JOHNNY BURRO'S BALAD
I am Johnny,
the burro
My master is John Lemoigne
I died by his side in the
desert
In death as in life, we are joined
*
We live in a place called
Death Valley
A prospector's life we lead
A-searchin' the ground for its
riches
Midst rock, sand and tumbleweed.
I carry his goods, pick and
shovel
More faithful than a wife
He walks with his hand on my
shoulder
And tells me the stories of life
Though my Master's years
are many
He's still and rugged and strong
But this summer's sun seems
hotter
And the days seem longer than long.
One day as walked through
the desert
'Neath the scorching sun of mid-day
I felt his hand weak on my
shoulder
As he silently led the way.
My master seemed to be
tired
He lay down by a clump of mesquite
He tied my rope to its
branches
To keep me nearby while he sleeps
It's been three days since
we stopped here
I've eaten the branches around
My master still lies there
a-sleepin'
So silently on the ground.
My tether is made of
cotton
It's soft and it's short and it's thin
I could leave, but. I can't
leave my master
He may wake up and need me again
Oh master, I call
you so gently
Please wake up and bring me some grain
But more than food,
I need water
To ease my gnawing pain.
The vultures circle above
us
The coyotes come by in the night
But they I now they must keep their
distance
For they fear my hooves in a fight
Oh master, why are you so
silent
Have you gone to that land beyond sleep?
I wish you would stir
from your slumbers
And relieve this vigil I keep
My throat cries out
for water
I'm weary, my strength's nearly gone
The coyotes come closer
each night now
They know they won't have to wait long
Oh master, why
don't you wake up?
Oh master, I need you so
Where is your hand of
comfort?
Where are your words, soft and low?
Oh master, I'm growing
weaker
The pain is cruel and deep
I must lie down now beside you
And
follow to that land beyond sleep * * *
I am Johnny, the burro
My master is John
Lemoigne
I died by his side in the desert
In death, as in life, we are
joined
Perky Hammel
November, 1986 |
THE
DESERT PAGE BY Bob Michael, SAGE Associate Editor
BIG BEND: TEXAS AT ITS BEST |
Big Bend is a
land beyond time, a place where, like the Baja back country, you can taste and
feel the remoteness and mystery. The desert epicure could easily spend a whole
idyllic winter and Spring season here, because Big Bend has it all; peaks to
climb, canyons to raft, wildflowers, geology, and plenty of room to get lost
in.
One of the last great undisturbed corners of the West, Big Bend is
not on the way to or from anywhere. The long roads down there from I-10 dead
end; crossing to Mexico is by boat or swimming only.
I think the best
approach to Big Bend is by US highway 67 from Marfa south to Presidio, past the
beautiful gray 7700' prow of Chinat Peak (No Trespassing!).From Presidio, only
Rio Grande bridge for hundreds of miles, a narrow paved highway dubbed "El
Camino del Rio" heads down river to the Park past uninhabited mesas and
canyons, ablaze in spring with Texas bluebonnets (lupines) and other flowers.
The western edge of the park is reached near the old mercury-mining town of
Terlingua, from where the sheer-walled fortress of the Chisos Mountains, rather
like the Kofa Range but bigger, dominates the eastern horizon. The name
"Chisos" is presumably a Spanish derivation of an old Comanche word for "ghost"
or "spirit", and the softly glowing purple and orange volcanic battlements in
the long stretched-out sunset do seem a spirit world of rock a mile in the
sky.
A good paved road climbs the north side of the Chisos and drops
into the Basin, a roughly circular hollow in the top of the range about five
thousand feet in elevation and surrounded by a panorama of beautifully-formed
seven thousand foot peaks. There is a big campground here, and even a lodge
with cushy accommodations and a great dining room. The Basin is a perfect place
to relax a few days and feast upon the lovely peaks which surround you; this is
beyond a doubt one of the finest concentrated hiking areas in the
Southwest.
On my one trip to Big Bend, I bagged Emory Peak, the Park
summit at 7,835', Toll Mountain (7,415') and Lost Mine Peak (7,535'). Emory and
Toll combined make a trail hike of about 7 mi RT from the Basin trailhead. The
summit of Emory is a fine (although only second class) pointed pinnacle of
blocky granite and gives a grand 360' panorama of the entire Park. Lost Mine
Peak is a fairly short bushwhack and third class summit block scramble off the
Lost Mine Trail. On this wilderness summit, one is almost guaranteed solitude,
unlike Emory Peak, which seems to have a full complement of Texans during high
(late winter/early spring) season. (Out of staters and Yankees were fairly rare
when I visited; the Texans were right proud to show off their mountains to
someone from Collarodda.) I did not have time to bag perhaps the most
impressive high Chisos peak, Casa Grande (ca. 7500') which presents a sheer
cliff to the Basin but appears easy enough from the back side.
Although
not a peak, the South Rim Trail climbs almost as high and is an experience in
desert spirituality not to be missed. The trail climbs out of the Basin up a
cool oak and pinyon-forested canyon and runs along the edge of the precipitous
southern ramparts of the high Chisos at an elevation of about seven thousand
feet. The bright scarlet flowers of claret-cup cactus seem to enjoy clinging to
the edge of the drop-off, which falls away six thousand feet to the Rio Grande
and the mysterious blue-hazed ranges of Chihuahua and Coahuila. As painter
Ludwig Bemelmans wrote about Big Bend, it is a "panorama without beginning or
end...what Beethoven reached for in music."
No Big Bend trip would be
complete without a trip to the canyons if not in a raft, at least on foot, The
lower stretch of Santa Elena Canyon is penetrated by a foot trail along the
river. It's very reminiscent of the Marble Gorge section of the Grand Canyon,
but done in beige and ivory instead of orange and pink. While driving between
the Chisos and the mouth of Santa Elena, note the Little Picacho-like turrets
of the Mule Ear Peaks.
I've touched on only a very small sampler of the
wonders of Big Bend, but this is supposed to be a PAGE and not a volume.
Suffice it to say that it would be as popular a place for Desert Peaks outings
as Death Valley if only it were closer.
For the next Page, we'll take a
break from roaming remote desert peaks to ask the question - Is the DPS your
favorite Section? How is it different from the HPS and SPS? This is another
Reader Participation Page, so let's have those cards and letters, folks (426
No. Jackson St #203, Glendale 91206). Thanks to Randy Bernard for the
idea.
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