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There were times I couldn’t see 50 yards into the fog covering the road between Alpine and Fort Stockton. Then it would clear up only to close in again a few miles down the road. Fortunately there wasn’t much traffic on state highway 67 at 7:00 in the morning.
I drove out of Big Bend National Park the day before about two o’clock heading west on FM 170. Also called the River Road, the 50-mile section between Lajitas and Presideo is reputed to be the most scenic drive in Texas and I wanted to see for myself. I’m happy to report the reputation is deserved, and I’ve driven all over the state. Besides being scenic as it follows the Rio Grande river, it is also exciting with many twists and turns and steep hills. Many times as I crested a hill I had to take it on faith I wasn’t plunging into an abyss. The road dropped away so fast I couldn’t see it until my vehicle started down the other side.
It was the day before that I met Singing Jesus. Hiking the trail to Boquillas Canyon on the east side of Big Bend, I met a fellow coming the other way who asked if I was ready to meet Singing Jesus. I told him I wasn’t sure because I hadn’t really thought about it but I was prepared if that’s what was going to happen. Gary, the man I met on the trail, was from northern Minnesota and he and his wife have been coming to Big Bend for years. His wife had a stroke in the last year and while she is okay, it has put the kibosh on her hiking. Gary said he met Victor from the village of Boquillas on the trail years ago, back when things along the border were a little more relaxed. Besides singing to him, Victor also rowed he and Gary’s 12-year old son across the river to the village. From there they rode a bus stopping at several other Mexican villages where they enjoyed meeting people and seeing the sights. Singing Jesus, who took Victor’s place once Victor was no longer able to negotiate the trails, perched on a rock on the Mexican side of the river and sang to me. I stuck a dollar in the tip jar he had thoughtfully placed on the US side along the trail to Boquillas Canyon.
On another trail called the Window trail I met a young couple as I was coming back from the Window. We greeted one another and the young woman asked me if I’d seen any bays. I stared at her stupidly trying to figure out what she was asking me. “Birds?”, says I. “No, bays”, she repeated. Her companion rescued me by telling me she was saying bears. I was glad to report I had not seen any bears. I met another young couple who greeted me with smiles and hellos. They were Anglos but their appearance and dress was different from our part of the world. I didn’t detect any non-American accent so I assume they were some other part of the country. The fellow sported such a wide mustache you hold him by the feet and use him for a push broom.
One of the many pleasant features of Big Bend is the solitude and quiet. Many times I stopped on a hike and just listened. Without the sound of my boots on the trail and the occasional bird, there was nothing. It would also have been very dark at night if there hadn’t been a Comanche moon. My accommodations, the Pathfinder, were adequate if a little cramped. One of the nights it rained and the vehicle must have a very small leak which produced a drop that hit me square in the face as I tried to sleep. There was one other later in the night and again it found it’s mark but I was otherwise untroubled by the passing storm.