Chris LeBlanc hikes the Cinco Tinajas trail at Big Bend Ranch State Park on Dec. 29, 2018. Pam LeBlanc photo

I just returned from West Texas last night, and have been fielding lots of questions from readers who want to know how the government shutdown has affected park operations in Big Bend.

Planning a trip west? Here are eight things to know before you go:

1. Yes, Big Bend National Park is open – but no services are available. That means all campgrounds, visitor centers and restrooms are closed, nobody is issuing back country permits and certain heavily used areas are shut.
2. No, you can’t just camp without a permit. Well, you could – and I saw at least 20 people doing that, some on the South Rim Trail in the Chisos Mountains and others in the desert – but you shouldn’t.
3. Will you get in trouble if you do? Maybe. I saw more law enforcement vehicles on park roads than during any other visit. You could get ticketed for camping without a permit.
4. Again, all campgrounds are completely closed. No one is allowed to camp without a permit.
5. If you have reservations at the Chisos Basin Lodge, you’re fine. The lodge, which is run by an outside concessionaire and not the federal government, is operating as usual. So are the restaurant and park store in the basin.
6. Restrooms are closed, so please plan according. Pack out all toilet paper. I was discouraged by the amount of toilet paper I spotted tucked behind bushes and boulders. Think of the park as your yard; act accordingly.
7. The Santa Elena Canyon trailhead and trail are closed. So is Old Maverick Road and the Boquillas border crossing.
8. Don’t speed. Stick to the park’s 45 mph limit. I saw law enforcement pull over two vehicles during my stay.

We spent a night in the bunkhouse at Big Bend Ranch State Park, where a bed will set you back $35 and you can cook meals in the community kitchen. Pam LeBlanc photo

Should you still go to Big Bend if you already had a trip planned? Yes, as long as you understand you can’t camp while you’re there.

I’ve read reports of people trashing areas around restrooms at other national parks (Yosemite, for example), but so far that’s not happening at Big Bend.

If you can get a place to stay outside the park – Study Butte, Terlingua and Marathon are all in easy driving range – or if you have reservations at the lodge, you shouldn’t be affected by the shutdown.

Yep, the government shutdown means campgrounds, visitor centers, restrooms and some trails inside the park are all closed. Pam LeBlanc photo

I had planned to camp two nights in the desert at the national park before checking into the lodge in Chisos Basin. I diverted those first two nights to Big Bend Ranch State Park farther west, where the only slot open was a space in the group camping area near the park headquarters at Sauceda. Actually, it’s not bad for a group camping area, with a dozen nicely separated tent pads, each with its own covered picnic table.

A brisk cold front blew through our first night. We ate steak dinners in the cab of our truck as the temperatures plummeted and the wind kicked up, then got progressively colder as the seams on our old car camping tent failed and our air mattress slowly lost air.

We ditched the tent and grabbed beds in the park’s bunkhouse the next day. That worked out well – the facility is divided into a men’s side and women’s side, with no-frills cubby holes for people to sleep and a community kitchen where we cooked up chicken stew. (Cost is just $35 per person per night.)

The diversion gave us a good excuse to hike to the Fresno Canyon overlook one day (access via the Puerta Chilicote trailhead), and revisit lovely Cinco Tinajas, where it’s an easy walk up a creek bed into a twisty slick of stair-stepped, water-filled pools. The park is big and beautiful and full of rugged (and deserted) trails.

The next day we loaded up and drove Highway 170 (aka River Road) to Lajitas, where we spend about three hours on my favorite little-known trail at Big Bend National Park – the Mesa de Anguila trail, which departs from a trailhead behind employee housing for Lajitas Resort. (It surprised me to discover a few years ago that this trail is part of the national park, not the state park.)

Chris LeBlanc looks over the Rio Grande from a spur trail off the Mesa de Anguilla trail behind Lajitas. Pam LeBlanc photo

Follow the trail about 30 minutes through the flat desert, then make the climb up the gully. When you get to the top (it took us about an hour and 15 minutes), look for a spur trail off to your right. Climb that hill. From the top, look south. You’ll get a perfect view of a huge horseshoe bend in the Rio Grande – one of the best views in all the park.

We headed to the national park next, where we checked into the fully-functioning Chisos Basin Lodge.

We tackled 15 miles on the South Rim and Northeast Rim trails in the Chisos the next day (a classic Texas hike), and squeezed in a stroll up to Balanced Rock (off of Grapevine Hills Road) the next morning before driving back to Austin.

Chris LeBlanc takes in the view from the South Rim of Big Bend National Park on New Year’s Eve 2018. Pam LeBlanc photo

Someone left a bag of dog waste in a tree on the Barton Creek Greenbelt near Sculpture Falls on Christmas Day. Pam LeBlanc photo

I took a Christmas Day hike on the Barton Creek Greenbelt, starting at the trailhead at Loop 360 and hiking past Twin Falls to Sculpture Falls.

