I joined a few kayakers at Bird Island Basin to explore the Laguna Madre on the calm inland side of Padre Island in perfect conditions and enjoyed close up views of well over a dozen bird species fishing in the murky salty water, resting on the muddy beach and hopping around in the low grasses & brush. As usual, I wasn’t able to take good photos while bobbing along in my kayak, so here’s one I took from my car window of a Laughing Gull. With a number of birders in my family, I tried to identify at least a few of the endangered species: Reddish Egret, Least Tern, Brown Pelican, White Tailed Hawk, and at least two of their three endangered Plovers. Including the ocean side and sprawling grassland, there were Ruddy Turnstones, Curlews, Willets, a Tricolored Heron, and various ducks, sparrows, and raptors, and who knew there were so many different types of terns?
After the birds, Padre Island belonged to Native Americans first, and the visitor center and beach nearby are named after the Malaquite. The Spanish claimed it next, and silver treasure was found from one of their shipwrecks. Then the Republic of Texas claimed it, and finally the US won it in the Mexican American War. A Padre who collected funds for Rio Grande missions built a home here, prompting the name as well as the companion name for the lagoon. The Laguna Madre stretches into Tamaulipas Mexico and is the largest hypersaline coastal lagoon in the world, a critical stop on the flyways for many migratory birds in the Americas.
Prior ranching, military use and driving on the beach make the island less than pristine, but the park service has helped recover Ridley and other sea turtle populations here. There are specially adapted birds, fish, crabs, shellfish, reptiles, bugs, and other animals here, some of which live nowhere else. Unfortunately, fossil fuel drilling is still allowed in this area, which threatens all species in many ways, especially by climate change and rising seas.
[Note: Starting today, I’m switching to Monday, Wednesday & Friday posts to keep more up to date.]
The strange elk in the background are actually Nilgai, an Asian Antelope that escaped from a ranching project and now live in the park. In a way, it’s appropriate to start with an invasive species, since this park marks the start of the Mexican American War. In the 1840’s President Polk campaigned on expanding the country westward and as President sent troops to the Rio Grande, even though Mexico viewed it as their territory. Mexico, having only recently won its independence in 1821, was having trouble managing its northernmost territories, and lost control of much of Texas during a revolt by American settlers in the 1830’s. When Mexico’s army crossed the Rio Grande to expel the interlopers, Polk claimed that America was under attack and the war was on.
Mexico laid siege to a small fort on the north bank of the Rio Grande, and US troops were rushed in from up the coast to reinforce it. The two forces met in the middle here in a dry part of the delta. The US had better artillery, and the Mexicans had more men. The US troops were under command of Zachary Taylor, who later turned his war fame into a successful run for President, and many veterans of this battle would go on to serve in the Civil War. Lt. US Grant, who opposed war with Mexico personally, engaged in his first battle here. Between heavier guns firing more deadly shells, light guns quickly turned to face flanking attacks, and well trained US troops who engaged in hand to hand combat between here and the fort, the Mexican Army was forced to retreat. Around 100 Mexican troops and 10 US troops died in battle here.
Today the field is marked with flags and cannon to show the positions of the two sides and ‘interpretive exhibits’—small signs—to explain what happened in different places where the troops faced off. Closer to Brownsville, there’s a much smaller battlefield, the Resaca de la Palma, where the Mexican Army bravely made a stand to protect their retreat. There is a viewing platform of the resaca, meaning ‘often dry river delta channel’ (and not ‘hangover’, as the word means today). The siege of the fort was lifted, but the fort’s leader Major Brown and one other US soldier were killed in action. The fort and eventual city, Brownsville, were later named for the young officer.
Although the site only covers the first week of the war that took place in what’s now the US, the war raged on for two more years with US troops taking cities deep into Mexico, until Mexico agreed to cede Texas and sell its rights west all the way to the Pacific. Mexico lost 1/2 its territory and the US doubled in size. As interesting and consequential as the history is, the site is a well-marked field with a path for each army, so it requires some imagination and curiosity to appreciate. The small visitor center is educational, bilingual, has an informative film, and has enthusiastic and knowledgeable rangers and volunteers. But by all means go out on the battlefield, if only to see the wildlife. I saw over a dozen Nilgai, several hawks hunting in the tall grasses, a crested caracara, and more. This is a well-known area for birders.
