Adriana Alfaro

It was a spontaneous trip. Before this, I had never visited Texas, let alone traveled out west.

What had started as a silly suggestion manifested in front of my eyes. Suddenly, I found myself at the Philadelphia airport, sipping on Jack Daniels, waiting to board a flight to Houston.

After a four-hour flight and an eleven-hour drive, we reached a ranch in Ozona where our accommodation was a renovated shipping container turned campsite.

Despite being from the tristate area, where I rage about being a city girl, the desert landscape, dry heat, and unique creatures put me in a state of tranquility.

Here, all I had was the sky and the dirt.

Most of our time was spent on ranch duties, filling up feeders, and cleaning the camp for the next visit. Occasionally, we’d spot an axis from afar.

I’d wake up, pour a cup of coffee, and see how far I could walk out into the formidable desert. We were strongly told to wear tall boots in case we might come across rattlesnakes.

No mountains, rivers, or pines—It was unlike anything I’d ever known—just a vast nothingness blanketed by pink and orange hues. We stayed on that ranch for three days, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

The rest of my time in Texas was spent thrifting in Houston, fishing in Teague, partying at the Woodlands Pavilion, and swimming on the coast of Galveston.

I’m always daydreaming about my next visit, and I’ve already set my sights on celebrating my 24th birthday in Austin. I have a sneaking feeling it’ll be the city where I truly come into my own in my 20s, with every street corner and new experience.

Finally, I must thank my good friend Will for inviting me on the trip of a lifetime. I fell deeply in love with Texas—where bigger is seriously better.

Thanks for reading,

Adriana