Days 12-21: So close, so not far

It’s hard to forget the hockey mom mayor from Juneau, who was once campaigning to be America’s vice president alongside Senator McCain. While I personally believe the Tina Fey version to be superior to the real one, a quote stuck with me while here in the park: “I can see Russia from my house!” Well Mrs. Palin, I can actually see Mexico from my house.

Politics and falsities aside, the fact that Mexico and Texas are separated by a river, one that normally flows lazily along as 100cfs or less, never ceases to astound me. Getting to stand on the banks of the Rio and gaze into another country at times just yards away is something that can’t be done in many places. But you also begin to wonder—who’s looking back at us?

Enter the 118 mile international border that falls within Big Bend National Park’s boundaries. Before the events of 9/11, there were two crossings in the park: Boquillas in the East and Santa Elena in the West. Neither were customs check points, and US citizens could travel up to 8 miles into the interior of Mexico without a passport. Mexican nationals could freely cross the border into the park to buy ice cream from the Rio Grande Village store, and some were even permitted to work in the park. Boquillas quickly began to thrive on the park’s tourism. Even without electricity or running water, the people of Boquillas subsisted on the tourists’ dollars.

After the 9/11 attacks, Santa Elena was permanently closed and the Boquillas closing was shut pending an overhaul. Up until 2010, Boquillas remained closed as a crossing point between the US and Mexico. Finally it reopened in 2010 but with much more stringent entry/exit requirements between the two countries. It is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, Mexican nationals have a much harder time crossing, and the US citizen can only go half a mile into Mexico without a passport. Unfortunately, the town of Boquillas is half a mile from the river so tourists much take their passports if they wish to cross the river.

On the Mexico side of things, Boquillas is 3 hours from the nearest paved road in the state of Chihuahua. The community still does not having running water throughout the village, and it only just got electricity two years ago with the installation of solar panels. Even after the border revamp, Boquillas still survives on the tourist dollars coming in. It would be unclear that the fate of Boquillas would have been if the crossing had not re-opened.

So contrary to current popular belief, these are not rapists and murderers plotting and clamoring to get into America. They’re people who have a dependency on the largely American tourist. They are supported purely by park visitors—and they are content with keeping it that way. In addition, the park has had the lowest crossing rate out of anywhere on the US/Mexico border for the last 25 years running. But to say that the people of Boquillas are content with their situation is a gross assumption. I can’t speak for them. Nor can anyone speak for them but themselves. What scares me, as well as them, the most is another change on the border. A new form of border. Not a closed one such as after 9/11, but a vertical one that also was the foundation of a campaign’s platform. One paid for by the American taxpayer, not the American tourist. A ‘proposed infrastructure’ that would do exponentially more harm than good to both sides.

Days 5-11: Home on the range

Well, I’m in Big Bend for 40 days and it’s amazing that a quarter of my time here has already passed. As the time flew by, it’s evident that I have been having a great time.

The last few days have been filled with black-capped Virios, interviews, hikes, talks on the back porch, brilliant sunsets, innumerable stars, and countless Lonestars. Don’t know what else a person could ask for! But as it pertains to my research, there are a few things of interest so far.

First off, cell phone service and wifi in the park are as infrequent as oases are in the desert. Which is a fitting analogy given that I’m literally in a desert. It has been fascinating to watch everyone congregate outside of the visitor center at Panther Junction as well as the Chisos Lodge in order to hop on their phones or laptops.

Second, I had not originally planned on interviewing / hanging out with as many researchers or park staff as I have, but man has it proven to be amazing. Not only that, but it will provide an incredible contrast to the information I gather from visitors here.

Lastly, the Memorial day rush hit Big Bend and it was quite the sight. It’s amazing how the park, given its isolation and vast size, is not prepared from an infrastructural perspective as well as a management one to accommodate such a rush of visitors. There was such limited parking in the Chisos Basin that they had to implement a one-in, one-out for the cars lined up to drive the basin road. This example as well as many others I’ve garnered while here all feed back into one of the underlying paradoxes of the wilderness ethic and national parks: how to successfully allow as many people to experience a place without loving it to death.

In other news: the Elf owls at the ranch house have continued to elude me, but I finally saw a bear up in the Chisos. I also have found salvation in the cold, crisp, and carbonated nectar of the gods: Topo Chico. I can’t believe I have been missing out.

Days 2-4: Mock-ing Bird-ing

Well, my first morning in the park was filled with a storm that lasted from 8am to 1pm, and then decided to come back for round two from 5-6pm. It was quite the thrill getting to watch a torrential downpour filled with wind and lightning from the back porch. It also was a thrill to get to the top of a hike mid-afternoon and have the second wave come in. But, getting soaked was a small price to pay for the views high in the Chisos.

The worries and stresses of conducting fieldwork have immediately been dispelled and I could not be more relieved. For the last few days, I’ve been following around a group of researchers in the park here who are tracking a few different bird populations. Now, I know nothing about birds other than “that’s a red one” and “I think that was a hawk”. So not only has this group been incredibly welcoming and a hot-bed for my own research, but I have also learned to distinguish between a Cardinal and a Pyrrhuloxia. If only I could be fluent in bird law as well.

More than anything, it’s been wonderful to have another researcher here at K-Bar ranch. Given that I have no connection to the outside world other than sending up smoke signals, the nights would have been quite lonely and a bit eerie out here in the desert. I had totally forgotten how dark it gets out here at night. So instead of locking myself inside and huddling in a corner brandishing a kitchen knife at all the creaks and moans of the old house, the researcher and I sit on the porch watching the bats and owls fly by.

