20th – 26th Nov
An 80 mile road from the small university town of Alpine runs down to the western entrance of Big Bend National Park, and the settlement of Terlingua. This is 80 sweeping miles of perfect black-top through the astounding beauty of the Chihauhuan Desert, an arid landscape home to a few vast ranches set amongst scrubby flora, scattered RV/shed dwellings and countless packs of wild chihuahuas…..probably. After the humidity of Eastern Texas, the dry air of West Texas was a welcome change, although it left me with skin hydration towards the ‘lizard’ end of the spectrum and a particularly irritating dry cough. Nothing that moisturiser and cold beer couldn’t try and solve…
Terlingua is an odd place to say the least. The original mining town was established in the 1880s after cinnabar, the mercury ore, was discovered in the area. It boomed, then busted and was deserted in the 1940s, leaving a ghost town. It was slowly re-inhabited from the 1960s and now is a loose collection of ruins, renovated original buildings, RV/shed dwellings & small adobe homes. It has a small permanent population, a medium population of seasonal workers and drifters who stay awhile and is a popular tourist stop for visitors to the park. We arrived at one of the busiest times of the year, Thanksgiving week. The weather is benign now and the Texans arrive in their hoards to spend time in this beautiful corner of the country. We had six nights here and found space at a camp which combined RV sites, a motel, tent camping, shop, cafe and petrol station. We had no TV reception, no cell phone coverage, minimal wifi and coin operated showers. ‘Resort’ it was not, but the views were epic, sunset spectacular and we had plenty of space despite the crowds. Mexico is just across the Rio Grande river and modern American life is a long way away. It definitely felt like the end of the road and quite wild.
Big Bend National Park was just a few miles down the road and it is a vast (bigger than the state of Rhode Island) and gorgeous swathe of desert with the impressive Chisos Mountains rising up in its centre. This area is a hiking mecca with countless trails and it is the reason most people make the journey here. We did a great day hike up to the tallest point, Emory Peak. 2000ft of elevation and 10 miles round trip was enough to earn our picnic lunch and give us sore legs for the next few days. It was stunning. I have to admit, although Hampson would rather not, that we didn’t make it to the very top.
Nearly the top
The last 20 ft was a sheer rock face scramble up to a small plinth, already over-occupied by lots of fellow hikers who obviously had less fear than us. The benefits of ‘summiting’ were outweighed by the risks of falling to our deaths and we were content to have nearly made it. Besides, we were starving and had sandwiches to eat.
The area is home to black bears and mountain lions, but despite keeping our eyes peeled, we saw none. That’s not to say, however, that we were not seen by them. We got chatting to a couple on our way down who had been behind us as we were descending and they had watched a small black bear following us just off the trail for a a few minutes. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.
Our second outing into the park was a driving day. We took a gravel road 15 miles down to the Rio Grande and an impressive canyon called Santa Elena. The road was a bit bumpy, very ridged, and Big Dave, without the weight of TC is not a comfortable ride. His suspension is heavy duty and we arrived bone shaken and dusty. The gravel road was also lined by gnarly thorny bushes, and now the passenger side of Big D has a slightly less perfect paint job than previously. We have a date with a bottle of T-cut polish and some elbow grease at some time in the near future.
Mexico here Hampsons USA here
There was a short walk up into the canyon that involved wading across a small tributary of the river. It was a bit alien to us citizens of two island nations that a different country can be just a stone’s throw away. Literally, even with a pathetic girl throw. After the walk we decided that our dwindling fuel would get us back via the far more comfortable paved ‘long way round’ and we completed our loop drive home via a picnic lunch with a view.
Another thing that we did during our stay here was a rafting trip down the Rio Grande. This started with having to get up before dawn, a very painful thing for our lazy selves, and meeting at the shop to catch our up-river shuttle. The shop did a roaring sideline in selling coffees to the bleary eyed punters and by the time we were on the road we were nearly awake. The road to the put-in wound its way along the river, through the other enormous park in this neck of the woods, Big Bend Ranch State Park. This road had been hailed as one of the USAs best drives and I can see why. Our rafting party was two boats, each with a guide, who did all the work of steering and paddling.
We had a very pleasant day watching the world go by as we drifted down river. The border is the deepest channel of the river as it was surveyed in 1880-something, so we spent the whole day in and out Mexico, re-entering the USA illegally. I think we got away with it though.
The river wound through a couple of canyons and down a few class 1&2 rapids. The danger levels were non-existent, the ‘wet-bottom’ factor was low to medium and our river-bank lunch in a sandy sun-trap was delicious. Our boat-mates were Jeff and Jen from Austin and it turns out that our recent stay in Austin had been in their neighbourhood. (Jen’s ‘wet-bottom’ factor was at about the level of her naval as she misjudged her raft dismount at the end of the day and found that 1880s deep channel.)
We had two meals out here. The first was very respectable steak at the quirky semi-subterranean local’s bar, La Kiva, on Thanksgiving. This place has a chequered history, most notably for the suspicious death of its proprietor, Glenn Felts in 2014. Another local, a rafting guide from the same company as we had used, stood trial for his murder, but was acquitted. In 2015, during the trial, National Geographic filmed a documentary series in the town called ‘Badlands, Texas’. Ostensibly the timing of the filming was a coincidence, and the coverage of the trial an afterthought, but the locals are sceptical. The documentary, rather than the murder, divided the community, and many believe the not-guilty verdict was flawed.
Our second dinner was a fantastic Mexican meal in a tiny family-run restaurant near our camp. We took advice from a chap at the next table who was a regular and had two amazing plates of food. I can’t remember what Nick had, but mine was beef in ‘red sauce’. No frills deliciousness.
On our last day we cycled the 5 miles from our camp up to the Ghost Town area. The road there was mostly uphill and it was a bit warm. Seeing as we had already visited this area in the car, our purpose was not really exploring but exercising and one of us might have enjoyed it more than the other. We had a good iced latte at the other end and the view was good. After a mooch around the old cemetery we headed home, but unfortunately the brisk headwind completely cancelled out the glory of the downhill run. Neither of us enjoyed that.
By the time we left Terlingua, so had nearly everyone else and we practically had our camp to ourselves for our last night before we headed back up the road to Alpine and its semi-civilisation. On the road, about 20 miles north of Terlingua is a US border security post. This is mainly keeping an eye out for illegal Mexican interlopers, but the jovial chit-chat from the border patrol officers was thinly veiled sleuthing and our British accents, New Zealand home and Washington plates had us having to dig out our passports and visas to reassure them that we were legal. Amazing how stress levels increase under scrutiny. I couldn’t even remember which airport we arrived at.