- "Mules Ears Trail from the overlook followed ledges at the base of Trap Mountain and crossed outwash ravines and ridges of the lower Chisos Mountains before descending into the wide draw of Smoky Creek," report the Burres. Shown is David Burre aboard RojoShown is David Burre aboard Rojo.
It was a question of whether we'd be eaten by a bear or a mountain lion, or just freeze overnight in the vast Chihuahua Desert!
The trail out was well-worn and well-marked. It was narrow with steep rock stairs up and down and sharp switchbacks, not to mention the drop off. Our plan was to follow a series of trails on the National Geographic topographic map and circle Mule Ears Peak in the Big Bend National Park from the highway overlook where we'd parked our rig.
I was riding my mule, Rojo. My wife, Rona, rode her young Peruvian Horse gelding, GG Siroco. Rojo, unusual for him, boldly took the lead going out on the treacherous trail - I suppose in honor of his spiritual home, the Mule Ears! We reached Mule Ears Spring, where Siroco and Rojo ate moist green grass, but didn't drink.
Mules Ears Trail from the overlook followed ledges at the base of Trap Mountain and crossed outwash ravines and ridges of the lower Chisos Mountains before descending into the wide draw of Smoky Creek.
On the way down, we found a wide spot in the trail and ate a snack, the only food we had with us. We did pack extra water and had a minimal emergency-veterinary kit. After a short rest, we tightened our cinches and continued to zigzag down to a sign in the dry creek bed that marked the trail junction.
Smoky Creek Trail behind Mule Ears follows a draw that has many washes and no trail markings, but there was only one general direction to go. For a while, we occasionally saw hoof marks in the gravel creek bed and were confident we were on the trail.
When the going became easier, Siroco took the lead, and Rojo settled into his energy-saving dawdle. We soon came upon a series of lava-flow ledges in the draw with water flowing from a tributary that originated at Smoky Spring. Our by-now thirsty mounts drank heartily.
At one point, the slippery waterfalls forced us to exit the draw and traverse the rugged bank until we could find a way back into the flat, deep gravel creek bed.
