As we entered Big Bend National Park in Texas, the ranger sent us on our way with a map, a brochure and encouragement, “Make it a good day.” We heeded his advice.
How could we not in such a spectacular place as this high desert park encompassing the entire Chisos Mountain Range and a large portion of the Chihuahuan Desert and skirting 100 miles of the Rio Grande? When we looked across the river we could see Mexico, its terrain every bit as rugged as this unique spot in the United States.
Another ranger says, “The landscape speaks to us.”
When we listen, it shouts, “Look at me! Behold my beauty as the many colors of a palette change shades before you. Consider my majesty as the crags and peaks and rugged surfaces hug the western sky. See my splendor as the vastness of high desert and mountains dwarfs the viewer.” It also whispers, “Witness what time and water and wind doth wroth.”
A sense of awe grips us as we once again contemplate the never ending message of the Creator. Everett Townsend, father of Big Bend, once observed about this place, “I saw God as I had never seen Him before.” Amen.
This outing was our third jaunt into the first National Park established in my home state of Texas. I am so glad that we made a return trip. Recent border concerns had made us question our desire to return, but I felt very safe. Of course, we didn’t wander off the beaten paths nor hike where we might encounter rattlesnakes, scorpions or tarantulas. We did see plenty of road runners, this park’s symbol.
We had taken our passports in case we wanted to attempt a crossing into Mexico at Boquillas Canyon. This venture would include a canoe ride across the river, a trek on donkey or in a truck to the small tourist town of Boquillas Del Carmen with a similar return passage.
While the river crossing is operated by private companies in both the U.S. and Mexico, it occurs at a U.S. border security office. When we drove to the secured site, we didn’t see any activity and chose not to pursue this tourist attraction.
We first visited Big Bend in the summer of 1961 when the park itself was less than two decades old. Still newlyweds, we hiked some of the trails and camped under the stars. Unfortunately, we chose to bring two old army cots and a tarp, none of which offered any protection from the frigid temperatures of night air in the mountains. We almost froze to death, but the broad expanse of bright stars shining in the black night sky warmed our hearts. That memorable sight is etched in our minds.
We returned to this park in 2002, the year I retired from teaching. This time, we pulled a camper. We stayed warm at night. The visible presence of border patrols, after 9/11, made us aware of nationwide efforts to prevent illegal crossings.
On our most recent excursion, we snuggled down in the evenings in our small Class B motor home. But the latest cold front kept the days pleasantly cool and we were able to walk at the scenic locations and even enjoy a picnic under a gazebo. On this trip, we stumbled across the campground where we had stayed over a half century ago. While age has certainly turned us into creatures seeking comfort, a drive through that campground, even today without water and electric hookups, prompted fond memories.
The history
The 1, 250 square mile park called Big Bend, so named for the obvious curve in the Rio Grande, has been a home to people for centuries. Within the park are archeological sites dating back nearly 10,000 years and remnants of ranches and mining operations from the 20th century. All the while, nature constantly shapes and reshapes the landscape itself.
Historian and professor at Columbia University in New York City, Simon Schama reminds us, “Histories never conclude; they just pause their press. Their stories are, if they are truthful, untidy affairs, resistant to windings-ups and sorting-out. They beat raggedly on into the future…”
A trip to any national park attests to his observation. Places like Big Bend allow us to see history up close.
The park’s history began in 1933 when the Texas State Legislature, led by Townsend who had been a Texas Ranger, U. S. Marshal and representative to the legislature, inaugurated Texas Canyons State Park. Later that same year, the name was changed to Big Bend and the Chisos Mountains were added to the acreage.
That same year, the National Park Service recommended the establishment of both a Civilian Conservation Corps camp and a national park. President Franklin D. Roosevelt took a personal interest in Big Bend because of a proposed international or companion park with Mexico. (Such a relationship now exists with Canada at Roosevelt Campobello International Park, FDR’s summer home off the coast of Maine, and Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park.)
By 1942, the country had raised $1.5 million in private donations to purchase the land. In 1944, Big Bend National Park opened. It never became an international park.
The present
As I write this column, a wildfire now burns in the park, closing some of the areas we had visited just days earlier. While I appreciate the renewal that fire can bring to nature, it always saddens me when such conflagrations destroy existing beauty. Also, the campground we stayed at this year is now closed for repairs during the next three months.
As we drove into and through areas near the border, we passed or entered several border inspection sites. Like our trip 15 years ago, we were asked if we were U. S. Citizens. When we said “yes,” we, two elderly Caucasians, were motioned on. Obvious profiling.
At one station, however, we pulled in behind a stopped vehicle. A border patrol officer held a stack of papers in his hand while another officer walked a drug sniffing dog around the car. After lengthy questioning, the officer returned the papers to the driver and motioned him to drive on. At that moment, we had left the serenity of the rugged park and returned to the reality of present day.
We also again witnessed the process by which they clear certain stretches of barren ground between Mexico and U. S. highways by dragging several tires behind a vehicle each day. Each morning, patrols check these cleared areas for footprints. Although what we saw in the way of border patrol was pretty basic, we knew, from the plethora of cameras at each check point, technology was not only visibly present, even more electronic surveillance equipment remains hidden from the tourist’s eye.
Living and working in the area of Big Bend, the people, that we chanced to talk to, love their way of life in this isolated place, which lies some 100 miles south of the nearest towns of Alpine or Marathon. Those who live in nearby Terlingua, Lajitas, and Presidio appreciate the abundance of Hispanic heritage. It is such a vital part of Texas history. Each scenic stop along the way reminded us that the difference between “Have a good day” and “Make it a good day” lies within us.
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