What a resource we’ve got here in Austin – acres of green space, a creek that carves its way through limestone ledges, thickets of gnarled trees and miles of moss-covered boulders. But for some, one of our city’s biggest outdoor draws serves as just another place to stash a bag of dog poop.

I like to hike on the Barton Creek Greenbelt to see the falls and the creek – not to encounter dog poop. Chris LeBlanc photo

During a 5-mile hike on the trail, I spotted a sack of dog waste tucked in the hollow of an old cedar stump. I found another tied to a tree branch at head level. At least two or three more were tossed at the side of the trail. It’s even worse in the summer, when the water’s warm and crowds of people, dogs in tow, hike down to explore.

I’m trying to understand the mentality of the people who do this. Are they planning to pick up the bags on the return trip? (I don’t think so, based on how long the bags had apparently been there.) Do they think it’s someone else’s job to carry it out? (Perhaps, but come on, people.) Do they think it magically disappears? (Maybe so.) Do they just not care what they’re doing to the environment? (Probably.)

Dog waste bags are provided at the trailhead near Loop 360. Pam LeBlanc photo

The only think that’s worse than a pile of dog poop on the trail is a pile of dog poop in a bag strung up in a tree, or tucked in a stump, or laid carefully on the side of the path. I often wish I could unload a pickup truck full of used dog poop bags on the offender’s front porch.

Please pick up your dog’s poop – and dispose of it properly.

A shipment of Wildway granola and hot cereal arrived at my house recently, and I’ve been eating my way through it. Pam LeBlanc photo

This week I broke into a box load of breakfast goods that arrived in my mailbox from Wildway, a Texas company that makes grain-free granola, hot cereal and smoothie mixes.

I love granola. I’m a regular chipmunk when it comes to the stuff. I eat it for breakfast, stuff it in little baggies to eat while I’m paddling, biking or hiking, and occasionally roll out of bed in the dead of night and nibble on it while in a state of semi-slumber.

But this didn’t exactly look like – or more precisely feel like – the granola I normally eat.

The coconut cashew granola tastes a bit like coconut macaroons, crumbled and served for breakfast. Pam LeBlanc photo

Wildway, started by Kelli and Kyle Koehler of San Antonio, crafts its granola without grain, which makes it popular with the Paleo crowd. But the Koehlers say they weren’t just catering to that audience when they developed their product, which doesn’t have refined sugar, gluten or dairy ingredients. They wanted to make a nutrient dense food that tasted good.

I tore open a little pouch of banana nut granola: Soft, chewy and not a trace of crunch, something I actually like in my granola. This seemed more like a fat slab of banana bread that’s been crumbled up and tossed into a pouch.

Interesting. I ate it plain, as a snack. I always need stuff that I can keep on hand when I’m on the go. It fit the bill in that respect. But still. Crunch-free granola? Unsure.

The next day, I poured myself a bowl of Wildway coconut cashew granola and doused it with almond milk. You could put coconut on a piece of styrofoam and I’d love it, by the way. I’m a sucker for that tropical, nutty flavor.

This time I felt like I was eating a bowl full of chewy, slightly sticky coconut macaroons. (Anybody remember Cookie Quisp? Cookies for breakfast!)

I checked the Wildway ingredient panel – organic dates, walnuts, organic coconut, sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, dry roasted cashew, pecans and vanilla bean. No oats. No sugar.

Then, for comparison, I checked the ingredient panel on the box of HEB granola with pecans hiding out in my pantry. The top ingredient? Rolled oats, followed by sugar. Ouch. Also on the list? Pecan pieces, sunflower oil, rice flour, caramelized milk powder, dried coconut, honey, wheat gluten, barley and some other stuff I can’t pronounce. I missed the crunch in the Wildway a little less and appreciated the ingredients a little more.

I’m yet to dig into the instant hot cereal packets that arrived in my Wildway box, but I’ll try those next. I don’t expect my hot cereal to pack a crunch, so I think I might like it better.

An interesting side note? The Koehler landed their products in Whole Foods stores after cold-calling a buyer at the Austin-based grocer. The buyer they wanted to meet wasn’t in when they dropped by, so they left some samples. They got a call back within days, and  Wildway granola landed on Whole Foods shelves just weeks later.

You can buy it at Whole Foods, HEB and online at www.wildwayoflife.com. An 8-ounce pouch of granola ranges in price from about $5 to $6, depending on where you buy it.

Holly Orr, founder of Paddle With Style, is teaching me how to paddle a racing canoe. Pam LeBlanc photo

I headed back to Staples this afternoon, for another paddling lesson from paddling guru Holly Orr, owner of several records in the grueling Texas Water Safari race.

