There is no denying that I am absolutely captivated by the beauty of the Trans-Pecos region of Texas. It is rugged country. Iconic cowboy country. Breathtaking country. It is not for everybody—and that is okay.

There is a saying out here in the wide part of the Lone Star State, where the sprawling Chihuahuan Desert paints the landscape as far as the eye can see:

From the outside looking in, you don’t understand it. From the inside looking out, you can’t explain it.

As hard as I try to put into words what I feel when I am under the Big Bend sky, I can never quite explain it.

My love for this part of Texas began when I was a member of Boy Scout Troop 68 in McAllen. Our troop was very active, and I enjoyed every hike, campout, and opportunity to learn some new kind of bushcraft.

In 1972, our troop leader, Mr. Connor, told us that we would be attending Buffalo Trails Scout Ranch in the Davis Mountains. As a South Texas boy, I had never seen mountains. The thought of traveling to a place called the Davis Mountains was beyond exciting.

We made the long trek from McAllen to Buffalo Trails in a yellow bus without air conditioning—in the middle of July. It was incredibly hot. But most of us lived in homes without central air conditioning or, at best, with a window unit, so the heat was tolerable. We were too excited about the adventure ahead to complain.

I was the patrol leader of the Buffalo Patrol. Before our trip, I asked my mom if she could help me design a flag for our patrol.

She did much more than help.

She surprised me with what I—and everyone else in Troop 68—thought was the coolest patrol flag ever.

The buffalo-looking hide and horns, the hand-lettered design, and the Camporee award ribbons made our flag one of a kind. We displayed it proudly at Buffalo Trails and later carried it to every campout and jamboree.

That long journey from South Texas to the Davis Mountains was one of the greatest adventures of my boyhood. The opportunity to see and camp in the mountains stirred every adventure molecule in me.

We crossed the Pecos River on the coolest bridge I had ever seen. We stopped in Langtry to visit Judge Roy Bean’s famous “Law West of the Pecos.”

And then we arrived at Buffalo Trails.

Wow!

I was in Boy Scout heaven.

The entire adventure—from McAllen to the Davis Mountains—was a dream come true. It was my first exposure to the vast and beautiful country beyond the Pecos. Years would pass before I returned, but when I finally did, the landscape stirred dormant memories and brought them vividly back to life.

I could never have imagined in July 1972 that I would one day own a small piece of acreage in the magnificent Big Bend region. It is a place where Cheryl and I now find rest—and where we have the privilege of giving other boys opportunities to enjoy their own Big Bend adventures.

Today, at seventy years of age, I still have my Buffalo Patrol flag. It hangs above the door of our guest cabin. Every time I see it, I smile.

I think of my beautiful late mother and the care she put into designing and stitching it together. The ribbons have faded with the passing years, but the memories they hold remain vivid.

I am grateful to have this treasured reminder of my childhood still. It reminds me that boys need adventure—and that adventures can help mold boys into men of courage, character, and conviction.

Thanks, Mom, for my flag.

It will always remind me of you—and of the adventures you and Dad encouraged me to have.