Everything Really is Bigger in Texas
We’ve been driving all day and we’re tired. Exhausted really. And I miss my damn friend more than I want to admit. I debate often about turning the van around just to be with her. I’ve been pretty close to breaking and on this particular day, multiple messages are coming through that are putting me on edge. It’s getting close to dark when I get a message that I need to send a photo release. Texas’ service is spotty and I need to sign it but I can’t do much until we reach camp. Once we do, Jason and I stress for an hour about sending this damn document. When it finally sends, I learn it was most likely for nothing. It’s at that moment, I crawl into bed, and begin to sob into my pillow. Jason tries to comfort me but I soon notice another cosmetic issue with the van, and since I’m too tired to be angry, I just cry myself to sleep.
I wake in the morning sadder than the night before. My dead friend Eric was in my dream and I never seem to recover well knowing that it wasn’t real; knowing he’s never coming back. I’m still upset and flustered from the day before so we pack up and leave as soon as possible. As service begins to come back, I’m angry with the abundance of “you have the most amazing life” comments I’m receiving. Don’t they know I cried all night? Don’t they know my best friend’s Dad is dying and I’m not fucking there? But they don’t and even as I type this now, wonder if they should. Life isn’t all adventures and pretty pictures so I make sure to remind them of that without saying too much. Amanda’s story isn’t mine to tell. And I’m sick of talking about my demons.
As the day goes on, the blue sky and long drive begins to improve my mood. Besides, Texas is too pretty and I’m only here once. Our campsite for the night is in the middle of the desert and we spend a half an hour off roading to get there. We’re isolated but there’s two RVS near by so not alone. Jason makes pizza from a recipe in The Camp Cookbook and it’s so fucking delicious that honestly I’m impressed. The sun begins to set so I strip down to nothing, lay in bed, and stare off into the desert. As darkness sets in, heat lightning begins to occur just beyond the mountains. Fascinated by the strikes, I sit in the driver seat, bare bottom against the vinyl, and roll my window down to watch as Jason stands outside. Soon enough the stars appear and even though I’m scared, I want to photograph them.
It’s strange being afraid of the dark when you’ve been engulfed in it most of your life. But maybe it’s more the unknown that awaits in what I cannot see. Either way, as we stood in the desert in the middle of the night, isolated, and not able to see any of our surroundings, I still felt the fear. But I stayed and embraced it as we watched the lightning over the mountains and looked up at the stars, while photographing the Milky Way. There are so many times in my life I’ve been afraid and did it anyway. I think that’s how you’re supposed to live.
The next morning, we make our way back to the highway. Annoyed by the half hour’s time, I remind myself of the beauty we saw last night and hold on to that instead. Surrounded by rocks of all colors, sizes, and formations, a vulture flies above and I smile thinking “how Texas”. The rock formations are incredible, and I wish my camera could show the magnitude of their size. It’s something you’ll have to see yourself one day. Trust me, it’ll be worth your time. As I continue to gaze upon them, I imagine rock climbers reaching the top. And so I begin to long for the day when I can call myself one. I guess that’s why my heart calls for the West. I know the person I want to be and I’m hoping I can find her out here. Because I think it might be who I was meant to be all along.
On our way to the National Park, Jason and I visit Terlingua Ghost Town even though that’s far from what it is. The streets are filled with cars and almost every building appears open. But it’s still an interesting place to visit. We make sure to pay our respects to the dead before we leave. While visiting Big Bend, we stop at almost every look out and just cannot comprehend the scale of it all. “Woah” becomes our word of the day. We gaze upon the Santa Elena Canyon and say hi to Mexico, as we touch the Rio Grande. The temperature sky rockets throughout the afternoon. 106°, 109°, and by 3:09 PM it hits 113°. But Texas heat is different and there’s a reason they say that if you feel it, it’s too late. By early evening, we arrive at our campsite with plans to watch sunset. We drive up to the Ranger Station for service just to catch up on news but soon enough, the rain begins and our plans disappear. We end up spending three hours on our phones and laugh about it later.
We wake the next morning and spend some more time exploring Big Bend. We drive down to Boquillas Canyon and are once again amazed by the size. We walk towards the Rio Grande and right there in the river, a Mexican local is fishing while another swims. We wave and say hello and watch as a group of them hang around the river. Their arts and crafts are for sale so I purchase an embroidered mask and a handmade bracelet with the words “No Wall” and take a picture facing the Mexican border. I make sure to yell thank you and wave goodbye, wishing I could talk to them face to face. I dream of a day when borders no longer exist as we make our way to New Mexico.