In 1969, just below the confluence of the Rio Grande, Devils and Pecos Rivers, a dam was built, creating Lake Amistad (friendship en Español). The lake caused the mouths of the Pecos River and Seminole Creek (above) to silt up, and now that the water level has fallen (like Lake Mead and Lake Powell) they’re cut off from the Rio Grande (see far right). Most of the boat ramps, like the small dock at the cave above, are no longer accessible. The lake is far below minimum expectations, because the US diverts virtually all the Rio Grande water before it even reaches Big Bend. From there most of the river comes from Mexico’s Río Conchos. The park is run in partnership with many agencies, and the two towns that share the border are friendly and have joint cultural festivals annually. Mexico maintains a small fishery, US residents enjoy bass fishing, and the border is marked with buoys. I took one of the old highway ‘spurs’ straight down to the water, but it was too hot to kayak in winter.
Panther Cave, across the canyon above, is on the far western park boundary. While the park film absurdly claims that “no Native Americans have any ties to the area”, the canyon is Seminole Canyon, and the cave is an important site for prehistoric cave art. The Amistad visitor center has information and large reproductions of the cave art, and the excellent Seminole Canyon State Park has morning ranger-led tours to another similar cave and a few miles of hiking trails to see the view above. Before man dammed and drained the rivers and destroyed the riparian ecosystems, Native Americans must have traveled up the Rio Grande to Albuquerque, where some of the oldest petroglyph art was created at the same time as the art here. Sitting on the cliff above observing the wildlife, I imagined prehistoric people hunting, traveling by canoe, drawing on the cave walls and protecting their families from panthers, until thunder warned me to seek shelter.
Santa Elena Canyon, like many of the sights here, is majestic with 1500’ cliffs, with Canyon Wren staccato song echoing back and forth, and elusive beavers hiding along the banks. The Rio Grande enters the park through here, departing through Boquillas Canyon. They don’t make it easy to get a river pass, apparently preferring guides. I wasn’t allowed to kayak without two PFD’s?!? But the views from the trail are spectacular.
The middle of the park is dominated by the chiseled Chisos Mountains which have impressive wildlife including bears, mountain lions and rare birds, challenging hikes and a good restaurant. And the views stretch for miles in all directions across desert, scrub, dry creeks, gullies, plateaus and rocky outcroppings of all shapes to more distant hills, mountains, mesas and empty space. Sunset is best from up here, and the lodge has a bar and large patio with a great view of the basin. There are some ranger activities each week, but mostly you’re on your own out here, with terrain, heat, wildlife and distances that make hiking potentially dangerous. So take care.
A trip here needs 3 days just to visit all four corners, and there’s only one electric campground (Rio Grande Village RV) which was booked solid. Still, I was determined to avoid burning carbon, so no guided tours. I charged outside the park at the classy Gage Hotel and in Terlingua, at a Juicebox behind a brick wall in a construction site that rents Jeeps. I spotted three other Teslas and a Volt in the park, but you need to be thoughtful about charging (and not forget your hotel key and have to drive back to return it). I needn’t have worried. Since the park speed limit is 45, my range was better than expected, especially after turning off the climate control and opening my windows.
People are seriously damaging nature, as seen in both the devastating 2019 Castalon Wildfire, which destroyed the historic visitor center and store, and the drastically reduced water volume of the Rio Grande. Large gas vehicles with bad mpg should be named “Chevy Smoker” or “Ford Smog” and their drivers need bumper stickers like “I ❤️ Wildfires” & “I ❤️ Hurricanes”, because that’s what they’re exacerbating. Folks who live in western communities with golf courses, water features and ornamental plants, should name their neighborhoods “Wildlife’s End” or “Extinction Junction”, because they’re diverting rivers from our public parks, destroying ecosystems. Too many folks live in denial of the Climate Crisis, while driving a ‘Denali’ and living in ‘Ocotillo’. If you’re still using wasting gas and water in the west, then you shouldn’t pretend you like nature. You obviously don’t care enough.
