Visiting the River Walk while it's being drained is actually the most-interesting time for locals to go


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The eye of storm can be liminal, and so can a Megabus hurtling from Austin to San Antonio. Or the commercially transitional outpost that is the Wonderland of the America's Mall, filled with anime stores, offices, and a vacant food court, no doubt has the same energy.

The River Walk becomes a strange liminal space during the drain — a temporary zone in-between the post-card perfect San Antonio of legend and something cleaner. During the filtration process, when for a short while the river is not quite the river and before it becomes the river again, it seems to beckon — to everyone who dares to peer down at its shallow nastiness — for a little introspective.

Or at least, this is the effect it had on me.

It's a novel experience to witness the River Walk in a gutted state, especially when we are so used to experiencing it as a crowded tourist center. With a deficit of tourists on a mission to snap River Walk pictures, the path was mostly filled with restaurant hosts waiting for diners that weren't coming, hobbling pigeons, and construction crews wheeling barrows of silt.

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Visiting the River Walk while it's being drained is actually the most-interesting time for locals to go

The drain catches San Antonio in late January, during a post-Christmas, pre-convention season lull. For a brief moment in time, the process renders the River Walk, which is so vital to the city's colorful tourism industry, a grey post-apocalyptic zone.

On the second day of the great week-long drain, I immediately spotted a tangle of corroding dollar store parade beads washed up on a mucky embankment. The necklaces appeared next to a line of fresh duck tracks, beside a collection of severed Dos Equis bottlenecks. Further down my stroll, I spotted crushed holiday light bulbs, remnants of critters, something that looked like a floppy disk, and some restaurant supplies.

I stared down at the half-empty channel of sludge. What's the human version of getting drained? A haircut? A long and desperate transformative hike? A particularly thorough journal entry?

Not sure what I was looking for, I embarked on a long walk along the half-empty River Walk. It was relatively misty outside and the river looked grey and rocky, like a Medieval moat scattered with bits of plastic. It was almost unrecognizable, especially in stark contrast to the colorful Christmas lights hanging from the trees less than a month ago.

I sent some pictures to a friend.

"Lol, where are you," they asked.

I thought it would be the perfect time to have a solitary downtown margarita with chips at a place like Mad Dogs or The River's Edge, though I didn't stop.

You may not think twice about it, but the biannual river drain is a significant San Antonio event.

Once, a local ghost tour guide told me that bodies of water are energetically powerful. Places defined by a large body of water, like San Antonio which is cut by a prominent river, often draw all sorts of paranormal activity.

Whether you believe in ghosts or not, something feels true about the San Antonio River radiating a powerful energy that impacts the rest of us. When they drain the river, it's like the city itself is in a holding pattern, waiting to be cleansed.

I'm convinced that seeing the River Walk during the drain is the best time to visit as a local. Not only is it a fascinating to witness, it makes you take a look around at all the forces operating around you. It's a uniting city-wide event with the power to make you take stock of your own life in the Alamo City (this just coincidentally is the name of a store in River Center Mall).

Plus, you should have no problem finding a table at Bubba Gump Shrimp Company.