Random = Better (Part 2)

A little bit further up the interstate, and we took the exit for Cascade Caverns road. Turned onto a tiny side street with the right name, but after a few minutes of following it, I started to wonder if we were going the right way. This didn't look like the route to a major tourist attraction -- it was a two-lane road (one each way), kinda under-traveled, passing the occasional ranch home, and no signs about the caverns. About the time I made this observation, Brandy finally saw a simple wooden sign on the side of the road telling us that it was straight ahead.

Eventually, we were pulling into the Cascade Caverns RV park...seemed a little strange, but as we got closer to the end of the road, we finally saw signs about cave tours. We parked, and read the historical marker about the place (Ooh!, Seven waterfalls!), and went into the office for tickets.

My only experience with cave tours up till now had been very commercialized places with big compounds, or well-maintained state park facilities. This place was definitely something else. The office looked like something from a barely-hanging-on small town, a couple pool tables, some antiques or junk piled up in a corner, a snowy television with rabbit ears, and dust everywhere. You even had to leave the building and go to another one to use the bathroom. Between that, the prickly pear forest (I didn't know they grew trunks), and the big green dinosaur, I had a feeling this would be something unique.

Our tour guide looked in his early 20's, said he knew everything about the cave, except the diameter, and informed us that we were in the lowest point in the county, which explained the "Flood Line" painted on the buildings. There were several brown wood abandoned buildings, and apparently they just kept building in a new spot after the previous ones got flooded and the walls warped. My guess for the age of the buildings would have been from the 50s or 60s, but they were actually from the 80s, just severely aged from the weather.

We began hiking down a simple sidewalk, and after a bit, he pointed out the house that belonged to the man who discovered the cave. Seems he wondered why his home was always a constant temperature, found a hole beneath his floorboards, went down to explore and ended up in his backyard. Being the enterprising type, he apparently decided to start selling tickets. He excavated the cave, put in some basic lighting ( you can even see the electrical cable hanging down through a convenient hole to power everything), built the stairs (which didn't have the best handrails, but oh well). I'm guessing the cave used to enjoy much greater popularity before being overshadowed by Natural Bridge Caverns and others to the north.

Eventually, after going down what we were told was 100 steps, we finally entered the cave -- ah, 65 degrees feels great after being in 100+ degrees outside, although Brandy kept pointing out that it didn't feel like it. This cave was dark, drippy, and apparently got so much water that it needed constant pumping to keep it drained. We saw a mastodon tooth, and some fascinating calcium formations before being led through the short chamber that every cave tour has. This one was sadly beyond Angela's capabilities, so she waited near the entrance, while I squatted and waddled on through....even Brandy had to stoop, and she's only 5-foot!

There was the standard pointing out of different formations and what they got named, thanks to imaginative people -- the guard, the sea turtle, the profile of Lincoln....or was it Washington? Probably the most amusing story was about a simple stalactite on the way out -- our guide had been born with flawed corneas, and he got an experimental surgery done to him when he was an infant that saved his sight...as an unfortunate side-effect, though, he is extraordinarily sensitive to light; he has to wear sunglasses when outdoors. Well, his co-workers didn't believe that he could see in the dark as well as he claimed, so they made him a bet -- they'd shut off all the lights in the cave, and he had to make it all the way to the end (and presumably retrieve something) and back in 30 minutes. Well, he can see....except when there's no light leaks at all, and there are some areas of the cave where no light penetrates from the surface, and during one of these, a spider brushed his arm, and he freaked, running headfirst into the stalactite he was pointing out. A little bloodied and bruised, he nevertheless won the bet.

Eventually, we entered the main chamber, and it was just incredible. Light-colored limestone, a huge pool of water, and above it all, a 100-foot waterfall cascading down to feed the pool. The walkway went in a big U, but remained a distance away from the falls. I tried a dozen times to take a decent picture of the waterfall, but all I could get was a blur. Someday, we'll have to go again, and next time, I will remember the tripod.

All too soon, the time came for the return trip. When we got back past the short chamber, Angela was nowhere to be found. I guessed she had decided to get a head start on the steps, and I was right...it took a while, but we made it back up the 100 steeps...I mean steps. Rest in the car's air conditioning for a few minutes while I plotted out the next leg of our journey, then a stop for road drinks, and we were off again.

We drove briefly through downtown Bourne, then cut north to cruise through the hill country back roads, on our way to Luckenbach. We stopped for a little while to poke around the Post Office/General Store in Kendalia, and were much amused by all the ads on the town bulletin board (people looking for ranch work, someone looking for a roommate, etc), before we continued on through Sisterdale (Fireman's Fish Fry, woo!), and finally up to Luckenbach.

