Rio Grande - Day 1 - Into Boquillas Canyon

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With a full day's activities ahead of us, we awoke quite early on Friday morning. Most of the group were driving off to breakfast and showers by 6:45. I wasn't invited, so I stayed in my sleeping bag for a few extra minutes of comfort. I think my reputation for timeliness had the others deciding it would be better if I skipped breakfast and started organizing and packing my gear. For once, they were right.

Based on the outfitter's reading of the Rio Grande water level and flow at the Presidio bridge, a decision had been made to switch our trip from Santa Elena Canyon to Boquillas Canyon further down the river. The water level was hovering around the maximum advisable for passage in an open canoe or kayak through Rockslide Rapid, located a short distance inside Santa Elena. And with the recent variability in the discharge from Luis Leon Reservoir on the Rio Conchos, which flows into the Rio Grande at Presidio, the flow through Santa Elena Canyon was just too unpredictable, especially since we would be working off of a measurement taken three days prior to our entrance into the canyon. So we loaded our boats and gear onto the outfitter's trailer and climbed into the van which would transport us to the put-in at Rio Grande Village, located at the opposite end of Big Bend National Park.

We actually pulled away from the outfitter's office a few minutes before the scheduled departure time of 9:00. We stopped at the park headquarters and visitor center at Panther Junction to purchase the required river permit ($10).






Mike picked up the permit and information from a ranger while the rest of us used the facilities and perused the gift shop.





We arrived at the launch site a little after 10:00 and started unloading the boats and our mountains of gear.

I guess it's time to introduce our band of merry (and sometimes grumpy) adventurers. We were eight strong ... well, maybe two or three strong and the rest not so much. Chief Mike had traveled the farthest, having driven down from Dallas to join us in San Antonio. Zoltan the Magnificent (see, I didn't even mention his Hungarian heritage, since he's tired of hearing about it) came over from Houston. Magic Fingers Cynthia brought her well-received massaging skills from Austin. The rest of us hailed from San Antonio: Usually-the-Dear-Leader Joline, Mother-to-All Susan, Real Photographer Sandra, Eddie the Otter, and Stuck-in-the-Bow Henry, your humble blogger. We were joined by Guide Yvette and Guide-in-Training Prester. All in all, a great group for a river trip.

Eddie and Susan help Sandra launch her kayak, while Mike practices his leadership skills.

The scenery was quite nice even before we reached the canyon entrance.

Sandra really piled the gear onto the Dagger Delta.





As we approached the Mexican town of Boquillas del Carmen (above), two boys practiced their salesmanship skills, but to no avail. I guess no one wanted a wire scorpion or wooden walking stick.








Eddie's Otter, the smallest boat in our band, had its stern deck barely out of the water.


We were serenaded by Victor Valdez at the entrance to the canyon. You can spot him and some other guys up on the rocks on the Mexican side of the river in the center of the photo. I didn't realize how famous Victor is until I returned home. He is featured in this All Things Considered episode on npr, which describes the effect of a ridiculous Homeland Security policy on the little town of Boquillas. The "Rio Grande Balladeer" is featured again in this second All Things Considered segment.

To hear more of Victor's voice, click on this YouTube clip and listen to his song reverberate through the canyon. And here's another clip that's perhaps even better.



Boats approach the final turn into Boquillas Canyon. Note the diagonal fault line running down the face of the mountain in the background.





















We pulled over to the Mexican side of the river for lunch close to the base of the mountain with the fault line.













Prester and Yvette started setting up for lunch.

















In the sandy bank were footprints of a raccoon and a heron.

Mike is seen giving Zoltan a lesson in geology as he points to the fault.

Looks like Susan and Cynthia already have full plates as Mike, Sandra, Joline, Zoltan and Eddie fight over the leftovers. Yvette tries to maintain order at the table as Prester scares the photographer.

The delicious lunch eaten, Zoltan and the boats are ready to get back on the river.






The scenery became even more spectacular as we headed deeper into the canyon.




A Great Blue Heron, pushed down the river by the intruders, turns and heads back upstream to reclaim its territory.

After entering the canyon, we never saw another person.

The contrast between the sunlit cliff faces and the dark shadows was striking. It also made photography difficult.







The river divides the Sierra del Carmen on the Mexican side from the Dead Horse Mountains on the U. S. side.





Two burros watched from high up on the Mexican side as we paddled past.

















Just how high up is shown in this photo. Can you spot the donkeys, or at least the white one?







Every bend in the river seemed to offer another view that demanded to be recorded.













Sandra floats by a debris pile, and Prester seems to be enjoying the trip as much as the paying customers.







Susan leads the flotilla around a bend.






Another Great Blue Heron, pushed as far down river as it was willing to go, perched on a rock and waited for us to pass before heading back up the river.







Joline shades her face from the bright sun.













Two horses on the Mexican bank.








Three donkeys responded to Mike's mating call by looking our way, but kept their distance high up on the Mexican side of the river.

Just some more impressive scenery.

Our campsite was on the U. S. bank where the park's Marufo Vega Trail descends to the river. After setting up camp, Zoltan and Mike enjoyed some cold cervezas.

