Having been born and raised deep in the heart of West Texas, my aboriginal compatibility became firmly bonded by my fascination with the southwestern part of this wonderful state. It’s where you can stare in dreamy amazement across that vast landscape. All those giant escarpments of flat-top mountains and mesas with their rocky bluffs, rugged canyons, and hidden springs. Covering an area from west of El Paso, nearly all the way to San Antonio, and from Terlingue, in the Big Bend, then north to the Crane sandhills; a veritable paradise where others like us can spend time hiking, exploring, and imagining how many Indians and cowboys had been there before us. It was in that Trans-Pecos region between Sheffield and Dryden that my brother, Max, and I experienced an eventful adventure. It was the kind that only dreams and movies are made of.
We three brothers (John, Max, and Sid) grew up spending a lot of time playing and hiking out among the prickly pear, mesquite, and cedar breaks in this part of the state. We spent time in Troop 69 of the Boy Scouts of America in Wickett, explored Rattlesnake Cave, near Monahans, and climbed most of the mountains in and around Fort Davis and Big Bend National Park. Whenever we decided to make an excursion into the desert wilderness we always tried to “Be Prepared” (Scout’s motto). We were determined to explore, discover, and have an adventure every single time we ventured forth.
On this occasion, Mom and Dad had taken us out camping on the banks of Independence creek in Terrell County. After an early picnic lunch, we were anxious to get going. We left our little brother, Sid, in the clutches of Mom and Dad and headed toward the creek. It flowed clear and cool from springs upstream and emptied into the Pecos River about a mile from our campsite. We walked, following the creek, to where it converged with the historic Rio Pecos; at that point, we made an abrupt 90-degree turn and began walking beside that river. A large area of the bank was level with a carpet of grass and no other plants to speak of. From the river to the base of a steep-walled mesa on our right was about forty yards. After walking just a short distance, we noticed a ledge that formed a kind of trail up the side of that mesa, at about a 45-degree angle.
What first caught our attention was a fat sheep standing at the bottom of that trail. We decided to go have a look. When the sheep saw us, it began to run up that narrow ledge of a “trail”. Then, about halfway up, it stumbled and fell some ten feet or more to the ground below. It wouldn’t, or couldn’t, move. We didn’t know if it was dead or what, but when we drew near, it jumped right up and ran off. We began to walk precariously up the ledge, maneuvering to get around the eroded sections. When we got to the point from where the sheep fell, we had to ease around a bit of an eroded corner and there it was. A good- sized hole in the side of that hill – a rectangular shaped cave opening! The intrigue and curiosity triggered our excitement even more. Coming closer, the sides, top, and bottom of that cave seemed to be moving with a tremulous, pulsating effect. A closer inspection revealed that there was a thick layer of hundreds of granddaddy long legs. They were bunched-up and crawling all over each other as far back as we could see. That cave was indeed alive with spiders!
Having been Boy Scouts, as well as super snoopers, our being ‘prepared’ meant that we always carried a small backpack, fanny-pack, or shoulder bag with things that might come in handy on such occasions, like a bandanna, small rope, gloves, band aids, and a flashlight! As I was the only one with a flashlight, I dared Max to go into that spider-infested cave first. He said, “Darers go first.” So…I fastened all the buttons on my long-sleeved shirt, wrapped the bandanna over my nose and mouth, turned on the flashlight, got down on my hands and knees, and crawled as fast as I could for about 12 to 15 feet. I could tell that the only spiders at that point were on me. They were only in from the opening about eight or ten feet.
Shooing spiders off me, I shouted to Max about the situation, and told him to come on, and he did. While he shooed spiders off himself, I said, “You know? Seeing the consistency of this tunnel’s design, it looks like it may have been man-made.” Then, When I turned around to go again, the tunnel took a sharp turn to the right and we crawled only about eight feet when it took another turn to the left, opening almost immediately, into a “room” about 12 feet by 12 feet or so, and we could stand up in it. It felt cool and damp, with a dank smelling odor. On the south wall, to our left, we noticed an earthen shelf, about halfway up the wall, running from one corner to the other. A closer look revealed an old rustic oil or kerosene lantern on the shelf, a dilapidated cardboard box, and a rusty old rifle leaning up in the corner on the floor. That floor was dirt, of course, but mostly level (another hint that this might all be man-made).
That old cardboard box was like an old-timey hat box, and started to fall apart as we opened it. Inside, there was a stack of what we figured must have been old Confederate currency, a handful of early U.S. coins (Silver Dollars mostly), and two stick-like pieces of heavy metal…lead maybe? – or perhaps gold! “Hey, one for you and one for me!” I said laughing. Then, we began to examine the rifle in the corner. It was so encrusted with rust and disuse, it tried to come apart. That’s when Max exclaimed “Hey, what’s this?” It was a bundle of clothes or blankets at his feet, and as he kicked at it, it tumbled over and exposed another opening in the other wall with what appeared to be a big old chest inside it. We were about to look closer with the flashlight, when we were suddenly startled by the tumbling and thudding of rocks and dirt crashing on the floor right behind us. Part of the ceiling was giving way!
I told Max, “We’d better get out of here, right now!” The dust was thick, and our flashlight was getting dim, but we made it back to the tunnel. Crawling as fast as we could, I was pushing the hat box in front of me. It started falling apart and the things inside scattered all over. We shot out of that cave and could see that it was getting close to sundown. We turned to watch all that dust billowing out of the tunnel with the setting sunlight filtering through it. That was really something!
He and I could only imagine the story behind all of what we had seen and experienced. With the adrenaline coursing feverishly through our bodies, we set out to tell the others of our day’s exploits. A great swelling of satisfaction and pride filled our spirits as we marched back to camp. Max still had his ingot that I had given him, and I still had mine. It was not much to show for all we had found and was about to find, not to mention putting up with all those spiders and that yucky dust (unless…the metal ingots turned out to be solid gold!). We always thought about returning, of course, but never went back to the spider’s cave.
-John Driggers, Spiritual Advisor for Myers-Davis Life Coaching (9/2/2024, V6 #9)
To read other content drafted by John Driggers, please check out our Life Guides webpage here: Think of it this way – Myers-Davis Life Coaching (myersdavis.com)
