Border Lines: Big Bend National Park

Finally made it. October 2022.

At last, the landscape gave way to the flat grounds of oil country where pump jacks seemed to be the only presence of life, like iron dinosaurs roaming the earth. We arrived at the northern end of the Chihuahuan Desert. A place where almost every piece of vegetation was created to poke, stab, or cut any passersby. Where the sunset burns like hot coals from a fire as it disappears behind the mountainside, letting the darkness take over and engulf you. Where Big Bend National Park sits and waits for visitors to be hypnotized by its stunning and isolated beauty. While the landscape here seems inhospitable, signs of life are abundant and everywhere. 

When I think of Texas, large expanses of wilderness are not what first comes to mind. Rather, it’s cowboys, football and beef, but Big Bend National Park has changed all of that and I can now add wild country to my list of things to think about when my mother’s home state is on my mind. Big Bend is situated along the Rio Grande, the river that forms a natural border between the United States and Mexico. There, you will find a place that is unimaginably wild and big. Covering approximately 1,252 square miles, Big Bend is the 15th largest national park in the United States. It is also one of the least visited due to its remoteness, the nearest towns well over a hundred miles away. It’s a perfect spot to escape reality and enjoy solace. 

We pitched our tent in the midday sun. I stood there smiling, feeling satisfied with what would be our home for the next couple of days. It was the fall, mid-October to be exact. But the heat of the desert made itself known as beads of sweat ran down the side of my face and onto my cheeks. A large brown and black tarantula marched across the rocky ground a few feet from our tent door. Kitty was not thrilled about the visitor and I can’t say that I was either. The surrounding country offered stunning views. Mountains, rocky cliffs and canyons were in all directions the eyes could see. But sticking out against the brown tones of the desert, were the green covered mountains perched to the east of our camp; The Chisos.

Nestled amongst the harsh land of the desert is the Chisos Mountains. Here, the air is cooler and the vegetation is not so sharp as the mountain slopes are covered in a variety of lush evergreens. The Chisos is the southernmost mountain range in the United States and while approximately 2% of the park is woodland, this area attracts both people and animals. Due to dramatic temperature differences and increased moisture, unique microclimate is formed that allows unexpected creatures to roam. White tailed-deer, mountain lions and black bears make this small island of mountains their home. Now you are probably surprised to read that bears are found here. In fact, there is no other place in Texas where it is as common to see a black bear in the wild. Through a series of ups and downs, the story of the black bear in Big Bend is an incredible one. In the early 1900’s, black bears regularly roamed the area. Fresh and abundant sign was commonly found by early biologists. However, by 1944, when Big Bend was officially made into a national park, black bears were practically gone from the area. Habitat loss from development and poorly managed trapping and hunting practices are just a couple of examples that contributed to populations declining. Sightings were extremely rare. Once an area’s megafauna is eliminated, populations rarely return to normal on their own and human interaction is typically required. There are several instances of this all over the country. Oklahoma’s elk population is a perfect example of successful human driven reintroduction. In the case of Big Bend’s black bears, they took matters into their own hands, or in this case; paws. In the late 1980’s, a female black bear, also called a sow, made its way from the Sierra del Carmen in northern Mexico into the Chisos Mountains of Big Bend. The sow climbed down the slopes of the Sierra del Carmen, across expansive desert, swam across the Rio Grande, crossed more desert and found her way into the Chisos. It is thought that she probably stumbled across a male who already inhabited the area and then gave birth to cubs. The population rebounded from there and we are left with a healthy population today. While the specifics of this occurrence are unknown, the end result is something magnificent and rare. Sometimes nature just knows what to do. 

Emory Peak 

I opened the door of the car and stepped out, glancing up to see just where we would be hiking to. What appeared to be rocky point stood out amongst the rest of the mountain tops. That can’t be it, I thought. It’s too small, like a pencil tip. I quickly learned that pencil tip was exactly where we were headed. 10.5 miles round trip and just over 2,500 feet of elevation gain was between us and Emory Peak. At 7,796 feet, Emory Peak is nestled within the Chisos Mountains and is the highest point in Big Bend and Brewster County. 

We set off early, the mountain air chilled Kitty and I to the bone. Temperatures here were probably twenty degrees cooler than where we were camped in the middle of the desert. Mexican Jay’s seemed to fly along with us as we hiked the trail to Emory. Their feathers were electric blue in color and the squawk from one of these birds was easily distinguished. They were also plump in size, much larger than the blue jays I am accustomed to seeing back home. They provided both a good view and good company. Kitty and I conversed back and forth about life as we usually do on hikes like this. The trail consisted of a steady incline and sections of switchbacks. Each glance back to where we had started showed our progress as we got higher and higher. We finally broke over the downward slope of the mountain side and found ourselves at a fork in the trail that sat in a saddle between Toll Mountain and Emory Peak. We merged to the right and wrapped around the southern exposure of Emory. The wind beat against us but the views were stunning. I searched and searched for a black spot among the greenery hoping to see a black bear cruising the surrounding mountain sides. My desire to see a black bear had reached levels of desperation as my eyes grew hungrier and hungrier. 

