There are moments or places on rivers that feel like portals. Like rounding the bend on Highway 12 and seeing the cabins along the river at Three Rivers Lodge, signifying the confluence of the Lochsa and Selway Rivers as you enter the Lochsa corridor. Or the noticeable stall in momentum when you leave the free-flowing Salmon River and literally slam into the Snake. There are also portals enroute to the water, like being greeted or bid farewell by Vernal’s massive, bubble-gum pink dinosaur, as you prep for the Green and Yampa Rivers.
And then there are the communities, the human hamlets that are also gateways to rivers. We get excited about doing our pre-trip rounds through town, and we come to associate particular grocery or liquor stores or gas stations or city parks with the river trip itself. We find our favorite campgrounds or motels to stay at the night before launch, and our favorite splurgy dinners-out before days of eating from coolers.
In this short series, we highlight four river gateway towns. These are places I’ve come to know over repeated visits, before or after private trips, commercial trips, or the occasional field course. Surely you have—or will have—your own experiences to call on, your own anecdotes, memories, and impressions of these spaces between spaces, these sentinel communities that buzz at the brinks of beloved rivers.
The liminal quality of a portal, a gateway, is quite precious, as it demarcates the space between experiences, between realities. It’s good to pay attention to these in-between spaces, to notice ourselves within them, to spend a little time there before moving in one direction or another. With that, let’s spend a little time in Terlingua, Texas.
Terlingua, Texas
Five and a half hours south and west of El Paso, is a launching point for desert sojourners, folks looking to find hot springs, lanky desert bears, big-sky constellations, and connection to deep history and deep time. From here, one can travel on foot into the protected and prickly expanse of Big Bend National Park or set a shuttle to run one of the Rio Grande’s fabled canyons.
The Chihuahuan Desert is a desiccated fountain of wonders. A visit to this landscape inspires complex ruminations on climate change, resource management, and ecological and social justice issues. News from the region sparks dissonance: Customs and Border Patrol prowls Big Bend National Park in search of migrants; a dangerous floating barrier of buoys bisects the Rio Grande; prolonged drought exacerbates tensions between Texas and Mexico; the river is so heavily controlled that, for much of the year, it now runs completely dry in some reaches.
Within the canyons of the Rio Grande, mysteries and nuance overflow. Canoeing through this landscape is a magnificent, singular adventure. We were just downstream of Boquillas Canyon on the Rio Grande in 2021 when a flash flood took our camp and some of our canoes during our final night on the river. In 2023 we were laid over at a camp called Rabbit Ears, also on the Boquillas section and on the Mexican side of the river, when an icy storm beat down upon us, the remnants of the hurricane that battered Aculpulco the week before. Artisans from the Mexican village of Boquillas sell bent-wire peacocks, beaded scorpion figurines, and hand-knit beer koozies that read NO AL MURO: No to the wall. As though reflecting the nature of this place as a gateway or threshold, the name boquillas implies “little mouths”: openings, portals, or windows.
The name Terlingua is likely a corruption of the Spanish tres lenguas, which may refer to three (but, in reality, many more than that) languages spoken in the region: indigenous dialects, Spanish, and English. Terlingua is the name given to the mining district from which settlers began extracting cinnabar in the 1880s. The people who originally inhabited this place used cinnabar (among other pigments and materials) to create rock art, the pictographs, in the canyons throughout Big Bend.
West Texas settlers now occupy this area, some of them hearty counterculture folk who made their homes here 30 years ago or more: artists, river people, geologists, writers, seekers. Most of the newcomers these days, however, are purveyors of Airbnb culture or tourists on holiday. There’s at once an easy flow to life in Terlingua and a mounting tension between the old guard and the waves of interlopers that build and crash, build and crash.
The canyons of the Rio Grande are the main reason boaters travel the long road to Terlingua. In order from upstream to downstream, the sections of the Rio Grande include: the Hoodoos, Colorado Canyon, Santa Elena Canyon, Mariscal Canyon, San Vicente and Hot Springs Canyon, Boquillas Canyon, and the Lower Canyons. Open canoes are the preferred mode of river travel on the Rio Grande, though at higher flows rafts have a place here, too.
Logistical Notes
If you’re boating through Big Bend, you’ll need to get river and backcountry permits from park headquarters at Panther Junction. For some sections of the Rio Grande, i.e. Boquillas and the Lower Canyons, you will need to speak with landowners to gain permission to take out on their properties. The National Park Service’s Big Bend floating guide is a good place to start for logistical details. You can also order some solid guidebooks and other literature about the Rio Grande and Big Bend here.
Here is the hub where the NPS compiles current weather and river data and observations for Big Bend. As always, American Whitewater is a go-to resource for paddling beta in the area. Finally, Steve Daniel’s Texas Whitewater (2004) will be of interest to paddlers hoping to explore rivers beyond the canyons of the Rio Grande.
Terlingua is situated next to a golf community called Lajitas, which has a small airport. There’s also a trail system here with plenty of desert cross-country biking. An infamous Chili Championship cook-off happens the final weekend of October each year. Lodging, groceries, silence, and solitude will be in short supply during the event, so plan your logistics accordingly.
Places to Sleep/Explode Your Gear
Rancho Topanga is a lovely, spacious campground out by Lajitas. The owners are kind and accommodating, and it’s a great place to gather with your group before embarking on a Rio Grande adventure. There are a surprising number of Airbnb and glamping options in and around Terlingua, but be sure to reserve far in advance given the seemingly year-round popularity of this place as a destination. A little farther away, you could explore Big Bend Ranch State Park or camp within Big Bend National Park.
Last Minute Provisions
If you’re on a budget or have specific dietary desires, you’ll do well to provision your river trip in Alpine, an hour north of Terlingua. There you can drop into Porter’s and Blue Water to find everything you need, plus a delightful abundance of regionally unique ingredients (chiles, horchatas, tortillas, #10 cans of hominy…). In Study Butte (pronounced stoo-dee), the Cottonwood Grocery has your essentials. Swing through there on your way to the park for ice and last-minute bits. For liquor, Study Butte is probably your best bet outside of Alpine—though I imagine you could pay a pretty penny for a bottle from the Starlight Theatre, if you find yourself in a liquor pickle. You can fill up water jugs at Panther Junction in the park.
For last-minute gear essentials, the fine people at Desert Sports have things like dry bags, river sandals, skin salves, and sunscreen for sale. Desert Sports also offers expertly guided river trips, bike repairs and rental, and delightful local art.
Vittles
Espresso y Poco Mas is situated in La Posada Milagro in the ghost town. It’s got moving shade, a covered porch, and breakfast burritos. Everything comes wrapped to go (maybe they’re hoping vacationing patrons will move along after making their purchase). It’s a gathering place for dusty locals who grimace and tip a hat toward one another, looking past the queue of tourists. La Kiva is a funky spot for sit-down dinner and drinks, located on Terlingua Creek. Long Draw Pizza is a bit out of town and worth the short trip if you’re craving pizza and beer.
Terlingua and the Big Bend are remote, wild, and removed from urban chaos, the type of place where you can hide, disappear into the hazy distance between mesas. And the Rio Grande is a liminal space between countries, where the braying of burros serenades you as you paddle between limestone walls and through corridors choked with mesquite. Turtles and sheep and coyotes live in these canyons, too—guardians of stony gateways to ancient secrets and singular desert adventures.