lion again. It's early and I'm alone so of course I proceed.
A hundred yards down the trail, I freeze. I catch a flash of grey fur in my periphery. I'm
ashamed to admit my first thought is, it's a lion. Instead, it's an eight-point buck moving
through the brush. After my walk, I head south.
Just before the turnoff to Boquillas Canyon there's a dirt road that leads to the river. At the end of the road is a mena-
cing sign warning that thieves have been breaking into unattended vehicles. I take this to heart and bring Brünhilde
as far along the path as possible.
The payoff. A natural hot springs set beside the Rio Grande river.
While I'm having a restorative soak, this curious foal weighs the benefits of a cool drink from the river. In the end,
his mother nudges him along. After an hour or so, I'm hungry.
I pull the bike up to here and have some breakfast.
It's a beautiful sunny spot.
I laze in the sun, drinking wine and watching the river flow.
Later I drive to the trailhead for Boquillas Canyon.
The trail crosses a high bluff with beautiful views...
...before descending to the river's edge.
I pass these prickly pear,
on my way to the mouth of the canyon.
A Mexican national has crossed the border to sell handicraft. I have no room to go shopping, but I make a donation
to the gentleman's childrens' education nevertheless. Then, I spy his canoe. After a bit of gentle pleading, I convince
the man to let me take it out for a spin.
As soon as I paddle from shore, I realize my mistake. It's a Mexican canoe. Water rushes in and makes the thing
nearly impossible to steer. I end up hopping into the river and dragging the canoe back upstream. For an approxi-
mation of scale,
locate the man in blue by the river's edge. I slog back to the bike in water-logged boots. The 90 mile ride to Marathon seems to last an eternity. At last, I arrive at the historic Gage Hotel.
My boots are cold and wet,
but I'm thankful to be here.
Brünhilde's rear tire, showing a lot of highway wear.
She'll make the fifty miles back to Marfa.
I deposit my goods in the room and retire to a cozy room to watch the Jets game. I proceed to drink a lot of whiskey
and shout at the television, much to the dismay of the other guests. The Jets get a walk-off 17-16 win in Indy. Next
stop Foxboro.
I sleep well. Tomorrow's the last day of my trip.