At last, we were near the end. What separated us from the peak was roughly 25 feet of near vertical rock scrambling. Keep in mind, neither Kitty nor myself are rock climbers and the view up was enough to make us question if we wanted to go any further. We studied the climb and at last decided to go for it. We had come this far already, why quit at the end? I went first as Kitty watched my every hand and foot hold to see the best path up. I've got to say, things started to get a little sketchy as a I looked for my next move. I glanced downward to realize that one miss-step or slip would lead to fall that no person could survive. “What are we doing?”, I thought. I quickly shook the thoughts away and refocused on my actions. One hand then the other followed by one foot then the other. Three points of contact; always. We broke the climb down into smaller sections. I would reach a safe area and then spot Kitty’s ascent. We did this back and forth until reaching the top. Once there, we were graced with endless views of beautiful desert countryside. It was as if were on top of the world. What a better place to rest and eat lunch. 

Climbing down from Emory Peak. October 2022.

By the time we reached the car, we had hiked 11 miles and my left big toe had suffered a large blister that proved the difficulty of the hike. We rewarded ourselves with a root beer and an orange soda; Kitty and I’s usual reward for a long and tiring hike. As we loaded back up in the car to head back to camp, I glanced up into the Chisos one last time hoping my wishes of seeing a bear would all of sudden come true. I was disappointed to not see anything but I would be okay. I knew they were up there, probably looking back at me without me ever realizing it. We were driving back to camp when all of the sudden I slammed on the brakes with such force our heads nearly hit the console. The black speck I had been desperately searching for could be seen working its way up the mountain side. 

“Bear!”, I yelled. Sounding like a young child who such caught a glimpse at Santa Clause. Kitty matched my tone and responded, “Where?!”

What I had spent all day searching for finally showed itself. Climbing up the steep slope of the mountain side, a small, young-looking black bear walked through the mixture of juniper trees, yucca and cacti. We stood outside the car, passing the binoculars back and forth watching this black bear carry on its day. After about five minutes or so, the bear crested the ridgeline and disappeared from view. It was the best way to cap off an amazing day spent in the outdoors.

Santa Elena Canyon

Kitty found a hike that was nearby to camp that involved crossing the Rio Grande and hiking along a canyon wall for a couple miles round trip. Santa Elena Canyon is formed between two vertical walls with a canal flowing between. On one side of the canyon, you are in the United States and the other side is Mexico. The distance between the two walls is minimal as I hurled a rock to the other side. It was incredibly shocking to see how dainty the Rio Grande actually is. For a natural border separating two countries you would expect some impenetrable flowing water that would be nearly impossible to cross without a large boat, let alone by swimming. We crossed the Rio easily, with water levels only reaching my waist at the highest point. The flow was minimal, enough to carry a leaf peacefully downstream. The water was cool, brown and silty, resembling a melted chocolate shake. Picture the chocolate river at Willy Wonka’s factory. 

Rio Grande. October 2022.

After crossing the river, we came to knee deep mud pit made up of the silty river water. The mud reminded me of wet clay used to make pottery as it was silky smooth. We continued on wet, muddy and barefoot. Shoes served no point from being wet and caked in mud. The hike offers scenic views of the of the river and canyon walls which extend straight up to 1,500 feet at its highest places. We followed the canyon wall upward until the trail started descending back down towards the river. A jungle like canopy took over as we were now even with the banks of the river. For a little while, we walked under this canopy until finally reaching the flowing waters. Looking upstream, the walls of the canyon formed a tunnel through which the water flowed. Any sound echoed its way through the canyon. 

We made it back to where we crossed the Rio to reach the canyon trail and crossed again. The cool waters were welcoming in the afternoon heat. Clay and mud were caked up on our skin from our feet up to our knees from the hike. We washed off in the river and then headed back to camp to call it a day. Continuing with the southwestern vibe, we dined on quesadillas and watch the sun set behind the mountain side. The last bit of light was quickly extinguished as the darkness was now in control and the stars quickly began to emerge and make themselves known. They sparkled like precious jewels, forming constellations never before seen by my own eyes. Under these stars, we slept peacefully. 

Rio Grande Village

We packed up our camp near the Chisos and drove south until the Rio Grande wouldn’t allow us to go south any further. The vegetation became more and more violent the further south we traveled like knives emerging from the ground. Any attempt to run through these plants would leave a person mangled and bloody. The ground flattened and rocky ground turned to sand as we approached Rio Grande Village; a campground that sits off the banks of the river. Not only were our surroundings changing but the temperature rose by a staggering amount. What started at 78 degrees, now read 101 as the road created a mirage effect on distant views. I’ve never felt air so hot. The dirt and sand didn’t just look dry, they looked like any water had been boiled away from them by the sun.

