The Ranch is weighing heavy on my mind.
I’m not talking about a private ranch, though it once was one of the largest private cattle ranches in the entire country. I’m talking about a ranch we collectively share as Texans. Yes, believe it or not, you have a ranch in the borderlands of Far West Texas. Congratulations. For just $5, all 300,000-plus acres can be yours for the day.
The Ranch is big, it’s beautiful, it’s rugged, and it’s pristine. And in 1991, it became a state park—one so big that you could almost fit the rest of Texas’ state parks system inside it. I speak, of course, of Big Bend Ranch State Park. And over the last decade, it’s become my favorite place to get lost and my home in the wild.
On the Ranch I’ve paddled through the brown volcanic corridors of the Rio’s Colorado Canyon. I’ve climbed the high peaks of Oso to the west and Fresno to the east, which overlooks a 10-mile-wide collapsed volcanic dome, a range of perfect concentric circles known as El Solitario. I’ve backpacked a 100-plus mile loop through the park, drinking water from pristine oases the park is known for. I’ve scrambled up into rock shelters and seen a pictograph of a 20-foot-long black serpent stretching across the wall. I’ve come across metates and morteros and perfect arrow points and touched rock that’s half a billion years old.
And as the first commercial backpacking guide in the park’s history, I’ve now guided several trips in the park, including the first half of the Big Bend 100, which traverses the state park some 50 miles from northwest to southeast. And I’ve introduced several new backpackers to the beauty of desert backpacking in Fresno Canyon, whose side canyons hold some of the tallest waterfalls in Texas. I’ve given my blood, sweat and tears to this park. I derive great joy and a seasonal livelihood from the Ranch.
But the Ranch is heavy on my mind.
The Ranch is under serious threat—the greatest threat it has faced in its 35 years as a state park. Thanks to local investigative journalists like Sam Karas and Rob D’Amico here at the aptly named Big Bend Sentinel, as well as Mary Cantrell and Travis Bubenik at Marfa Public Radio, it’s just come to light that there is an intentionally quiet and opaque plan by the Department of Homeland Security to destroy the very crown jewel of the Texas State Parks system. And so I’m sounding the alarm and rallying defenders.
There are plans now underway for the construction of a border wall to rip through the western half of Big Bend Ranch State Park’s Rio Grande river corridor. This could be a 20-mile long, at times 100-foot wide, 30-foot tall scar across the wildest, most beautiful state park in Texas. We are at risk having one of the prettiest places in Texas sacrificed for an industrial wall that in these parts is more of a xenophobic symbol than a necessary barrier.
A wall through the region, and particularly through the state park, would be an irreparable catastrophe on many levels. We are standing on the brink of an environmental disaster, an archaeological disaster, a wildlife disaster, a cultural disaster, a recreational disaster, a tourism disaster, a dark skies disaster, a quality of life disaster, an aesthetic disaster and a regional economic disaster all rolled into one ugly steel curtain set to be unfurled across the Big Bend.
I’m not having it. And I trust that if you give a damn for one of the last and best wild places in Texas, you won’t have it, either.
A wall stands against everything that our parks stand for. Parks are about protecting intact landscapes. Parks are about allowing wildlife to move freely. Parks are about protecting natural scenic beauty and allowing nature to prevail. Parks are about allowing rivers and creeks to flow freely. Parks are about bringing people together around shared values of conservation—of collectively stewarding our public land—what little we have in Texas. Parks are about having fun, connecting with the natural world, lowering our stress levels, being wowed by scenic beauty, and breaking down barriers that tend to keep us separated.
A wall is everything that a park is not. And a park is everything that a wall is not. And never the twain shall meet.
Not on my watch.
If you’ve never been to the state park yourself, you might still be skeptical that anything there is really worth preserving. There’s already a national park, right? Well, I’m happy to show you the state park, but how long do you have? If you can set aside your responsibilities and take off a week, and if you can hike 20 miles a day with a fully loaded backpack, I’ll take you on my 135-mile backpacking loop through the park. And by then, trust me—you’ll get it.
But you probably don’t have the time or the desire to do something like that. So let’s carve out a day and drive down Big Bend Ranch’s River Road, arguably the most scenic drive in Texas. We’ll make several beautiful stops and do at least two short hikes—particularly one of them while we still can.