Angela got her picture taken with Shotgun the bull (the owner couldn't talk her into sitting on him, though), while Brandy and I hung out for a little while chatting with some other folks who were wandering the state that day. We spent about an hour and a half just relaxing, browsing the store (yay, we now have t-shirts!), listening to some music, and just being social. Daylight was starting to fade, though, and dinner was planned to be back in San Antonio, so I plotted us an interesting route back, and we were off again.

We had just been on the road for about 10 minutes, when Brandy saw a spot where another road split off and went down a steep little hill to the banks of a river that ran parallel to the highway. Spontaneity grabbed us and we had to turn down and check it out. We found a small one-lane bridge crossing a mostly-dry portion of the Blanco River. I couldn't resist dipping my feet in the water, and we took a while just sort of wandering around the empty road, poking around the riverbank, and feeling like kids just hanging out in a newly-discovered grotto, not really doing anything, just existing and taking it in. I had just finished experimenting with the panoramic shooting function on my camera when Brandy came up and showed me a tiny frog she had caught. I grinned, and got a big kick when she mused, "well, it's not fishing if I don't have a line and don't actually attempt to catch the fish, right?" She pointed out a bass of some breed in a pool just off the bridge, and chunked the frog in its general vicinity. That poor frog...I think it was in the water for about a quarter of a second before it was dinner. Definitely an impressive and amusing thing to see before getting back in the car.

Thanks to our recently acquired Roads of Texas, I plotted a revised course taking advantage of the really back roads -- the CO-roads (County Roads, as Angela keeps correcting us). Thanks to that book, we saw some incredible vistas, and a beautiful house built with the porch and balcony to appreciate the view. We saw a one-lane bridge sign, but no bridge and the road remained two lanes, and we saw a lane ends sign where there was no extra lane....I think the bridge needs to give the lane back to that other road before someone gets confused. We crossed over I don't know how many cattle guards, and sadly, as we crossed the Guadalupe River, it had already gotten dark.

"Tomorrow," we agreed, as we took the straightest path back to San Antonio, where we gorged on seafood at Sea Island. Oooh, good stuff! Chipotle-encrusted flounder, grilled Gulf shrimp, absolutely delicious key-lime pie.....yeah...go there.

We were worn out by the time we got back to my dad's place....pretty much just went in, and passed out. Tomorrow would be the journey home, and I planned to make it a much more memorable one than the simple trip down I-35 that we took Friday night to get down there...

Ahhhh.....random = better!

You know, it's amazing how many of our trips manage to center on food. Driving down to Galveston because we had a craving for Gulf shrimp, stopping time and again at the Hidden Dutchman north of Hamilton, making sure to get pie in Hico, meandering all the way out to Brady for goat barbecue. Some of the trips on our wish list include heading up to Pittsburg (TX), to try out the hot links, and, thanks to Brandy hooking us on Texas Country Reporter, we also want to try a genuine New York hot dog in Big Spring, and chicken fried bacon in Snook.

And that's just to name a few.

I think food is often the highlight of many a person's travels, at least, that of a traveler who actually wants to experience food different from that they can get at home. Unless we're running low on funds or are in a hurry, you don't often find us hitting the chain restaurants.

But, believe it or not, food is not the point of the story I'm about to tell. It was, as I said, a highlight, and it was late in the trip, so it'll be a bit till we get there.

Of course, with our travels, isn't that normally the case?

---

"Happy anniversary, girls!"

While technically a few days early, this trip was to be a celebration of our third anniversary. Three years ago, we met Brandy, and our lives have been mutually enriched since then. The original plan had been to head out to Glen Rose, get a hotel for a couple nights, go tubing in the Brazos on Saturday, stargazing in Chalk Mountain on Saturday night, then make our way home from there on Sunday.

This is why we shouldn't bother to plan.

We'd only gotten as far as filling up the tank in the Chrysler Concorde (nice car, comfy for long road trips....believe it or not, this point becomes relevant later), when the plan changed to driving to San Antonio that night, and tubing the Comal River again on Saturday, while getting free lodgings at my dad's place.

Oh yeah, I hadn't told the tubing story!

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Well, one of the many things Brandy and I did on my birthday weekend was to go tubing in the Comal River. Angela unfortunately wasn't feeling well and couldn't take part. Neither of the girls had ever been tubing before, and I hadn't been since I was a kid. Brandy found an outfitter in New Braunfels, and we paid our money, got our tubes, and set them into the most gorgeous blue-green water. Clear, clean, I think the water in the hill country gets its color from all the limestone it travels over...there's usually not really a lot of mud in there. Algae grows on the rocks, but somehow it doesn't choke the water. As a result, you get beautiful water, like I said, the kind of color that waterparks try to emulate in their tube and log rides.

