Weather reports have been warning of strong winds in the region today – like, 40 to 50 mph, gusting to 80. Does that even count as “strong winds,” or does that move us into hurricane territory?
All night long we could hear the wind battering our little casita. Despite its ramshackle appearance, the stone house is solid and sturdy, as if it grew from ancient roots that anchor it to the earth, and we feel completely sheltered. Nothing shakes. Nothing rattles. Except, weirdly, the wind blew our door open in the middle of the night. Twice.
I had booked a Rio Grande guided canoe trip for today. Though we kind of expected the river trip to be canceled due to the weather, we roused ourselves before dawn and pulled on our clothes. The sun was just coming over the horizon and the mountains were emerging from a morning haze as we made our way toward the Far Flung Outdoor Center, about 5 miles down the highway from Terlingua Ghost Town. Along the way, we pulled off the road to stop at Venga, a coffee shop on steroids, for a quick bite to eat. We’re not quite sure how or why this place exists in Terlingua; it’s a giant concrete space – the size of a Super Target – in the middle of the desert, furnished with rugs and couches arranged into cozy conversation areas. You could fit the entire Terlingua population (138) in one corner of the space, and still have room for, I don’t know, a well-attended rodeo, or a medium-sized Dixie Chicks concert.
We arrived at the river trip HQ at the appointed time, 7:30 a.m., to find out that the outing is still on. We won’t be fighting the wind at all; it will be pushing us east down the river. In the parking lot in front of the office, we met our guides, Ziggy, Liz and Molly, and our fellow river-trippers: a family of 5 from St. Cloud, Minn.; a family of 3 from Atlanta; a couple from Baton Rouge; and a couple from Jacksonville, Fla.
Together we piled into two vans and drove 60 minutes across Big Bend National Park to put in a few miles upstream from Rio Grande Village, a campground and visitor center on the east side of the park. Along the way, we got to know some of the other people on the trip.
Our guide Molly is from St. Paul; she earned her guiding chops on trips in the BWCA.
The family from Atlanta started their Texas spring vacation in Austin a few days ago, and both parents were promptly laid up with food poisoning. Their 10-year-old daughter was not affected and had to entertain herself for a day or two. Coincidentally, they have a niece, Ellie Pierson, who is a plebe at the USNA.
On this Fat Tuesday, Allie from Baton Rouge regaled us with descriptions of Cajun Mardi Gras, which is much different than the celebrations in New Orleans. According to Allie, costumed villagers traditionally go from house to house collecting ingredients for gumbo, then attempt to free a chicken, which is caged at the top of a greased pole.
Once on the river, we paddled for a couple hours, then stopped for lunch at the Boquillas Hot Springs, the site of an early 20th century spa and resort, where we took a short hike and then enjoyed a delightful soak in the 105-degree water.
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| When we first arrived, we had the place to ourselves! Heated by geothermal processes and emerging at 105 degrees, the water carries dissolved mineral salts reputed to have healing powers. |
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| The hot water is contained by the foundation of an old bathhouse. |
We paddled on after lunch, past soaring cliffs and through narrow chutes. The river was low, so we were never in rushing water. Still, the Atlanta family somehow dumped their iPhone overboard and were not able to recover it. More bad luck for them!
As we made our way back through the national park on the way back to the outfitter's office, one of the guides, Ziggy, pointed out different desert trees and plants. I was amazed to learn later that he's only been here since November; he sounded like such an expert! As a river guide, he's always on the move, going wherever the water is flowing.
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