Walking Sticks
I have these two walking sticks. Well, one is my wife’s. They are each about five feet in length and beautifully ordained. Mine has some form of predatory bird, maybe a hawk, perched upon a tree with a rattlesnake in its grasp. My wife’s has a beautiful cactus scene with a roadrunner poking around. These walking sticks come from Boquillas (del Carmen), Mexico.
We bought these sticks from an older, singing, Mexican man during a hike in Big Bend National Park, on the banks of the Rio Grande. I bought the one with the rattlesnake on it in hopes that it would protect me from...rattlesnakes.
When I look at these items, as they are placed in the corner of my home office, it brings me back to when we bought them. This time stands out in my mind because it was one of the creepier times of my life.
The hike started much the same as most others. We parked our jeep near the trailhead and made our final preparations. It only took about 10 minutes for the hike to get a little strange. At about that time we could faintly hear something in the distance. We weren’t quite sure, but it sounded like singing. As we continued to get closer, it became apparent that it was in fact singing. We could not understand the song as it was being sung in Spanish, a language I have regretfully not mastered in my 40 years. I might add that whomever was singing this song had a fairly good voice.
To me, this seemed a little strange. We were out in a very remote location, on our own, about 50 feet from the border. Considering my wife was with me, I was convinced that we should turn around and find another hike. As usual, my wife convinced me otherwise and we continued. We finally made it to the location of the voice to see an older gentleman standing there, under a Texas tree, ready to serenade any passersby. His seemingly homemade boat lay on the banks of the Rio Grande just behind him. He was surrounded by different trinkets, to include quite a few of these walking sticks. He was friendly, he smiled and waved, but did not say much. We stopped for a brief moment and looked around, mostly out of courtesy, but decided to continue our hike.
Once we departed, the singing picked back up, as if a siren song for the next group of hikers. We kind of chuckled at that interaction as it just had a weird feel about it. Things would get weirder in about an hour. We continued the hike and I even cast a few lines in the river, unsuccessfully. This was a loop hike, for lack of a better term, so we eventually turned around and started on our way back to the jeep. This meant we would be passing the troubadour for a second time.
This time, however, it was different. As we got close to the spot, we noticed some individuals across the river, just hanging out. We kept an eye on them, out of curiosity. As we got closer, we could see three to four people. At least two of them had rifles slung on their backs. This was the moment where I regretted continuing this hike. One of those gut feeling things. I was starting to get a little nervous because I was not quite sure what they were doing there. Were they Mexican border patrol? Were they police? Or were they some other form of potentially unsavory characters? Add to this the fact that we were maybe 50 yards from them, and they had rifles. Creepy.
They didn’t wave and didn’t seem to care that we were there, but I was keeping an eye on them anyways. We made it back to the singing salesman and could still see the rifle-carrying characters from that location. Were they protecting him? Were they “ensuring” people bought something on their way out? I am still not sure to this day. A good old-fashioned mystery.
Perhaps they influenced us, if even subconsciously, into buying these walking sticks. Or maybe these things are just really cool looking (they are). Either way, we decided to purchase them, and left some good old American dollars with the gentleman. He tipped his sweat-tinged cowboy hat and we went along our way, sturdied by our new purchases. We made it back, safely, to the jeep still confused by the situation. We talked about it and agreed that this was one of the more eerie instances we have experienced.
So now, you can understand why I look at these walking sticks in the way that I do. They put me back in that situation every time. I can relive that moment in life anytime I want, just by laying eyes upon them. Some scary situations lead to a good story, and I believe that this was one of them. I hope you agree. Would I go on that hike again, with my wife? Probably not. But I am glad it happened and turned out the way it did. I will look upon these pieces of wood with a strange fondness for the rest of my life.
-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)