The first day on the roads, Roger led Ed and I down the Old Maverick Road in Big Bend National Park. Fourteen miles of mostly flat terrain and easy gravel, the park calls it an 'improved dirt road' that nearly any car can travel. Many species of cacti are dispersed across the desert floor; giant towering yuccas lining the road made me feel as though I was riding down a Hollywood boulevard lined with palms.
Referred to as El Despoblado (Uninhabited Land) the Big Bend region was home to many generations of Mexican, Mexican-American, and American settlers. Long before them Native North and Central Americans traveled through, hunted, raided and lived on this desert and in its mountains. Visitors that see only relentless desolation think that people can not survive there. But they have. And still do.
Several historic sites are readily accessible from the road: ruins of old homes. Luna's jacal is the remains of a shallow long mud and rock structure where a Mexican family lived for decades under the shadow of a tall basalt cliff. The Terlingua Abajo site near the Terlingua Creek contains several ruins of adobes. The occupants of these humble habitats were Mexican settlers that farmed land near the creek to feed themselves and market to miners in the Study Butte and Terlinagua regions as well as in the area that became the national park.
People that lived and traveled through the vastness of the Chihuahua Desert in SW Texas and Mexico survived on more than just tenacity. Without a special collaboration with the land, intelligence and skill to rely on local resources, they could not have survived. Most people from our modern day society can't. Our 'adventure' rides pale in comparison to how people lived entire lives here centuries ago. We're too used to having things provided for us and living in a land of plenty. But nothing lasts forever.
We rode our street-camouflaged dirt bikes past mesas with the Lady always hovering in the distance. The closer we rode, the more the anticipation grew. It was all I could do to refrain from rushing into her embrace. We parked the bikes at a trail head and wandered down a bank to the Terlingua Creek.
Across the mostly dry creek bed was the Lady in all her magnificence: two 1,500-foot cliffs with a narrow gorge from which the Rio Grande flows and Terlingua Creek merges. And it is within these canyon walls that the Rio Grande bends sharply, giving that area the name, Big Bend.
Santa Elena doesn't care who or what claims her cliffs as theirs, but humankind does. The east cliff resides in Mexico, the west side is claimed by the US and Texas. Despite the imposed political boundary most living things, including some humans, don't acknowledge split territories. They come and go as they please across the river and its banks, the cliffs and the air.
The Rio Grande cut this seven-mile gorge through uplifted blocks of limestone. Terlingua fault lies at the base of the massive cliffs which moved 3000 feet along it to form the Sierra Ponce mesa in Mexico and the thin Mesa de Anguila in Texas. Terlingua Creek flows along the base of Mesa de Anguila and into the Rio Grande at the mouth of Santa Elena.
Gazing at the towering cliffs and trying to comprehend the millions of years of change on the earth upon which you stand is nearly mind boggling. Trying to resolve the force which moved this land with such violence with its majestic beauty and grandeur can leave one awestruck.
The mesa is within the Chihuahuan Desert and the vegetation varies depending on proximity to water and altitude. A three-quarter mile trail clings to the wall near the mouth of the canyon and provides excellent views of tall grasses and shrubs along the river's edge in the canyon bottom, and cliff-hanging succulents growing in crevasse and on shelves in the dry sun-drenched cliff walls.
Knowing, even in loss of comprehension, the course of geological history up to this time, and accepting changes in the future, only enhances the wonder and beauty of this canyon and its habitat. And I will be back to spend a day with her, float into her caverns and watch shadows chased by the light up and down her gorge. I will be swallowed by the whale, embraced by the majestic Lady called Santa Elena Canyon.
Next: Cottonwoods dream home