June 1970 … After returning from South Vietnam, I purchased a baby blue Fiat 124 Spider, then promptly drove solo to the Texas Big Bend.

Feeling fresh, vibrant, masculine, tough, and hopeful, I thought I was cool … even though a dispiriting job awaited me at Ernst & Ernst. But my “toughness” eviscerated when I encountered, not this: (I fear snakes but at least could see it)

but this:

… facing the unknown at Boquillas Canyon on the left bank of the Rio Grande. Even though I was “armed” with a .38-cal revolver, I froze. The thought of entering that tunnel of reeds terrified me. Only years later did I realize it was my fear of tripping a booby trap or of being ambushed. I feared what couldn’t be seen or, then,  understood.