Disclaimer: This document is for entertainment only and is not intended to instruct or educate anyone about anything. If you choose to emulate the stupid things I do you are on your own, and I take no responsibility for the consequences of your actions.

Trip Report: It was once again time to string together my birthday with Memorial Day and a few vacation days and knock off another stretch of the Rio Grande, so I piled all of the necessary gear into and onto the Volvo and departed right after work on May 25. There had been a lot of rain all over Texas recently and as I headed west the desert was in bloom, and apparently, so was my head.

I drove through a pretty good rainstorm south of Alpine, TX. Fortunately it had abated by the time I arrived at Desert Sports to sack out in their dirt parking lot. The next morning I was informed by the Desert Sports staff that I would be riding the remnants of a flash flood that had washed through the park the night before. This was good news, since my biggest concern was the possibility of having to slog through 50 miles of unshaded desert on a sluggish river before reaching the relatively cool shade of Mariscal Canyon.

I had all of my gear ready to unload, so the shuttle driver was able to leave the put in pretty quickly. After that I meticulously loaded 5 days worth of food, water and gear into and onto the boat.

Finally, before departing it was time to implement my plan to protect myself against the ravages of the early summer sun: full coverage textile sun screen, with the exception of my feet, which would receive regular applications of spray on liquid sunscreen.

Once I got on the water I was very pleased to find that the river was, to quote James Brown, "movin', doin' it, like a sex machine!" Many sections of the river bank were freshly eroded and the more gently sloped banks were covered with a thick helping of mud.

I covered about 25 miles the first day. The fast moving water was pushing me ahead of schedule and that was just fine by me. Waiting a day for a pick up beats dragging your boat to make schedule.

As the sun set on the first day I began looking for a suitable camp site. With 40 liters of water in it, my boat had never been this heavy, and I naively assumed I would be able to drag it to a secure mooring without unloading. With that intent I chose a site with a gently sloped, grassy shore line.

I unloaded only what I needed to make camp and managed to drag the boat to a grassy perch a couple of feet above the waterline. I wasn't very happy with this set up as the river levels had been pretty volatile recently and the current had not fully settled down yet.

After dinner I scratched some lines in the mud to mark the current water level and then bedded down for the night. At about 2 am I awoke with the impression that the river was louder, and sure enough the water had risen and covered my marks. My boat was pretty well lashed down, but I didn't want to take any chances, so I laboriously dragged it a couple more feet above the water line where it remained securely for the remainder of the night. After this hassle I decided to fully unload my boat every night for the remainder of the trip so that I could easily secure it on higher ground and not worry about it.

The first few mile of the next day brought me to mostly flat, but fast moving water.

In addition to the fast moving water I also enjoyed temps that were about 10 degrees cooler than normal, with highs in the 90s rather than above 100. Still, I had to remain very diligent about my hydration and sun protection.

Later in the afternoon the river began to pick up speed as it approached the entrance to Mariscal Canyon. Within this canyon would lie the only technical hazards of this trip. Rock Pile Rapid and Tight Squeeze Rapid. The first has no easy scouting point, but only required some snappy maneuvering through a maze of boulders. I think the high water worked to my benefit at this rapid as it covered some of the boulders and created additional channels for my passage.

Shortly after navigating the Rock Pile I spotted the giant flat top boulder that forms Tight Squeeze. I then landed on the right bank to scout the rapid. The following picture is the view upstream of where I landed.

The Tight Squeeze is a tight channel formed by the flat boulder seen just right of my sun burnt face here.

Apparently my hat was not sufficient to protect me from sun light reflecting off of the water.

Here are some close ups of The Tight Squeeze

In my estimation the primary hazards were the rock just upstream from the narrow channel, and the possibility of getting misaligned by the "boogie water" above the squeeze then getting pinned sideways against the rocks on either side of the squeeze. Of course any hazard is amplified when you are 40 miles from help of any kind.

After a thorough reconnaissance of The Tight Squeeze I was turbo jazzed to run it.

I hiked back to my boat, donned my helmet, thumped my chest a couple of times and launched. As expected, some quick corrective strokes were required to keep the chaotic currents above the squeeze from misaligning my boat. After getting shot through the squeeze I had to make a hard left turn to keep from hitting a rock just below the squeeze. Then, just like that, The Tight Squeeze was over and I was on my merry way.

Further down Mariscal Canyon is a place where another major canyon crosses it. At this spot a flat clearing on the Texas side is known as Cross Canyon Camp. I decided to spend two nights here so that I could do some hiking and rest my upper body. By nightfall my camp was set up and I stood there wondering how I hand ended up living on a tarp down by the river.

