Rio Grande Gorge Bridge

Long, long, ago, before Bear Grylls (1969), my Jr. High friend and I decided to raft (2- one man military surplus) this gorge starting near Taos. When we crossed under this bridge we heard large splashes. The nice people on the bridge were trying to drop rocks on us. It got worse from there. Later in the day we were smashed by class 6 rapids and lost everything. It was summer, but I’ve never been so cold that night. As you know, you can’t just climb out of the gorge. After a day or so of hiking along the river we found a Indian fisherman who fed us starving kids his lunch. Then we hitched back to Taos in the back of a pick-up with more Indians. My friend's father, who had dropped us off to begin the journey, didn’t look too happy to see us back. But to be fair, we were bratty kids! Anyway, your photo isn't the best I’ve seen, but it did bring back memories.

Thank you Larry. I'm glad you survived your misadventure. People are weird sometimes. I remember when it was relatively safe to hitchhike in the '70, but read reports of some idiots throwing bottles from speeding pickup trucks at hitchhikers.