The Rio Pequeño (not grande with this low water) enters the Boquillas Canyon here and continues down to Amistad. Hiking into the canyon along the border, there are few signs of the modern world, and I suddenly felt like I was in a classic western movie when I heard horses approaching. Three horse riders offered handcrafted souvenirs and chicken tamales as they passed, and when one was crossing back to Boquillas Mexico on horseback, his horse had to bend down to knee level to drink from the middle of the river. Hardly worth crossing by rowboat at the port of entry, when folks were wading across the river. (Yeah, yeah rules, but no harm no foul with kids just playing in the water).
The Climate Crisis is playing havoc with my plans. Not sure when I’ll get the kayak wet this trip. A few days ago, I was trudging through the snow in Zion, and here in winter the temperature hit over 100 degrees on the trail. Best to visit in February, and always bring plenty of water. Last year I just carried a water bottle, but now I use a 3L hydration pack with another 5 gallon container in my car. The heat is no joke; a hiker died here just a few days ago, one more of many.
Due to low water and logistics, I’m only exploring the river from the dusty trails and grand overlooks within Big Bend. The US and Mexico protect 200 miles of land alongside the river, including the canyon above, another at Santa Elena and a big reserve on the south bank opposite Big Bend. In particular, there’s a nature trail at Rio Grande Village, where I spotted a half dozen bird species in minutes, including a Great Blue Heron and my first sighting of a Black Phoebe flycatcher. It’s unfortunate that so many communities take most of the river water without considering the downstream impact on birds and other species. I know people pay extra for golf courses, ornamental plants and water features, but national nature reserves suffer directly as a result. Americans need to invest in solar desalination facilities and leave rivers alone.
From 1889 to 1965, the school was segregated, separate but equal by ‘social pressure’ (i.e. racism) in Texas: Hispanic only. Our diversity is a great strength and should be celebrated, not used to divide us. When the Civil Rights movement integrated Marfa’s schools, Blackwell closed. Later some of the proud alumni organized to preserve their school building and grounds, and President Biden has now designated it an official park site, joining other schools in the system, such as Abiel Smith, Penn, Brown, and Little Rock.
Technically, Blackwell is still being “established”, meaning that the park service will acquire the property from Marfa’s school district by next year, so it’s not yet on the National Parks Travelers Club list. Blackwell is currently only open noon to 4pm on weekends—not the same time zone as El Paso—, and restoration plans are being decided. Inside are personal photos that bring back the old days, describing Principal Blackwell, teachers, students, athletes and community events. Hopefully, future exhibits will help bring those stories to life with a park film.
In 1955, Hollywood came to Marfa to film James Dean, Elizabeth Taylor and Rock Hudson in Giant. Before that the biggest thing to happen in Marfa was their baseball team, the Indians, competing for the championship in ‘29 and ‘48. Nowadays, Marfa is known for eclectic art exhibits and UFO’s. Just outside of town is a Prada display by the roadside, and if you go the other way, people watch the mysterious lights on the horizon that just have to be aliens. (Really, there’s no other explanation possible!).
I passed nearby Marfa when visiting Fort Davis, and it’s fascinating to me that the original stone school here was built while the fort was still in operation. I recommend staying at one of the quirky campgrounds like El Cósmico which has Tesla engineer designed Jupe shelters and getting local wine and pizza at Para Llevar (to go en Español). And just wander around this weird town that defies becoming a ghost.
Like most people who travel through the crossroads of Page, I paid $10, walked 3/4 of a mile and took a picture of Horseshoe Bend. It’s an easy photo, especially around 2:30 pm, with the sun shining down over your left shoulder onto the deep oxbow canyon below. On a clear day the blue sky reflects in the river, and the height of the overlook makes a photo idiot-proof, easily framing the river bend from cliff to cliff and from horizon to bottom’s edge. Even I, a mediocre photographer at best, got the shot I dreamed about. But instead, I decided to show you the uglier view above.
