CLAFC – Creativity, Learning, Adventure, Freedom & Cessation

Ahhh, the Trace … finally.

We left our little motel room in Natchez and headed into the Natchez Trace Parkway; a 700+ km roadway that follows the historic path used by Natives, pioneers, settlers and boatmen (Kaintucks) returning home after floating downstream with trade goods. The route passes through three states (Mississippi, Alabama and Tennessee). It is enveloped by lovely thick forests, crossing over steams, rivers and marshes, and has plenty of historic sites to explore. Best of all though, it does so at the entirely civil highway speed limit of 50 mph. Perfect…

Our first destination along the Trace was Rocky Springs campground. Oh, did I mention the campgrounds are free along the Trace. Perfect… Anyway, along the way there we stopped at a few of the early historic sites, including a ceremonial temple mound built by Native Americans around 1200, a restored (somewhat) plantation house that acted as an inn for travellers, and traces of the original Trace.

 

We set up camp at Rocky Springs and settled in for a few days of much needed nothingness. No travels, no storms, and no alligators! (Actually, I miss the cute little ‘gators.).

As has been our luck all along, we found a wonderful campsite which backed onto a small ravine.It was a great spot to set up, read a book, and just hang out for a while. Which was all I could manage anyway, because temperatures hit 31ºC those first two days!!! Holy Schmolly that’s hot! The record temperature for Natchez for those days was around 30ºC, so once again we are running into very odd weather.

By the second day it had cooled down into the upper 20s, so we did some exploring of the area, walking up parts of the original Trace to visit the remains of a once-bustling town. The only things that were left of this former town are a couple of safes (too heavy to move I guess), some old cisterns, and a church complete with a graveyard that would make Dracula proud.

 

 

Our bad luck with weather has been mirrored with our good luck meeting wonderful fellow travellers along the way, and this carried on at Rocky Springs as we got to know our neighbours who happened to be from Quebec. One couple (Gilles & Marielle) were travelling with three cats; one was a “coon cat” with an amputated paw, the second a kitten rescue cat, and the third was a black cat who they just let roam the campsite. Turns out these folks were also former sailors who had cruised on their boat (Bayfield 36) for seven years. They even sailed out the St. Lawrence to Halifax and beyond, so we got a few tips and learned about their continuing travels.

Marcel & Annette were our other near-neighbours. Also from Quebec, they came over to learn about these two crazy kanucks who are riding around the continent on two little motorcycles. As is becoming usual, they took pity on us, delivering hot coffee and (later), wine and home-made turkey soup! Later, while stopped in Tupelo for lunch, we were offered a house for the night from a woman in the next booth. We seem to engender this kind of motherly reaction from people … maybe we really are crazy 😉 .

After three days of rest we pulled up stakes and headed down the Trace to our next campsite: Jeff Busby. Along the way we stopped at the town of Canton (off the Trace). This is apparently where some of the scenes in Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? was filmed, so Ann got all goofy and giddy and, well, she was not to be denied. So, we had a wonderful lunch and saw stuff that could have been in the movie … maybe.

Our next stop after getting back on the Trace was the Cypress Swamp. When we got there the trail had been closed due to all the flooding, but Ann, being the rebel that she is, and speaking in her new-found southern accent, said: “No horse eatin’, Judas Iscariot Hogwallop, no nuthin’ coppers, is gonna keep me from seein’ swampy trees!!” * So she burst through the barricades and once again led us on a nefarious excursion.

*Quote slightly edited for artistic purposes 😉

   

We pulled into our next campsite just as the clouds began to thicken. Rainy weather was predicted to settle on us for the following day or so, and we just managed to get the tent up before the clouds opened up. We got the tarp up before things got too wet, so had a nice, dry (ish) campsite for the next couple of rainy days.

In between bouts of rain we managed to get in a couple of small walks, including a mountain climb up to one of Mississippi’s highest points! OK, it was only 603 feet, but still…

 

       

While at Jeff Busby (who apparently was some American Congressperson who got the campsite named after him for simply doing his job 😉 ), we met fellow biker Steve (aka Motorcycle Santa), and reconnected with Marcel & Annette who fed us, warmed us, and shared great stories of their travels. One evening we got invited into a party featuring more Quebecers. We talked and sang into the night. What a Wonderful Life!

After three nights of soggy, cool weather we decided it was time to head north once again. With the weather turning damper and colder, and with our healthcare deadline rapidly approaching, we decided it was time to get serious about getting back to Canada. We packed up and headed along the Trace, likely looking for a motel so we could plan our route north.

CNN: Louisiana flooding: Nearly 5,000 homes damaged

FOX: Widespread flooding from severe storms plagues Louisiana, Mississippi

Jackson Newspaper: Flood waters collapse southern Mississippi roads

Yup, a little water never hurt anyone, but this wasn’t a little water…

Our entire journey has been either wetter and colder, or hotter and dryer, than normal. Well, now we’re getting hotter and wetter … much wetter. We’ve driven into a flood zone!!!

We had left Brazos Park on our way to the start of the Natchez Trace in Natchez Mississippi. But to get there we had to travel over 700 km (partly to avoid driving through Houston … I’d had enough of that insanity already 🙂 ). We knew this meant a few motel nights, but what we didn’t count on was the weather.

I guess we should have clued in given the steady stream of traffic travelling in the opposite direction, but it was my lead day, and I wasn’t going to let these little annoying hints deter me from getting away from Houston and making some distance. So we made our detour around the big city, and stopped for the first night in Huntsville TX.

