dirtbagging: part 1/3

By Greyson Gilbert

A dirtbag is someone who lives out of their car and prioritizes a life spent in the outdoors, be it climbing, surfing, etc.

For a second spring break in a row, my good friend Ben and I decided to spend a week in West Texas getting a taste of the freedom present in the dirtbag lifestyle. We wanted to experience the vast, arid landscape and remind ourselves of what is really important in life.

The two of us woke up at my house around 5 o clock to hit the road west from San Antonio. Something about seeing the vibrant green “I-10 West” sign inspires romanticism. Something deep in my soul has always been drawn to the West and the road that leads that direction. Something about it just feels right. With our lives packed in the old Tundra, I was reminded by how little one actually needed to live. In our society, we become so accustomed to excess and waste and gluttony that we forget about the basics needs of survival. You don't need 80 pairs of shoes, or 80 outfits, or probably 80 of anything. Armed with gas money, food and some gear, we were finally on our own.

The 7-hour drive seemed to take forever, but we rolled into the park around noon. Our first stop came at the end of a long dirt road, and although it was Ben's first experience in Big Bend, it was a familiar sight to me. “Ernst Tinaja” is a short hike through a canyon on the eastern side of the park which ends at a large natural watering hole. Beyond “Ernst Tinaja,” which means "earthenware jug," you can continue up the canyon as far as you would want to go. Ben and I climbed our way about a quarter mile past the end of the trail to get a feel for some wild-looking rock walls.

The layers of rock marked the passage of time in this canyon. Where water had worn it down, the rock was smooth and difficult to climb, but the way the sun reflected off of it was mesmerizing.

Following the hike through the canyon, we explored the river in Boquillas and took a dip in the cool water. Suddenly, the words of “Cielito Lindo” began to echo loudly off of the towering canyon walls around us. We found the source of the singing on the sandy shore of the river, coming from an older Mexican man by the name of Jesus. Jesus told us how every day for the last 17 years he has stood by the side of the river and sang songs. He had a plastic bag filled with handmade bracelets and crafts that his three children back home made, which he sells to park visitors there at the river.


















After talking to him for a little bit about his family, we bought a few bracelets and headed back to the car. From there we went to the hot springs and soaked in the 105 degree water for the rest of the afternoon before heading to our campsite.

I hate admitting my own mistakes, even though I make them quite often. It would be easy to not include dumb mistakes in my writing or story-telling, but I think that if I didn't, I would be lying to myself and I’d miss out on sharing important experiences and lessons learned.

Good stories tend to come from mistakes also.

So like the slightly ignorant 18 year-old dude I tend to be, I thought we could just go claim a spot in the backcountry of the park and pitch camp, like on a first-come first-serve basis. And no, I did not think to check the park regs on the matter. We just wanted to go and take life one moment at a time. Although that is a healthy mindset to have, in our world of regulated parks, designated campsites, and restricted areas, there were some things that we had to plan for ahead of time. One of those things was campsite permits and reservations, a lesson we would soon learn.

We had put up our tent and cooked dinner, waiting to watch the sunset, when a black dodge truck pulled into our campsite. Two middle aged men and a young guy hopped out of the truck and asked us if the people had had a mix up at the ranger station and doubled up on the campsites. A feeling in my gut set in that we were not supposed to be sleeping here. In fact, every campsite in Big Bend (which is a small number considering the amount of land it covers) was booked about a week earlier. We sincerely apologized and prepared to pack up camp when one of the older men Tom noticed the Bible on my dashboard. He told us that because we seemed like decent kids and that we were just going to end up driving all night without somewhere to sleep, that it was all good. We could share the site with them.

“What’s your name?” Tom asked me. “Greyson,” I replied. 

“Well then, Greyson, you're my nephew if the ranger comes by here again,” he said with a chuckle.

Tom and Travis were a couple of old friends with Tom’s nephew, Caleb, who looked to be about 18. Caleb’s mom was in jail and dad was in and out of the picture. He was a smart kid but lacked guidance and was thinking about enlisting in the Marine Corps. Travis had served as an Air Force meteorologist for 30 years, and Tom was a scientist of some sort, I think.

Tom, who was from Michigan, told us stories of traveling when he was younger. He told us that when he was in his 20's, he would come in to Big Bend after hours, find a campsite, stay a couple days, and then leave without having to pay or reserve a site or anything. He had also traveled to Europe, the Middle East, Africa, and Asia. “Travel while you’re young and pursue what you love.,” was his advice for us. “And even when you have to get a job, make sure you have something to do that you’re passionate about, like hiking or whatever. A lot of successful people hate their life cause all they do is work that they don't enjoy.”

We laughed together, talked about God, happiness, life, traveling, church, work and family late into the night. Most of our conversation was with Tom while Travis mentored Caleb off to the side. He and Travis had gotten into hiking recently and were taking Caleb on a week-long trip to Big Bend to spend some time with him away from the distractions of every day life.

One thing that Tom said stood out in my mind: "Do the right thing. Doing the right thing is easy. Doing the wrong thing actually takes a lot more thinking." It was an interesting perspective on honesty and decision making.

We sat around quietly for a short time, looking at the vast night sky. It was filled with more than stars than I thought existed in the universe. Our plan for the next morning was to conquer the highest peak in Big Bend: Emory. Again, we were about to be humbled and reminded that rarely do things go according to plan. But, of course, that's when the fun begins.