Baby, It's cold outside!

As part of our daily routine in the Chisos Basin Visitor Center, we download the weather report and post it in several strategic locations inside and outside the building.  This report gives a forecast of what the weather may be over the next three days for the mountain area and the lower elevations.  They also report the river depth at several locations as well as the flow rate.  But anybody that knows Texas weather knows that a weather forecast is outdated before the ink on the paper can dry.

In the days leading up to the weekend before Thanksgiving we started noticing the forecasts predicting a cooling trend and each new day the predictions started changing to incorporate colder temps and increased chances of precipitation.  As the week went along we gradually switched from short sleeves to long sleeved uniforms, then we added fleece jackets and by Friday we had incorporated a vest under the fleece jacket.

On our way home Friday evening the temperature had noticeably dropped and clouds had started moving into the basin.  We got into our government issued Chevy HHR and climbed out of the basin and started up the series of switchbacks that peaked at the trailhead for the Lost Mine Trail.  We were now at approximately the same elevation as the clouds and the combination of moisture saturated air and cold temperatures was flocking the trees.

We stopped to get a snapshot of this ice-laden tree thinking how unique this was and that we may not get another chance to see something like this way down south on the Rio Grande.  However, we had heard war stories from the old-timers about the basin road closing at times because of ice or snow so we made a mental note to call dispatch in the morning to be sure the road was open before embarking on our ten mile commute from Panther Junction to Chisos Basin.

Arriving at home it was getting pretty cold, hovering just above freezing and precipitation that was alternating between rain and sleet.  But the ground was warm enough that there was no sign of any accumulation.  This waffling between liquid and solid continued throughout the night.  The fiberglass roof on our camper accentuated the din in a staccato fashion every time rain switched to sleet.

At 7:00 am Saturday morning we were on the phone with dispatch to get the latest on road conditions.  Everything outside our door was wet but nothing frozen.  But the pass into the basin is a couple thousand feet higher and we wanted to be sure all was well before heading out.  We got the all-clear from dispatch with note of some light frost in a couple of spots at a switchback near the top of the pass.  Good enough, we are off to work.

It is a dreary day, thick, low clouds that are expelling enough moisture to keep everything wet and one guessing whether the sun has found its way up.  Initially, our climb up the switchback leading to the peak at Lost Mine Trail was no different than the roads down in Panther Junction, but on the last three turns before summiting the pass it started changing, quickly.  The temperature dropped sharply to 27 degrees and while the road appeared to still only be wet, it was anything but.  All traction ceased to exist.  Just as we topped the pass the road became completely and thickly covered in black ice.  We were pointed down at the first switchback on the basin side and our little HHR's wheels were not turning but we were continuing our advance on a turn that there would be no way to negotiate.

The only thing to do was to let off the brakes and try to steer towards the shoulder of the road to get traction for at least two of the wheels.  Most of the time I would not consider ten inches of dirt with a 500 foot drop at inch 11 to be a shoulder.  But right now it is a better option than sliding right over the switchback with its 1500 feet of an express ride down the cliff to the basin.

Luckily the shoulder worked.  We decided to just sit tight where we were for a little while and gather our thoughts.  Shortly lights appeared in the mirror and I could see a white Ford Explorer with the distinct green stripe of a Park Ranger vehicle.  He managed to get stopped a couple hundred feet behind us, right in front of cars that had come up from the basin side and could get no further than the trailhead parking area.  As I watched, the Explorer began sliding.  It went from sitting dead-still to moving without the wheels ever turning!  And it was coming towards the HHR.

Just as suddenly as it started moving, it stopped.  I got out of the HHR and did a hand-over-hand walk down the side of the HHR and around the back where I could get my feet on the shoulder of the road and get enough traction to walk up to the Ranger's vehicle to see what was going on and if he was in radio contact with the road crew.

Cyndee got a shot of John talking to the ranger.  You can't tell from the picture but he is totally supporting himself by leaning in the window and keeping almost all weight off his feet.

I walked up the hill to just above the Explorer, stepped onto the road and skated/slid my way down to the ranger.  He was a little stressed out.  It seems that he was initially able to get the SUV stopped.  But when he put it in park and took his foot off the brake, it started to slide.  He only arrested the forward motion by putting on and holding his foot on the brake.  He could not move, he had to stay where he was and hold the brake.  But at least he was in radio contact with the road crew.  They were mobilizing with a sand truck.  We were just going to have to be patient until they got there.

With time on our hands we snapped a few pictures.  It was not safe to get out and walk around looking for the best angles and framing.  We had to be satisfied with what we could do from the comfort and warmth of the HHR.

The thin clouds made for some ghostly figures on the mountainside.

Grass near the shoulder of the road was taking on ice just as heavily as the tall trees.

Even the needles of a prickly pear cactus are like magnets for attracting ice to their surface.

A hillside directly opposite the parking area of the Lost Mine Trail.  There are two Century Plants in the frame that Cyndee found interesting.

The Century Plant up close.  It is hard to see it in this context.  It is most often associated with hot, dry deserts.

Looking out the windshield of the HHR.  Just where the road fades into the fog is the switchback, making about a 140 degree turn to the right.  Straight ahead, no guard rail, just the abyss.



In just barely an hour the amount of ice on these trees easily doubled.

And it just kept getting thicker.

Only a few minutes more and these same trees started doubling over from the weight of the ice.

In a little more than two hours the sand truck had made its way to us.  But he too stopped just at the point the road began its descent.  We waited while he and the ranger worked out what to do.

Final decision was to back up into the trail parking, turn around and back his way down to us, letting the sand spreader cover the road in advance of his approach.  He had almost expended his entire load of sand getting to the pass summit.  If we were leaving it was going to be a choice of one direction only, back to Panther Junction. Looks like we are going home instead of to work.

Several of the other drivers that had come up from the basin talked with the sand truck driver and decided to wait for him to return and sand the road all the way down into the basin so they could get back to their lodge rooms or campsites.

Once home we could see that the cold air had sunk down into the desert.  Ice was forming on all surfaces now.  It did not matter whether the surface was horizontal or vertical, it was collecting ice.

This windwork usually rotates in the gentlest of breezes.  Not today, it is frozen solid and weighing several pounds more than normal.

Looking down the little gulch toward the school from just behind our camper.



Rainbow cactus as an ice sculpture.

It only took a few minutes after getting Big Gulp home from headquarters that it was encased in ice.  By morning even our heated camper had developed a shell of ice.  Opening the door took some doing.

Okay, all this is well and good.  A unique experience to be encased in ice in a southern latitude desert, especially months ahead of when weather even similar to this is typical.  But this is exactly the weather we planned to avoid.  Come on, we took a volunteer job in the southwest desert for goodness sake.  We thought we would be managing staying cool, trying not to use the air conditioner.  Instead, we burned nearly 40 lbs of propane in just three days trying to stay warm.  If the weather doesn't straighten up and go back to normal we are going to have to rethink our winter strategy.