I didn’t think I’d ever return to Big Bend National Park. I’d visited three times in the past decade or so, and there are so many places on my list to see for the first time. But a close friend who’d never been to this wilderness asked me to show him around this hauntingly beautiful corner of our country, and I’m so glad he did.
We called it a night about an hour after sunset and retreated to our respective tents. Aaron took a stroll around midnight, capturing cool pictures and enjoying the kind of solitude only a desert offers. I love that he now knows what that feels like, though I’m jealous of one thing: he saw the outline of a mountain lion as it slinked away from our camp. Earlier in the day we’d seen a large black bear—the first time I’d ever seen one in Big Bend. I was blown away that an animal that large and furry could survive the incredible heat of a Texas summer.
Imagine having this place all to yourself and a close friend! I didn’t need words to pray here.
This is one of my favorite shots of the trip. (That’s me in the bright green jacket.) Our canoe livery vendor recommended El Gordo’s Grill, a food truck wedged into a dusty corner of the main drag in Terlingua, Texas. Hands down: the best food I’ve ever eaten anywhere near Big Bend National Park. Aaron and I ate our last two dinners and our last lunch at this wellspring of mouth-watering goodness. The tacos were the third-best tacos I’ve ever had behind the chorizo tacos at GNAR Tacos in Ridgway, CO, and the brisket tacos at Ladybird Taco in Nashville (12 South).
Aaron’s new iPhone proved much better than mine at night photography. But even if neither of our cameras could snag this view, it would’ve been burned into my memory. We walked in the dark to the Boquillas Hot Springs. We alternated between long sessions in the hot water and short stints in the cold waters of the Rio Grande. We luxuriated in a sky almost untouched by human light and then very much washed in lunar rays.
As you can see in the foreground, the Rio Grande was light on water. I’m not sure, but I think this is the most I’ve seen of the river’s stony bottom. During my visits to this national boundary, it seems like less and less water makes it to the border from its headwaters.
This hot spring doesn’t look like much during the daytime, but I’ve never visited it while the sun was above the horizon. On cold winter nights, its mist swirls with mystery until the full moon arrives to turn it into art. The dark water catches moonlight in its riffles, while stars gather high above the reeds that whisper during the occasional breeze.
As we walked back to your rental on our first visit to the hot springs, we passed an abandoned motel aglow under an almost-full moon. Tourists used to stream to the edge of Texas to stay in primitive rooms without central air. Aaron and I followed suite: sleeping in tents, a borrowed travel trailer, and a no frills cabin.
Nighttime in the desert proved as beautiful and intriguing as daytime. Cliffs like these line paths, creeks, and roads all over Big Bend National Park.
Back home in Virginia, most of our courses use trees as obstacles. Some use creeks and ponds. So, it was interesting having wide open shots with rocks and cacti as complications.
The course owner designed one of the raddest courses I’ve ever played, and Pete used serious elevation change to make par difficult. He creatively built the course to take advantage of boulders as both obstacles and backstops. He constructed the course by hand and rebuilt it with modern equipment after a freak weather event. All of the cart paths are gravel paths lined with bigger stones, and Pete regularly gave us a lift in his Kawasaki Mule.
I think this hole had the most elevation change of any hole I’ve ever played, and the basket was 712 feet away. (I marked it with the green dot to give you a sense of distance.) Aaron and I both threw three drives into the desert wind from here to test how plummeting elevation affects disc flight. Pete told us sometimes he drives up here and throws every disc in his bag. Haha.
About a dozen professional disc golfers have made the trek to Terlingua, Texas, to experience this course. Pete said they had a league night last year when the thermometer read 122ºF. It’s a challenge, for sure. But finding your disc was a lot easier here than in the leaf-covered floor of Virginia forests. And you don’t have to contort your body or modify your throw to get around trunks and branches.
I love this hole. First, there’s a decent amount of elevation drop from the tee. Second, a massive boulder guards the approach to the basket. Three, how many times do you have to be careful not to hit a vintage bus? You can see one of the many benches on the course in this picture. Pete installed so many cool details and amenities—including a cliffside fire pit for watching the sunset after a round.
If you get over confident (or put like Nathan Brown), you risk a costly rollaway. Right behind this basket, the dirt drops 70 vertical feet. I play “old man” / layup golf back home. So, it was easy for me to play it safe on this intentionally-elevated basket.
I can only imagine what it’s like to play at dusk here. Aaron and I watched a colorful sunset that stopped us in our tracks every night we were in this part of the West Texas desert. We were surrounded in every direction by big skies and rugged mountains.