The motel was typically nondescript, but the nearby Mexican restaurant served an excellent margarita, so Ann was happy (very, very happy 😉 ). The next morning we awoke to questionable weather forecasts, but still a burning desire to get further east. So off we went, INTO THE MAW.

Actually, we were having a wonderful ride. The storm clouds that had been threatening all day never did open up on us, even though we drove through areas that had been drenched with rain not 1/2 hour earlier. But our luck ran out on highway 63 when we ran straight into a road block just before a bridge over the Sabine River near Burkville.

“No, No… you can’t go this way,” says one of the two highway workers in a thick Louisiana accent. “Why,” says I? “Bridge is awash just up ahead. You gotta go this way…” At that he rattles off a long string of directions and highway numbers. When I look up rather desperately he pauses and asks: “You know where all that is?” “Nope,” says I rather feebly. “I don’t know where any of that is … I hardly know where I am now!”

He shakes his head as if he’s looking at a poor, soon-to-be-drowned kitten. And then he takes out a written list of the directions and highway numbers. I study it while other cars are flying past us, heading down the detour. I finally nod and say I’ve got it … but I don’t really got it.

Oh hell … I’ve never let my lack of grasping all the details ever stop me from doing silly things in the past, and damn if I’m going to start being wise now 😉 So off we head, with me in the lead once again.

As we drive along the detour in search of a non-washed out bridge, we pass increasing signs of the seriousness of the flood; fields inundated, houses and buildings with water over the windows ledges, water lapping at the edges of smaller bridges, and the Toledo Bend spillway that was a torrential flow of broiling frothy whitewater.

Suffice it to say that due to my near-symbiotic and deep connection with Mother Nature, I managed to lead us through the disaster zone, and safely to our next motel in Leesville, Louisiana. We found a warm bed at what, for us, is an upscale motel (Super 8), and settled in for a couple of nights so we could let the storm move on, and the waters start to drain. We even did a little laundry, and of course drank a few IPAs at the local steakhouse.

By the third day we decided to press on towards Natchez. Although the rains have stopped, the rivers are still cresting. It’s going to keep going up for another day or so, but nothing appears to be blocking our path now, so on we go.

We crossed the Red River and the mighty Mississippi and are now in Mississippi. Tonight is hopefully our last motel night for a while. We’re tucked into another fancy motel (Days Inn) which proudly boasts about its GENUINE SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY. And it sure feels true. They not only offer a warm breakfast feature “the best darn grits around!” But we were also invited to a hot dinner meal of beans, rice, corn bread and collard greens. Yum!

 

 

Tomorrow we head into the Natchez Trace. Hope we can find non-soggy ground to pitch our tent.

We pulled out of Port Lavaca after being well fed, well cleaned up, and after having caught up with some funny family folk (get ya next time D). Our destination was Brazos Bend State Park, which promised to fulfill two burning needs: alligators and therm-a-rests.

Fellow Padre Island camper (and Ontarian) Dan had told us the gaters were so easy to see at Brazos that you had to step around them on the paths . I figured this was a bit of an exaggeration, (foreshadow!), but it sounded good . And Brazos is pretty close to Houston, which had a couple of REI stores (a store like MEC). Ann’s sleeping pad was approaching beach ball stage, so this was becoming critical. Brazos was the perfect next stop for us.

Approaching the park, we stopped at a little grocery store to stock up on all the essentials. We’d heard about some serious weather coming in, and as luck would have it, there was a TV on in the shop tuned to the Weather Channel. They were talking about the coming 3-day storm, showing pretty graphics with big winds, lots of rain, and scary lightning icons all over our location. They reassuringly told us our area only had a TOR-CON rating of 4 out of 10. TOR-CON measures the chance of tornadoes. A “4” is, well, 40% chance of tornadoes within the area. I’ve always wanted to see a tornado … from a safe location, so BRING IT ON!!

We bought an extra bottle of wine in preparation for the maelstrom. But we also decided to rent one of the park’s screened-in shelters. If we were going to get stuck in heavy rain and winds (and tornadoes 😉 ) for days, at least we’d have a place bigger than our tent to stretch out. This turned out to be a great plan.

We got ourselves set up at site/shelter #7 a full day before the big storm was to hit. The next day we headed into Houston to get Ann’s new sleeping pad.  Houston is a very large and busy city. It’s also encircled and criss-crossed with toll highways, some of which are only usable by those with transponders. This made getting to where we wanted to go rather difficult. As usual, we wanted to avoid the fast roads anyway, but this meant our 1-hr journey turned into an all-day odyssey. And the near-gale force winds (a precursor to the big storm) didn’t help. But we prevailed, and Ann is now the happy owner of a fancy new Therm-a-rest.

               

With mission #1 accomplished we hunkered down for the coming storm. Our shelter was screened in, with a nice solid roof, and a small porch. It had power and water, but was not really proof against blowing rain. And unfortunately the only table was located outside (and a friendly sign warned us against bringing it inside the shelter). But with a little ingenuity I was able to use our tarp to protect the porch, and some fellow campers took pity on us (people seem to do this quite regularly 😉 ) and brought us their extra plastic sheets so we could cover the side screens. In the end we had a shelter that was dry and somewhat cosy.

And a good thing too! Man did it blow! … and rain! … and set the sky ablaze with lighting and thunder!! The storm raged for two full days, but we stayed warm and mostly dry. And with the luxury of having power, we even decided to fire up the computer and watch some good ol’ Corner Gas.

The storm didn’t produce any tornadoes (at least not near us), but it did dump tons of rain on us, particularly the second night. Although we were camped on high ground, I was a bit worried we’d float away. The next morning we were still on mushy, wet, but mostly solid ground. However, all around the campsite was new ponds of pooled water and new creeks running everywhere. What a soaker!

