My Kingdom for some Vinegar

By Chris Jefferies

David's first trip to Big Bend was quite an adventure.  It's amazing that he returned after all the hardships he endured but that just shows how much he really loves Big Bend and the Rio Grande.  Prior to David's appearance on the scene the midnight fireworks "show" was a non-event where some Monkeys (roman candle styled devices) would be launched into the big dark skies over Mexico.  David, seeing an opportunity for a theatrical production, took it upon himself to put on a pyrotechnic spectacle and spent the afternoon on New Year's Eve fortifying the sandy banks of the Mexican side of the Rio with rocket launch pads.

It was a chilly night and David was not quite prepared for the outdoor conditions.  I was, as usual, over prepared so I lent David my big warm goose down jacket.

The midnight hour was approaching and it was time for David and I to get in the canoe and row across the Rio Grande.  There we would set up the fireworks which everyone could watch from a rock outcropping above the camp which we called the South Wall.

The night was dark and flashlight beams careened through the darkness highlighting the wafting campfire smoke and the occasional foggy breath generated by the cold night air.  Everyone was eager to see us off so we gathered by the rocky bank where the canoe was tied up.  Someone directed a flashlight beam on the rocks and I worked my way down the bank and cautiously stepped into the canoe.   Holding there onto the rocks, I held the boat steady upstream into the current and waited for David to get into the front of the canoe.  Jokes and funny comments filled the air and each was followed by a growing expectant laughter.  From my perspective about six feet below every one, each comment spawned louder laughter and more wildly crisscrossing flashlight beams.  Finally David started to proceed down the bank clutching the large garbage bag that contained the fireworks.

Another witty comment popped out of someone and the flashlight beams again began to jerk around in the dark losing focus on David's path down the bank.  Silhouetted there above me on the bank, I saw David slip a bit as he tried to balance himself there in that precarious place between the rocks and the boat;  between science and faith;  between conviction and uncertainty;  between reality and the twilight zone...  In that moment of decision, David made a bold move to jump into the canoe.  In the moment after that decision, I felt the canoe roll under me and immediately the sound of gurgling water filled my head; then the hollow bonk of the canoe as it collided with rocks, legs, paddles.  I was completely disoriented for what seemed like 10 seconds (but which was probably about 2 seconds) and found myself under the canoe in about 4 feet of water.  

As I surfaced, the underwater gurgles gave way to the eruption of hysterical laughter coming from camp.  The light beams flashed wildly as I struggled to get the flooded boat under control.  David and I were completely soaked and cold and, of course, feeling completely mortified.

But the show must go on...  and David had put the fireworks in a plastic bag "just in case".

I tried to empty the water out of the canoe but the river was too deep for me to get a grip and overturn the boat.  So we decided to drag the boat across the river where I might be able to bail the boat on the shallow shore while David placed the fireworks in the designated spots.

So off we went, dragging a swamped canoe across the Rio Grande right before midnight on New Year's eve.  As we approached the shore, we waded right into a muddy bog that almost sucked our shoes off.  There was no way that I was going to bail the boat, so we left it there in the mud.

After we slipped on to the dry sandy bank, we collected ourselves and got our flashlights going.  David untied the garbage bag and we shined the light in to see what we had.  There were our forty-five dollars worth of new years pop floating in about 3 inches of muddy river water.  The realization was sickening.  Meanwhile, the taunting jeers from our "friends" were relentless and David was determined to resurrect the disastrous fireworks show.   He pulled a couple of the fireworks out of the bag and shook the water off.  Nope, fuse too wet.  He tried another, and another, but it was futile.  I seem to recall one cone fizzled a little, but it was too little and I was starting to feel hypothermic.  Finally, David gave up and we waded back into the river dragging the boat behind us.

Back in camp we stripped out of our wet clothes and tried to warm up.  My feet were particularly cold and as circumstance would have it, I had a new potion called "Hot Feet" that I decided to use.  The Hot Feet dust had cayenne pepper in it and was supposed to dilate the blood vessels.  It was a powder that I sprinkled onto my feet and then put big old wool socks on.  Mmmmm nice and warm.

The evening finished out with David trying to dry out the fireworks by the campfire and once a few had fallen in, it was like Big Bend Roulette where you wouldn't know when a rocket might shoot up and out of the fire.  Everyone went to bed pretty soon after that.

The next morning it was pack up and pack out day and soon enough my warm toasty feet were on fire.  I soaked my feet in the cool Rio, but to no avail.  The powder clung like oil.  I found the package of "Hot Feet" powder and read the fine print about how to remove the concoction.  Vinegar.  Oh yeah, that's a common item around the campfire...

Finally I had no choice but to boot up and make my way out down the thorny river road back to civilization.

The Castolon store had no vinegar, so on we drove to Panther Junction.  All the way there, I held my feet over the air conditioning vents, much to the disgust of the other passengers.  When we finally pulled into the Gulf station I ran into the quick mart and desperately scanned the shelves for some vinegar.  None, but there... there...  there on a bottom shelf was a dusty bottle of sandwich sliced dill pickles.  "The jar of pickles please", I yelled with determination.

Moments later I was sitting on the sidewalk by the gas pump, bare feet plastered with the sweetest smelling dill pickles I've ever had.

The sunset was awe inspiring as I basked in the glory of cool pickle feet.  

Later that night we were passing through Seguin, Texas on an icy Interstate.  David was driving, Aurora was napping in the back, and I was nodding in the passenger seat relieved from my fiery feet.  All of a sudden, I heard a distressed moan coming from David and emerged from my stupor with the vision of cabbage flying across the windshield as we careened across the freeway median.

Bamph!  we hit the backside of a guard rail and "the" canoe went flying off the car and out onto the freeway.  I jumped out of the car with David and we once again retrieved the boat.  It was cold.  So with things under control, I went to the trunk for my jacket.  There it was still wet from the river and now frozen stiff.

All things considered, we had a great time, and David returned to redeem himself time and time again with magnificent fireworks shows.  As for me, I've sworn off natural remedies for cold feet.