America's Best Idea

Big Bend National Park

"What time is it?"

"I don't know. What does your phone say?"

"Mine says 3:02."

"Well mine says 4:02."

That is how we spent three days at Big Bend National Park trying to figure out what time it was.

Being this close to the Mexican border plays tricks on your phone. You can stand along the Rio Grande and look straight into Mexico. Different country. Different time zone. Your service grabs different towers and suddenly you have two answers for the same question. It became our joke. Texas time? Mexico time? Big Bend time?

Somewhere between the signal confusion and the quiet of the desert, we stopped caring what time it actually was. Out there, it just didn't seem to matter. Standing between borders and time zones, we had made it to park #53 - Big Bend National Park - another stop on this wild, beautiful journey that keeps stretching us a little farther and reminding us why we chase these places in the first place.

We flew into Midland/Odessa and still had about a three and a half hour drive to the park. That is considered close. From El Paso it is about five hours. From Austin it can be seven to eight hours. Texas is huge. You can drive for hours across wide open land and still not be near your destination. That distance is part of why Big Bend keeps showing up on lists of the least visited National Parks. It takes effort to get here. And that effort makes it feel earned.

We started with the Ross Maxwell Scenic Drive, named after the park's first superintendent and geologist who helped develop and protect this landscape in the 1940s and early 50s. The road was thoughtfully routed to showcase the west side's volcanic geology, historic ranch sites, and sweeping desert scenery. And it delivers. Mule Ears rising boldly from the desert floor. Layers of rock telling ancient stories.

Then Santa Elena Canyon. Towering limestone cliffs carved by the Rio Grande. A fun fact about the Rio Grande is that it runs nearly 1,900 miles from Colorado to the Gulf of Mexico and forms the natural border between the United States and Mexico for much of its journey. Standing there, watching it quietly move between two countries, felt powerful and grounding.

Wildlife here can include javelinas, roadrunners, coyotes, even black bears in the Chisos, but the only sighting we had the entire trip was the Mexican blue jay. Somehow that felt fitting. Quiet park. Quiet sightings.

Our stay was at Far Flung Outdoor Center in Terlingua, and we settled in quickly. We checked in, unpacked, and I immediately rolled out my yoga mat on our deck. I stretched, made myself a cup of tea, then sat in the rocking chair and watched the sun set. The warmth and light breeze felt incredible after three straight weeks of below freezing weather back home. That night we ate at High Sierra Bar, sitting outside and savoring award-winning chili, sipping a cold Mineragua. Dinner outside was perfect and rewarding in so many ways.

The next morning we headed to Chisos Basin to hike Emory Peak. At 7,825 feet, it is the highest point in the park. The hike is about 10.5 miles round trip with roughly 2,500 feet of elevation gain. I loved seeing cactus along the climb as the landscape slowly shifted with elevation. I have not hiked in four months, but I have been training. My legs felt strong and steady.

The final stretch to the summit is a hands-and-feet scramble over jagged rock, each move deliberate, each hold tested before you trust it. The wind whips around you, making every step feel alive. No ropes, no safety nets - just you, the rock, and your instincts. It's not for everyone.

As a rock climber, it felt natural, but I stayed smart. Mountains demand respect. You can make your summit anywhere you feel comfortable and safe, as long as you use common sense. Push yourself a little beyond your comfort zone, but if something doesn't feel right, stop, reassess, and do what works best for you. That balance, between daring and caution, is what makes the climb feel earned.