TRI-COUNTY — On February 18, George Delgado of Fort Stockton and his donkey, Rojo, set off from the appropriately-named Jackass Flats for an epic journey in honor of Judy Magers, affectionately known as the “Burro Lady.” The two walked side-by-side on the shoulder of Highway 118 to Terlingua to pay their respects by her graveside; they then continued on to complete a triangle between Presidio, Marfa and Fort Davis.
Magers — who passed away in January of 2007 — was a legendary Big Bend character. For around 25 years, she and a donkey companion restlessly walked the shoulder of the highways south of I-10, camping out where she was most likely to be alone.
No one knows much about Magers, except for the fact that she was born in Nebraska and had five children. These details only tumbled out in time for her funeral, like little rocks shaken out from the boots she asked to be buried in.
Delgado saw her by the side of the road on his first of many trips to the Big Bend nearly 40 years ago. He’d continue seeing her a few times a year up until her death but never learned much else about her. “She was very aloof — she just didn’t want people in her business,” he said.
Still, Magers never felt like a stranger. Nearly two decades after her death, Delgado couldn’t get her out of his mind. She was just as much a part of the landscape as the creosote.
After retiring from his job as a pharmacist at Walmart in Fort Stockton, Delgado wanted a hobby that could offer some of the thrill and adventure his younger self found in team roping. He took up long-distance hiking, tackling the Pacific Crest and Continental Divide trails.
Magers’ nomadic lifestyle reminded him a lot of life on the trail, but without the nicknames and camaraderie. Delgado and Rojo broke with her solitary tradition by roaming the desert with three companions: Andy Armendariz (human), Boomer (equine) and Teak (canine). The two humans share a love for chuckwagons and cast-iron cooking and spent their nights on the trek cowboy camping under the stars.
The team traveled in a boomerang — Delgado and Rojo would set off on foot; Armendariz would catch up to them with a truck and trailer, and then they’d swap so he and Boomer could go for a ride.
Delgado wanted to see the landscape through Magers’ eyes and feel its extremes the way she must have felt them. One particular story stuck with him: on a frigid desert night, Magers fell asleep by the side of the road on her blue tarp, like she almost always did, and woke up covered in snow.
A friend of Delgado’s saw Magers’ donkey standing alone in a ditch and assumed she froze to death in her sleep. Of course, Magers was fine — but in a rare moment of vulnerability, she asked for a favor. “Can you knock off some of this snow?” she asked from under her tarp.
Though Delgado started his trip in February, he was blessed with unusually warm weather. On Thursday night, he spent the night at Loma Paloma RV Park outside of Presidio, another one of Magers’ old haunts. Fort Stockton man takes 260-mile trek to honor the ‘Burro Lady’
Maxine Bishop, who splits time between Marfa and the RV park, knew Magers better than most. Bishop doesn’t like to talk about the Burro Lady, but she will talk about why she doesn’t like to talk about the Burro Lady.
They first met in Lajitas around 1989. Bishop bought land next to the small patch of desert set aside as a semi-permanent campground by Magers’ legal guardian, Bill Ivey of Terlingua Ghost Town fame. When the Bishop’s house neared completion and folks started coming to visit, Magers made herself scarce.
But the two had a magnetic tie. Magers eventually had a lot at Loma Paloma, where a chunk of the extended Bishop clan reside. She hated charity, but would sometimes accept it from Bishop, who would bring her donuts and other little treats. “She didn’t have much, but she was a very proud lady,” Bishop said. “She didn’t want you to give her anything.”
One detail Bishop will reveal is that Magers loved coffee. Magers loved coffee so much that she always carried a container of the instant stuff, and when she didn’t have enough water to spare for a cup, she’d eat it as a paste.
Bishop said Delgado’s visit to Loma Paloma brought a lot of memories to the surface, the rest of which she declined to share. “She was such a private person that I want to stay private for her,” she said. “There’s a lady in Marfa who says, ‘You’re going to die with those memories.’ That’s fine. Ten years from now, nobody’s going to know who she is.”
A lot has changed since Magers walked the shoulder of these highways. In 10 years’ time, a lot more will change. Delgado found sections of highway between Alpine and Terlingua were dicey, with unprecedented numbers of tourists whizzing by at freeway speeds.
“When I first came out here, it was called the Last Frontier — now I call it the Past Frontier,” Delgado said. “But people still see the wildness, the freedom and the openness of it. I think that’s why so many people miss seeing her — they knew she was a big part of that.”