The last time I floated the Rio Grande through Boquillas Canyon was in 1979. So, after 40 years, it became time to remind myself of some of the lessons that that 33-mile stretch of river had taught me. And so, I floated it once again.
As an outdoor adventure camp owner and guide, I learned and shared practical outdoor living tips. Things such as the importance of packing plenty of both TP and coffee when going into the backcountry. Or the value of having the biggest spoon in your eating group. But that list also includes broader concepts of outdoor adventure.
The items on that list have significantly shaped how my life has unfolded. And after a recent backpacking trip with old friends into Wyoming’s Wind River Range, I realized the beckoning call of the wild was something I didn’t want to go silent.
So, fresh off the Sheep’s Bridge Trail in the Winds, I took the next step in doing just that. I think of Big Bend’s Boquillas Canyon as perhaps the most spectacular place in Texas and one of the most compelling wild places I’ve ever been. And it was also somewhere I could still get to and experience the way I wanted. So, I put things in motion for a return trip in 2020.
My first thought was to wing it and do it on my own. After all, I’d done that three times back in the ’70s, and it was the destination for the first backcountry trip I ever led, so how hard could it be, I reasoned? Initially, I was overwhelmed with the realities of late 2019. I had no canoe, no canoeing equipment, the shuttle was complicated, and no one except my wife, Lori, was available to accompany me. Then, to refresh my memory, I read about remote camping locations, first-aid kits, and other potential emergencies. And I quickly concluded it was prudent to bring in help.
Right off the bat, I thought of my old friend, Jeff Renfrow, who has lived and worked in the Big Bend area for years. I picked up the telephone, called him, and things quickly began to fall in place. He was a longtime river guide. He’d left that industry a few years before but had recently gotten back into outfitting river trips as the part-owner of a Terlingua company, Wild Adventure Outfitters. He explained that he was drawn back into the river-guiding business because the company and its owner, Matthew Grisham, had reinserted wild into the outdoor-adventure equation. I was excited to hear that, as it was something I’d been hoping someone would do for years. He told me they could supply the boats and other river equipment, deal with the logistics, and send along an experienced guide who would know the area’s nuances. I/we would provide the camping gear, food, and a level of expertise and experience. It was just what I wanted.
At that point, Lori and I began talking with others about joining us, and eventually a small group came together. A few weeks before COVID came on with a fury, our group of 8 met and launched our canoes into the river near Rio Grande Village. Interestingly, it was at the exact location where my previous three floats down the river had begun.
While that first early morning was chilly, it was sunny, calm, and warm by mid-morning when we pushed out into the current. It turns out a cold front came through the day before we got on the water, clearing the atmosphere and giving us four days of spectacularly pleasant weather. The nighttime temps ranged from the low ’30s to the high ’40s. Daytime highs were mainly in the ’70s, and the only wind we experienced was the occasional gentle breeze. The water temperature was pleasant, and the skies ranged from clear to only partly cloudy. In short, the weather was as good as it gets. And when you’re living outdoors, that’s an especially good thing.
The first part of the river moves lazily through the rolling desert for several miles before entering the actual canyon. The Mexican town of Boquillas is a short distance above the river and a few miles downriver from the put-in. Before 9-11, crowds of tourists from the National Park crossed the river below Boquillas via rowboat at an informal border crossing and were driven up to the small town to shop for curios and eat tacos. Then, after that fateful event, the crossing was closed. It only recently reopened and is now a legal crossing between Mexico and the U.S, so tourists are once again flowing into the town. We floated past the currently active crossing but soon left the confusion of civilization behind as we entered the canyon.
Once in the canyon, the river runs between ever-steepening rock walls on both sides. Within a short distance, the cliffs rise out of the water over 1000 feet and are virtually vertical in places. Massive limestone walls make travel through the area, other than via the river, challenging and, in places, downright impossible. By early afternoon, we came to a suitable camping spot on a sand/gravel bar where we stopped and set up camp.
One of the nice things about canoeing is that you can carry a lot of gear. Among other things, we had five ice chests full of drinks and fresh food, 30 gallons of drinking water, a 2-burner propane stove, Dutch ovens, a fire pan, and chairs. As far as I was concerned, we were living the good life. Every time I filled my water bottle with fresh water or pulled some fresh food out of an ice chest, I thought back to previous trips and wondered how we handled those kinds of things. And right off the bat, I realized that back then, we were probably just lucky not to get sick from the water, and that while our reliance on early-era dehydrated food that inevitably required boiling water didn’t taste all that good, it wasn’t about to spoil.
Throughout the canyon, the water flows were decent. It was by no means high water, but the levels were sufficient enough to keep us from needing to do much boat dragging. Although there are a few tricky paddling spots, that entire section of the river is devoid of significant rapids or whitewater.
The second river morning was once again initially cold. But with a good fire and hot coffee, we soon warmed up, broke camp, loaded the boats, and shoved off as the first rays of the sun began filling that part of the canyon. Jack, our guide, led us on several interesting side-canyon hikes throughout the day. In the early afternoon, after negotiating a short technical section of the river, we arrived at a good camping spot and set up camp for the night.
The skies in the area are among the darkest in North America, meaning there are a lot of stars to see. It was noticeably warmer the second night, and I almost didn’t need a coat when I got up and went outside for early-morning coffee on Day 3.
Our big river event on the third day was a relatively new rapid, now described as a possible Class III, called the Rockslide. While I kept recalling that much of the area was unchanged from my previous trips, the Rockslide was new. It developed only a few years ago when some tremendous rocks fell into the river from the south cliff. While there’s undoubtedly a drop in elevation in the area of the “rapid” (which makes the water flow faster), the section turned out to be only fast but straightforward, and we all got through without incident. We floated a bit further downstream from there and stopped at the entrance to a slot canyon for lunch and hiked into another interesting side canyon.
We stopped for our last night about 8 miles short of the trip destination at Heath Canyon. The final night was a bit chillier than the previous one, although not horribly cold. During the evening, a few clouds began filtering in. While they did block out most of the stars, they also shielded us from the sun’s most intense rays the following day.
On the last day, our final few miles of paddling continued to be scenic, even though we eventually left the main canyon behind. There were two small Class II rapids, and rather than risk tumping at the end of the trip, some of us lined our canoes around the worst of them. By mid-afternoon, we floated under the bridge at La Linda, noted the remnants of the old Fluorspar mine on the Mexican side, and landed at the Heath Canyon take-out.
It was a good trip and had all the ingredients of the sort of outdoor adventure experience I’ve always sought- travel through wild, rugged country with compelling people. And it was also four days of symbolism for me about my life up to this point. The fact that we were on a river is poignant. After all, life is a river as far as I’m concerned. While we all have an idea about where that river ultimately goes, we’re never sure what any given section of it on any given day will be like. And I’ve realized that when I come to a tricky spot, having experience, decent planning (up to a point), and solid companions inevitably leads to better outcomes.
This trip significantly exemplified that latter point. We were a group of eight with a wide range of experience and were well-equipped. We headed right into the heart of wild magnificence with no worries about the outcome because we were well prepared. Many of the trip’s lessons were not new to me. But I was overjoyed to reconfirm that mystery still awaits, which, for me, is the greatest lesson of them all.
The Rio Grande River
