Big Bend

March 19.
Awoke to the giggling of a bunch of giddy pre-teen girls in the next tent. We left Cottonwoods in late morning, and drove to Chisos Basin campground to do some hiking on the nearby trails. After driving around the parking lot five times we finally got a spot when it was vacated by two motorcycle dudes. Saw a few new species, including Say’s phoebe, acorn woodpecker, and the jay formerly known as Mexican (our Sibley guide doesn’t have the new name – I think it’s gray-chested or something). Didn’t make it all the way up to Emory Peak, but still got great views the whole way, of the Chisos Mountains and the surrounding Chihuahuan Desert. Back at the bottom, we went to the little convenience store next to the visitor center and bought a little fold-up stove for $10, to keep us going till we find a replacement tank for the Coleman. On the way to our new campsite, we made a detour to the Hot Springs. Cliff swallow nests and ancient wall paintings adorned the cliffs along the river, while black phoebes and yellow-rumped warblers (of the western Audubon's variety) darted in and out of bug swarms high up on the cliffside. We spent a while sitting in the shallow hot springs with a whole motley crew of other park visitor, hopping over the stone barrier into the Rio Grande to cool off and swim a bit. Finally, we arrived at our new home, Gravel Pit 4. That’s the name of our charming backcountry campsite, whose claim to fame is that it’s the only one in the area with a tree.

March 20.
Got an early start and drove to the Rio Grande Village campground, to walk on the nearby nature trail. Then on to Boquillas Canyon for a short hike. Though the parking lot began to fill up soon afterward, we were the only ones there when we arrived. As we crested the top of the first hill, we started to hear a distant voice singing in Spanish and echoing all up and down the canyon. We could see the guy in our binoculars, sitting on a rock on the Mexican side and taking advantage of the acoustics. He was holding sheet music, we discovered as we approached…then we came upon his donation jar, sitting on the ground next to a home-made sign informing us that “just listening ain’t going to cut it.” There were also piles of decorated walking sticks and things for sale, and on the way back we saw a different fellow on horseback crossing over the river to replenish the walking stick supply. Lots of infuriatingly tricky-to-identify swallows, as well as our first look at distinctive white-throated swifts. Back to Rio Grande Village to do dishes, get rid of trash, fill up water, and make a phone call attempt at the payphone. And by early afternoon we were back at the campsite, now glad of the shade provided by our tree. We read, lazed around for once, and gave the car a much-needed reorganization. Early dinner of mac and cheese with extra flavoring: weird brownish particles that came out of the pasta box (possible larvae), and questionable tomato sauce. Did some writing and painted a watercolor of the opposite riverbank in the fading light. More singing from over the border, noncommercial this time as far as I could tell.

Abby