Braving Big Bend: Border Crossing

This is a tale of adventure, misadventure, and a whole lot of adrenaline-induced fun. I visited Texas for the first time in March 2017. Prepared with wildly incorrect stereotypes, a brand new camera, and a few key local phrases ("bless yer heart"), I ventured into the Lone Star State.

A sneak peek at sneaky peaks

My long lost friend Daniel welcomed me and his friend Michael to Dallas. On our way to Big Bend National Park we stopped at Daniel's family's ranch to try our hand at target practice with a bunch of handguns, rifles, and shotguns. This was probably the most Texan thing we did and I think with a couple more visits to a gun range... My career as a professional sniper could take off.

Big Bend Basics: This gigantic park is 801,163 acres (~four times the size of New York City) and protects a large section of the Chihuahuan Desert.

Rubbing my sore arms and shoulders while snacking on apple chips, we continued on our drive to the national park. Big Bend is one of the most far-flung areas in the USA, and the trip would take over 8 hours with rest stops. We had a late start so eventually made it to an RV park around midnight to set up our tent with flashlights.

We hit up the highlighted areas on our first day. Note: that's not our friend Daniel's ranch, it's just a bizzare coincidence.

Packed up, drove into the park, scouted out a permanent campsite, and made ourselves at home. Well- Daniel and Michael did by hanging their state flags from the tree in front of our tent. Am I proud to be Canadian? Yes. Could I compete with two Americans' sense of patriotism? Apparently not.

Night time and early mornings are still chilly- deserts are extreme!

Clearly marked territory

Little Pumba bringing up the end of a line of trotting javelinas

As it was too late for some of the other activities Daniel had planned, we decided to visit Mexico that day. We left the truck on American soil, glided through the border crossing (did the guard even check our passports?), and walked a short distance to a river. This was the breeziest international boundary I've ever hopped across. Driving from Canada into the USA involves an average exchange of about eight sentences, and this was even more lax. At the river on the Mexican side we changed into cheap shoes to wade through the shallow river instead of paying a guy to row/drag us 100 metres (328 feet) in a boat. Apparently it was a profound, life-changing idea as other travellers approached us to discuss this phenomenon. Horses and trucks waited on the opposite shore to haul us into the tiny town (think tourist trap) of Boquillas del Carmen.

Testing the river before crossing

Two methods of transporting tourists to and from the river

We opted for the short but rocky drive. The immigration officer barely looked at us except to scold us for our muddy shoes, stamp our passports for BOTH entry and exit, and wave us out of his air-conditioned portable steel box. A few steps away was the main road sparsely lined with colourful buildings. Two competing restaurants faced off on opposing sides of the gravel path, each hoping for sun-beaten visitors to seek refuge in their shade.

Big Bend Basics: Boquillas del Carmen is in the middle of nowhere. It's existence is due to the influx of tourists visiting from the national park. Establishments buy supplies (ie. food) from the American side, bring it back to the Mexican side, and feed it to oblivious tourists (us included). No complaints though, the food was yummy and look at that view!

View from the restaurant

Small souvenir store built into the restaurant featuring sundresses, sombreros, ponchos, and machetes (?)

On the table (tamales, tacos, burrito, and double margaritas)

We wandered around the town after eating. Little kids ran up to us holding handmade crafts and trinkets, asking us to if we'd like to buy something as their mothers looked on from their front yards. Everyone we passed by greeted us- Michael and I would wave back and manage an "hola" while Daniel would launch into a more detailed Spanish reply. A tiny chihuahua skipped across the unpaved road, tongue flopping from the heat. The afternoon sun, unhindered by the cloudless blue sky, proved to be too much for my Canadian skin. We sought shade under an awning with a thatched roof, enjoying the solitude and cool breeze. Little did we know that while we were relaxing, trouble was brewing.

We ventured past the town limits into the empty desert

Unfortunately when we returned to the border crossing, the officer's random search of Daniel's backpack revealed his gun and magazine.
Fortunately, Daniel had a permit. Unfortunately, none of us had noticed the sign on the door that explicitly banned any firearms and Daniel had forgotten that he even had his gun.
Fortunately, Michael and I were free to go as we weren't packing heat.
Unfortunately we were good friends (ie. would be lost without him) and waited anxiously.
Fortunately, the guard allowed us to grab the car keys and get snacks.
Unfortunately, it seemed like a huge fine and jailtime for our pal.
Fortunately, we were informed that he was lucky that no one found the gun in Mexico (instant goodbye for 40 years).
Unfortunately, we were too worried to be thankful about that.
Fortunately, after two hours of restless waiting, three tourists asking us why he was being detained, and four other government officials arriving in order of importance... Daniel was let off the hook for being a "stupid kid".
Unfortunately, he attributed this good fortune to his charisma.

The shell of a crumbling mosaic building on top of a hill

Some illegal business overlooked by border guards because they "have bigger fish to fry"

Perfect weather

Delighted that our tour guide was still a free man, we headed for the Boquillas hot springs. A short walk along jagged and rocky cliffs led us to the secluded hot spring facing a Mexican riverbank.

Big Bend Basics: The quaint hot spring area is the leftover remnant of a former bath house. The National Park Service describes the 40 degree celsius (105 in freedom units) water as "old water, fossil water, ancient and irreplaceable" with remedial mineral salts.

We relaxed with some of the friendliest strangers I've had the pleasure of meeting. (Except for the 3-year-old boy who secretly splashed everyone- we're onto you kid!!) A couple of snowbirds, aptly named for their migration patterns in RV vehicles, offered to help me into the cold contrast of the river. The tall reeds along the sandy bank nodded lazily as Daniel and Michael tried to beat the currents at their own game. An ex-Marine dad chatted us up, leaning against the stone walls holding his content baby daughter. We sat at the base of the mini-waterfall of warm geothermal water rushing over the edge of the hot springs, on to our shoulders, down our arms, and flowing to join with the chilly river. The lukewarm region between the two extremes pooled around our knees as we kicked our legs in the water.

Rejuvenating waters

The end of this convoluted first day wrapped up with the three of us attempting to light a charcoal fire and opening 2 cans of overpriced chili with a broken can opener. Look for part two: the day of the worst hike in the world.