Anyway, I set my tube in the water, got in, and then watched Brandy with a confused look try to figure out just how she was supposed to get into hers. It never occurred to me that it might seem a little weird the first time. I helped her in, and in the process, dropped my sunglasses into the water, so I dunked my head under to retrieve them, so I pretty much started out soaking wet. This trip was off to a good start!

We floated past many many people also enjoying the river, gawking at many a well-filled bikini, until we saw signs warning that weak swimmers may want to move toward shore. I perked up. Oh? This trip might have some fun bits after all. A little bit later, brandy playfully waved goodbye to me as she entered the tube flume and vanished.

I followed a second later, and caught sight of her as we both rushed along the water, bumping into the walls as we went, and shooting out into the short length of rapids beyond. I realized I didn't see her, and scanned the crowds looking for her. I was just getting out of the water to follow the sidewalk back to search, when I saw her strolling down...it seems she had got caught in a small whirlpool, and had to get out and walk. We debated going back to just before the chute and going again, but decided to continue down the river. This time, she flopped down in her tube like an old pro, and soon, we were under the bridge and gone.

Have I said yet just how pretty the Comal is? Along the banks when we first started were the city park, some restaurants that catered to toobers, and I'm pretty sure we even passed Schlitterbahn at some point. But we also saw well, manicured lawns, stone steps leading down to the water from people lucky enough to have waterfront property. We saw some condos with a hot tub and a swimming pool, as well as a gate that let out to a picnic area and steps and a little dock on the water for their residents. We imagined what it would be like living right next to the river, hopping in and swimming or tubing anytime we felt like it, right out of our backyard.

And the trees! Reaching out over the water, providing much-needed shade after having been floating in the sun for an hour. Oak and mesquite and willow and probably more that Brandy could name....all I know is that I saw lots of green, and it made the trip downriver that much more pleasant.

After two very relaxing hours (and one more stint with rapids, and yet again getting separated), we finally were approaching the last toobers exit. Unfortunately, we were a little confused, as we'd seen another exit for a different outfitter a little earlier, and since we didn't see the name of the one we'd used on this exit either, we almost passed it.

When we realized, we quickly paddled over there, and I got my tube out of the water, and looked over to see that Brandy was having some trouble. She'd gone too far, and the water was moving a little quickly for her to paddle against. Worse, she couldn't touch bottom to walk. Worse, she was out of her tube and looking like she was about to lose both it and her cap. I jumped back in the water, and grabbed her tube, telling her to hang on. While I couldn't touch either, I had fortunately been in a similar situation before (one day, I really should post the Brushy Creek story from my childhood), so I could swim well enough one-handed to get us back to the stairs. I got her tube out of the water, and wondered why Brandy took so long to come ashore. She confessed to me afterwards that her shorts had slipped and were caught around her knees, which is why she'd been having trouble swimming herself.

While it would only have cost us a dollar to go again, we'd gotten a late start the first time, so we'd have to try again another time, when we'd have all day. And next time, we hoped to bring Angela along, to initiate her in this meditative, yet fun activity.

---

This was to be our time, although as we awoke Saturday morning, we found that sadly, another river had begun to flow, and as such, there would be no playing in the water this weekend.

So, as an alternate plan (we're full of those!), I remembered that there was a cavern system I'd been curious about, and Angela had wanted for us to stop at the local Outdoor World for fudge, and they were also talking about running up to Luckenbach for t-shirts. Since it was all roughly the same direction, it sounded like it might work. Besides, when I pulled up the website and found out that Cascade Caverns was so named because they had a 100-foot waterfall inside the cave, I knew this was something we HAD to see.

So, we loaded up, and started out for the day. First stop, a Jim's restaurant. I haven't seen these anywhere but San Antonio....basically the same type of food as a Denny's or an IHOP, but with a very Western theme. I originally wasn't too hungry, but when Brandy decided on a chicken-fried steak breakfast, and then Angela followed suit, I had to do the same, so our lucky waitress had three basically identical orders....although she gave me hash browns instead of grits. I ate way too much...shoulda listened to my stomach to begin with. On the way out, a bit of humor -- a young woman had gone out to her car, and on the way back into the restaurant, she was looking at me, and I swear she put a lot more bounce into her step, cause at least one part of her was bouncing quite a bit more.

Sorry, ma'am...I'm happily taken, twice over.

Next stop was Outdoor World, where they have I think a 50-foot waterfall inside, and they must have kept some lucky taxidermist busy for months with all the exotic mounts in there. If it's an outdoors sport, or if you're just decorating your rustic cabin, they have you covered. We browsed the boats, the fishing supplies, watched them feed their fish (including a 60-pound catfish), and looked a bit at their furniture, but the girls were mostly there for the fudge, while I gravitated up to the camping supplies.

