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Big Bend National Park

By Scott Richardson

September 7^th, 2025

Big Bend features the entire Chisos mountain range and more than a thousand square miles of desert. Yet, it’s the dramatic bend in the Rio Grande River that gives the park its name. Spain, Mexico, the Republic of Texas, and the Confederacy all once claimed the region. Today, the United States controls 118 miles of the Rio Grande in Big Bend. This area marks the international border.

While the border may be clear, it’s not impassable.

Upstream, people siphon water for agriculture in Colorado, New Mexico, and Texas. Albuquerque and El Paso take their share for city use. Water from golf courses and factories gets diverted. When it returns, it is often polluted by waste from farms and cities. By the time the Rio Grande reaches Big Bend, only 5% of its natural flow remains. And much of Big Bend’s water flow is fed by

Beneath the towering limestone cliffs of Santa Elena Canyon, the thick river mud is the only thing blocking the 40-yard crossing from one side to the other. But it’s not hordes of illegal immigrants and drug smugglers crossing. Instead, tourists willing to dig their boots out of the muck to touch the rock on the Mexican side.

The Drive to Texas

My total drive from Philadelphia to Big Bend was over 30 hours, and I decided to do it in just two and a half days. One night after work, I drove until I reached Ohio. On my first full day, I crossed four states and ended my drive south of the Oklahoma-Texas border. The final eight hours through Texas put me within a stone’s throw of Mexico by mid-afternoon.

The last eight hours of desert driving dragged by. The empty, quick morning roads became slow and crowded with trucks by early afternoon. Oil derricks pumped steadily along the road. Oil trucks entered traffic slowly throughout the Permian Basin.

I should have stopped for groceries earlier. I found a carpeted grocery store in Fort Stockton. There, I picked up produce and meat for the week. Lunch was an asado wrapped in a homemade tortilla from Acosta’s Tortilla Factory.

Three hours south, I set up camp in the shade of a Cottonwood. The camp host stopped by to admire my car camper as I cooked dinner. She noted that without a tent I didn’t have to worry about the javelinas.

I was anxious to explore as the sun started to dip on the horizon. Santa Elena Canyon was just ten minutes away. At the overlook, I placed my foot on a rock to photograph the sunset. Suddenly, loose dirt slid beneath me, and I lost my balance. I tumbled down a drainage, ripping my left leg on every stone and cactus on the way down. I needed that leg for my hikes and biking plans in Big Bend. I feared the worst as I looked down at the bloody mess. Once I cleaned up the dirt, stones, and blood, I was left with a series of brush burns and scraped skin. Painful to the touch, but not painful to walk on. My ego was the biggest casualty, though no one was around to see my fall.

Santa Elena Canyon & Ross Maxwell Scenic Drive

I stargazed for an hour as the full moon lit the mouth of Santa Elena Canyon, then returned to camp to catch up on sleep.

The exhaustion of driving 30+ hours in two-and-a-half day made sleep come easier in the 86° heat. By 4 AM, the temperature finally dropped to a comfortable 68°. The sun rose behind a rock formation called Castolon. Native Americans and early pioneers used its unique shape as a landmark. The sunrise brightened the canyon wall near Santa Elena Canyon, and the temperature climbed quickly.

Big Bend’s Chihuahuan Desert seems empty, but it’s alive with creosote, sotol, yucca, and ocotillo. Rabbits hide in the shade of shrubs, coming to life each night when temperatures drop. Lizards sun themselves on rocks early in the morning and burrow underground by midday.

Cautious to explore the grand landscapes too quickly, I turned my attention to the small details of desert plants along the Ross Maxwell Scenic Drive.

The spines of a prickly pear provide its best defense. Rodents nibble between the spines, but javelinas bite into the pads, spikes and all. Pads knocked to the desert floor help propagate new plant growth.

Ocotillos are one of my favorite desert plants. The plant's appearance changes a lot based on moisture levels. Its stems have chlorophyll, which helps it survive long droughts. It may appear dry and dead, but within a day of rainfall, it sports small waxy leaves along its stems. It reaches out in every direction toward the sky, and in full bloom has brilliant flowers.

