An unmarked trail winds through the cacti of West Texas’s high desert. With no signs to guide the way, the only sounds are the crunch of gravel and the vast, open sky above. For those who know where to look, this path leads to an unlikely local legend: The Desk on Hancock Hill.
For more than 45 years, this simple desk has been a fixture in the city of Alpine. Matt Walter, an amateur photographer who has documented the site for decades, first made the trek in 1986. “It was cold. There was snow on the ground,” he recalled. “I didn’t know about the desk then… I was just amazed.”
The desk itself is unremarkable—a standard classroom model, weathered by the elements and covered in graffiti. Yet, sitting at the desk and gazing out over the desert landscape can be a transformative experience. Walter describes moments of deep introspection, “reflecting on the views, the distance, looking out onto this vastness, and wondering about the amazement of Mother Nature.”
Visitor Dani Bell agrees, calling the experience “very therapeutic.” She added, “You can clear your mind and really just get some stuff out if you need to.”
The origin of this peculiar landmark is as remarkable as the feelings it evokes. In the late 1970s, Sul Ross State University student Jim Kitchen wanted a study spot with a view. He and a few classmates hauled a desk to the top of the hill, planting it like a flag on a new frontier. “He is that kind of guy,” said his nephew, Tony Curry. “He’s a wild, wild man and he’s got a lot of energy.”
Kitchen left more than just furniture on the summit; he also left a notebook and a pen for visitors to record their thoughts. The desks are replaced roughly every decade to combat the effects of weather and wear, but the tradition of the notebooks endures. “It’s kind of a meditative place,” Curry said, “where you can go and just think about things and kind of sort out your problems.”
Dozens of these filled notebooks, dating back decades, are now meticulously preserved and cataloged in the university’s archives. Jim’s sister, Paula Kitchen Curry, serves as the unofficial archivist, having made the climb at least 30 times to retrieve the journals.
The notebooks she retrieves are akin to a time capsule and a confession booth, filled with entries that are often heartbreaking. One visitor wrote: “To 18 y/o me & everyone who needs to hear it: It does get better. Change can be good. The world is bigger than you think it is.”
“Sometimes it breaks my heart, and sometimes it makes me laugh,” Paula said of reading the entries. “Sometimes it makes me want to be a better writer.”
Tony Curry believes the solitude and the notebooks offer a unique form of release. “There are times when you find yourself looking for a way to get something out of your head,” he explained. “Going up to the desk gives you time to think about it, the notebook gives you a place to put it down, and then the journey back down gives you a place to kind of leave it behind.”
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