. I wish I could accurately describe the intensity of power from these winds. At that moment, I did my best to conceptualize what life was like for those who lived among these mountains and how they must’ve interpreted these howls. It was a challenge to fall asleep after this solo experience—not because I was fearful of my imagination, but from making notes of my assumptions and what to research when I arrived back home.

The next morning, I found myself setting up my tripod and bundled in my light fleece REI sweater, waiting for the bright eye that chased the wolves away.

While some landscape photographers don’t care for a lens flare, I enjoy the depth it provides this image. This image encourages me to start the day with high hopes. What a perfect way to begin our adventures at Big Bend National Park!

Once I arrived home I opened my travel journal and began my research. I’m just about to begin the last year of my undergrad in Sociology at the University of Houston-Downtown, and my studies have provided me with constructive tools to dive deeper into our cultural evolution through our connection with our environment.

First, I wanted to understand the people who once roamed the Chisos Mountains and the origin of its secured name. Following the Second World War, Big Bend became a token of hope for the United States in 1944 when it became a national park—beforehand, it was considered protected land as the Texas Canyon State Park was established in 1933. But well before Texas and the U.S. gained control over this land, the Paleo Natives were studied as the first known settlers after the Ice Age around 10,000 BC. As the Ice Age faced its last days, large game filtered out and settlers were forced to hunt smaller game. People of this era entered the Archaic Period around 700-1535 AD. For thousands of years, these nomadic people lived unperturbed among the Chisos Mountains until the Spanish Mission traveled to the area. Without expelling gruesome details, we can fathom the long battle of pillage and disease that dominated the Peleo Indians into the nineteenth century. The fertile floodplains near the Rio Grand River attracted migrating farmers and ranchers hoping to farm vegetation and raise livestock. Where you can control water, you can control a population.

Priests of the Spanish Mission proposed these nomadic people as Chizo Indians who lived within the high mountains along with other neighboring hunters and gatherers, bringing us into the Historic era. Among their limited agriculture practice, the Mescalero Apache Indians were known to displace or absorb the Chizo (Chiso) Indians and raided Spanish settlements forming in the region. This period of conflict offers alternative explanations for the influence of the Chisos Mountains’ name. It is said that Chisos means “ghost,” referring to the ghost of the Mescalero Apache Chief, Alsate. Mexican folktales have surfaced of the chief’s last days as a captured man of the Mexican army in the early nineteenth century. With no intent to honor an amnesty proposed by the army, Alsate was led further from his land and people into Ojinaga before eventually facing his execution. Later, Mexican shepherds were the first to notice a distinct Alsate figure within the rock formation of the Chisos Mountains—interpreting a ghost among the mountains that appeared when the Earth shook after his death.

Original image from Big Bend National Park Facebook page.

Thinking back to the howling winds from my first night in the Chisos Basin, I like to think Alasate gave me a warm welcome as I lay next to his resting profile that makes up the Pulliam Bluff and Casa Grande Peak (7,325 ft).