I think I am capable of spending a full day just gawking at camping supplies....whether it's something small and lightweight, a multifunctional tool, something collapsible, or just a neat idea, I love looking at it. I must have added two dozen items to my wish list for gear....a tiny propane lantern with a single mantle design...fits in your pocket - just screw onto a standard 2# propane bottle, match-light, and you're set for 12 hours. I saw a small cot with a tent built onto it, perfect if you don't want to carry bedding separately - pitch the tent, toss in your sleeping bag, and you're good...unless you also want a place inside the tent to store the rest of your gear. I saw a $100 cooking system that included 2 pots, 1 frying pan, 4 bowls, 4 insulated mugs, 4 plates, and a rigid carrying that can be used as a wash basin -- now that shows some thought. I saw hammocks, battery power sources, cast-iron cookbooks, and so many other goodies....the girls had to drag me back downstairs to get me to remember that we had other things planned for the day -- it was already coming up on 2:30.

Foreword

Wow...you know you haven't written for your blog in way too long when you get to the login screen and realize you have no idea what to type. I had to go through the password help, which sent the link to a gmail account I also hadn't logged into in a while, the password help for which sent a link to yet another email address I haven't used in months. Thankfully, the login recovery for that one went to an address I at least check occasionally, so after following link after link after link and setting new passwords I've already forgotten, I'm finally here again. Makes me wonder how I still manage to get spam, with all those unused email addresses to fill out forms. Ah well. I'm returned, and it is time to take the stage again.

An afterword.

I'm sorry that took so long to finish up. As any author knows, sometimes you have times when you sit down and a story just flows off your fingertips.... and sometimes there are dry spells. I have so many other things to write about. The trip tubing down the Comal River in New Braunfels, last weekend's jaunt through the hill country and back to Lukenbach. Fording a river in the chrysler. I could sit here and go on and on, just mentioning the things I've done, the places I've been... and still never do it justice. I'm going to leave the next post to Jacob to describe.
I still want to hear his interpretation of my "Hey fellers! Watch this!" moment, or running into a little trouble attempting to get out of the Comal, when I found out that I really have lost that much weight, and trying to swim against the current in water well above my head with my innertube in one hand, my cap in the other, and my shorts having fallen around my knees. ... Yes, even at the time it was funny.

So, Jacob. Its your turn to take the floor.

The Call. Part 3.

Warm salt air, a gentle breeze, and the slowly brightening sky ... along with the racous cry of gulls who could possibly wake the dead, rouse me early Sunday morning. Stepping out of the tent and the sunrise has lit a glorious panorama of clouds.... and my can of Jolt is tolerably cold, so I sit there and watch the sunrise and listen to the slowly waking city and all the life around me.
I'm in no mood to argue with what was seen last night, and would much rather forget it all ever happened to begin with. My demons are my own... but a realization struck. Yes, while they are my own, they are to be dealt with on my own terms. Not theirs. I've faced them... every single one.. and overcome them. Each time I have been told that I CAN'T do something, each time I came to the point where I could bend no more, I have won.
Yes. I am a changeling. A wanderer. Years of wandering on my own, a childhood of roaming the back hills of Oklahoma and the back woods of deep East Texas. Years of before I met my first husband and would wander with friends, taking them to places they had never seen before... or just wandering on my own. The call to wander is deeper in me than people know. Finding myself in Arkansas, once of spending a day wandering those back roads in SW Oklahoma, to pull into a town and find myself in Amarillo. My passion is in the new, the unexplored. My heart sings at the thought of something new to learn... no matter what it may be. As such, my education in life has not been without knocks and bruises... and a few things broken... but they will always mend. Life is all those things put together. All the pleasures, the passion, the rage, the pain. Driving all night to rescue a friend from a bad situation.. being in that same situation myself years before and knowing nobody WOULD rescue me... and knowing how much it means.
Time after time, we come across people who choose to be negative. They choose their outlook on life, and never grow from it. Never grow past the pain and the hurt to enjoy the simple fact of being alive. We have a choice. We can allow ourselves to be wrapped up in the negativity, in the need to be a victim, to be angry or afraid, or to live. To simply enjoy what we have in front of us now. To enjoy the simple pleasure in a cool glass of water.
When we add the book that was our life to the great library, what will it say? What was your experience? When you're sitting there in that rocking chair in the old folks home, what stories will you tell to the young people who visit?

As for myself, I will say I lived a full life. I saw. I did. And I ENJOYED IT!

Life is for living. Come, See!