Ocotillo plant, Rio Grande Village. October 2022.

Rio Grande Village offers a unique opportunity to visit old Mexico. Across the river, lies the small village of Boquillas del Carmen. Take a canoe ride across the river and you have the option to take a burro ride or walk until you reach the village where you can eat at restaurants, shop for souvenirs or whatever else you wish to do. This does require a passport and Kitty and I were both bummed we left ours back at home. Hot tip, make sure you check off everything on your travel list! 

Fortunately, the villagers of Boquillas del Carmen have spots along the river where they will cross and lay out handmade souvenir items that can be purchased. The system here relies 100% on trusting your fellow person as all they leave is a lockbox to put money in. As we shopped through the items, there was a suspicious feeling that we were being watched but it was probably just paranoia. We were stoked to buy some handmade pottery from the villagers in this unique experience. Big Bend is a perfect example of two countries collaborating to help maintain something special. The lands on the Mexican side of the Rio are primarily protected areas; basically, Mexico’s version of national parks and wilderness areas. So, your left with this mirroring effect over miles and miles of country. Two sides of the same coin coming to terms on protecting and preserving remarkable place(s). It’s an amazing thing to see, but it leaves you thinking, why this cooperative goal does not extend across the entire border? It’s unfortunate the cooperation seems to be lacking once you get past the boundaries of park.

With the blistering heat, we passed up any hiking opportunities. They were slim in this area anyway. We made the most of the afternoon and stuck to the roads, driving to different areas of interest. While making our way to a former pioneer settlement, a random sight lay before us. Among the cottonwood trees that were planted decades ago by early pioneers, a lone white cow and brown horse fed on the green grass that surrounded the cottonwoods. The horse, who Kitty named “Brownie” and the cow, or “Whitey” turned out to be immigrants from Mexico who mistakenly crossed the river, according to the camp hosts. I can’t say I didn’t blame them, as the lush green grass I’m sure was delicious to them. 

Back at camp, a group of collared peccary, commonly known as javelina, came out in the late evening and fed nearby our tent. Odd looking creatures they are. While javelinas resemble a pig, they are actually not related at all and hail from a different family altogether. There are several differences between javelinas and pigs even though there looks would tell you otherwise. Differences include number of toes, number of teeth, stomach complexities and length of tail. Javelina can’t see very well so it was easy to approach these guys without them ever knowing. We still kept a healthy distance as they are known to charge if they feel threatened, especially the males. Apparently, they are also quite the drinkers as they have been seen breaking open beer cans and downing the whole thing!

We crawled into our tent for the night as the darkness once again overtook the campground. Through the mesh of the tent, bats filled the sky. Their screeches were easily heard as they dined on insects. Kitty and I both fell asleep to the sounds of the night in Rio Grande Village. Remember Brownie and Whitey? Well, they aren’t the only livestock who like to immigrate over to the campground. Around two in the morning, my eyes peeled open to the sound of multiple cowbells working its way closer and closer to the tent. It was right outside the tent wall and then there was nothing. The sound stopped for a few seconds and my ears were again met with silence. I grabbed my headlamp as Kitty and I both had sat up in confusion to what was waiting for us outside. Turning the headlamp on, I shined the light through the mesh tent wall to see several burros, around fifteen, staring back at us. One of them let out that distinguishable blow that horses and donkeys make which made us both jump from the unexpectedness. It was all so random and all I could think is, “Where in the hell did these come from?”

All day, there was no sign of burros and yet there they were having a late-night snack right outside our tent. Kitty and I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically at the encounter. It was so unexpected and downright hilarious. We found out that the burros cross the river from Mexico almost every night and like Brownie and Whitey, feed on the green grasses of the campground. The rest of the night was spent listening to cowbells and burro noises. As you can imagine, there wasn’t much sleep to be had! 

Chisos Mountains. October 2022.

Big Bend is a magical place that I will no doubt, make a return to someday. When I spend extended amounts of time in the natural world, I always find that I am taking away knowledge that can used for my own life. Not only that I can use, but that I can pass onto my children. It just takes the right way of looking at it. When viewed through the right lens, there is always something to learn. The desert, while hostile, is home to a magnitude of life. It’s a great teacher for when life can seem ever so difficult. The wildlife that lives here is resilient. Even in extremely uncomfortable conditions, they endure each day to live another. Life throws a lot at us, all the time. But we must remain persistent, to live another day. For our children and their children. Like the unexpected return of black bears in this region, giving up cannot be an option. We must press on. 

Until next time...stay wild.

Brock

Big Bend National Park Website: https://www.nps.gov/bibe/index.htm