{"id":8110,"date":"2018-04-17T06:17:03","date_gmt":"2018-04-17T12:17:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mywalkabout.net\/?p=8110"},"modified":"2021-09-27T04:20:17","modified_gmt":"2021-09-27T11:20:17","slug":"the-boquillas-border-crossing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mywalkabout.net\/?p=8110","title":{"rendered":"The Boquillas border crossing"},"content":{"rendered":"

It seems like a lifetime ago<\/strong>, but only a couple of days earlier as I was rafting along the Rio Grande river, story after story was told to me about the Boquillas<\/a> border crossing.<\/p>\n

I was wide-eyed and open-mouthed with wonder about this place, and like a tick embedded in one’s skin, I was bound and determined to go and check this place out. I mean, I already had my passport with me since I came from Jamaica, so why the hell not?
\"\"\u00a0I find the dirt road out in the middle of nowhere<\/strong> that leads me to the border crossing station for Boquillas. The parking lot is already full and it’s not even noon yet. I park further on out along the dirt road, double-check my backpack and pockets to make sure I have everything I need, then walk on up to the border control station.<\/p>\n

The nicest agent comes up to me and asks if I’ve crossed here before.<\/p>\n

“No? Let me just run over the rules for you then…don’t bring back any liquor or guns or these type of souvenirs, ok? Have fun!”<\/em><\/p>\n

And with that, he shows me the pathway to take and I start walking. My mind is in a State of surrealism. Did I really just cross the US border into Mexico and am walking into another country?<\/p>\n

Maybe 100 feet of walking through a cool grove of trees before a clearing opens and I see the mighty Rio Grande river. A group of people are waiting at the water’s edge as a rowboat makes its way to the shore.
\"\" “You ready amigo?”\u00a0<\/em><\/strong>The current barge has space for one more person, so I happily move to the front of the line and hop on in the boat. Before I know it, we are rowing across the river to Mexico.<\/p>\n

Climbing the river banks on the other side, I’m given a ticket, then asked what mode of transportation I would like to take into town.<\/p>\n

$10 for a truck. $8 for a horse. $5 for a burro. Or you can walk the mile for free.<\/p>\n

“Burro por favor Senor!”<\/em>
\"\"\u00a0I pay the young kid the five dollars<\/strong> and get saddled up on my burro. Instinctively the animal knows which direction to go, and away I am whisked to adventures unknown.<\/p>\n

I’m the highest I’ve ever been on adventure as I lumber my way along the Mexican desert to Boquillas.<\/p>\n

Ten minutes later and I arrive. The town is as colorful as most towns are in Mexico. I climb down off my burro and walk into Boquillas to the sounds of siesta music and children playing.
\"\"\u00a0It doesn’t take me long to walk<\/strong> from one end of town to the other. I wave to caballeros that are drinking in the afternoon sun and get friendly nods and salutations in return. I finally settle on Jose Falcons for lunch and pony on up to the patio bar that overlooks the river and Big Bend.
\"\"\u00a0I stay for an undetermined amount of time<\/strong>, knocking back cold cervezas and delicious enchiladas. Eventually, I make my way back down to the stable of burros so I can go back to the river.<\/p>\n

A couple of drunk gents are with me, and all of us are looking for someone to help us get onto a burro to ride, yet no one is around. I finally ask an older lady where a person is to help us, and I figure out that this is a “do it yourself” for the return trip.<\/p>\n

I select a burro that looks somewhat demure, swing my leg over the saddle, and next thing I know we are back on the trail to the USA.
\"\"\u00a0I make it back with no issues<\/strong>, climb into the boat and am taken back across the river.\u00a0\"\"\u00a0All I can think about while crossing<\/strong> is why anyone would want to ruin such a magical place with a stupid wall?<\/p>\n\n\n

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