   

The storm system lingered and stalled over much of Texas, but it did offer us a few hours of respite through the second day and into the third. We ventured out to explore our surrounds, and to see the various critters than make Brazos kinda famous.

OK, first there is the bird life. All sorts of interesting and weird ones live here. No wonder it attracts the weirdest of all critters: the Birder, in droves.

And the forest itself looks like a set design from a classic southern movie, with lush growth and big trees all hung heavy in spanish moss.

 

 

      

Then there are the odd-ball animals like the opossum  and the armadillo . But the king of them all … the one that we drove all this way to see … the one which made us face a TOR-CON 4 storm … well this one needs no introduction.

Its smiling face tells it all:

As does ours:

           

The day before we had made a visit to the Nature Centre in the park. There we learned a bit about the various animals in the area, including the smiling alligators. We even got to pet a baby alligator, and visit a mom with 29 little ones all hanging around. They’re so little, and so cute. All of which left us feeling pretty brave about visiting the main area the following day.

 

This bravery quickly departed once we saw our first Big Guy. He was just sitting on the edge of the path — smiling, as if tempting us to walk past. We had already turned around to go back when a couple of locals strolled past us, and without a pause, walked past Big Ugly. After that it became easy, and we started to seem them all over the place.

   

With mission #2 accomplished, the storm abated, and the pending plague of Spring Breakers all set to descend on all State Parks (indeed, everywhere interesting outside of college/university towns), we pulled up stakes and headed on. We’re slowly making our way northish now, with our immediate goal to reach Natchez and the start of the Natchez Trace. This 400+ mile route is a national park that will take us all the way north to Nashville. Tonight (and possibly tomorrow) will be motel nights. Oh well… at least the water is warm.

BTW, after much Denial, Anger, Bargaining and Depression, Ann finally Accepted the loss of her long-loved therm-a-rest. So, after gutting it like a pig (to see its innards so we could see why it failed), she made a final blessing to the camping equipment gods, and sent her old sleeping pad to the great dumpster in the sky. So sad…

Ya’ll … everyone talks like this. It’s the authentic southern accent we all know and love. And it’s real! So real that Ann is now speaking like a Texan. She’s taking on the accent! Not only that, she’s excited by bayous and gaters, and I swear she was even openly musing about getting a pink-handled gun. Calling all Canadians … she may need a deprogramming session when we get back up north 😉

Anywhoo… We left Cotulla and drove the rest of the way down to Corpus Christi and Padre Island. We finally said goodbye to the deserts that have been our home for the past months, and headed to the Gulf. As a parting gift I saw one final saguaro, and we also caught sight of signs for some local cultural activities.

Our route took us through parts of Corpus, and unfortunately this meant we had to run on the Interstates … at 80 MPH!! But we made it, and pulled up to our new home at Malaquite Beach on Padre Island. This is the furthest south we’ve yet been, and likely the furthest we’ll go on this journey. All roads point north from here.

Malaquite campground is very popular and busy, and like most of the sites we’ve been, is geared towards motorhomes and RVs. Tenters are definitely the odd-ball “campers.” Luckily though, they reserve specific sites for us second-class campers, so despite the campground being perpetually busy and usually full, we were able to find a site without any problems.

At 70 miles long, Padre Island National Seashore beach is apparently the longest stretch of undeveloped barrier island in the world. There are a couple of organized campgrounds, but you can also set up anywhere on the beach for free. Unfortunately we found the sand too soft for our small bikes, so we pitched our tent  in at the main organized site and settled into life on the wet and windy coast.

Part of the wonder of this journey has been experiencing the various weathers and climates across the continent. These past few weeks we’ve gone from dry desert to humid, windy and HOT here on the Gulf coast. In Big Bend Park the temperatures were warm and dry during the day, but often around freezing overnight. Most nights here on the Gulf stayed in the mid-teens, with daytime temperatures reaching 30ºC sometimes!

And did I mention wind …? It was windy almost all the time. We often feared for our little tent, which is not really designed for high winds. One day it was so windy (blowin’ a gale!) that Ann had to cook under our table just so our little stove would stay lit. And being on a dune, we soon learned to live with sand getting everywhere (“Be one with the sand”). The floor was sandy, my sheet and sleeping bag were sandy, my clothes in my case were sandy. Heck, one morning I had to dump the sand out of my shoes.

NOTE: I was gallant of course, and took the windy/sandy side. My side was wayyyy worse than Ann's ;-)

Padre Island is an environmental treasure along the coast. It’s not only the longest undeveloped stretch of beach on the Gulf, but it is also home to an incredible amount of bird, dune, and sea life. The squadrons of brown pelicans were often overhead, along with the laughing gulls, herons, long-billed curlew, various terns and the ever-present grackle. It’s a birders’ Mecca; something that Dan, a fellow camper from Ontario, explained to us.

   

Along with the birds we also caught sight of many small dune lizards , as well as the skittish ghost crab . The dunes are also home to various snakes, including rattle snakes. Ann caught sight of one, but doesn’t think it was a rattler. Of course we learned later that it is unwise to hang out in the dunes, mainly due to the rattlers. Oops 😉

  

Unfortunately for Padre Island, it also seems to be the foci of many Gulf currents. This, along with the massive human developments all around, including offshore oil rigs , means the beach is often caked in human garbage . We went for a short walk one day and Ann filled a garbage bag in no time. . Despite this, it was a stunningly beautiful place to spend close to two weeks at.

