Victor the Singing Mexican

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

We’re getting into some really bad habits.  We (I) slept in until 9:00 am today.  Hardly, a good start to explore Big Bend National Park.  By the time we had breakfast and packed our lunch it was almost 10:30.  When we arrived at the park gate it seems all the rest of the late risers where lining up too.  There must have been 20 cars ahead of us. (Last week and this week has been mid-term break for most of the schools and colleges and the park is full of young families and college kids away for the week.  It seems to be predominantly Texans here.)  After finally getting in we proceeded to Panther Junction, the location of the main Visitors’ Centre and Park Headquarters.  We got some info from the ranger and picked up some books and maps and headed towards the east side of the park.  From the west side to the east side is approx. 54 miles and the speed limit, which is rigidly enforced, is only 45 mph.

By this time of the day the parking lot at the Boquillas Canyon trail head was full so we had to park along the roadway.  The hike was only about 1 1/2 miles but a good part of it was vertical (not strenuous but moderate to difficult) and the rest was over old, rounded river rock.  As we progressed we would see colourful hiking staffs and hand crafted jewellery and bric-a-brac beside the trail.  Beside each location was a jar and a hand printed sign stating that this was a donation for the Boquillas, Mexico school.  I had read some of the literature from the park which stated that this merchandising is illegal in the park and would be subject to seizure.  Just across the river which is quite shallow here were a number of Mexicans watching their wares.  We passed it by and continued on our trek.

We finally made it down to the valley floor and continued over the sometimes sandy mostly rocky trail.  We came across yet another “stash” of bric-a-brac, with a sign that said,    An older gentleman hailed us as amigos and asked if we would like to hear a song.  We said No Thank-you and continued on, he then asked us if we wanted to purchase anything and we again declined.  As we made our way downstream we could hear a Mexican tenor singing from across the Rio Grande, the voice echoed slightly in the canyon and I would say it was pretty good.  At least as good as my voice singing in the shower. We spent about 1/2 hour marvelling at the high cliffs that had been carved by the once powerful river.

We returned to the truck then drove to a relatively  quiet spot on a high cliff overlooking the river.  We had a late lunch and looked across the river to the Mexican town of Boquillas just up the river from us.  We noticed a Border Patrol truck parked at one end of the parking area next to a now typical stash of bric-a-brac.  We could also see a well worn path down the cliff and across the river.  On the far shore we could see someone watching the Border Patrol truck and overhead we could see a National Park Service airplane monitoring the border area. 

We retraced our route towards another overlook further up the river.  This was appropriately named the Rio Grande Overlook.  As we pulled into the parking lot we were greeted by a group of four vultures, obviously looking for an easy meal beside the picnic tables.  We found the sign for  the trail head which stated that it was only .3 miles (yes, that’s 3/10 of a mile) to the overlook.  I’m not sure who measured this distance or how they measured it but it certainly seemed much longer than that.  By the time you calculated all of the switchbacks it had to be closer to a mile, almost vertically.  Now this got the blood pumping and Janet cursing me.  At every step she found a new expletive that I can’t repeat and reminded me of how much I owed her for this ordeal.  We were however sufficiently rewarded with a beautiful view up and down the river.     There were a number of canoeists and people fishing far below us.  We headed back down but not before Janet was poked by a low growing cactus along the path that brought on another barrage of non-Christian words.  We finally made it back down the cliff and walked a little ways to the river to see the same family that we’d seen from above fishing there.  They were talking to some ladies about the hot springs a few miles away.  The husband was saying that he had seen a bunch of hippies there soaking in the hot springs “neked”.  That is Texan for naked.  So naturally being the inquiring person that I am, I thought that we should check out these therapeutic, miracle springs.  As we were pulling out of the parking lot we saw what we thought was a fairly large, dark injured bird on the ground.  As we continued to watch he turned and starting running along…it was a road runner, obviously looking for some prey.  We managed to get a couple of shots from the Acme camera.                                     

The road into the the Hot Springs area is a partially maintained rock road, with a maximum speed limit of 25 mph.  The actual maximum that you can travel is about 15 to 20 mph.  At the end of the road is large parking lot for large vehicles, we were able to proceed through here then along a narrow rock track with sharp turns and barely wide enough for the truck.    At the end of this section of road was a gravel parking area.  We walked a short distance to the hot spring which was overflowing with young people, ALL appropriately dressed.  I estimate that the water was about 120 to 130 degrees Fahrenheit.  After soaking for a few minutes several of the guys would climb on the retaining wall and jump into the cool waters of the Rio Grande.  We returned to the truck passing by some examples of petro glyphs scratched into the canyon wall.  It seems that this must have been a popular spot even in the old days.     

As we were driving out we overtook a young couple walking back to the main road with their young (approx. 4 or 5 year old) daughter.  She was trying to ride her little bike along this rough road with her parents at either side.  Janet lowered her window and asked if they wanted a ride.  A huge smile of relief came over the husband and he was loading the bike in the bed of the truck before I could get my driver’s door opened.  We apologized that we had all of our junk in the back seat but they happily accepted the ride.  They were most grateful when we arrived at the main road to let them off at their mini-motor home.  We returned to Terlingua and our campsite on the west side of the park feeling pretty good.