At 24 years old, Freddy Guerra was elected mayor of Roma. Now at 28, the high school history teacher is still one of the youngest mayors in the country. He wants to promote his town of 9,000 on the banks of the Rio Grande as a kayaking destination.   

The city will celebrate its 250th anniversary this year. To help with the festivities, Guerra wants to clear the land below the bridge to Ciudad Miguel Alemán, the city across the river from Roma, to create a launch site.   

The land used to be a wharf for steamships and a launch would tie in well with the city’s history — it was once the farthest inland port on the Rio Grande — and its ties to Mexico.   

Before the drug violence of 2010 stopped families from freely crossing the river, Guerra said the two towns functioned as one. Now that the area is much safer, he and others can once again visit the graves of their relatives every Sunday.  

“We never saw it as a crossing,” he said of the river.  

He explained how he wanted to be able to use the river as an asset again, much like Austin does with the Colorado River.   

He already has interest. Mario Reyna, the business and technology dean at South Texas College, wants to use the site in April for a multi-day paddle on the river to raise funds for scholarships.  

I’ll paddle with Reyna later this week. Today I launched from under the bridge with his close friend Paul Gaytan, who teaches law at the school.  

The first person we met was a young man who had stripped to his underwear and walked across the river. He yelled at us to look out for rocks that were barely submerged and then wished us luck.  

From there on it was one of the prettiest reaches of river I have seen.  

Gaytan had picked me up from Roma the night before and put me up at his house. He didn’t like the idea of me camping alone along the river. But once we were a mile outside of Roma and between the high sandstone cliffs, he changed his mind about the river being a dangerous place.  

He regretted that he had not brought along his 10-year-old son to see the river.  

We dropped through a couple small rapids and he was already planning a return trip.  

Then we hit the 17K Park. After a flood wiped out all the trees, the property owners turned their river frontage into a playground for the public. I’ll write more about that tomorrow.   

The lush grass, picnic tables and volleyball court were so inviting that Gaytan and I could not convince ourselves to paddle on to Rio Grande City.  

I was looking for the most level and softest grass while Gaytan was trying to get the best view of a  vermillion flycatcher when a Border Patrol agent came up and asked to see Gaytan’s ID. 

Being a lawyer, Gaytan was quick to point out the officer had no authority to demand to see his ID. After years of paddling reaches of the Rio Grande farther downstream, he had never been asked to show ID. Further, the mayor of Rio Grande City had informed Border Patrol that we would be on the river that day. Gaytan told the agent to call his boss and he was starting to show signs of losing the calm he had gained from a day on the river.   

The agent was not impressed. He argued that because it was the river, this was an area to patrol. The agent said that he was being polite. 

Gaytan refused for a bit longer, invited the agent to sit with us at our picnic table and then said, “You really want to see my ID don’t you? OK, here it is, if it will make you happy.” 

Apparently it did, because after checking it, the agent left.   

He never asked for my ID.  

As the agent left, Gaytan said he was actually grateful for what had happened. It made him feel safe. 

He pointed out that we are watched by drones and blimps, National Guard Troops are on the bluff and Border Patrol agents are on the river and in the cane.   

“They have us by air, land and sea,” he said. “It makes it safer for the good guys. It makes it so I can take my son kayaking.” 

Then we met with the owners of the park.  They have seen drug shipments guarded by men with machine guns. At night, their park is a crossroads of illegal traffickers and law enforcement. They said their dog never stops barking. They didn’t advise camping and suggested I use their barn on the other side of the highway. It was half a mile from the river.  

And so here I am, setting up my tent next to a bale of alfalfa. The gurgling of the river is replaced by the whir of traffic, but I am safe.   

Gaytan called to make sure I was okay after he got home.   

He was looking forward to joining me later this week to paddle more of the river.  

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