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Published: March 5th 2017
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Thursday dawned cool and overcast, and we hooked up early to make the 50 mile drive across the park to Costolon, and the Cottonwood campground. The roadway winds up and down, around the Chisos Range, with one wonderful vista after another. In due course, we arrived at the campground around 10:30. The trick here, we have found, is to pounce early on these sites. They are not reserve-able, strictly first come, first serve, so if you time your arrival to about the time most folks are leaving, the pickings are good. We got a nice spot, south-facing to make both the solar engineer and the feng shui guru happy. This was an all primitive campground, no power, pit toilets, and the only water was from spigots marked "non-potable". We liked the site right well, as did the roving bands of javalina that were grazing all about.
After we got settled, we headed to the Costolon Ranger Station to apply for our river permit. There is no boating allowed on the Rio Grande without a permit, and the consequences of getting caught without one are serious. The regulations are kind of persnickety, and we found that to have two kayaks in
the water with two paddlers, we would need an extra paddle, and an extra PFD. I had brought an extra paddle, but only our two kayaking life jackets. Usually, they have loaner jackets, but the store attendant had forgotten to bring any that day. Always the good sport, Cathy volunteered to sit this one out, and let me take her jacket as my extra. I don't think she was too disappointed anyway, as she was a bit apprehensive about paddling upstream all the way into the canyon. So the ranger filled out the paperwork for me alone, and again, because of my OFP (old fart pass) -- there was no charge.
We then drove about 6 miles back to the launch point, about 2 miles downstream from the canyon entrance. We launched my ugly old kayak, loaded it up with water and snacks, and the great lunch that Cathy had prepared for me. Away I went, stroking up against the current. Mostly, it wasn't too bad, but there were some shallow riffles that I could not power through. Not only was the current very strong there, but the very shallow water made it difficult to get the paddle deep
enough to have some grip. In a couple of places, there was simply nothing to do but get out and pull the boat along till the water got deeper. After a bit though, I approached the canyon opening, and it was stunning. The river here has carved through a high plateau, leaving two shear walls 1500' high. That's certainly impressive, but the most amazing thing is how narrow it is. As I paddled along into shade of the gorge, I kept craning my neck to look up. In some places the river had undercut the stone to the effect that when looking straight up, there was actually rock over you, not sky -- unbelievable.
For the first mile, maybe mile and a half, the going was great, fairly deep, with slack water, I cruised along easily, just taking it all in. Then, from around a curve, I heard the sound of running water. Sure enough, the current increased, and I had to lean into the paddle pretty hard to keep going, and then soon it was time to get out and walk the boat. This went on like that at intervals, sometimes good boating, then again, climb out and
pull it along. As the course of the canyon twisted and turned, sometimes I was in cool shadows, and then next, into the bright warm sunshine. I came to a spot with a good pull-out bank that was in the sun, and it was also on the northern, US side of the river, and so legal for me. I had already checked off the box for "lunch in Mexico" on this trip, so no sense taking any chances. I sat on the grassy bank and had my sandwich and a drink. It was warm and still, and perfectly silent. I thought that I could be sitting on that spot today, or 10 years ago, or a hundred, or thousand, and it would not look, sound, or feel one bit different. That is a rare and valuable thing.
After a nice interlude, it was back into the boat, and further up into the canyon. I had made a promise to myself that I would turn back downstream at 2 o'clock, and at about ten of, I rounded another turn to see a really steep gradient ahead with very swift and shallow riffles. I figured that it was a good time to turn it around a let the current take me back down and out of the gorge. As expected, I made great time now, only paddling enough to keep me on course. Though I've been using canoes and kayaks my whole life, I don't have a lot of experience running fast water in streams. It was fun, and a bit exciting, to try to choose the best route around rocks and gravel bars. Sometimes I chose well, other times not so much, but there wasn't enough flow to get in any real trouble. Rounding one bend, I came upon a couple pulling their kayaks up through one of the shallow riffles. The guy said "You must be Tom. Your wife told us to tell you that she had met a cute guy back on the canyon trail, and that she was leaving with him." So I said "What, again?" I then gave them a capsule preview of what was ahead for them upstream, and went on my way.
When I got back out of the canyon and into the light I saw Cathy chilling out in a camp chair by the water on a rocky beach -- I guess the thing with the cute guy just didn't work out. We decided to pull the boat there and carry it up to the truck in the parking lot. She showed me the great picture she had gotten, of me stroking my ugly old kayak into the canyon -- I just love that shot. She had climbed the trail high up onto the canyon entrance to get it -- well worth it.
After we loaded it was back to Camp Fred at Javalina acres for another early-to-bed night, tired! Tomorrow we will be leaving Big Bend behind for a stay in Terlingua Ghost Town, and a big night out at the famous Starlight.
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