Packrafting: Boquillas Canyon in Big Bend National Park

Texas Highway 2627 heading south to the Heath Ranch.

(Click images to view larger)

In February (2022), well into a long drought, the Rio Grande trickled through Boquillas Canyon, the limestone defile defining the U.S.-Mexico border and the southeast boundary of Big Bend National Park; later in the year it dried up altogether. The river emerges from the deep canyon into dry scrubby ranchland, eventually passing under a barricaded bridge blocking passage between the Heath Ranch, where Ellen and I took-out at the end of a three-day packraft trip, and the abandoned town of La Linda in Mexico, where a few deteriorating homes and a church remain. Russell Johnson, whose parents own the ranch, told me that as a kid he often crossed the bridge with friends to explore La Linda, but these days the Mexican Federales are too scary, so he stays on the U.S side, driving river shuttles for people like us and working to make the ranch into a destination for river runners. 

Ellen in her packraft after exiting Boquillas Canyon. The metal fire pan is required by the park service even if you don't intend to have fires.

 

We’d launched our packrafts about 35 miles upstream at the Rio Grande Village, a tourist enclave in the park, battling a ferocious headwind with a handful of other boaters, all clinging to vegetation to keep from being blown back to the put-in. Flowing at about 70 cfs, less than half of the recommended minimum of 150, the current was too sluggish to overcome the gale, and it was all we could do to paddle the first few miles past the Mexican village of Boquillas Del Carmen to the mouth of the canyon where we’d hoped that the limestone cliffs would provide some shelter; instead, the wind blew harder, funneling through the gap. We huddled there for an hour or so, hiding from the wind in the tamarisk and checking out the collection of items left on the ground for sale by Mexican villagers from Boquillas, relying on the honor system for payment. The blowing sand stung our faces when the wind gusted, and eventually we convinced ourselves that we could make progress. Back in our boats paddling frantically between gusts, we fought our way to a cold windy campsite among thorny sweet acacia trees thick with their puffy orange flowers. 

Packing for the trip at our campsite in Rio Grande Village.

Rigging boats at the put-in. Dog in stroller is someone else's interested observer.

Ellen briefly enjoying relatively calm paddling before the maelstrom hit.

Other paddlers hoping for strength in numbers against the wind near the mouth of the canyon.

Items for sale by villagers from Boquillas del Carmen. 

The canyon mouth where limestone cliffs funneled the wind.

Ellen feeling excited about camping in a thorny, windy, cold place.

 

The rest of the trip was warmer, calmer, and less eventful. The few rapids were inconsequential in low flow, and the challenge was butt-scooting our rafts across shallows rather than negotiating rapids, minimal even at normal flows. Boquillas Canyon is spectacular. Limestone walls rise hundreds of feet above the river, riddled with inaccessible alcoves. Side canyons invite exploration and towers beg to be climbed, though rock quality is rumored to be poor. 

Heading downriver on day 2.

Ellen on day 2.

Boquillas Canyon on day 2.

Big Bend Sliders (turtles). We saw lots of these sunning themselves along the river.

Rabbit Ears Spire in the lower part of the canyon. Climbed? Unclimbed?

 

We camped the second night where we could scramble up a steep sandy bank and find our way through thorny riparian vegetation to a broad bench grazed by Mexican horses and cattle. Two caballeros, smiling and waving, had splashed their horses across the Rio Grande in front of us earlier that day, unconcerned about the international border. At camp, a horse nibbled at our tent and spooked, surprised by the feel of lightweight fabric on its tongue.

Setting up our second camp.

Curious horses wondering if tents might be good to eat.

Low water boating has been the theme of our nascent packrafting experiences. On the John Day in Oregon in 2021 (earlier blog post), there was enough water to float lazily along, but the small rapids were reduced to riffles, and route-finding was more of a challenge than pushy water. Later in the spring (April 2022) after Big Bend, we floated the Escalante from Fence Canyon to Coyote Gulch (blog post to come) at very low water and exhausted our already fading core muscles scooching the boats across gravel bars. While persistent drought in the southwest has more serious consequences than inconveniencing packrafters, one worries that the already small windows for floating desert rivers could close altogether.

Does the river end here? Not yet, but finding shallow passages around gravel bars was challenging.

Ellen paddling in flat water after leaving the canyon. 

Lunch on the last day.

Still water.

It was hot as I walked the two-track from the take-out, climbing over a locked gate and continuing up a long driveway to the Heath ranch to retrieve our van and borrow the gate key. Ellen stayed behind deflating rafts and organizing gear while a large group took-out and set up camp by the river. After an enthusiastic greeting by their friendly ranch dog, Russell and his mother offered us camping at the end of the seldom-used asphalt runway that extended from just north of their house up and over a hill and back down to a private level spot out of view of the ranch. Having chosen privacy over the river camp, we drove the runway to this surprisingly peaceful camp with views south into Mexico and north into Texas. After spreading our gear on the tarmac to dry, we cleaned up, cooked dinner, and enjoyed the warmth and fading light of a South Texas February day. 

Drying gear on the Heath Ranch runway.

Memories of trips evolve until all that’s left are a few defining moments, sometimes surprisingly mundane compared to the adventure. That evening on the runway after the float is one of these for me. We sat in our camp chairs as the sun sank behind the ridge to our west and the air cooled. Mountain peaks in Mexico lit up for a few minutes against a darkening sky and a few stars appeared. It’s seldom the paddling or the hiking you think most about months after an adventure. 

Our camp at the end of the trip.

The runway leading back to the Heath Ranch house.

 

Logistics: A permit is required from the Park Service for the float. You must carry a metal fire pan and an extra paddle and life preserver, even if you aren’t building fires. Put-in just upstream from Rio Grande Village in the park and take-out at Heath Ranch about 10 miles east of the park—call the ranch for permission; they are very friendly and offer camping. Charge is $10/night for parking your vehicle at the ranch. Russell Johnson or his mother will probably do the shuttle—you pick them up at the ranch and drive back to the put-in with them. Then they drive your car back to the ranch, so plan on that time and gasoline for the shuttle (you can get gas in the park but it’s expensive). We bought a river guidebook from the Big Bend Natural History Association but didn’t find it that helpful. There are two named rapids, both of which can be portaged. Camping isn’t too hard to find though as I said, the banks can be scrappy. You are asked to camp on the U.S. side. There’s more info from the park service at this link.