My remaining water and Gatorade supply came in handy for keeping my tarp home from getting blown away by the wind. There was a possibility of more rain, so I made sure to keep my bivouac bag handy through the breezy night.

The next morning greeted me with lovely dawn colors on the canyon walls. The top of this particular wall is known as the Mariscal Rim. The trip up there is a popular hike, but one that must be taken seriously in the hotter months due to its exposure and lack of water supply points.

My information indicated that there is an old pack trail that heads north up Cross Canyon from my campsite. After breakfast I decided I would pack 2 liters of water and see how far I could hike before the desert heat became too dangerous. There is a point above Cross Canyon Camp where the pack trail becomes pretty faint and makes a sharp left to drop into the bottom of Cross Canyon. At this point I headed directly north to a ridge top instead. I quickly realized I was off trail, but the scrambling was pretty exciting and the early morning views south into Mexico were spectacular.

After this photo op I backtracked to where I had lost the pack trail. After a few minutes of sniffing around I once again picked up the trail and continued to head up Cross Canyon. After another mile and a half of uphill hiking I came to flat clearing where several trails meet.

Standing next to this sign I drank my last few drops of water. The view from Mariscal Rim is a very alluring objective, and people have died hiking to it without adequate water supplies. May and June are the hottest months of the year in the Big Bend and continuing another 2.5 miles to the Mariscal Rim at high noon without water would have been suicide, so there was nothing to do but turn around and hike the 2 miles back down to my camp.

As I came within sight of the muddy river I was very glad I had turned around as I began to feel the stress of the oppressive mid-day heat.

Once back in camp I drank lots of fluids and sought refuge in the shade of the carrizal, but even in the shade the heat felt suffocating. There was only one thing left to do. I slathered myself with sunscreen and walked to a rocky spot in the riverbed. There I laid my shirt on a rock as a pillow and then submerged my entire body in the cool, muddy water. This proved sufficient to keep any further heat stress at bay, so I spent the remainder of the afternoon alternately soaking and snacking in the riverbed.

The next morning I was eager to leave the comforts of Cross Canyon Camp and continue down the river. Despite my best efforts at sun protection the previous day's hiking and soaking had left my face looking as leathery as ever.

As I was packing up I decided to snap a picture of this odd looking mushroom at my campsite. Clearly the recent rains had brought all sorts of things into bloom

Once I loaded up the boat and got on the water I was treated to more spectacular views of Mariscal Canyon.

After paddling for a couple of hours I decided to pull over for a snack at a very muddy place.

I scrambled up the mud covered rocks on the riverbank to higher ground where I was treated to the beauty of the desert in bloom.

Next up was San Vicente Canyon: a much shorter canyon than Mariscal. In one portion of San Vicente the rock quality along the Mexican Bank was exceptional. I enjoyed a some shade under bullet hard limestone into which the river had carved big knobby holds.

This quality cliff band was about 20 feet tall and went on for a couple hundred feet along the river. With enough time and the right equipment it would be the perfect place for a day of deep water bouldering.

Near the end of San Vicente Canyon the cliffs got taller and I heard the unmistakable shrieking of Peregrine Falcons. To my delight I discovered that it was actually a pair of falcons and that they were entering and exiting their eyrie. Late may is pretty late in the Peregrine nesting season, but it was possible that the pair were still looking after their young. I pulled the boat over immediately and sat in the shade on a muddy bank, watching the two with my binoculars. My boat almost floated away while I was distracted watching the falcons, and since there was no secure mooring, I decided to be on my way after a few minutes.

Downstream from San Vicente Canyon I stopped to have a look at this geologically interesting cliff band.

I was packing up to leave after snapping this picture when I noticed something peculiar about the small island I had landed on.

There was moving water above the current level of the river. Furthermore that water was clear! As I approached I discovered that it was also hot! The recent flooding had eroded the upstream bank of this island and uncovered a small hot spring. There are many hot springs in this area, and no doubt many of them flow unnoticed directly into the river bed or the through the vegetation along the banks.

Aside from being geologically interesting this discover was very exciting from a personal hygiene standpoint. For the last three days the only clear water I had seen was that in my drinking water supply. Since I couldn't spare this for washing purposes everything from the hair on my head to my dishes and cooking utensils was caked with the fine silt from the river water. Oh the joy of washing in hot, clear water! With a boat full of clean dishes, a clean, wet shirt and clean hair my spirits improved considerably.

