Swimming in the Rio Grande River

                Impenetrable walls skied above us as we followed the trail on its descent. The cobbles of quartz, chert, and volcanic, metamorphic rock materialized together over millions of years only for the Guadalupe River to slice right through it. In nature, the two sides are the rift between populations, a barrier separating flora and fauna. In ecology we use it as a prime example of allopatric speciation, and there is no doubt the burden of truth lies fossilized in these walls. In 1836, Santa Anna and Interim Texan President David Burnet signed the Treaties of Velasco declaring this natural landmark as the dividing line between the new country Texas and its former empire, Mexico. 183 years later, the Rio Grande River, a topic of political controversy, citizens who value the unharmed scenery are united by its grandeur.

                At the bank at the end of an arduous, barefoot hike, hikers stood at the foot of the river on the American side, peering over just across the river to Mexico. The air was still, water calm, and atmosphere tranquil. Pictures cannot imitate the breadth, much less capture the aura that seemed to saturate the valley. The local and foreign visitors observed in peace.

                And then our pack strolled on in. In defense, we conducted due diligence as we admired this godly creation. But as I stood ankle deep in the muddy bank, three of my friends tiptoed by me in nothing but compression shorts. Many sets of eyes were drawn away from God’s creation and onto these imprisoned butts and thighs. Without hesitation, the three still dry dropped to our boxers and scurried into the frigid water. The serene moment was ruined, yet a playful one replaced it. Soon, families, elders, and foreigners followed suite as they wadded into the water to join us.

                At this section, the river only rose to our knees, but with each step my foot sank through a couple inches of mud. The water, while it is ice melt from Colorado, collected enough sediment to turn an opaque green. Stepping into the unknown was frightening. While it was probably cold enough to subdue cold-blooded reptiles, our minds ran through scenarios of snakes slithering next to our feet and plotting their attack. We picked up the pace. Walking turned into jogging, jogging into high-kneeing towards the Mexican border. The six of us grabbed the ledge and scaled a couple feet to the base of an opening.

Just like that we crossed over the border from the US to Mexico. Now, there was no way to scale the cliff to continue south, but for a few minutes sat in our neighboring country. And it felt just like our own.