It never rains in the desert until it does

Good evening, Campers! It’s Silver Cliche’ with you again. Tonight’s report is being written from the banks of the Rio Grande in Rio Grande Village Campground in Big Bend National Park.

This post I being written on Friday evening but it will reach you late because we have zero connectivity here. That, despite having two iPhone 12s, a JetPack, two different cell phone antenna technologies and a Wilson cell phone signal booster. Nothing. Now we know how Cortez felt exploring this region. Well... how he would have felt if he arrived in an aluminum tank on wheels to find paved roads, lithium ion batteries, propane refrigeration, hot running water... and no cell service. You know, that kind of living off the land.

The spectacular views of yesterday with sun, shadow, clouds, mountains and vast expanses of nothing was erased overnight. The dawn broke to... well... it didn’t break actually. I’d say it coughed into the pillow and went back to sleep. The expectation of a sunrise to rival yesterday’s sunset on the Chisos Mountains faded like 5 year old cowboy jeans. Here... let me save 1,000 words.

Last night:

This morning (same scene, just taken from across the gravel area in the foreground of the above):

Any questions?

Did that stop us, or even slow us down? No it did not. We drove the 3.8 miles of washboard back to pavement at a crawl. It took us an hour or more. Mrs. C’ was scanning the vegetation along the road. It’s interesting how, when magnificent distant views are taken from you that magnificent detail appears before your eyes. Good one, eh? Unfortunately for me, Mrs. C’ said that about the 10th time we stopped so she could photograph an interesting desert plant. Maybe she should be writing this blog! You would certainly be getting more uplifting aphorisms and less snide snark. Anyway, here are the highlights of the trip back to blacktop as seen my Mrs. C’ and the iPhone 12:

We drove the 20 more miles to Rio Grande Village and slipped into a basic campsite (no water, no electricity). It has remained cloudy and cool (around 60) with only occasional rain. 

This campground is smack dab on the border with Meh-hee-coh. The Rio Grande river here is narrow and shallow. The perfect defense for our southern border. That’s why there is a wall. Oh, wait. There isn’t a wall. What is here (according to the National Park Service) is a legal border crossing. There are two ways across... a Mexican guy with a rowboat will take $5 (Americano, por favor... gracias) and row you over. The NPS didn’t say what the return costs. Being jaded, cynical and snarky myself (or, simply, “a realist”), I’m thinking it’s $20. They may tell you that the fees for the Mexican Coast Guard license and inspection have gone up while you were in Boquillas but I’m thinking they made that up. The other way across is to wade. Seriously. It’s in the park brochure. Your pick... first class = $5, economy = wet pant legs.

The campground hosts a nature trail that provides a good view of the marshes along the river, the river itself and the mountains in Chihuahua on the other side. I decided to give it a go. From a distance I saw a group of young men who were possibly Hispanic descending a hillside in what might have been Mexico. Oh my God! They’re about to get in! Ten minutes later I was climbing that hillside. False alarm. They are on our side! At least our side of the border.

Clouds muted what would have been a photographer’s dream 24 hours ago. Nevertheless, I’m happy to share what I saw. Here is the ecosystem on the U.S. side of the river. Marshes, wetland grasses and the tallest reeds I’ve ever seen:

The view from the hillside shows high mountains on the Mexican side. The river itself flows from left to right in this frame and is visible about 1/4 of the way into the frame on the right flowing toward the chasm in the distance. Since I was facing mostly east to take that pic, I can only imagine the view from that spot with the colors of the setting sun had been over my shoulder.

Two curiosities met me during my walk. One man-made and one natural. The first was an unattended display of bead and copper wire sculptures with price tags and a can for payment:

The second was a roadrunner that approached me on a bridge. He saw me coming, hugged the edge of the bridge on his left (evidently, he was a British road runner) and continued to walk past me using the bridge as a road runner thoroughfare. No mask, no social distancing, no “howdy”. The road runner is the symbol of Big Bend National Park. I see why. They are all business.

While I was reading the literature we were handed at the park entrance (that’s what you do when you have no internet... take a nature walk and read park literature) I read a passage that sent chills down my spine. It described the fact that it is illegal under U.S. law to purchase items from foreign nationals who have brought them into the U.S. illegally. Those items are subject to confiscation by Federal authorities. Wait. They are not suggesting that after the Park Service announces that it’s possible to wade into the U.S. where the only border barrier is 18” of slow moving water that if a foreign national set up a stand with... oh... hypothetically... copper wire and glass bead sculptures, that it is the responsibility of an American citizen on a nature walk to assess the country of origin and import status of those sculptures before leaving $5 in a coffee can, are they? I can neither confirm nor deny that a copper wire and glass bead sculpture of a desert cactus with red flowers is now a part of our collection of memorabilia. (I know some of you would turn me in for the reward money if I confessed to committing a Federal offense. I, therefore, admit no such thing!) What I do know is that if it is, in addition to being wanted by the Houston Police for illegal use of a toll road I’m now wanted by the Feds for possession of an unlicensed souvenir. A trip across Texas can severely damage your rap sheet. I thought Texas was laisez fare, the Wild West, yee haw! I can only imagine what our trip through California “The prohibition, regulation and warning state” will be like.

Tomorrow... well, who knows about tomorrow. Do any of us really know about tomorrow? (No? Mrs. C’ nosed me out for the aphorism of the day? What? Beat me by 10 lengths? I’ll try harder tomorrow.) We are supposed to head west into Big Bend Ranch State Park and camp along the river in a “primitive” spot like last night. If it’s raining we might skip that and head right to Marfa a day early. Come and join us to find out.

Later...