I hiked to the Lower Burro Mesa Pouroff, a short walk to a shaded oasis. Birds chirped in the hackberry shrubs, filling the surroundings with their vibrant calls. Orange and red volcanic hills lined the trail. It ended at a dry runoff, where water flows after heavy rains. On a sunny, blue-sky day like the one I had, the cliff provides shade and a place to cool off before you hike back out.

I went back to camp and made a salty lunch. This helped my body in the hot, dry desert. Then, I hiked into Santa Elena Canyon in the late afternoon heat. The tall Santa Elena and Del Carmen limestone cathedral rises a thousand feet above the Rio Grande River. This wild and scenic river marks the border between Mexico and the United States. Land managers from Texas and Mexico work together to protect a three-million acre conservation area. The dynamic, meandering river with highly variable flows caused by Rocky Mountain snowmelt and late-summer rains in the Chihuahuan Desert have been controlled into more predictable, deep-banked course through damming.

I was tempted to wade into the river to offset the heat of the day, but stopped when I saw a group caked in mud struggling to step back onto the bank.

I finished my hike and headed back to camp to cook dinner. I returned to the canyon at sunset, watching the walls glow with beauty in the evening sun. A man in a cowboy hat and a green suit adorned with desert plants and animals rushed past me on the trail. His bride was waiting for him at the river, trying in vain to keep her white dress clean in the mud.

That night, I laid awake watching what looked like an erratic surveillance drone. I thought it was moving back and forth in the sky. After watching it for an hour, I realized it was probably just a twinkling star. The heat may have been getting to me.

The heat stuck around until 4 AM. Finally, I could pull the sleeping bag up when the temperature dropped into the high 60s. I woke up at a reasonable hour and watched sunrise from the side of the scenic drive.

The Chimneys

The sun rose bright and harsh. I started my hike down through the open desert along the Chimneys Trail. The dry landscape was tough for the first few miles. But birds and blooming cacti broke up the boring scenery as I reached the chimney formations. The crumbly orange and tan rock of The Chimneys was fascinating. At one end, the rock had worn away into an arch.

The crumbly orange and beige rock of The Chimneys was fascinating. At one end, they had eroded into an arch.

Looking through the arch you could perfectly frame up its other notable form, a pillar.

Turkey vultures rested on top of a nearby rock, before taking flight and gliding along the landscape.

Early indigenous people likely found these landmarks as intriguing as we do today. They carved images into the rock called petroglyphs. The images showed faces, animals, and squiggly lines that might be snakes or the river. We can say with any certainty what their rock art means.

The desert is more alive than it seems at first glance. Its good to see vivid colors poking out of the otherwise khaki-colored landscape.

Early settlers and floodplain farmers

Cheap land drew the occasional hearty farmer to try their luck in the Rio Grande floodplain. The Sublett family joined the community of Castolon near Santa Elena Canyon in 1913. James Sublett brought mechanized farming to Big Bend. He cleared land and installed the area’s first irrigation system fed by a water wheel. Within a few years, he grew his farm to more than 2,500 acres and called it Grand Canyon Farms.

Albert W. Dorgan, Sublett’s business partner, built an adobe home in the 1930s. It sits on a mesa that overlooks Santa Elena Canyon. They left the home by 1938 and leased the property to a developer. The developer opened the “Mexitex Resort” to profit from the new national park. The resort failed, and they sold the house for inclusion in Big Bend National Park.

The Alvino House is the oldest adobe building in Big Bend. Adobe masons from Santa Helena, Mexico, repaired and stabilized it. Built in 1901 by Cipriano Hernandez, a hispanic settler who farmed near Castolon. He grew vegetables, grain, corn, melons, beans, and tomatoes. Then, he sold them to nearby mining camps. He ran engines for a cotton gin and a water pump. The pump brought water from the Rio Grande to irrigate fields.

His home served the entire community. He ran a small store that sold supplies to neighbors. He set aside a room as a religious shrine for Masses, baptisms, and weddings. Holidays were also celebrated there with everyone.

