Big Bend: See nature at its best in South Texas

By CHARLIE MAIB | Courtesy photos by CHARLIE MAIB and GETTY IMAGES

I’ve traveled a bit — crossed the U.S. from sea to shining sea, wandered through Asia, felt the salt of the ocean on my skin, stood atop mountains, lost myself in cities, found myself in parks. And yet, somehow, Big Bend National Park still caught me off guard. Not just because I’d been there before but because I thought I knew what to expect. I was wrong.

My first visit? A sixth-grade backpacking trip. Two weeks in the desert, rationing water, learning survival skills, bonding over sore feet and empty stomachs. We saw a coyote or two. We saw a lot of rocks. And that, I assumed, was Big Bend.

This time, I took the long drive from Killeen — Highway 190 to Interstate 10, to Highway 90, then the final stretch on 385. Six hours one way. A trek, but not impossible.

In a world that’s always shifting, changing, and evolving, Big Bend has stayed mostly the same. Hasn’t budged much in 30 years, hasn’t changed much in 45 million. That’s part of the charm.

Maybe it was the off-season, or maybe I was just seeing it with different eyes, but the park felt wilder this time. Every mile brought something worth stopping for — bighorn sheep testing their dominance, free-ranging longhorns with horns that stretched out into forever, elk moving slow and easy in the last light of day. I had expected emptiness. Instead, I found a place very much alive with wildlife.

For the night, I booked a room in Sanderson, the self-proclaimed “Cactus Capital of Texas.” That’s not an exaggeration — cacti are about the only thing in abundance. It’s a town stripped down to essentials. No shopping malls, no nightlife, no frills. Even the gas station closes on weekends because people have better things to do than wait around for travelers.

I stayed at the Desert Air Motel, which won my business by simply being the cheapest. Not a lot of competition, not a lot of guests either. Service was top-notch — hard not to be when you’re the only person staying there.

As for food, Sanderson doesn’t have options, it has an option — The Ranch House. And yet, in this tiny, forgotten town, I found a burger that belonged in the kind of place where you have to make reservations weeks in advance.

Big Bend doesn’t try to be anything other than what it is. Sanderson doesn’t, either. And that’s the draw. If you want distractions, you won’t find them here. If you want something real, though — something vast and silent and wild — this is where you come.