Another cursed camping trip
Before we get into it, I first want to bring your attention to No Big Bend Wall. Everywhere you go in Terlingua has these signs protesting the Trump administration's plan to build a wall through Big Bend to prevent illegal immigration. Big Bend is not a hot spot for immigration, and the wall would destroy the local economy, ecosystem, and culture. If you're in the US, I urge you to reach out to your federal representatives and tell them that this precious stretch of the American desert must be preserved.
Good morning, afternoon, or whenever it is that you read this.
I was preparing for a camping trip out to the Chihuahua desert this passed weekend. I haven't been past San Antonio for a few years, but West Texas is never far from my mind. I stepped out of bed yesterday afternoon and felt a shock of pain flair up my entire leg. I collapsed into bed, my foot screaming whenever I tried to walk on it. My memory flashed back to Winter of 2020 when I tore my achilles tendon on a previous trip toward the West Texas desert.
And I thought - is my relationship with West Texas cursed?
My wife assured me it was not, and so I sallied forth. After all, I love the rugged Texas frontier.
Sadly, it does not love me. This trip was cursed, but not unable-to-walk-for-months cursed.
The First Curse
It was actually a pleasant trip out there. I left around 8 on a densely foggy day in Houston. I left the fog behind me as I cleared the Gulf Plains and began to forge ahead toward Kerrville, Fredericksburg, and Junction - the site of my achilles tendon destruction years earlier. I considered stopping, but decided against it as I was eager to get to Terlingua - and my campsite - before it got dark.
West past San Antonio is an isolated, lonely place with dramatic terrain, bright, blue open skies, and increasing distance between pockets of civilization. I love it, and it never fails to impress me to see scraggly desert grass and low cacti cast against brown, foreboding mountains.
I arrived at my campsite - a functional spot that gave me a view of a few mountains, a wide open night sky, a less than 30 minute drive to Big Bend National Park, showers, and working toilets (thanks, HipCamp). I set up my tent, drank a cup of sangria, and watched the sunset as I ate the fried rice I cooked. As I was cleaning up, however, I noticed that my backdoor window was down. I went to put it back up when, surprise!, it did nothing. I tried to manually work the window back into place. It slid back down. Dreading a drive back to Alpine, I found that there was luckily a Dollar General in Terlingua. A roll of duct tape and a trash bag later, my window was as fixed as I could possibly get it at 9pm in literally the middle of nowhere.
It was around 10 when I finally returned to my tent. The sky was dark with cloud cover. It was much too late to engage in any of the mind altering adventures I'd planned to have that night. I instead went into a fitful sleep. I did wake up around 1 in the morning from the wind. This was a positive however, as the stars were out in full force. I brewed some tea and watched the heavens in the darkness, caressed by the invigoratingly cool wind, graced with only the tapestry of stars above me for light.
The Second Curse
The mechanic couldn't do anything for my window, but he assured me my tape job was fine until I could get it home. So I went into the park and had a lovely hike. I drank some of their delicious water, spent about thirty minutes talking to an NPS search and rescue volunteer about his experiences in Big Bend, and purchased a handful of post cards. I also somehow had a herd of deer bound around me again - Carmen Whitetails, I believe. And a Mexican Jay landed almost right next to me.
My dinner for that night was going to be a favorite of mine - boudin, cornbread, and dirty rice. However, I came back to a horrifying discovery:
Why yes, that is my tent. No, it's not supposed to do that. The good news is that I'm pretty sure the damage is repairable. The bad news is that I couldn't repair it with anything I had then, I hadn't eaten since my trail snacks about 3 hours earlier, and I stunk. I said 'fuck it', hopped into the shower, and drove into Terlingua to try TIVO'S PLACE. I got the beef tacos, a horchata, and ate my feelings. It wasn't slow, but the place wasn't full, so I lingered a while and quietly read. That place became my sanctuary for nearly forty minutes. TIVO'S PLACE made my night.
I got back to my fallen tent around 8. I packed it up my tent while fighting the powerful winds that wanted to steal it away. I packed up the rest of my gear and made to sleep in my car instead. I was bummed at first, until I saw the beautiful night open above me. It was a silver lining, but it was a damn lustrous one to be sure. It ended up being another sober night, but I slept like a stone.
Returning Home
On my way home I was stopped not once, but twice by Custom and Border Patrol. This is nothing new, of course, at these highways close to the US/Mexican border - I was stopped on my way back last time I had gone to Big Bend. And nothing happened this time - just a question about my citizenship, if I had any one else in the vehicle, and a comment about my window being covered with a trash bag. Not an unpleasant interaction, and the guy seemed friendly enough, but the current climate around immigration in the United States still put me on heightened alert.
It wasn't a bad trip, but it wasn't nearly as relaxing as I had intended it to be. I didn't finish either of the novels I brought with me, and didn't spend nearly enough time just relaxing in the camp as I wanted to.
Still, it's impossible to not love this place.
Thanks for reading, if you made it this far~