Of course, the other great thing about travelling is all the wonderful people we are meeting. During our 11 day stay at Padre Island we got to know some great folks, including another Mike who was down from Phoenix camping in his fancy teepee tent. He shared his company and his beer with us, and we taught him that it’s not a woollen hat, it’s a toque! He also owns a motorcycle, and hearing about our crazy journey seemed to inspire him to try a trip on his own two-wheeler.

There was also a fellow Ontarian named Kathy who took pity on us, er…, I mean invited us for a lovely warm breakfast over at her trailer. And then there was our RV neighbours: Joe and Jody and their wonderful Golden Retriever Bella, who not only let us use their generator to charge our storage battery, but became fast-friends of the lasting kind.

Like us, they were first-timers at Padre Island, and also like us, they were embraced by the many campers who spend months at a time here, some returning year after year. The whole group took pity on us, er… I mean began inviting us to the various group events, and even started to give us food (fresh fish, Texas grapefruit and a full fish-fry). What great people!

Jody and Joe invited us over to their palatial wheeled home for two delicious dinners, which also included copious amounts of libations. On our final day at Padre they invited us to go with them on a drive down the beach in their four-wheeler. We readily agreed, and spent the whole afternoon driving and exploring the semi-wild beach some 20 miles south of the campground.

   

   

Gonna miss you guys!

 

BTW, we’ve had great luck so far with our bikes and camping equipment, some of which is going on two decades old. Ann’s had a few minor issues with her bike, and the stove is suffering from first dry air, and now salty moist air . But sadly one piece of equipment has given up the ghost: Ann’s sleeping pad. Her much-used therm-a-rest started to delaminate a few weeks ago, and is rapidly turning itself into a beach ball. We’re going to have to get her a new one, probably at an REI store (similar to our MEC).

 

Our time at Padre finally came to an end with the looming threat of the plague called Spring Breakers. So we packed up and headed off to spend a few nights in a cheap motel. Laundry and a warm shower was on the agenda, so we found a place in Port Lavaca, which is NE of Padre. It was a two hour drive along the shore, which included a short ferry ride, all the way to our three day Motel 6 home.

The motel is right next to a great bar/restaurant that serves local seafood and good beer. We’ve been indulging ourselves with fresh oysters, good IPA, and a warm, dry bed.

One thing that has been on my “hope to see” list is alligator. We’d decided to head for a state park near Houston just to see these critters. But there is a bayou right next to our motel in back of the restaurant. We were walking there yesterday and Ann kinda sputters and spittles, and points down to the water. OUR FIRST GATER!

  

Tomorrow we plan to head towards Brazos Bend State Park so we can see more alligators, and also get back into our tent. State parks are expensive here in Texas, but are still cheaper than most motels. More than that though, I really miss not sleeping outdoors. We’ve also got a big storm coming our way, with heavy rains and big winds predicted. We’ll likely hunker down at the Park till Thursday or Friday.

All roads now lead north, but we’ll be watching the weather to make sure we avoid any of the white stuff. We’re planning to take the Natchez Trace, which is a historic route through Mississippi all the way to Nashville Tennessee. But that is days away. In the meantime, there’s still more Texan IPA to explore, or as they call it here: TPA.

It was hard, but we finally said goodbye to Big Bend National Park. We’d been in the park for fourteen nights, staying in all three of the organized campgrounds. Each wonderful in different ways, and I would definitely go back. But time moves on, and so must we. So we spent our final night watching the sun go down, then packed up early to head off towards the Gulf.

Our route to the coast is over 900 km, so we have to break it up into a few days of travel. We also needed to do laundry, and apparently there was some comment from the silent partner here about me needing a shower (she may have said “desperately needing…”), so we decided to move back into a motel for a couple of nights.

We found a cheap, not-so-sleazy, motel in Del Rio. It had all the requisites: cheap room with fridge and microwave, free parking and wifi, and a guest laundry. Unfortunately it also had a rather stinky air conditioner, and it appeared they were running a daycare out of the rooms beside us and above us. Kids were running and screaming and banging doors all the live-long day. Good thing most of them were pretty cute. And they quieted down by evening, so all was well.

Driving to Del Rio turned into a bit of an adventure. By noonish the wind had picked up to over 40K with gusts a lot higher, which is very hard to drive in. My bike’s mileage dropped by 1/3rd, and I was hard-pressed to maintain anything close to the speed limit (75 mph!). By the time we got to Del Rio I was done. It was nice to spend two nights, despite the kids and the stinky air conditioner.

Confession #1: We went to Walmart. I know ... shameful. What can I say; it was the only grocery store a round. It was either that or go back to Applebee's for dinner again, and one night there was enough.

We pulled out of Del Rio and carried on towards the Gulf. Because of the distance, we still had one more urban over-nighter to make before getting to the coast and our next campsite. We chose Cottula for its location (shooting distance to the coast), size (3,500 people), and it’s cheap rooms. Why they are so cheap became obvious once we arrived; there is a HUGE number of hotels/motels here.

Confession #2: We ate at McDonald's. I know ... shameful. It was even my idea. In my defence, we had few options and I was hungry. Besides, they have free wifi, and the meal wasn't actually that bad. My chicken sandwich was on-par with any mid-level restaurant, and it was pretty cheap. So maybe I'm a now a fan of McDickie.

We had checked them out online, and decided to just wing-it and look for a cheap place once we got there. On the map there was this large collection of hotels, so we drove in. It looks like they are all pretty new, and all built about the same time. We checked into a Holiday Inn (which is usually way out of our price range) and got a great room for a very modest price. It’s so nice, and the wind is so strong, we decided to stay another night.

