The prologue in Borderline Insanity takes place along the Rio Grande near Big Bend National Park.  I know a little bit about this area because I spent three days rafting down the river with Butch Hancock, my friend Brad, and a guy named Catfish back in 1998 or so.  We’d ride the (gentle) rapids by day, and then camp by the side of the river at night.  Every evening, Catfish would fire up a gas grill and cook something delicious.  Butch would pull out his guitar and play some of his amazing songs, and they would echo between the sixteen-hundred foot canyon walls.  (I jotted the songs down when I retired to my tent–see the last picture for the list).  

The canyons were amazing.  One wall was Mexico, and the other was the United States.  We were wedged in the cracks between the countries.  It was quiet.  We went two days without seeing another person. There was no border wall; no border patrols. No checkpoints.  It sometimes felt like being on another planet.  

I was still just a kid then, really.  Butch was a hero of mine, and I’m sure everything I said to him was strange and awkward.  Who am I kidding … I talked to Butch at a show last summer and I was still strange and awkward.  

I’m pretty sure that Borderline Insanity wouldn’t be what it is if I hadn’t gone on this trip.  I really need to go back.