Posted August 21, 2025 – Narrated by Jim
In Texas, finding yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time can end in tragedy, and finding yourself in the right place at the right time is a blessing. This is why we call it adventure.
Twenty-five miles south-east of downtown Amarillo – where Pico took his last breath – we retreated into a hole in the ground called Palo Duro.
After claiming his ashes and leaving his things at the doorstep of the Panhandle Humane Society, we felt aimless. Our journey with Pico had come to an end.
Palo Duro, a legendary abyss of pain and loss …
… in the heart of the Texas Panhandle, was the nearest place to pull off the road, rest, and collect our ourselves.
But first we had to get out of Meredith Lake Recreation Area, and the front curb-side stabilizer busted loose and pawed the ground right in front of the gatehouse, blocking the exit.
The crank shaft was stripped, so I quick-fixed it with Gorilla Tape.
As we pulled out, a flock of cardinals – twenty or more – flew directly over the rig in a blaze of glory.
We pulled out of the park hoping for the best, but whenever we eased to a stop, Beauty’s stabilizer threatened to drop.
Limping toward Palo Duro, we postponed the steep descent into the canyon. It was too risky with the trailer in disrepair and low on Gorilla tape.
Bar Z Winery
We pulled into Bar Z Winery, a Harvest Host location a mile or so from Palo Duro to bed down for the night.
Being familiar with grief and how it refuses to move on – we both confessed to having an irrational hope that any minute someone would call or hunt us down to declare a mistake had been made and hand our dog over to us.
We’d planned to stay inside, listen to music and play cards, but the high wind and stampeding clouds made us edgy. So we eased over to the Tasting Room to buy the obligatory bottle of wine and find out what in the West Texas was coming at us?
The sommelier put me at ease about the weather and suggested the Rosé. I took the bottle out to the patio where Carmen stood leaning against a post listening to a talented Texas troubadour.
I went back to the wine bar to order pizza. For the next hour we listened to Dust Bowl Ballads and toasted to the galloping clouds and envied their unwavering purpose and direction.
“Now as I look around, it’s might plain to see,
This world is such a great and a funny place to be.
Oh the gamblin’ man is rich, an’ the workin’ man is poor,
And I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.
As I ramble, I see lots of funny men,
Some rob you with a six gun, And some with a fountain pen.“
Some say grief is like a dry sponge soaking up your joy, leaving you parched for life’s meaning. I’d say that’s a fair description – but how many losses can one suffer before the stream runs dry?
The Decent
Next morning, we drove our sad, wounded asses into the canyon.
Palo Duro means “hard wood” not “easy-squeezy.”
The treacherous, narrow descent demands the utmost caution.
I wonder if that saying, “Between a rock and hard place,” originated here.
This is the most scenic area of the Panhandle, sculpted over millions of years by the Prairie Dog Town Fork flow from the Red River, with considerable contributions from the West Texas wind.
The short 800 foot descent offers impressive views of hiking, horseback and bike-riding trails.
120 miles long and 20 miles wide, Palo Duro is the second largest canyon in the United States.
Palo Duro’s Beginnings
Charles Goodnight, a former Texas Ranger and inventor of the Chuck Wagon, drove 1,600 Longhorn cattle into the canyon in 1876. He and his partner John Adair, founded JA Ranch, the first Texas Panhandle spread. An outdoor musical, TEXAS, runs throughout the summer in the park’s amphitheater which brings the history of the High Plains to the stage.
At its peak in 1885, the ranch grazed 100,000 head on 1,325,000 acres. Goodnight crossed cattle and bison, which he called cattleoo, but the ranch also preserved a herd of native plains bison. Individuals from that J.A. herd were donated to populate Caprock Canyons State Park and Yellowstone National Park.
In 1933, Texas bought the land and the Civilian Conservation Corps, CCC, spent five years developing the park and campgrounds.
The Canyon
No bison roam these days, but as we set up camp a pair of wild turkey greeted us. Pico would never allow that. He had no confidence in our fighting skills and here – the first camp we set up without him – is instantly invaded. He was right. We’re total losers.
Exhausted from vet visits, no sleep and stress, we vowed to take walks on the cool mornings and rest with our Kindles in the afternoon shade.
The park boasts 30 miles of hiking on 17 different trails.
The roads are bicycle friendly with low, slow traffic and stunning wrap-around views.
Visitors with limited mobility can enjoy the canyon via car, horseback, or rent an all-terrain wheelchair for use within the park.
Natural formations called “Hoodoo‘s,” “Goblins,” or “Fairy Towers,” anchor the scenery to the sky.
Coyotes, owls and bobcats vocalized in the night but we never spotted them. We took precautions for snakes, but none appeared. Neither did we see the Palo Duro mouse or Texas horned lizard. Wildlife encounters occurred when we least expected them.
Spring wildflowers and grasses dotted the canyon.
Camping
There are 125 campsites in the park, plus a few group sites.
Some have water and some have electricity, but none have a sewer hookup. There is a dump station in the park.
You can make reservations online or by calling (512) 389-8900.
Rates vary depending on where you camp, but we paid $24 a night for a site with water and electricity.
There are four “Glamping” tent cabins available through PaloDuroGlamping.com.
The “Cow Camp Cabins” are seven unique structures built by the CCC in 1933. Three of the cabins are on the canyon rim and four are on the canyon floor. Though rustic, they’ve been upgraded with modern heating and cooling and are available for overnight stays.
On our last night a super-moon was scheduled to rise. Pico coveted his night walks, so this moon felt super-important to us. From early dusk we began walking.
The canyon glowed as the moon skirted the edges just slightly out of view. Finally, at 2 am, it showed off for a few glorious minutes, before slipping back into the night.
Palo Duro didn’t offer any answers– it only wrapped our weary hearts in a beautiful deep plush bed on the Panhandle Plains and softly whispered the pure Texas Truth: Life is tough– even in paradise.
You can see our exact route on this map.
*photos in this post (unless otherwise noted) were taken and copyrighted by Living In Beauty.
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