So this is what it's like to "cross the border". This is what's going on in my mind upon reaching that forbidden edge of Texas that opens up a world of opportunities for Mexicans getting into the U.S. territory without proper documentation. This is nothing but a wide, shallow mouth of a river where you can actually wade across. Damn, it is that easy.
But all we really did is get off the Durango and peek around the thick foliage that covers the little part of the Rio Grande that we can see. I got a feeling that there are border patrols watching us. Reminds me of that Jack Nicholson movie The Border, except that we are still in Texas and not trying to cross the river.
I'm not surprised that on our way back to the Chisos campsite, we got asked at the checkpoint...even though we didn't look like Mexicans. I guess it's all part of standard operating procedure.
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