Captain Floyd--Salty Dog, River Rat

Took my first canoe trip of the year on the St. Croix this week. It was a solo journey except for the company of my eight pound wiener dog, Floyd. He had never camped before and did surprisingly well. He spent most of the time in the boat either sprawled out on a big rubber dry bag, or, when the surface grew too hot, on the unoccupied front seat of the boat, on which I tied his fleece pad. Small dogs are strange creatures--one must watch them to make sure they do not wander off into the jaws of a coyote, but they do have certain benefits like being able to nest at the foot of one’s sleeping bag like a warm furry heating pad. The only scare was when Floyd, whose swimming abilities had never been tested, leapt from the boat as we neared shore. He came up paddling with a confident look on his face, but the current then swept him under the canoe. I had been keeping him on a string, so was able to pull and retrieve him as through he was a nice sized fish. Once on shore he repeatedly sprinted across the sand beach and rolled in the dirt with enviable pleasure.


The above photo is from the first night’s camp, between Rush City and Wild River State Park. Ominous clouds blew in before the sunset, but the following morning was clear. Full Post»

!El Contrabando!

An hour from the nearest gas station on the thorny shores of the Rio Grande is a crumbling adobe village. Out the front doors spread barren Mexico without a trace of society in sight. Behind are a red, mushroom-capped rock and then a towering hill with cliffs cut by a gaping canyon. A whitewashed house with vacant windows is there, so is a low, rectangular store with a surviving awning made from barbed ocotillo branches. But the edifice that screams of what should be seen in places like this is the derelict church with its round topped windows and roof—climbing skyward in rising undulations to where a lonely cross carves into the atmospheric blue. Though looking hard at the cracked adobes, what peeks from the veneer of mud looks strangely like plywood and chicken wire. It looks and it is. The village that is a visage of the ideal southwestern tableau is a creation of Hollywood and not history. It is El Contrabando and home to movies like The Journeyman, Streets of Laredo and Gambler V, not to forget the Brooks and Dunn music video for My Maria. Oh, and the name, that is based on history--after an old smuggling route through area canyons.


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