I stop in to Jose Falcones, one of two small restaurants in town. A crippled mariachi stroms and wails in a corner as the day's tourists from Big Bend enjoy meals priced in USD upon plastic tables and chairs. The wind howls and napkins fly away out to the dusty streets. I order a burrito and Pacifico Light, basking in the happiness that is a sunny winter afternoon in Mexico. A group of Texans from a nearby table and I strike up a conversation about riding in Big Bend. They are on KTM's which I noticed at the crossing. I tell them breifly of my travels and adventures and share some information about the park and roads to explore. They depart as I finish my meal when suddenly another beer comes out. "No mas, por favor" I say to the waiter but he just points at the disappearing figures. They paid for my meal and another beer. What a divine treat for the day! |
Near the Boquillas Canyon at the south end of the park exists one of the smallest border crossing in the US. The Boquillas crossing reopened in 2013 and allowed tourism dollars and visitors to the park to experince the flavor of a small Mexican puebla in the Chihuahuan desert. LINK The town exists almost solely on tourism and has a somewhat staged feel about it after visiting real towns within the Mexican Baja Peninsula. Once across the river, one can rent a burro or horse for $8, or hitch a ride in a pickup for $5 to the 1/2mi uphill to the customs post. I chose to walk and enjoy the windblown sand and view of Sierra Del Carmen to the east. Once in town I got the free tourist visa and stamp on my passport then headed out to photograph the small village. The community is built of an assortment of adobe or cinderblock dwellings, most in quite poor shape but lovingly attended. One small church stands in brightly painted yellow against the blue sky. I go inside to explore the lime green painted interior. The wind blows fiercely causing the wooden ceiling panels to sway inside overhead. Groans and creaks of the old building echo through the small church as if the building was alive, some would say it is. The worn pews and humble interior reflect a sacred but used space of a poor desert people.
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Mike SaundersIn May 2014 I quit my job to ride a Honda Ruckus over 69'000 mi and counting. Wild camping most nights and cooking most of my own meals, I keep the costs low and the landscape changing. Archives
April 2018
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