So far that has been the highlight of my time here: sitting on the porch, drinking a cold Lonestar, and watching the sunset over the Sierra del Carmen. We sit and chat about our work, life, and the birds—always the birds. The best part about anthropology is that it fosters these types of relationships, where conversations can be had in an open manner and friendships can be forged in the process. Overall, I’m off to a great start and I’m thrilled to see where the next thirty-something days will take me.

Day 1: Getting settled / when things don't work

I’m posting this from the lodge here at Big Bend whilst enjoying a nice porter, so for anyone reading this you can be at ease—I’ve made it safe and sound. I too was worried that I’d veer off a cliff on the way in due to jamming too hard to a Dave Matthews song or gaping at the incredible scenery.

Let me provide a succinct run-down of what exactly I’m doing here (no Mom, I’m not just bumbling around outside for 6 weeks):

• One of the common definitions of anthropology is the study of people and relationships. Part of the allure of the discipline to me personally was that it is so broad. You could literally do an ‘anthropology’ of anything.
• When an anthropologist conducts fieldwork, which is the foundation of any great research/writing, it is typically an ethnography. This involves deciding on a field site, then seeking out informants and conducting participant observation (glorified hanging-out) with them. Rather than a super formal interview / focus group / survey (these methods are still used just to a lesser extent), it’s my job to go have conversations with pretty much anyone who will talk to me, and form a relationship with them in the process.
• In contrast to other disciplines, anthropology doesn’t concoct a hypothesis before conducting research. Rather, you go into it with an idea of what you’re looking for and then let the ethnographic study take the reins.
• So in my case, I’ll be focusing on how technology and specifically social media have affected the relationship between wilderness and visitors. However, once I get to talking to people and start identifying trends / themes, this could totally change. Always fun to be kept on my toes!

I’m already off to a great start. My little go-phone (read: burner) decided that in spite of displaying 3 bars of service that it does not want to work here in the park. Fortunately I brought my iPhone as a backup just in case, and indeed I’ll have to end up reverting to it so it seems. I’m convinced this is why flip phones died a few years ago—they’re the worst.

The little cabin here in Big Bend, lovingly referred to as K-Bar Ranch, is strictly reserved for researchers here in the park. It’s the most glamorously quaint building I’ve ever had the pleasure of residing in. Fortunately for me it has an A/C which will be a blessing come the 100F+ days in the park. However, today it has been pouring down rain from 8am-1pm. Not quite what I was expecting on my first day in the desert, but a welcome site for any water-strapped ecosystem.

In the beginning...

Let's take this all the way back to my time at TCU. There, I took a course the fall of my 3rd year called Mass Media and Culture, taught by my advisor and incredible professor Dr. V. The subject matter of that course, combined with her incredible teaching ability, challenged me more than I expected but at the same time lit a flame underneath me that would ultimately lead me to purse this master's in Digital Anthropology. My semester project for Mass Media and Culture focused on gender within the rock climbing industry, and whether my initial argument that the sport and industry overall was significantly less gender-bias than other sports--and if this was confirmed via the advertisements in magazines. Given that I have always had an affinity for the outdoors, I did not even think of this project as school work. Instead, it was something I was passionate about that I got to frivolously work on and culminate in a large research paper. And now, I'm about to undertake the biggest academic project of my life so far--this dissertation.

When I arrived at UCL it was safe to say I was overwhelmed immediately. There is such a large scope within anthropology as a discipline that it can be hard to nail down one specific area, let alone one specific argument that you want to make. I found myself constantly being pulled in various directions because I suffer from being-interested-in-everything syndrome. I soon became caught in the hullabaloo around blockchain technologies and initially thought that would be the focus of my dissertation. I did extensive research around the subject, but when I sat down to discuss with my advisor dissertation options I froze. I realized right then and there I wasn't passionate about blockchain. In the short span of three seconds, I came to understand that I was not here to pursue areas that might make me marketable post-graduation, or be interesting to other people. I was here to pursue what I was passionate about. So on the fly I reverted back to my original interests, which is the outdoors. It is one of the few things I have held near and dear to my heart since I was a child and there was no reason not to spend six months reading, researching, and rewarding myself with a huge project that revolved around nature. So, here I am.

After nervously broaching the subject with my advisor, she was all for it. Immediately she was supportive and provided a number of authors to read to get my foundation going. I could not have been more relieved in that moment. Talk about getting a massive weight off my shoulders. Right after walking out of the meeting I knew I had to decide on a fieldsite where I could get outside, get back to my roots, and be in one of the most beautiful parts of America. It was an easy decision: Big Bend National Park.

Obviously there was going to be some bureaucracy involved--it is a national park and thus 'owned' and operated by the United States Federal Government. I went to work writing up a research proposal and submitting that to the NPS, which a month and a half later I was contacted to ask a few more questions as they had never seen a proposal like this before. Big Bend is one of the most fascinating geologic areas in Texas, in addition to having an incredible level of biodiversity. AKA, it is usually biologists/geologists/archaeologists that conduct research in the park. That being said, I was approved! The permit was finalized and I have been granted access to conduct my fieldwork in the park. 

Now that I know where I'm doing research, I can hone in on the literature portion of my dissertation. Currently I have been reading James Igoe, William Cronon, and some other authors. As of now my initial thoughts about a debate to intervene in are regarding 'prosumption', the idea of nature as spectacle, and 'wilderness'. I know that this will evolve in the end but I feel it is a good starting point.