“a curious ensemble of wonderful features —carved walls, royal arches, glens, alcove gulches, mounds and monuments. From which of these features shall we select a name? We decide to call it Glen Canyon.”
John Wesley Powell, explorer
When John Wesley Powell first explored this canyon in 1869, he and his crew were amazed by the varied beauty of the place. Above all the impressive geologic features, they decided the best part of the canyon were the narrow green glens, teeming with specialized flowers, birds and animals. Less than 100 years later in 1963, the beautiful glens of Glen Canyon were drowned, and in a cruel irony, the temporary bathtub was named “Lake Powell” after the explorer & geologist who most loved the living glens.
In retrospect, Glen Canyon Dam should never have been built. Lake Powell, above the dam at right, is a sad collection of marooned boats with ramps and docks that don’t reach the water, so most of the fossil-fuel burning jet skis, power boats, fishing boats and houseboats can’t keep polluting here anymore. The “lake” is more of a stagnant segment of river with bleached canyon walls and a bathtub ring. Due to low water, neither the ferry at Hall’s Crossing nor the tour boats to Rainbow Bridge run anymore. When the water drops another 30 feet—later this year?—the massive hydroelectric towers above the dam to the left won’t have any electricity to deliver.
Engineers no doubt consider the dam to be a victim of its own success, drawing too many people to Arizona with cheap electricity and “plentiful” water. Economists likely consider the dam a fiasco, since all the expensive infrastructure is practically useless now, long before returning on the investment. Common sense says that dam or not, you can’t have your river and drink it too. Environmentalists, who opposed the dam from the beginning, say “we told you so”. Climate scientists say, “it’s going to get worse”.
After all the park is desert—mostly remote canyons in Utah—, and the river isn’t big enough for people to waste. I drive past a lot of busy car washes and gas stations with patches of grass, while the shiny vehicles burn carbon and diminish the mountain snowpack. On my way southeast, I drove through Gilbert, Chandler & Ocotillo neighborhoods near Phoenix. While riff-raff like me aren’t allowed past the walls, gates and guards, satellite maps show private golf courses, lakes, and homes on private islands, all in the desert. It’s tragic to see glimpses of all that water wasted, while our national recreation areas run dry.
Having visited now in winter as well as in summer, clearly this is a drop dead gorgeous park. A California Condor circled overhead waiting to see if the views would really kill me. Perhaps that’s why so many of the natural geologic features are given heavenly names, like the Great White Throne, Angel’s Landing and the Temple of Sinawava (the Paiute Coyote God). With fresh snow on the Riverside Walk above, I felt like a kid gawking up at waterfalls until my neck hurt, and I spotted other adults who childishly made snow angels and slid down slopes. Best of all, I had sections of the park to myself, a far cry from summer crowds.
If you haven’t yet visited, go in any season and hike. Explore as many corners as you can from driving the tunnel, to walking in from the pedestrian bridge, to the Kolob Canyons, the Narrows and any of the wilderness. It’s indescribable. If you can, stay at the Zion Lodge in the park, with a good restaurant, comfortable cabins and EV charging. Despite folks complaining about EVs in cold, I was happy to have dual motors and remote defrost. My vehicle went from snow drift to clear windows, heated seat and steering wheel, while I packed up in my cabin. I wanted to avoid the mandatory shuttle, as it is not yet fully electric (soon!), and seeing Zion in winter is like visiting a different less crowded park. In summer, it’s easier to get to the higher viewpoints and see more wildlife, but winter has a desolate stark beauty even in the middle of the canyon. Next time I should try spring or fall.
Reconstruction began in November of 1861, when US Navy & Army forces destroyed two forts and took Port Royal, because when all the white planters fled in the Confederate retreat, 10,000 slaves took over their sea island plantations. Union policy at the time was to declare the former slaves “contraband” or illegal property seized by the military. But the pressure was on President Lincoln to resolve their status permanently. First, he quietly authorized the Union’s first black regiment—the 1st South Carolina Volunteer Infantry which by November of 1862 mustered 1000 men and engaged in battle—, and then he finalized his executive order to free the slaves.
