This morning , when I went outside as I always do to greet the day and smell the desert , the full moon sat on the mesa perfectly balanced , just touching . Like a crystal sphere on a draped table waiting for its scryer . In a second it was gone and replaced by the sun . Gracing my day with her blue skies — celebrating — for today I ride in Mexico .
The boat rocks as we step in and find our seat . The river is smooth this morning and our mounts wait patiently on the other side tied to a tall mesquite . Nearby a mixed herd of burros and horses stand saddled under a river cane structure of stucco columns and steel rails . The sand beneath their feet striped like a woven blanket as the sun rises over the Rio Grande .
Boquillas means “ little mouths ” in Spanish , a nod to the numerous streams and arroyos cascading from the Sierra del Carmen into and along the Rio Grande , many dry now . Although the official crossing opened in 2013 , the land here knows no border and at its lowest the river only