But if you don’t have a day to spend in Big Bend Ranch, let me make an even more succinct case. Within the park’s current boundaries, so much would be destroyed and stolen from us by a monstrous border wall, but let me highlight just one little spot we currently stand to be cut off from completely. We’d lose the Hoodoos Trail. And that in itself should be tragic enough to stop a godforsaken wall.
The Hoodoos Trail, on the western portion of FM 170, follows closely behind Closed Canyon as the second most popular hike in the state park. A hoodoo is a tall, irregularly shaped rock formed by erosion. These strange, mushroom-shaped marvels stand above the banks of the Rio Grande like giant abstract pieces of art, telling ancient stories of volcanoes, rains, floods, wind and time. Set against the Big Bend skies with the Rio winding below, it’s a thing of Instagram dreams.
The Hoodoos parking lot is easily one of the best views along the western portion of River Road. Looking west you see the big skies of the Big Bend before the winding Rio enters the tight confines of Colorado Canyon. The view takes in the wild geology and the imposing and multi-layered Bofecillos Mountains to the north. And to the east, River Road rises and falls along a chipsealed roller coaster track before also disappearing into Colorado Canyon.
The Hoodoos Trail is notably one of only two dog-friendly trails in the entire state park. I love meeting other people’s dogs at Hoodoos. It’s also a place where you (and your furry friends) can access the flowing waters of the Rio Grande. There’s a grassy, sandy beach along a bend in the river, and it’s the perfect place to hike down to with a blanket and a book and a picnic. A large boulder sits across on the Mexican banks, and below that is what I regard as the best swimming hole in the park.
Hoodoos is one of the most relaxing spots in the park because of the nearby rapids. The sound of the rushing, cascading waters bounces off the 30-foot tall natural wall on the Mexico side, drowning out the noise of motorists cruising down River Road. It’s the perfect white noise for an afternoon nap on the banks of the Rio.
For those who’ve never had the chance to visit Hoodoos, if you’ve ever watched Richard Linklater’s movie Boyhood to the very end, you’ve seen the Hoodoos. The filming of the movie spanned 12 years as it follows a 6-year-old boy named Mason who, in the span of 3 hours, grows up into a thoughtful and articulate 18-year-old college freshman. Nostalgic scenes include iconic Texas spots like Minute Maid Park and Pedernales Falls State Park—oh, and the Hoodoos Trail. The movie ends as Mason goes off to college at Sul Ross State University in nearby Alpine. A trip down to the Big Bend with new friends follows, and a sunset scene at Hoodoos Trail makes for the perfect ending to a Texan boy’s coming-of-age story.
This irreplaceable spot could soon be lost forever. Given the reckless pace of current border wall construction upriver from El Paso that’s waiving every environmental and legal protection in place, Hoodoos could soon be blasted, bulldozed, trenched, paved and fenced into oblivion. But to do so first, they’ll need to drag me off the pavement of River Road. Well, me, and it’s beginning to sound like many, many others.
So let’s get ready for a fight—a hard fight. Let’s start by making some noise about this, shall we? If you’re in Presidio County, let’s get on the phone and call representatives like state Sen. Cesar Blanco, who’s already on the people’s side. And let’s call Rep. Eddie Morales Jr., who represents our region’s interests, too. And let’s be sure to light up U.S. Rep. Tony Gonzales’ phone lines, though he may be harder to move. And hey, it never hurts to go through the motions and call U.S. Senators Ted Cruz and John Cornyn. It’s the least we can do. Advocate strongly against a physical wall, and instead for a smart wall using technologies that won’t destroy our park—as is being proposed for Big Bend National Park, and presumably the eastern half of Big Bend Ranch.
And after we’ve made all the calls we can, and we’ve bent every influential ear that has ties to Austin and D.C., I’ll see you on the pavement along River Road over by the Hoodoos. Hell, I’ve never been much of an activist, but you know what they say about desperate times. I have to do something to stop this madness.
Because the Ranch is weighing heavy on my mind.
Tyler Priest is a former state park ranger and current outdoor guide who resides in Fort Davis, Texas. He can be reached at tylerdrewpriest@gmail.com.