After two nights at the dusty Cross Canyon camp I decided to make an effort to locate one of the primitive campsites that the NPS maintains on the Texas Bank of the river. These are usually accessed by driving along River Road, so finding one of them from river level would require some orienteering skill. I knew I was upstream from the La Clocha primitive camp sites, so I got my bearings with my map and compass and paddled attentively until I was pretty certain I was at the correct spot. When I scrambled uphill I was proven right. After a couple of trips hauling gear in my trusty duffel bag my gear was spread across a flat spot covered in gravel that was scoured clean from millennia of windblasting.

As I set up camp and prepared dinner the light of the setting sun created some spectacular desert vistas.

The last of my perishable food consisted of part of a summer sausage and half of an onion. I decided to fire both up with some lard and eat the whole mess with some chips and dried fruit. After such a calorie intensive dinner I was a happy kid indeed.

My last night on the river was breezy, but warm. Every time the wind woke me I was treated to the sight of the star filled sky above my sleeping tarp. The next morning I awoke refreshed and after breakfast commenced the task of hauling everything back down to the waters edge. After loading my boat back up I decided to snap a few shots of the unusualy large mollusk fossils at my launching point.

Langford Hot Springs was a couple of miles down stream from my campsite, but when I got there I discovered that the springs and the man made soaking pool were completely covered by the high water of the river. This pretty much canceled my plan of soaking for a couple of hours before paddling to the take out, which lay about a mile downstream from Langford Hot Springs. So, a couple of hours after leaving my last camp at La Clocha I was at the Rio Grande Village take out!

Because of the fast water I arrived a day earlier than planned, so the shuttle driver I had hired at Desert Sports wasn't scheduled to rendezvous with me until the next day. I figured I could spend the night in the Rio Grande Village Campground, but just in case, I called Desert Sports from a nearby payphone. I was very pleased when they told me that my shuttle driver was available to pick me up right then. When he arrived I made sure to tip him extra for being flexible with the schedule.

I dropped off my shuttle driver, and, being a day ahead of schedule decided to head northwest on 170 toward Chinati Hot Springs. Along the way I stopped to snap some pictures of the rapids in The Hodoos section of The Rio Grande.

With the river so high the Hoodoos Rapids looked like they were in fine form. It made me wish I had my whitewater canoe handy for a couple of fun rides through the rapids. But alas, this was a flat water trip, so I continued on my way.

I arrived at Chinati Hot Springs before sundown and claimed a camp site. Chinati Hot Springs is a charming little complex of cabins built in the 1930s with a spring that flows at a temperature of 110 degrees and at a rate of about 9 gallons per minute. This soothing water is piped into several hand crafted tubs as well as a communal pool.

The next morning I spent several hours washing dishes in the communal kitchen, filling up my water bottles and just generally lazing about in the water from the springs.

Eventually I got everything loaded up and commenced the next leg of my journey to Hueco Tanks State Park. There are two ways out of Chinati Hot Spring. One involves a rough dirt road up through Pinto Canyon with spectacular scenery to make up for the driving conditions. The other way backtracks southeast down 170 to Presidio and then takes Hwy 67 north to Marfa. The Volvo is 2WD and had been running a little hot the last few days so I decided for the longer but safer second option.

A few hours later while driving north out of Marfa I drove past the launch site for the mysterious Flying Goldfish of Marfa?!? Your guess is as good as mine.

I spent the next three days bouldering in Hueco Tanks State Park. As June is the hottest month of the year in El Paso, this usually involved an early morning session at the rocks before escaping to Barnes and Noble or Smoothie King for refreshments and sweet, sweet air conditioning.

The campground at The Hueco Rock Ranch just outside of the state park can be a bright and cheery place at sunrise, especially during the months after the throngs of itinerant climbers have left for the season.

My mornings and evenings there were punctuated by visits from a kitty named Bunny. When Bunny wasn't busy terrorizing desert rodents he was gracious enough to spend a few minutes cleaning my pots.

It's hard to snap action shots while climbing alone, but I did manage to get some photos of some of the rocks I climbed as well as some of the scenery in the park.

I worked on a roof route called Nobody Here Gets Out Alive for the first two days. On the third day I was pretty beat and my feet were on fire from soaking in mud for five days. I was going to pack it in and head straight home after breakfast, but I decided to give this route one last go. Wonder of wonders I actually managed to climb the thing! This was a source of much joy and put me in a great mood for the long, lonesome drive back to Austin.

Thanks for reading!