Rio Grande Trip: Episode V - No Mas

This day got off to a roaring start. We got up, packed up our crap, got in our kayaks, and started paddling. For about 2 minutes. At that point we had to get out and drag our kayaks due to low flow. Then we got back in. Then we got back out. We repeated this for about 2 miles until we reached our pick up point.

Some stuff happened between then, though. First, we encountered a group of canoes heading up river. I imagine they did more dragging than paddling.

Then, as we got near the end of Santa Elena Canyon we got to a point where there was a multitude (ok, 3 or 4) of people. There were hiking trails with nearby road access that brought people to the waters edge. I suppose as the three of us navigated our kayaks down the river it made for a pretty cool picture with the canyon behind us. Luckily, Brandon and I realized this was an opportunity for us to ruin someone's day and began ramming each other with our kayaks engaging in a Greko-Roman style naval battle to the death. Unfortunately, the contest ended in a draw and neither of us died.

Shortly there after we arrived at the end of the line--a massive, exposed gravel bar on the Texas side with an imposing thousand-foot cliff on the Mexican side. As we sat baking in the sun, waiting for Bobski to arrive we met some bikers and some old people that looked upon us with vigilance and suspicion. I offered to take a photo for them which they promptly refused.

We decided to seek refuge from the sun and wandered up the road. We found some park composting toilets and Brandon decided it would be prudent if he donated some material for composting. As he sat down, a caravan of park rangers arrived to inspect the station and began banging around outside the toilets. This probably ruined Brandon's composting experience which brought joy to Justin and I, who had been chatting with the Rangers. They explained to us the river was low because the fucking Mexicans were stealing all their water. We all fell silent and mentally shook our fists in the direction of Mexico.

Once Bobski arrived we loaded our crap. He then said, "I've never had a traffic ticket, so why don't one of you guys drive."

Apparently he had trepidation regarding two of us riding in the back of the pick-up through the park.

Justin drove.

Poorly.

Over dustiest road in existence.

Fortunately I had my trusty bandanna and used it to cover my mouth and nose outlaw style.

We pulled out of Terlingua and headed for some spot Justin knew that had cool T-shirts. I wanted to buy one for my wife in order to please her and incur less wrath for engaging on a long trip out of cell phone range. We got to turn off only to discover the gift shop was like 15 miles out of our way. We made a consentual decision and said, "Fuck it."

We made a stop in Alpine for Mexican food and Margaritas--only to discover they were "wine based" Margaritas. We settled for Diet Coke instead. We queried the waitress on the issue of if Brandon's man-card should be revoked for refusing to sleep under the stars like Justin and I. She said, "I would have slept in the tent!"

That confirmed our suspicions that Brandon was acting womanish and promptly revoked his man-card indefinitely.

Then we drove a long ass way home and the trip ended. Successfully.