Castolon served as the center of activity for farmers and miners in the Big Bend region. In this isolated landscape, families collaborated to survive across the international border. The Mexican Revolution caused unrest at the border. An attack on Glenn Springs led the US War Department to set up Camp Santa Helena at Castolon. Within a few years, the revolution was over and troops moved on. Wayne Cartledge bought the camp's empty buildings. They turned into the La Harmonia Store where locals could buy hardware, supplies, and catalog items. The store was the sheriff’s department, bank, and notary. Its founder was a fair businessman. He always helped his neighbors, no matter their citizenship or language.

The store survived as a concession of the national park until May 2019 when a fire jumped the river and wind pushed embers across the Castolon Historic District.

The parks service supports a heroic wildland firecrew of Mexican nationals from nearby border villages known as Los Diablos. They’re ranch hands, cowboys and construction workers that can all saddle and ride a horse. They shortened response times for crticial wildfires by crossing through the Boquillas Port of Entry to combat fires throughout the park and beyond. They worked to limit damage during the Castolon fire. They also responded to natural disasters like Hurricanes Katrina, Sandy, Maria, and Ian. Plus, they tackled many wildfires across western states.

Paint Gap and the Chisos Mountains

I moved from my developed campsite at Cottonwood to a backcountry site along a rocky, dirt road at Paint Gap. There are four campsites on Paint Gap Road. Only the first two can be reached without a true 4x4 vehicle. I chose number two.

Beyond my campsite, the road turned into a rocky mess of loose stones and steep inclines. I biked along the road for a while, ignoring the discomfort of riding a bike without suspension. The road offered stunning views of the Chisos Mountains. It was mostly empty, except for one camper at the first site. I only saw their gear left out.

In the middle of the night, I opened the car door to pee and almost stepped on a scorpion. Once again, the heat didn’t die down until 4 AM when I could finally pull my sleeping bag over me. I watched the sunrise from a ridge above camp. The Chisos quickly lit up.

When you don't live in the desert, every desert thing is interesting – even the mud cracks.

I drove into the Chisos Mountains, checked parking at the Lost Mine Trail and chose to hike The Window Trail. My wife and I hiked the trail on our first trip to Big Bend in 2020, but is an interesting trail to repeat. Even with less water than before, I spotted many birds. A curious Mexican Jay even posed for me in a tree.

The trail's wildlife, geology, and grand view at the end make it one of my favorites in the park.

The Chisos Mountains, formed by volcanoes and shaped by erosion, feature jagged peaks and craggy ridges. Their unique shapes will keep your eye busy for hours.

After nearly a week, I headed to Rio Grande Village for a shower. Nearby is the only remaining structure from the Daniels farm. Early homesteaders built a complex system of irrigation ditches to farm the Rio Grande floodplain. Some of the ditches remain, and provide water to the campground.

Near Rio Grande Village, souvenirs are often left along trails and parking lots. They're created by villagers across the river in Boquillas, Mexico. A park ranger jokingly called the group responsible the “Boquillas Trinket Cartel.” The National Park Service and Border Protection view the souvenir trade as illegal. Yet, they often ignore it.

I ended the day by finding more viewpoints to admire the Chisos Mountains. This was the view a few miles west of Panther Junction.

These closer-up views show the scenery along Basin Junction Road on the way into the Chisos Basin, and from a short hike to a viewpoint near the Chisos Mountain Lodge.

Sunset came slowly, but once the sun dipped below the mountains, the sky turned into vivid pinks and blues.

I set an alarm for 4:45 AM, broke camp in the dark, and drove to the Lost Mine Trailhead. I was the second car in the parking lot, but by the time I packed my daypack, several others had arrived.

Sweet light touched the mountains early in the hike, but soon after, the sky clouded over. The light remained muted for most of the hike.

I hiked and conversed with strangers the whole way up, but once at the summit, I took in the view on my own. Even in the muted light, the rugged shapes of the mountains were fascinating.

On the way down, the sun finally started to poke out, and it's highlight accentuated shapes in the rocks.

