Big Bend and Environs, Day 5 : Big Bend National Park (Day 2)

Sunday, December 26 -- Awake early, eager to get out and explore more of the Park. A quick breakfast of oatmeal and cocoa in the room, then out for a short hike around the Basin. The Lodge-area map that we were given at check-in includes a "walking trail" around the lodging facilities on the paved road "in compliance with the President's "Healthier America" plan" that will give you your 30 minutes minimum daily recommended physical activity, but there are also several longer loop trails that go up into the mountains. We opted for the shorter of these, which was roughly a mile and a half, since we wanted time to do other trails throughout the park. A quick stop at the convenience store for sandwiches, and we were on our way.

"The Window"

Casa Grande

We hiked about half of the Lost Mine trail, which gives spectacular views of the basin, and then turned back, as we wanted to get to Boquillas Canyon before too late. Although the weather was mild, it was still winter and got dark early. I didn't relish the thought of navigating those hairpin turns into the basin after dark.

We lunched at the picnic area at Dugout Wells, once considered the cultural center of Big Bend because it was the location of one of the few schools in the area. It appears to be a natural oasis, which settlers "dugout" to improve the seepage of water, and later installed a windmill, which the Park service continues to maintain. The picnic area is in a grove of cottonwood trees that surround a small stream and pool, which also support shrubs and grasses. After lunch, we walked the self-guided Chihuahuan Desert trail that is marked out around the area. It loops back around to the other side of the oasis area, away from the picnic tables. As we came into the trees, I smelled a very strong odor of urine, and thought "Something's been marking it's territory." It became progressively stronger, and just as I was going to ask Mike if he smelled something, there was a rush and a heave in the grasses to our right, and half-a-dozen javelina (collared peccarys) pushed through to the road on the other side of the vegetation. They appeared to be females and young; the largest, which was probably the boar, stayed down in the mud where he was. I was entranced; Mike was concerned that they would charge us. However, they did not act at all aggressively, and kept the thick vegetation between us and them. While that made us (and them, undoubtedly) feel safer, it rather precluded any decent filming.
By this time, two other cars were parked at the picnic area, and since we hate crowds, we were glad to be on our way to Boquillas Canyon. We stopped at the overlook for filming purposes. Signs along the road warned against buying illegal items and detailed fairly severe penalties, and there, on a large rock at the overlook, were a dozen or so wire scorpions, roadrunners, ocotillo, etc., a few large chunks of quartz, and some tacky, painted walking sticks. A handwritten, misspelled note on cardboard gave the prices ($6 each for most) and asked for donations "for a school for the children" as well; a plastic bottle with the top cut off and weighted with a rock served as the cash box. We would see more of these later on the canyon trail.
Mike was filming across the river, and through the zoom, he could make out a person sitting at a small fire under some trees, watching to see if anyone took any of the items. We could also make out a narrow path down the bluff to the river bank, so apparently the sellers simply wade or swim the river and hike up the bluff to leave their wares in the morning, then return to wait until dark to collect any wages. The bottle, however, was empty and likely to remain so, although if I'd realized that the same, legal, items in the gift shop cost $14 . . .
Then back on the road and down to Boquillas Canyon. The trail proved to be more strenuous than the one at Elena Canyon -- up over a shoulder of the bluff then down again, scrambling over some fairly large boulders. The trail was lined with wire sculptures for sale. We stopped to sit on the rocks and take in the view. I noticed what looked like fossils in the rocks, but could not identify most of them. One looked a lot like a bottom jaw bone. We could see the canyon from where sat, so down the rest of the way, then along the river bank.
The river was fairly low, so at first we were walking over sand and gravel, but soon were stumbling over some extensive stretches of tumbled rocks about the size of a man's fist. We learned later that some of them had washed down from as far away as Emory Peak -- some 60 miles away. And there, across the river, was a small family of burros!

We didn't quite get to the canyon entrance -- it seemed to move as we got closer! -- but we did get within filming distance.

At this point, we had to turn back. We had left the water in the car, and even in December, it's quite warm in those parts. By the time we got back to the car, I was well on the way to dehydration.
As we reached the top of the trail, we heard shouts and laughter coming from across the river. Three young people on horseback were riding back and forth across the river. One of the young men chased and roped a calf which had been peacefully grazing with its mother. He was clearly showing off I suspect that at least one of the others was a young woman. They eventually crossed to our side and rode their horses up the path (I had noticed . . . deposits . . . on our way down) to check on their sales. They were, of course, uniformly disappointed. They were riding very nice horses, fully equipped with saddles, bridles, etc., and they themselves were nicely dressed . . . it does make one wonder exactly who makes those items and exactly who profits. It also points out not only the futility but the ridiculousness of attempting to close the border between our two countries. Just license them already.
After drinking nearly a gallon of water in the car, we made our way back to the Basin and dinner at the Lodge.