Cynthia snapped a photo of me at my almost-on-the-river campsite.

Cynthia starring in On the Waterfront.





As dinner was being expertly prepared by our guides, I served the frozen margaritas which I had carried from home. The freezer bags, supplemented by the small chunk of dry ice purchased in Del Rio, had done their job. I think Yvette was surprised by the opportunity to enjoy a frozen margarita, with salt, on the river. And we were all impressed with the dinner, which featured filet mignon grilled to perfection by Prester and wonderful mashed potatoes. Cheesecake for dessert topped off the meal.

After paddling 14 miles that day in a loaded boat that sometimes seemed to have a mind of its own, I was ready to relax and rest my sore muscles. Shoulder massages by Cynthia and Susan were welcomed by all, much more so than the jokes Mike and I told. With sunset at 6:00, most of us were in our sleeping bags by 8:00. With my tent set up at a lower level and closer to the river than the others, I was largely shielded from the snorers' symphony, and quickly fell asleep.

Shortly after midnight, I was awakened by a loud, strange noise very close to our camp. It was the braying of an angry donkey! The burro was apparently following its normal route down to the river when it came around a bend to find Mike asleep in the middle of the path. After loudly complaining for about fifteen seconds, the donkey realized that it had met its match and retreated back the way it had come. Perhaps it had heard about the unusual mating call earlier in the day from its cousins on the Mexican side.

After this brief interruption, I quickly went back to sleep. I did hear another round of braying later, but it seemed to be from further away. I never heard the javelinas which passed within a few feet of my tent, as evidenced by the fresh hoofprints found in the morning. Pawprints showed that our camp had also been visited by coyotes and a good-sized cat, probably a bobcat. It was obvious that we were the visitors in this place.

Note: To view an additional 56 photos of our first day on the river, click this link to my Flickr page, then click on "Slideshow."

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."

Guadalupe River - Water at Last!

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Some significant rain during the week had the lower part of the Upper Guadalupe flowing at a rate not seen for two years. The Spring Branch gauge, which had actually experienced some readings of zero cfs at the height of the drought in late summer, peaked at a flow of over 1,900 cfs at noon on Wednesday. I was excited about the prospect of paddling a stretch of river we had not had the opportunity to enjoy for quite a while. And I was hopeful that the steadily declining water level would not drop too far by Saturday. As shown in the photo above of Rust Falls, it fortunately did not.

The Saturday Paddlers decided to run the river from the Waring crossing to the Sisterdale bridge. Since the Comfort gauge indicated that this section of the river would be flowing at around 100 cfs, while the Spring Branch gauge was pointing to a much higher water level further downstream, I chose to offer an alternative trip from Nichol's Landing (just below Specht's Crossing) to the Rebecca Creek Road bridge. Michael and Cynthia drove down from Austin to join me on this ten-mile stretch of the Guadalupe. We were rewarded with a river flow of a little over 400 cfs by the time we launched our boats.

At Nichol's Landing, we ran into another group of paddlers, including Julie and the Cusicks. Here Julie poses with Michael and Cynthia. The other group had not yet run their shuttle, so we started on the water ahead of them.


The three of us detoured up Spring Branch a short distance to the first set of falls, shown above.









Michael and Cynthia on Spring Branch.

The fall colors enhanced the scenery.

We stopped for lunch at the rapid just upstream from the Hwy. 311 bridge. As we enjoyed our frozen margaritas, the other group of paddlers overtook us.







Kathy Cusick and the other members of the group played in the rapid for a while before continuing down the river.

The three of us made another detour, this time paddling a short distance up Miller Creek, which flows into the Guadalupe just above Mueller Falls.

On the creek, looking back towards the river.

Michael (still dry) on Miller Creek.

We caught up with the other group at Mueller Falls, and decided to run the nice drop on river right. Above is Michael (now wet) paddling below the main falls after the drop.

Cynthia making a successful plunge over the drop.

Julie surfing below the falls.

I decided to drag my kayak back upstream to run the narrow channel that flows around the left side of the small island at the falls. Cynthia and I attempted to bring her kayak across the swift channel so that she could join in the fun, but we managed to flip her boat over and send her paddle floating downstream, to be retrieved by Michael.

Cynthia modelling her new skirt.

Michael snapped these photos of me coming down the channel.

Success! Actually, it was so much fun that I did it twice.

Further down the river, we again caught up with the other group, this time at Rust Falls. This photo shows the "horseshoe" at the falls. I was dissuaded from running this feature. Maybe next time.

It was getting late as we approached the end of our journey. The sun highlighted this bald cypress and its hanging moss as Michael glided past.

After the take-out at the Rebecca Creek Road crossing and the retrieval of Michael's vehicle at the put-in, we headed to San Antonio. A call to Kathy, who had by now arrived home from work, resulted in her meeting us for dinner at La Hacienda de los Barrios. After a filling meal (the Paradilla Grill, advertised as being for "four or more," could easily feed eight people), Michael and Cynthia headed back to Austin. Fortunately, my drive home was much shorter.

Note: For an additional 27 photos of this trip, click here to be linked to my Flickr page, then click on "Slideshow."