Turns out the reason there are so many hotels in such a small, and out-of-the-way place, is all about the oil. Wikipedia tells me Cortulla has 23 hotels and many other motels. Why? Because: “Cotulla falls within the second largest oil-producing region of the United States. Cotulla houses the largest sand fracking facility in North America.”

Of course with the drop in oil, it’s all going bust now. We’re in this largish hotel and we might be one of only a 1/2-dozen guests. At this point I haven’t actually seen any other guests. Maybe we’re alone!

Funny thing… when I went outside to take the panorama of all the hotels I was accosted by an employee. She approached and asked me, “Why are you taking pictures here?” I asked her, “Why are you asking me why I’m taking pictures?” She started to mumble something about security, which I pushed back on, so she finally admitted that they thought I was from the City, and was photographing their bylaw violations. They were letting trucks drive over the curb and park on the lawn/ground right beside a City sign that said something like “NO DRIVING ON THE CURB OR PARKING ON THE LAWN.” When she learned I was just some silly tourist we became best of friends.

Tomorrow, wind allowing, we plan to drive to the Gulf coast and move back into our tent at Padre Island National Seashore Park. Padre Island is a barrier island along the coast here. There is cheap to free camping, and we can apparently set up in an organized campground, or if the bikes can manage, drive out on the beach and pitch our tent anywhere above the surf line. Hmmmm, I wonder how big the tides are 🙂

After saying goodbye to Linda and Roger and Rascal we decided to stay at Rio Grande Village campground another three nights. It’s hard to leave a place that is beautiful and warm, with good services and relatively cheap fees — so we stayed.

It gave us a chance to do a hike together that I had planned from the first day, and then Ann did it by herself, and this broke my poor whittle heart b/c I was saving it for just us, and I shed a tear trying to be strong telling her it was OK, but secretly I was all broken up inside… and then she smacked me and said stop being such an annoying brat for trying to make her feel bad, which is what I was really trying to do 😉 …

Ummm, what was I saying …? Oh yah, we went on a nice hike together 😉

 

The walk took us up to a grand lookout of the area, as well as down  to the Rio Grande River. Mexico is an easy stone’s toss from here. Border protections are around, but not in your face. We were warned about purchasing any Mexican trinkets while on our hikes, and we did indeed come across a cache of stuff.

There were prices on the walking sticks and metal twisty doodads, along with a jar to put our money in. We even followed a non-identified trail to the water that came to an easy river crossing point. It was clear (from the poop) that burros and people come across here, presumably to service the cache points. While it’s technically illegal to buy stuff this way, it’s clear the US authorities turn a blind eye to the activity. Nice, since it’s also clear tourist dollars are the primary income for the people of Boquillas.

On our last night at Rio Grande we were invited by camping neighbours Dan & Lindsay to a wonderful dinner of steak, potatoes and Mexican corn at their fancy trailer. Turns out they are both motorcycle and scooter people AND sailors who have lived aboard for seven years. They saw us driving our little bikes, noticed the Ontario license plates, and had to find out more. We heard about their adventures travelling the country with trailer and off-road motorcycles. And we told them about our little bike travel, and our pending sailing life. It was grand fun with great people!

After final morning showers we did finally move down the road, and up the mountains, into Chisos campground. And what a spectacular site it is!

We arrived on Thursday just ahead of another American long weekend (I thought these people had no holidays!). We lucked out and found a stunning campsite at the end of the grounds, overlooking the caldera valley that Chisos is located in. We’re literally surrounded by mountains which are the  remains of massive volcanic activity some many millions of years ago.

 

It’s also home to the very tame and very cute road runners.

 

 

 

In addition to the campground Chisos  valley also houses a store, a  motel and a rather nice restaurant/bar, complete with free wifi. We used our recently-past 28th anniversary as a good excuse to treat ourselves to a fine meal. It was grand. We used the same excuse on Valentines Day to have yet another yummy meal. Ann was presented with a red rose as we walked in, and which she kept for a few days. Of course I was presented with the bill at the end of the meal … Sexism sure cuts both ways.

                      

Although we originally booked in for three nights at Chisos, we easily extended it to six. The days have been summery, and the nights are warmer than in the other two Big Bend campgrounds despite being up nearly 5,000 feet. The scenery is stunning, and the living is easy here, so staying seemed like the right choice.

As usual, we also met some great people. Sally and Jim were camped at the site beside us. We got to chatting over a couple of nights, and a couple (or three, or four) glasses of wine. They have converted a large van into a travel van, and are planning to explore the US and Canada over the coming months. It’s great to learn how other people are doing things, and to get to know fun and interesting new people.

While at Chisos I did what I do best, which was basically sitting around all day reading. Ann, being far more active and adventurous, went on a great 3.6 mile hike out to the “window”, which is an opening through the caldera that overlooks the flatter lands below.

 

   

We settled in for the nights, meeting new people, and generally just relaxing with good food, warm weather and good books.

 

 

 

   

  

Tomorrow we plan to move on. We’re still aiming for the Gulf, but that will take at least two to three days of travel for us, and the camping looks sparse along the way. We’ll likely be moteling it for a few days, but I guess we’ve earned a bit of luxury after nearly two weeks sleeping on the ground.

The wind that had left us stuck in Marfa for two extra days finally let  up enough, so we packed our bags (again) and headed south to Big Bend National Park where our new but already good friends, Linda and Roger (and Rascal) were waiting. The last night in El I’m too funky to be so hip Cosmico campground turned out to be the coldest night yet, hitting -10.7 ºC that night. So the choice to move into one of their over-priced “safari tents” turned out to be a good choice. We awoke to frozen food (zucchini) and ice on our covers. But the  heated bed, and Ann’s snuggles, kept me warm and toasty.