We had to stop and watch the sun set. Pam LeBlanc photo

I’m doing the 260-mile race next June, as part of a three-woman team alongside veteran paddlers Sheila Reiter and Heather Harrison.

They know what they’re doing; so far, I do not. But that’s changing. I’m taking a deep dive into canoeing, and you’re likely to spot me on Lady Bird Lake, the San Marcos River or the Colorado River downstream of Austin most any day of the week.

The cows wandered down at the bank for a stare down. Pam LeBlanc photo

Today Holly focused on a couple of issues I’m having – one, I’m not driving with enough power. I need to twist more, to engage my core muscles to move instead of relying on my arms. I also need to start my stroke a little farther forward than I’ve been doing.

Holly Orr paddles up the San Marcos River near Staples. Pam LeBlanc photo

I borrowed a solo boat for today’s lesson, and it probably doesn’t look like the canoe you just conjured up in your mind (unless you’re a paddle junkie.) It’s narrow and tippy, with a wider spot in the middle to accommodate a human butt. We’re talking about a canoe that you wear, versus one that you clamber around in like a Boy Scout.

Bonuses of today’s late afternoon lesson? Feeling a little more natural every time I’m on the water. A gorgeous sunset. A scamper up a muddy bank to check out a dilapidated old shack. Blue herons. Black cows. A beaver, dipping and diving under the water’s surface.

See you on the river.

You’ll want to leave your friends at home when you head to the theater to watch “Free Solo,” the feature-length documentary about climbing legend Alex Honnold.

That way, no one will notice that you’ve broken out in a cold sweat as you watch Honnold, author of the book “Alone on the Wall,” slither his way, solo, up a 3,000-foot sheer cliff wall without any ropes to catch him if he slips.

I sweaty-palmed my way through the flick about Honnold’s June 2017 ascent of El Capitan at Yosemite National Park last night and felt like I was dangling from the edge of that cliff myself. It felt visceral.

Alex Honnold climbs El Capitan in Yosemite. Photo National Geographic

The movie follows the buildup as Honnold attempts to become the first to climb the wall without safety ropes or gear. He practically oozes his way up the cliff, flowing over rock like an octopus, clinging to holds the size of cough drops and cramming his arms into rough rocky cracks that sandpaper skin right off.

At one point, he trots right over a pair of climbers (one in a pink bunny suit!) who are sleeping (mere mortals sometimes take several days to do the climb) in hammocks tacked to the rock. Toss in personal narratives about his girlfriend, who is trying to find the balance between letting the man she loves do what he loves and the worry that weighs like a grand piano on her shoulders, and the filmmakers, who fear they might do something that would disrupt his climb, and you’ve got an hour and a half of anxiety in store.

It’s worth it.

I won’t give anything away by telling you Honnold survives the climb, and does it in less that 4 hours.

I interviewed Honnold last year, after he spoke at South by Southwest. Read that story from the Austin American-Statesman here.

A few months later, I wrote about Honnold’s mother, Dierdre Wolownick, who climbed El Capitan  (albeit with ropes) alongside her son for her 66th birthday.

The movie is playing at the Regal Arbor 8.

Frostweed forms when the moisture from inside the stems of the Verbesina virginica seeps out and freezes into fascinating shapes. Pam LeBlanc photo

Adventure doesn’t always come in the form of a towering mountain or raging river.

I try to inject a little jolt of curiosity into my life every day. Sometimes that means waking up at 4:45 a.m. and going for a run in the dark, without a headlamp. The trail looks different under moonlight, and I focus more on the sound of my feet crunching on gravel or the hooting of owls than the unspooling pathway in front of me.

Today, I woke up in the Hill Country where I’m doing some work and went for a walk. The thermometer read 25 degrees. A white tail buck stared at me as I crept outside in a cozy pair of sweatpants and an insulated jacket.

When it breaks, it looks like delicate pieces of ribbon candy or coconut flakes. Pam LeBlanc photo

As I walked down the hill and along the road that cuts through pastures of waving grass, I noticed what at first glance looked like plastic bags wrapped around the base of a cluster of plants. I waded off into the brush to inspect a little more closely, and it turns out I was looking at the season’s first bloom of frostweed.

Or maybe it looks more like egg beater dipped in thick vanilla frosting? Pam LeBlanc photo

The scientific name for this native Texas plant is Verbesina virginica, but I know it by the common name, which it gets from the delicate coils of ice that form around its stem when temperatures drop. That’s moisture from the plant, seeping out and freezing.

To me, it looks like old-fashioned ribbon candy, an egg beater dunked in thick vanilla frosting, or a tiny cone of pure white cotton candy. (Perhaps I’m hungry? I never can tell.) When it shatters, it breaks into big flakes of coconut.

Just taking a close look at something I don’t see every day added a little spark of happiness to my morning.

I can’t wait to see what I find next.