We had heard and read about the hand-drawn ferry across the Rio Grande River to Mexico, and had been there a couple of times, but were never there when it was operating. The ferry is actually a barge with railings on the sides and vehicle ramps on both ends.
Two ropes are stretched across the river, the ferry is tethered to one rope so it doesn't get away downstream, and a half dozen workers pull the ferry across the river to Mexico and back by hand using the other rope. An ancient method of river crossing, but this is the only hand-drawn ferry still operating between the US and Mexico and is, in fact, the only licensed hand-drawn ferry left in the entire country, so this is a real piece of history.
We had planned a trip to this historic hand-drawn ferry crossing today with Harold & Sandy Crabtree, a couple from Colorado, our next door neighbors here in the RV Park.
It had rained during the night, but no rain was forecast for the day, so we decided to go. When we arrived at the little town of Los Ebanos, Texas, about 25 miles upstream from here, it was raining slightly. But we grabbed a couple of umbrellas and walked to the ferry . . . in the mud!
There is no concrete drive to the ferry, not even crushed rock . . . at least on the US side. There isn't even a dock, the ferry simply pulls up to the bare riverbank and drops a couple of ramps on to the dirt bank for the cars. The ferry holds three cars or pickup trucks, a number of pedestrians and a few bicycles.
The ferry crossing is located at a natural ford in the Rio Grande River where General Zachary Taylor crossed with his troops during the Mexican War of 1845. During the bandit era, Texas Rangers were credited with chasing Mexican cattle rustlers and bandits to this ford and successfully rescuing stolen cattle. This was also a favorite location for smuggling liquor into the US during prohibition.
On the US side, the rope is anchored to an ebony tree which is over 150 years old, so it was here when General Taylor crossed!
An historic spot indeed!
When the ferry reaches the opposite bank, workers flop down the ramps, and the cars drive off followed by the pedestrians. The US side of the river was all mud, but there was some concrete roadway and sidewalks on the Mexican side of the river . . . what a difference. At all other border crossings we've seen, the infrastructure and buildings on the US side is much better than on the Mexican side . . . but not here!
Carole was complaining about the mud on her shoes, as we grabbed a taxi for the 3 mile ride into the nearby Mexican town of Ciudad Diaz Ordaz.
The town is definitely not a "tourist town", it is an old Mexican town. No one in town spoke English . . . not the cab drivers, not store clerks, not the waitresses, not even the police! The whole town was a pretty nasty place; broken and missing sidewalks, mud puddles everywhere, streets full of water as there were no storm drains, many empty deteriorating buildings, vacant lots piled with trash right in the center of town, vendors cooking on the sidewalk over wood fires with crude set ups, and a butcher shop with meat carcasses hanging outside. Very educational, but not really a scenic place to go. Carole kept reminding me that this was a really "nasty" place.
. . . and a pedicab with a white plastic patio chair for the passenger to ride in. What class!
But we felt safe as there were police officers all over, both in patrol cars and on foot. Also near the main street, two Mexican Army trucks were parked with a large number of automatic rife carrying troops on board. If fact, at one place we were walking across the street in traffic when a police car pulled into the middle of the street, turned on his flashing lights, stopped the traffic for us until we crossed, then turned out his lights and drove on.
Not being able to communicate in a strange foreign town can be a real handicap, but we did stumble into a restaurant that looked OK. On the street, we had met a couple from Minnesota who were also wandering around unable to communicate with the residents, so we asked them to join us for lunch.
The only English word our waiter knew was "beer" and the only Spanish word we knew was "Corona", so at least we promptly got something to drink. The menu was in Spanish and the $70 price of lunch seemed awfully high, until we realized the prices were in pesos. With some sign language and pointing to menu items, we were able to order and enjoyed a pretty good Mexican lunch.
After lunch, we managed to find a taxi and returned to the ferry where we found a long line of cars and pickup trucks waiting to cross, three at a time, into the US. We later learned that a shoot out had occurred between the Mexican Army and members of the drug cartel at another crossing down river, which caused authorities to close the bridge at that location, and many people to come here to cross the border on the ferry.
When we returned to the US side, there were numerous Border Patrol cars and officers in the area, but it was good to be back in the "Good Old USA" . . .
. . . even if we were back in the mud. It had been a very interesting and educational experience, but not one we will be anxious to repeat anytime soon.
As we entered the building, we saw a serving counter behind which was a grill covered with giant 'burgers. Beside it were a couple of deep fryers full of french fries and onion rings. There were only four employees; one taking orders, one frying 'burgers, one tending the deep fryers, and one assembling and calling out the orders for pick-up.
We placed our order for a couple of single cheeseburgers and an order of onion rings, then sat down to wait for our order to be called out.