The drive to Big Bend was pretty easy. We stopped along the way for lunch, finding a food truck called Cow Dog, which served the most delectable hot dogs I’ve ever had (sorry Sam). Arriving in Cottonwood campground (one of three organized campgrounds in Big Bend) we reconnected with Roger and Linda, had another dinner courtesy of Linda’s great cooking, drank too many margaritas (Ann’s fault 😉 ), and made plans to do a hike the next day.

The next morning we had our typical slow breakfast and coffee, then piled in Vanna and drove to the start of the Santa Elena Canyon trail. The hike took us a short distance into a very deep and beautiful gorge along the Rio Grande River which marks the border here between the USA and Mexico. It was simply amazing.

The short path started with a switchback climb to a lookout, and then went back down, following the American side of the canyon. We took our time, taking plenty of pics, and just taking in the beauty of the place.

 

Back at camp we connected with another fast-friend by the name of Robert McNamara (no, not that Robert McNamara … at least, I don’t think so). Bob is travelling the country in his very stylish Airstream following the recent death of his long-time wife. Bob is one of those incredibly gregarious and kind people whom you can’t help but immediately enjoy. He reminds me (and Ann) of our other friend Chester (Chet), whom we had hoped to connect with in Mexico, but sadly won’t this year.

Anyway, Linda and Roger had met Bob before we arrived, and we all connected over Linda’s great cooking and great conversation. Bob not only travels in Airstream style, but he also carries with him an assortment of toys, including a kayak. He suggested we all spend the following day taking turns paddling the canyon that we had just hiked. It was an easy sell, so the next day we loaded back into Vanna and went back down to Stanta Elena Canyon and spent the day paddling and playing around the Rio Grande.

 

The following day we said goodbye to Bob who was carrying on west, while the rest of us agreed to meet up again in the main campground over at Rio Grande Village. Roger and Linda arrived early while we diverted back up to a nearby town to resupply. We met up with Rascal’s parents later that evening after another fascinating drive through this dry and interesting land.

 

This campground is right next to a border crossing to Boquillas in Mexico. This crossing, like all the other crossings along the Park, was closed following the  attacks of 9/11. I can only imagine how  economically devastating this must have been to the Mexican border towns which likely relied on US tourism for their existence. But the Boquillas crossing has recently been re-opened to foot traffic, so we decided to once again venture south to Mexico.

We drove down in Vanna and parked at US Customs. We were reminded about what we could not bring back, and also told the crossing closes at 5 pm, so we’d better be back before then. We then walked the short way down to the Rio Grande River, where our rowboat chariot awaited us. We all climbed in for the minute-long row across the border.

 

After paying the ferryman ($5/person for a return ticket) we were given  our options to get into the actual town of Boquillas, which is about 1 mile away. We could walk, take a pickup truck, ride a horse or climb aboard a burro. We all opted to make asses of ourselves, and climbed (or were assisted) up into the burro’s saddle.

 

Although I normally dislike having more than one brain operating any vehicle I’m driving, my burro required little guidance from me (thankfully). It dutifully plodded its way up the trail all the way to town. We had been assigned a guide named Martin, and he helped us all get through Mexican customs, and then gave us a grand tour of his little town which he was rightly proud of.

 

Boquillas had clearly suffered decline, I’m assuming during the closed-border period. There has been some major new improvements of late, including a new school, a hospital, and a solar power generating station that provided electricity for the whole town. But overall, the town looks rather impoverished.

 

 

I have little experience with so-called “third world” living. I suppose Boquillas would qualify for this category. The town was harsh and rough. The homes and buildings outside of the new  government ones, and the two clearly-tourista restaurants, were simple and course. The roads were haphazard and dirt (not even gravelled), and there were many buildings that were simply abandoned and falling down. But there was plenty to be proud of, including our guide Martin’s home, which was simple and beautiful (and he was clearly proud of it).

         

We ended our time in Boquillas with a fine Mexican lunch of tamales and enchiladas, all washed down with individually unique margaritas, each one seemed to have varying amounts of Tequila, ranging from none, to Wholly Schmolly! We ended our visit as it began, with a burro ride back to  the river, and then a short ferry ride over to America.

Linda and Roger are heading to Dallas to meet his sister-in-law and hopefully get a new cover for their air conditioner (which blew off in the Marfa wind storm). We spent a last night with them, drinking one too many a margarita (again, Ann’s fault) and enjoying our time together.

A final breakfast of pancakes (we finally cooked for them!), and a last goodbye and we are once again left to our own. I know we’ll stay in touch, and might even meet up again later. There was talk of connecting in Newfoundland (assuming we get there with out boat), but I know this is only a temporary goodbye. We will connect again.

For now, Ann and I are staying put in Big Bend. We plan to stay here at the main campground for a couple more nights, then probably head up into the hills to try out the last campsite at Chisos Mountain. After that we expect to carry on eastish, heading for the Gulf … but who knows where we’ll end up and who we’ll meet. A lovely couple on off-road motorcycles stopped by our site to introduce themselves, saying they had a long history riding scooters AND living seven years on a sailboat. They were impressed with our journey, and they invited us for dinner tonight, so the fun carries on!

BTW, Ann and I celebrated our 28th Anniversary yesterday over a fine feed of jalapino spiced wieners, instant hash browns, fried onions and garlic, and stir-fried frozen zucchini and tomatoes. All of this washed down and toasted with fine boxed wine. What could be a better Anniversary!

