Big Bend National Park

In our most recent class, we spent some time discussing Roderick Frazier Nash’s Wilderness and the American Mind. Within his book, he talks about his experiences at national parks. Specifically mentioned during our reading for that day were Yellowstone and the Adirondack. We spent time recalling our own memories and experiences of national parks.

I was reminded of the time I had spent at Big Bend National Park in December of 2016. The fall semester had just concluded, and my cousin and I had decided we would road trip home. He would be traveling abroad the next semester and therefore needed his car to be at home rather than at Baylor, where he attends school. We could have simply driven straight home, but we wanted to make the trip exciting. Weeks before our departure, my cousin suggested we venture out to Big Bend, do a day hike, and head home the next morning. It was not too far away and offered a diversion from the normal route. Having never before heard of Big Bend, I was intrigued. He informed me that it rested on the very border of the United States and Mexico and sent a few stunning photos my way. I couldn’t say no.

After driving about eight hours, we arrived in the tiny town (if you can even call it that) of Teralingua around midnight. After a good night’s rest, we layered our clothes, packed out back packs with snacks, waters, and other essentials, and we hopped in the car. Our timing had us in that park and at the trail head as the sun was rising. The air was chilly, and so we traveled at a quick pace to keep warm. The first part of the trail was a steady incline, and we kept looking around to see our starting point become smaller and smaller in the distance. Once we gained enough elevation, the trail rounded a corner wider expanse of trees and valley opened up before us. The tops of trees below were a pretty mixture of gold, green, and amber. Rocky cliffs jutted up around us. The trail was narrow, brown, and rocky, creating an uneven path at times. It was lines with fiery orange puffs of grass that almost looked as though they might feel fuzzy. Taller, yellow prairie grass swayed alongside the trail like blonder hair blowing in the breeze. The sky was a solid block of blue.

While my cousin and I had begun the trek engaged in conversation, we grew quieter as time went on. Our ears could hear everything and nothing at the same time. Not another soul passed us on the trail. The crunching of our own shoes on the rocky trail was the only sound until suddenly a noise comes from somewhere to our upper left. It sounds like a rock hitting another rock or falling. We freeze, and I have the sudden fear that whatever made that noise might hurt us. But when we looked, it was not a ferocious beast but rather a deer. It was the closest I had ever been to the powerful and beautiful creature. And for a moment, it lingered.

After some three hours, my cousin and I reached what we had been waiting for, the South Rim. It seemed to suddenly appear out in front of the trail, and we ran toward it. 2,000 high and perched on the edge of what felt like a massive wall of a cliff, we could see uninhabited land stretching for miles and miles. Its rolling valley rippled like water below, and I had the same sensation I sometimes experience when looking at the vast ocean. Except this time, I was above it all.

For about an hour, my cousin and I lingered at the rim. We ate our lunches and tried our best to capture the view with our cameras. Yet, our photos could not compare to the reality. They could not capture the thrill and awe that stirred within us as we perched on that cliff.

National Parks provide us with opportunities to experience breathtaking beauty. It is essential that we preserve them.