Big Bend National Park is pretty far from any major cities and still a good distance from any large towns. But considering that national parks are established for the purpose of diving in to nature, this is what you want. Therefore, when it comes to lodgings, you have a limited selection to choose from.
Big Bend National Park does have a hotel, as well as RV camping and traditional camping, but they tend to book up fast. I had hoped to get a hotel room at one of the onsite lodgings, but they were booked solid four months before I had even considered my trip. So, if you have your heart set on staying within the park, or any popular U.S. national park, plan ahead, book early!
But that is not to say that I was out of luck. On the contrary, it led me to the charming small town of Terlingua, a ghost town 30 minutes outside of Big Bend.
The term “ghost town” refers to a town/village/settlement that has been abandoned, but the building structures still remain. In the case of Terlingua, it used to be a mining town, mercury specifically. And as the demand for mercury declined, so did the population of Terlingua.
Today, the town limits of Terlingua still hold some of the original buildings, like the schoolhouse, a re-purposed cinema theater, and an old cemetery.
Outside the official limits of the ghost town, a small art community has taken root – predominately metallurgy and artists’ galleries. Don’t expect to see any chain restaurants out here. The cafes and mini markets are locally owned and operated. No neon lights or waving inflatables — you’re more likely to see hand painted business signs, natural landscaping, and modest structures, adding to the authentic charm of this southwestern town.
The last night of my stay in Terlingua, monsoon rains let loose. It was incredible to watch the arid landscape turn into overflowing streams and rivers. And the rains did an amazing job of power washing my car, removing even the baked on bug splats on my bumper and license plate. Less than an hour later, you would not have known it had rained — everything was dry again. It wasn’t until late that evening, when it was pitch black outside, that I realized all that rain most likely displaced a lot of critters. And I confess, I did not come to this conclusion on my own. You see, there was a small window in my bathroom that looked out at the supports of the tin roof outside. And perched on one of the wooden beams was a pancake-sized tarantula.
No cause for panic you say; it is outside and you are inside…
Well, the cracks and gaps in the doorframe I previously thought were quaint, were now the source of intense dread. I ended up jamming a bath towel into the gap under the door. My hope was that if the mammoth spider found its way to my door, it would be thwarted by the blockade and find another room to visit.
Of course, that did not stop me from having dreams of spiders dancing over my face that night.