We left our cheap motel in El Paso and headed down the highway to Marfa. We had to use the Interstate highway, so the ride was fast and furious, with lots of fast moving cars and trucks. The highway speed limit actually hit 80 MPH — that’s nearly 130 km/hr, which really meant everyone was driving closer to 90 or 100 mph. And that included the transport trucks! Add to this a pretty high wind, and long stretches of scraped pavement, and it was a ride not to be repeated.

Luckily we arrived to our destination of Marfa without any problems. We found our way to El Cosmico, which is a campground just outside of town. It’s a rather pretentious, completely artificial, too-cool-to-be-real, kinda place. It offers a “roughing it” experience, seemingly aimed at 20-something “hipsters.” You can stay in old parked RVs, canvas army-style tents, teepees, or yurts. They’re all decked out with comfy beds, electricity and the RVs have water and showers. They also offer basic camping (for $15/person), which is why we’re here.

Actually, it’s wasn’t all that bad. Just felt rather fake. But the main building had coffee in the morning, and sold beer for the evening. It even had free wifi, which turned out to be a blessing on our third day when a windstorm blew in and left us unable to ride our bikes. They also had outdoor communal kitchen and showers, which was wonderful to use after dark. The water was hot, and you could stare up into the stars while scrubbing the grime off. Cool, eh 😉

 

The town of Marfa is kinda interesting. There are a number of art galleries and interesting shops and restaurants. Unfortunately not very much was open when we were there, even though this is apparently the busy season. The town itself has the feel of decline, with a lot of businesses bordered up and vacant. Walk a bit off the main drag and you encountered gutted and dilapidated houses. All in all it had a pretty rough and declining feeling.

 

Despite this, it was still an interesting place to stay. And stay we did… We originally booked in for two nights, but the morning we planned to leave had a forecast of winds over 30 knots, with gusts going much higher. There were RED wind warnings all over, so we decided to stay another night.

 

 

It’s a good thing we did. The wind kept increasing to the point where we feared for our tent. It wasn’t just blowing hard, it was picking up all the dust and grit from the desert. It was an honest-to-goodness dust storm! The dirt was everywhere; in your hair and eyes, in your clothes, and even inside our closed tent!

 

 

 

 

We’re hoping the wind will let up tomorrow so we can drive the couple 100 km down to Big Bend National Park. We’re trying to meet up with Linda and Roger and Rascal again. Tonight will be another cold, and blustery one. But at least there’s beer!

ADDENDUM: The wind continued to build to a howlin’ gale. Our tent was doing OK until branches from a nearby tree cracked off, hitting our tent and tearing a hole in the fly. It’s not too bad, and at least it’s over the vestibule area. We have some patching material, so we’re in search of a nylon adhesive.

We awoke today with plans to get going to Big Bend. Overnight was another cold one, and it wasn’t much warmer by later morning. Still, we packed up and tried to beat the building wind, but it was all for naught. The wind once again was blowin’ a gale by 10 am, so we’ve opted to stay here one more night. This time we’re treating ourselves to a “safari tent”, which is really just a square canvas tent. But it comes with a bed, lighting, and an electric mattress heater. Nice, since the forecast calls for -6ºC tonight.

We used the communal cookhouse again today to cook up a batch of Ann’s World Famous Beans. They had a sign board there, so while Ann cooked I left a message:

 

 

We’ve been travelling and camping close to the USA/Mexico border over the past week or so. The first sign that we weren’t in Kansas anymore came with the sign leading into Coronado Forest campground near Portal. It struck me as rather funny and kinda ridiculous, so we took this humorous picture. But the sense that something is ‘not quite right’ has grown the further east we’ve travelled.

Going from Sunny Flat to our next campsite in Columbus, NM took us along route #9; a secondary highway that paralleled the border. At times we were within 1 km of the great divide. While there was no big, scary wall, there was the overwhelming presence of US Border Patrol vehicles. We drove the 160 km road and saw a total of three other civilian vehicles, but about two dozen green & whites. This included a rather ominous unnamed barbed wired compound that housed many of these vehicles.

Floating high above the area was a stationary (tethered) blimp which I can only assume contained various sensors and cameras … probably infrared. And the whole roadway was lined with a barbed fence that had a dirt road running along it. At one point we watched as a green & white truck dragging huge tractor tires scarified the road. If anyone crossed this path they would leave footprints that, presumably, could be tracked.

Our visit to Palomas Mexico was a fun, interesting experience. But the border crossing was a tale of two countries. Coming up to the border we were faced with a compound on the American side, and virtually nothing on the other. A wall stretched from the crossing out for many kilometres, running east and west.

We walked into Mexico without even a single official asking to see our passports. Coming back to the USA though, we were faced with the friendly, but very serious face of US Homeland Security border agents. And they definitely checked our passports and went through the standard clearing-in procedure.

Palomas is a touristy town catering to the financial needs of rich Americans and Canadians. Cheap dental and eye care was available within a few steps of the border. The Pink Store was fun and culturally fascinating, but the touristy glitz soon petered out to very rough and dilapidated buildings.

While walking down a street we were also passed by a troop transport truck carrying at least a dozen fully camoed military people, all decked out in the firearm tools of their trade. A few smaller military vehicles drove past us over the few hours we were there, including one jeep with a very large mounted machine gun.

While in the Pink Store we talked with a staff person. She held dual US/Mex citizenship, and really seemed to open up once she knew we were Canadians. She got on a bit of rant about the hardships and profiling that she sees and experiences, and noted how things have changed since 9/11. She eventually stopped herself, and apologized for her outburst.

We walked back to the USA, easily clearing through customs using our passports and a smile. But I am left with an unsettled feeling about it all. I keep reminding myself that I know almost nothing about any of this. I am a northern visitor to this strange southern land. I don’t know what the right answers are, but when I hear the bombastic and vitriolic rantings of Republican candidates like Trump, I shudder for the future of this already damaged space.

