THE MIGHTY HURRICANE OF 1983

By Shawn (& Lisa McFarland)

(Lisa's additions appear in italics below)

My first trip to Big Bend was very eventful, although Lisa tells this story better than I do, I will tell it for the first time myself on paper. I had a brand new Blazer, 4-wheel drive, black with silver trim. You all remember it. Seven of you squeezed into it heading back to Lajitas after our first rafting adventure thru Santa Elena Canyon. Boy, was I proud of that car and ready to take it on a brand new adventure in 1983. So Lisa and I planned a full week in the Big Bend, in September or October as I recall.

We hiked all over the Basin, went a few other places. Then we took off for the River Road to Mariscal Canyon. Down, down, down a lonely road to the river's edge where we set up our tent and cooked dinner by the moonlight. The wind was brisk and we could tell the weather was changing. But the river's edge made a lush campground compared to the desert plateau above and we wanted to hear the sound of the water all night long.

In the middle of the night, Lisa woke me up. 

Water is coming thru the floor of the rain soaked tent bottom, the top seams of the tent are dripping water..  it is raining inside the tent. Looking out at the Rio Grande I see boulders the size of couches floating down the river with the swiftness of leaves. Outside the tent the ground around us is a wash of water. We decide to make an exit and as we climb the road to leave we quickly realize this is no road, this is a washout. Shawn fights the current of the rushing water trying to ascend upstream. The floorboards have filled with water and the blazer becomes intermittently buoyed by the current. The "road" makes a turn to the left and Shawn pulls into what we now recognize as an eddy, even with this small rise in elevation the car still bounces, momentarily buoyant with each pulsing surge. It is clear if the water level rises the car could easily be rushed away. Memory fails me as to exact wording, but it was around this moment that Shawn, standing between the raging flow and her new car, raged her own complaints to the big guy upstairs. I was throwing tent, food bag, sleeping bags and my dog, onto higher ground. The rain continued and eventually the water level dropped enough that we felt safe returning to the car. We hear on the radio that the weather system responsible for our dilemma was Hurricane Tiko, in the Pacific. We got what little sleep we could as the water continued to rush past. Come morning we tried to dig the car out. We hiked down and cut bamboo trying to fortify the mud and lift us up but this would only gain us an inch or so at a time.

It was raining lightly and the wind was blowing steadily. She had been watching the river and said it was rising. She said she wanted to get out of there. We hurriedly packed up the car and took off up the dirt road. There was a spot in the road that was buried in water which I tried to get past, but the car got stuck momentarily, so I backed out in a hurry and backed up a ways. I told Lisa that we weren't going anywhere until the sun came up, so let's just lay back and catch a few zzz's and we'll try again in the morning.

Morning came with a roar. The rain, the wind, the water. The water started filling up the road and I managed to get out of the car. Just as I did, the water started filling up the floor board of my brand new Blazer. I asked Lisa to start bailing water (a futile task). She, of course, panicked. Thinking we were going to loose the car to the river, she started throwing our gear out the window for me to store on the high bank next to the car, amongst the mesquite trees. Well, the rain finally stopped and the water finally did go down and I got back in the car to start it. I blew out all the water in the tailpipe and started making the trek up the road again. Then I got the car stuck in that spot in the road where we almost got stuck the night before. We got out and started digging. By now we were giddy for lack of sleep and fear. We dug the sand out as best we could with the lids from our cooking pots, giggling. I made a joke as we dug. "Where's a good man when you need one?" Hey folks. Be careful what you wish for. It may come true.

Just then we heard a car honking. We screamed for help. The honks got closer and closer. Then a big truck appeared with three drunk Mexicans in the front seat. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. I didn't know if I was happy or scared. That's when Armando Garcia jumped out from behind the driver's seat and came to say hello. He happened to be the only one of the three who spoke English. And he just happened to have a shovel. He was a gift from God. I begged him to help us. He explained that he and his friends were there to see his brother on the other side of the river. They honk and his brother comes to get them with three horses. He said they spend the weekend there for a variety of reasons, the primary one being to harvest their you-know-what and bring it back home. I explained to him that the river was very high, impassable and begged again for help.

Well, they helped dig us out and I drove the Blazer to the high plateau and made camp. They made their camp there also, since they couldn't get across the river. We cooked dinner and watched them drink their beer and shared some stories. I offered them my tent to sleep in with the colorful down sleeping bags and Lisa and I locked ourselves soundly in the Blazer to sleep safely. 

As we were waking up on top of the plateau after Armando had dug us out and shared a nice smoke with us, I saw my dog wander off and one of the guys followed it.  A moment or two later I heard a gun shot and feared for the safety of my dog.  Appearing from around the rocks was my dog and the guy holding a dead rattlesnake.  He explained he had just saved my dogs life.

In the morning I offered them coffee which we all drank, then they offered us beer, which we declined. 

He went off to shoot some snakes for awhile while Lisa and I packed up our things.  He asked me if we were going to Rio Grande Village in two days for the festival.  He told me he wanted to see me there so he could "dance with my body."  Yeah, right, I thought.  He and his friends left to check the river and Lisa and I left as fast as we could.  I felt guilty for not saying goodbye, so I left a note on his truck that read, "Via con Dios."

As we were heading off into the desert floor we noticed that everything once dry and dusty was now mud. We were very worried as Shawn's car had sustained damage and was overheating. We would drive till it got hot, stop and let it cool a little. Lucky for us every muddy spot of danger was easy to spot as there were a dozen or more beer cans were Armando and his friends had had to dig themselves out on their way in.

We did find out that the storm we had gone thru was a Pacific hurricane. But we found out no other information except that it had ripped up Abilene also.

Lisa and I made the long drive back to Rio Grande Village and a gas station and a phone. We prepped the car for the long drive back, just like the car dealer told me to. As we left the boundary markers of the park, Lisa asked me to stop. She got out of the car and picked a wild flower and said a prayer for Armando Garcia who had saved us. As we drove out of the park a tear came to her eye. She and I had loved every moment of our hiking together, watching the sunsets, breathing the air. I felt touched in my heart that a good man could come along when I needed him the most. And that we were alright and heading home to our washing machines, our air conditioning and our soft beds.