“all persons held as slaves within any State… in rebellion against the United States, shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free”
Emancipation Proclamation of President Abraham Lincoln
Among the great mossy oaks here at Camp Saxton on the 1st day of January in 1863, our nation’s first black regiment gathered here with their friends and families to all become the first people freed by Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation. Then the 1st SC Volunteers received their regimental colors as proud soldiers of the Union Army, under the command of one of John Brown’s conspirators in the raid on Harpers Ferry. Harriet Tubman was also here as a volunteer spy and liberator, and in June she guided three gunboats and the 2nd SC Volunteers up the Combahee River 25 miles north in a dangerous raid that freed 700 slaves. Other African American regiments from Kansas, Massachusetts and other states in both the north and south soon followed, and by the end of the war, 200,000 African Americans enlisted to make up 10% of the Union Army.
As soon as Port Royal was liberated, Philadelphian abolitionists Laura Towne, Ellen Murray and Charlotte Forten, who was African American, arrived and began the most important part of reconstruction: teaching. While not the first African American school, in 1862 they founded the Penn School to teach people who had been denied formal education for generations. The Gullah Geechee people had created their own language and had kept many cultural traditions alive, including the delicious Lowcountry boil or Frogmore stew, and, when given the opportunity for formal education, they began learning basic, practical skills to live independently, everything from shoemaking and auto repair to cooking and nursing. At the Penn Center, I met a Gullah Geechee woman who still speaks the language and who was treated as a child by one of the first physicians to graduate from the Penn School.
The Gullah Geechee sea islands remained in Union hands throughout the war and became central to the Union “anaconda” naval blockade. The hero Robert Smalls (see Fort Sumter), after helping convince Lincoln to enlist African Americans, purchased the home of his previous owner here, using his congressionally awarded bounty for the Planter, and represented this district in Congress for five terms. The beautiful, historic neighborhoods of Beaufort were retained by the descendants of freed slaves by strict preservation laws, resulting in a sharp contrast with nearby predominantly white golfing communities like Hilton Head. In a historic echo, 100 years after the Union used Beaufort as a base to fight the Confederacy, the Reverend Dr Martin Luther King, Jr and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference chose the Penn Center as a base for their Civil Rights campaigns, including planning the March on Washington and the Poor People’s Campaign. Dr King wrote his I Have A Dream speech here in Gantt cabin on the Penn Center campus.
Plan your visit thoughtfully. To the west, Camp Saxton is hidden at the water’s edge between a navy base, the ruins of Fort Frederick and a residential neighborhood. In town, the visitor center in the historic zone’s old firehouse has very knowledgeable rangers who skillfully and kindly disabused me of my misconceptions. To the east, the Penn Center has exhibits (for a donation) on the school, the Gullah Geechee community and the important Civil Rights work done here. There are two dozen historic building on campus including a dock and a Rosenwald school. Many, such as the Brick Baptist Church, aren’t presently open to the public, but Darrah Hall is open with park staff, information and exhibits. A wonderful volunteer discussed whether the Reconstruction Era ever really ended. Plan more time for the Penn Center partner exhibits, less time for the downtown Beaufort visitor center and enough time at Camp Saxton to stand under the Emancipation Oaks (and take a better photo than I did).
This Civil War era fort still shows the pockmarked scars from Union artillery. A later famous Lt Robert E Lee helped design the tidal sluice gates and canal for the moat which circumscribes the fort, and he had assured the commander that the walls would hold. And it did hold for 112 days against a Union siege in April of 1862. But despite the impressive moat, drawbridges, masonry, and reinforced internal structures, the invention of rifled artillery made the fort obsolete, as this test of the experimental weapons demonstrated. The wall on the left end had to be rebuilt after the spinning explosive shells opened huge gaps. After 30 hours bombardment, the fort surrendered and the port of Savannah was blocked by the Union’s anaconda. Otherwise, the fort is in good condition, with good views from the tops of the walls, and walking around the inside makes for an interesting visit.
Zero Carbon Travel 