Our campsite in Rio Grande Village. It's #18, across from the nature trail--where there's a beaver pond with a resident grebe and a great blue heron. Above that, vistas of the mountains and the Rio Grande.

The cement pad was the only flat place that was not in a low-lying spot, and it had that nice cover. We put the tent there because we expected a little Hurricane Patricia (very funny) weather, and one side falling off the edge was the only way it would fit. It’s a roomy tent--a whole studio apartment--so me and my blow-up bed could stay away from the cliff edge.


It flapped a bit in the winds the night before the rain but it stayed upright. Jennie has lots of rope, so I could tie the tent to the picnic table and the grill and to the rocks—the clay was so hard, you could barely get the stakes through. The ranger said a lot of tents blew sideways, but mine just flapped and laughed. I stayed inside and watched the branches outside flailing around. Not laughing. Till morning and two cups of coffee later.