ADDENDUM: We encountered our first citizenship checkstop on the highway while driving to Marfa, TX. All traffic was detoured through this customs-looking booth. We had to proceed one at a time, and when I got there the young, but serious US Border Guard asked me: “Are you a citizen sir?” I stammered, “Er, no. Canadian.” He gave me and my little bike a cursory glance and waved me on. I look very white … and despite the beard, pretty harmless. I can’t help but wonder what would happen if I was Latino.

I don’t understand how this kind of arbitrary stop is legal in the heart of the “free world.” The shades of Hollywood depictions of totalitarian countries, where you are constantly stopped and have to ‘show me your papers,’ felt all too real. But this is not my country, and I understand there is a real issue with illegal immigration. I don’t know what the answers are, but this feels wrong.

After recovering from the Double-IPA night in Bisbee we headed north toward the town of Portal. Laird and Shannon had told us about this great camping area in the Coronado Forest, and since it was cheap to free we decided to give it a look. What an incredible place it was.

There are a number of sites located in this National Forest area, and we initially planned to camp in the free area, but when we hit snow-covered roads we decided to stay a bit lower in altitude. Sunny Flat campground is located in a smallish valley and is surrounded by medium sized mountains all around. The mountain cliffs are incredibly beautiful, and the creek that runs through the campground made it an almost magical place. We had originally planned to stay only a couple of nights, but ended up being there for five.

    

The rock walls that encircle the canyon are also home to an amazing assortment of bird life — so much so that it is a known mecca for the strangest of all critters: the birder. Over our time there we saw dozens of these odd-ball creatures, scrambling around carrying their bazooka-like camera lenses. But it is also an area with a slightly nefarious history. Since we’re now quite close to the US/Mexican border we are seeing signs of immigration issues and the drug trade. Well, to be honest, the only signs are signs (and border patrol trucks).

Our time at Sunny Flat was one of the highlights (so far) of the journey. It’s beauty is hard to describe. But what was equally wonderful was all the great people we met. From the camp hosts with their dog and cat (both of whom were walked on leashes), to the great co-campers — it was very hard to leave.

Part of the joy of this area was the town of Portal. Well, “town” is too grandiose. It’s more like a tiny village, or hamlet even. But it is home to some amazingly interesting people. We ate lunch in the Portal Peak Cafe, which also doubles as a motel and the single place to buy basic groceries and booze. While there we struck up a conversation with a retired electrical/aeronautical engineer (or something like that) who had worked on Top Secret government projects, including laser cannons that could shoot down incoming missiles. He clearly wanted to talk about a lot of stuff, but said he couldn’t. He’d even been visited by trench-coated government agents a couple of years ago who had reminded him about his legal need to remain silent. I think he wasn’t joking.

Aside from having one of the highest concentrations of PhDs in the country (according to our camp hosts), Portal also has a great little library which we visited. Free wifi and a warm seat were welcome indeed.

One couple whom we connected with at Sunny Flat have turned into fast friends: Linda and Roger, and their cute dog Rascal. They are travelling a similar meandering and undefined path as ours, although doing it in the relative luxury of a camper van. We connected over good conversation and tea while at Sunny Flat, and then carried on our new found friendship at the next campsite in Columbus, New Mexico.

After a wonderful warm meal cooked by Linda — one that we ate inside their warm and toasty van — we agreed to venture across the border to Mexico. Columbus NM is right across the border from Puerto Palomas, Mexico. This is a touristy border town with no end of services and shops catering to people looking to save some bucks on dental work, eye glasses or Mexican goods. We were told to find The Pink Store, and that the first thing that would happen is that we’d be handed a free margarita. Sure, says I … but it was absolutely true!

The Pink Store is full of everything Mexican, from glassware and hand painted tiles to skeletal dolls and horny-decorated shot glasses (horny old men doing unspeakable things to the glasses). We had a wonderful lunch of authentic Mexican cuisine, which included more margaritas, then we stumbled our way out and headed back to the USA.

That night the temperatures dipped to their lowest we’ve seen so far; a brisk -5.1 ºC. We woke to frost on the tent and bikes, and frozen water outlets in the campsite. This temperature, while not unheard of, is very unusual down here. Luckily we stayed warm and cosy in our sleeping bags. But equally luckily, Linda and Roger invited us into their home/van for morning breakfast of eggs and bacon and cereal with real milk (Ann went gaga over this, of course). It sure makes you see the wisdom of a travel van, especially theirs which is so smartly decked out.

The campsite we’re in is the Pancho Villa State Park, which is named after the famed Mexican general who (apparently) led the last foreign incursion into the US in 1916. It resulted in a plenty of dead people (mostly Mexican raiders) and a six month retaliatory invasion by the US Army into Mexico to try and punish and capture Villa. They never did, and then many decades later they created this state park as an expression of peace.

The campground itself is a far cry from Sunny Flat, but like all things deserty, it has it’s own kind of beauty. Like most campsites, this one is almost exclusively geared to RVs, but we found a spot to pitch the tent. And the bonus is that we got water and electricity (to charge all our doo-dads) for $14/night. Pretty good deal.

Tomorrow (or perhaps the next day) we’re planning to head into Texas, aiming for the funky town of Marfa and then a park called Big Bend, both of which have come highly recommended. Marfa is reputed to be an interesting artsy town, and Big Bend sounds like another beautiful place to pitch our tent for a few days. So that’s the plans at this point. Who knows if they’ll pan out.