Two strangers I met along the trail suggested a stop at Dugout Wells along my way to my next campsite. The area is a small oasis in the dry landscape where water seeps support a stand of cottonwood trees. I heard an owl and hiked around looking for it in the trees. A more experienced birdwatcher said I was mistaking the sound, and it was a dove. A park ranger confirmed there’s a resident owl in the cottonwoods, and that was likely the bird I had heard.

Rio Grande Village & Boquillas Canyon

I settled into my last campsite of the trip at the Rio Grande Campground. After a few nights in the backcountry, I appreciated the campground's comforts. My neighbors were within view, but just far enough away to not be a bother.

I spent 25 minutes chopping vegetables and boiling pasta. As I sat down for dinner, I suddenly tipped backward in my camp chair. Luckily, I managed to keep my pasta pan upright. Dinner saved. My camp neighbors laughed and asked if I was OK. I managed to lose only two noodles.

After dinner, I hiked into the beautiful Boquillas Canyon for sunset. Boquillas is my favorite spot in Big Bend: its towering limestone walls split the Sierra del Carmen Mountains.

After dinner, I hiked into the beautiful Boquillas Canyon for sunset. Boquillas is my favorite spot in Big Bend: its towering limestone walls split the Sierra del Carmen Mountains. The canyon is well visited, but at sunset, its extremely quiet.

On my hike into the canyon, a bull blocked the path. A group walking the opposite direction warned me as I rounded a corner, and I detoured through bushes around it.

I quickly realized I was the last hiker in the canyon at sunset. The solitude, glowing canyon walls, and gently, trickling river matched my memories from my last visit. The only other person I saw was a member of the "Boquillas Trinket Cartel." They were on horseback, collecting cash from souvenir jars.

As I was admiring the canyon, the bull had moved closer to the parking lot, and now blocked my way back to the car. As I stepped forward, it also took a step. It eyes were solely focused on me, and I wasn't loving the attention. I paused for a minute. I let the bull get bored and return to grazing. Then, I made a wide path around it, keeping 100 yards between us. To finish the trail, I now had to scale a hillside full of loose rocks, soil, and prickly plants. I immediately had flashbacks to how the week began while I fell into a drainage near Santa Elena. This time, I moved slowly and carefully. I wanted to take the steps to the trailhead as planned, but the bull wouldn’t let me.

I started my last morning in the park well before sunrise. The "trinket cartel" joined me at an overlook near Boquillas Canyon. As they arranged souvenirs, I took in the sunrise: muted and hazy.

I joined a volunteer-led ranger hike through a reeded wetland near the campground. He narrated the geologic history of Big Bend, starting wtih the collision of continents that caused the rocky uplift on the north edge of the park. He explained that it’s as old as the Appalachian Mountains and might be their southernmost point.

Finally, I biked to Big Bend’s hot spring. I locked my bike to an interpretive sign and headed out for a hike along the river.

In 1909, a homesteader named J.O. Langford said that minerals from a geothermal hot spring helped cure his malaria. He developed the area into a resort that promised cures for everything from asthma to ulcers. His bathhouse is gone, but a spring remains in its foundation. It still draws visitors. Souvenir vendors set up on the opposite bank, just 20 yards from the hot spring, hoping to profit from visitors, as Langford did a century ago.

Swallows nest in the cliffs behind Langford's old resort.

On my way back to my campsite, I biked to the Boquillas Port of Entry to make my final stop in the park. Visitors can cross into a small Mexican village for lunch. I was tempted to go, but I had already done it on a previous trip, so I didn’t need to go again.

Like many of my national park trips, I found a way to enjoy my week and connect it to other commitments.

From Big Bend, I drove to Del Rio for a night in a hotel. From there, I completed the nine-hour drive from Big Bend to Houston. My wife was there coaching a robotics competition. I spent a night in Houston, watched more competition the next day, then, I drove to a family Easter dinner in Nashville. Along the way, I stopped for the night in Mississippi, my 50th and final state to visit.

I spent the holiday in Nashville with family, left my car in their driveway, and flew home for a few weeks. My wife and I returned together and drove four hours north for a family wedding in Indiana.