Rio Grande - Prologue

After weeks of planning by Mike, we were finally on our way to Big Bend and the Rio Grande. And we only missed our targeted departure time from my house by an hour and a half! We did lose some more time on our way out of San Antonio, as we had to make two filling station stops (Stop 1 and Stop 2) before finding an air pump capable of properly inflating the tires on the two boat trailers.

In this photo by Cynthia, Mike supervises the hitching of my boat trailer to his truck.

Our target was Terlingua and, hopefully, Santa Elena Canyon. Seven paddlers were distributed between Mike's truck, pulling my trailer loaded with two canoes and three kayaks, and Cynthia's SUV, which was towing her small trailer with two kayaks. This two-vehicle caravan would travel the scenic Hwy. 90 route to Big Bend. Eddie had decided the night before to drive solo via Interstate 10 and meet us at Big Bend River Tours' office in Terlingua, where we would camp for the night.

Joline was not about to let our late start deter us from stopping at Haby's Alsatian Bakery (Stop 3) in Castroville. After filling up on pastries, we proceeded down the road for all of another mile before stopping again, this time at Dziuks Meat Market (Stop 4). The photo shows Joline ordering various types of jerky while Cynthia ponders her own selection of dried animal products.

Note: Left click on any photo to enlarge.

Zoltan and Cynthia outside Dzuik's.

Stop 5 was the HEB in Del Rio, where we filled up with gas and supplies and used the facilities. We won't count the two stops on the side of the road, caused by the vehicles losing track of each other on the way out of Del Rio, ...

... the stop for road repairs west of Del Rio, nor the stops at the La Migra checkpoints.










The rest area next to the High Bridge over the Pecos River (Stop 6) provided us with some great scenery and photo opportunities. It really is a must stop for anyone traveling along Highway 90. At this point, both the Rio Grande and the Pecos River form the upper reaches of Lake Amistad.

Shown above is the Pecos River, looking upstream (if that is the proper terminology for a river drowned by lake waters) towards the Hwy. 90 bridge. The view downstream, including the confluence of the Pecos with the Rio Grande in the background, is shown below.

Cynthia's photo of me on the wrong side of the railing.

Zoltan's halo is revealed by the special setting on my camera. I promised not to spill the secret of his saintly identity. The camera also showed Susan to be a mere mortal.

Joline and Mike got into a pointing contest, while Cynthia and Susan pretended to be interested.

Zoltan couldn't resist taking a photo of the four roadside beauties who accosted us at the rest area. They had apparently slipped across the border undetected. They seemed harmless enough, so we offered them a ride - a decision that would come back to haunt us.

We only made it about another 16 miles before Highway 90 crossed over Eagle Nest Canyon (to see the origin of its name, see this article from Handbook of Texas Online). At Susan's insistence, we pulled over after crossing the bridge and walked back to view the canyon (Stop 7), pictured above. Just south of the bridge, and across the gorge from us, were the cliffs above Bonfire Shelter, described in the Handbook as "the oldest mass bison-kill site in the New World." There are three layers of bone deposits from large game animals at the base of the cliff, the oldest dating back to as much as 14,000 years ago. The middle layer consists of skeletal remains of a now extinct bison which was about a third larger than current bison, and herds of which were stampeded over the cliff by Paleo-Indians about 10,000 years ago. For more information about this interesting site, click on this link to another article from the Handbook. And for something more graphic, see this artist's rendition of a bison jump, as this hunting technique is named.

Cynthia's group photo of us at Eagle Nest Canyon, with the cliffs above
the Bonfire Shelter in the background.

We continued down the highway for all of an hour before our next stop, this time for food and facilities at the Town & Country Food Store in Sanderson (Stop 8). Although chicken gizzards are supposedly what make this store famous, I concluded that rude service is its true specialty. With three cash registers watched over by three employees, two of the three counters were marked with crude cardboard "closed" signs. While two "workers" stood by their idle machines, customers were forced to wait in a long line in front of the third register. And they were out of gizzards. Well, that was OK with me, as I settled for a frozen slush drink.

Another hour west on Hwy. 90 brought us to Marathon, where we would finally leave our old friend and turn south onto Hwy. 385 towards Big Bend National Park. But before making the turn, as you might have guessed, we first had to stop at a convenience store (Stop 9) for gasoline and yet another bathroom break. Well, actually, we first made the turn and traveled a half mile before turning around and heading back to the store. By the way, don't buy gas in Marathon if you can help it. The gas prices there are much higher than any others we saw on our journey.

This quaint gallery was across the highway from the store.

The landscape turned increasingly rugged as we traveled towards and into the park, and darkness descended upon us as the sun set behind the mountains to the west. At Panther Junction, the location of the park headquarters, we turned west and eventually exited the park. About two and a half hours after our gas stop in Marathon, we drove through Study Butte and into Terlingua. A left at the intersection and then, just a couple hundred yards later, a right into Big Bend River Tours. Despite our late start and all of the wonderful stops, we had made it!

With only four hours of sleep the night before and none on the road, I was ready for bed. While the others went out for dinner in Terlingua, I laid out my ground sheet, pad, and sleeping bag. Although the Milky Way was spectacular, some shooting stars added to the show, the occasional braying of a donkey, barking of dogs, and yelping of coyotes were not what I was used to, and the temperature was descending towards frigid, I was soon asleep and dreaming about unknown canyons and rapids.

The gentle roar of the unseen rapids ahead suddenly increased in intensity. Before we were ready, we were being swept into the turbulent water and straight towards a massive boulder. I shouted out instructions to my paddling partner in the stern of the canoe, but to no avail. It looked like there was no escape, and now the noise of the water smashing into unseen obstructions was unbearable ... Suddenly I was awake! And then the snoring of my companions receded back to its normal level and gentle rhythms. I drifted back to sleep ... still looking forward to the adventure ahead.

Note: To view an additional 13 photos of our journey from San Antonio to Terlingua, click this link to my Flickr page, then click on "Slideshow."