Wandering Texas

The Brushy Creek Incident (Part One)

2009-03-16T18:21:00.001-05:00

Whether we're out camping, canoeing, or at home telling misadventures to friends old and new, one story that has come up many a time has been from my very first "river" adventure, on Brushy Creek in Round Rock, TX.

Let me take you back in time, to the early 1990's, when the internet was not yet commonly known, Bush senior was still president, and I was only 19 years old. At the time, I was living the starving student lifestyle, my only means of transportation was bus and/or bicycle, and I was in a lot better shape because of it. Earlier that year, I had ridden my bike from Austin to San Antonio, straight down I-35, because I needed to transfer my bank account to something local. Of course, it wasn't until 75 miles and 5 hours later that I found out they had a branch in San Marcos.

But that's another story.

This story begins when my best friend from high school, Chris, came for a visit. He and I used to go hiking regularly in San Antonio, although of course, those are other stories, as well. For a while, he had been in an advanced study program at the University of North Texas, where he earned college credit while still technically in high school. This is where he had met Mike, who later attended the University of Texas in Austin, and was currently my roommate in an off-campus apartment. While Mike wasn't quite the bike-rider that Chris and I were, he was getting used to the kind of mileage that I considered a casual day ride -- I'd managed to talk him into joining me for that ride to San Antonio.

One thing that had kept me curious for a long time had been the descriptions Chris used to give of the woods when he had lived in Round Rock. Well, he was here, we had free time, and Round Rock was only 22 miles away. Why not head up there for a camping trip?

So, we loaded up the bikes. I grabbed the C.A.K.E. Bag (in Case of Any Kind of Emergency) that we always took with us on our outings...it had a first aid kit, slingshot, rope, a Ninja Grappling Hook™, and various other items that in our naive late teens we thought were useful when going on long hikes.....I think there was a canteen, mess kit, and firelighters in there....no food though. Hm, guess hindsight can easily make you look stupid. What can I say? I was young.

The other key element we had with us were two inflatable rafts, the $25 "Two Man" rafts, in which "man" translated to "preteen child"; each boat only held one person in reality. I had bought these in the seasonal item aisle in H.E.B., for use paddling around Town Lake (the section of the Colorado River that is dammed on its way through Austin), since it was basically across the street from my back porch. I don't know why I thought I'd need it -- Chris had never said anything about any bodies of water -- but I guess it was just lumped into the category of "outdoor stuff" to always carry around, along with our hiking staffs. Those, of course, we carried slung across our backs with simple elastic shock cord.

We took off fairly early in the morning, straight along I-35 for most of the way, and once in Round Rock, we discovered that enough had changed that Chris could no longer pick out any landmarks to find his way to where he used to live. Rather than consider the trip a total waste, we pedaled around some back roads, and soon spotted a trail leading into a wooded area, so we decided to see where it went.

Jackpot!

We came across a clearing by a small creek, where the trail continued along the bank downstream. We didn't want to camp this close to the road, and Chris and I decided this was as good an excuse as any to pull out the rafts...our bright idea was that we would scout downriver until we found a campsite, then make our way back up the trail to retrieve Mike, who volunteered to watch the bikes, since he couldn't swim.

Did I mention the creek was running high and a bit swift (with some noticeable rapids just audible downstream), due to recent rains?

The last thing Mike heard of us for quite some time was my voice exclaiming in joy as we hit the first flume. The river bucked and shifted, and we struggled to steer at the beginning, but after a few exhilarating minutes, the flow settled down and we started rowing. Of course, one thing we couldn't help but notice was when we passed the point where the trail dead-ended into the river and we found ourselves now floating between impassable banks.

After a bit, we saw a small cove that looked promising, and we maneuvered in to have a look. Sadly, what we found was a muddy mess that wouldn't suit our purposes at all. Back to the river for us.

For quite some time, both banks of the river looked exactly the same -- sheer walls of dirt or clay that meant climbing out was not an option. We knew we'd have to keep going until we found shallow, flat banks, but had no idea how far that would be.

Worse yet, we saw that we were rapidly approaching a fallen tree that completely blocked our path. In moments, Chris thumped into it, and the water pressure capsized his raft. Fortunately, he managed to clamber up onto the tree, pulling his boat up after him. I tried to see if I could slip around and under a hump in the branches, but I quickly was dumped in the water, as well.

Note to self...if you have something you plan to use as an anchor, tie it to the boat before getting in the water.

While handing the raft and CAKE bag up to Chris, I hung onto the tree and tried to feel around with my foot for the grappling hook or rope, as I could *just* touch bottom. Unfortunately, that water was running much faster than I thought, and I very nearly got pulled under. I climbed up onto the log with Chris, and we took stock of our situation. We were stranded on a fallen tree above a dangerously fast-moving river, with no way to climb up either bank or go against the current if we tried to return the way we'd come. Downstream, there was a whole lot of brush that looked like it would probably capsize us again, but we could see there was a branch that hung out over the water, pointing away from the brush. Maybe if we sat in the raft and went hand-over hand along that branch, we could get far enough out that we could avoid the obstacle.

Chris volunteered to try first. I held his boat for him while he climbed in, and he got hold of the branch. He announced that he was ready, and I let go so he could start handwalking.

There are some downsides to being short sometimes.

After a couple of grabs, he lost his grip because he couldn't easily reach, and he was swept into the brush. I saw his boat capsize and I was wrapping my arm up in the rope on the side of my raft to use it as a big flat to jump in after him, when I heard his eagle cry from somewhere further downstream. This was an old trick we used to use when we were separated and trying to meet up...he'd do that call, and I'd head in his general direction. I could usually hear it from about a quarter mile away.

So Chris was all right. That was a relief. Now it was my turn to try my luck at it. Of course, this presented a whole new problem, as I didn't have anyone to hold my boat for me, and I didn't have the armspan to hold both it and the branch.

I rummaged around in the CAKE bag for a moment, and pulled out a cheap yellow nylon rope. Looping it over the branch, I crossed my fingers that friction would hold while I used the rope to hold the branch, and held the boat with my other hand to climb in after putting the CAKE bag into the raft. (By the way, I've since taken the trouble to learn to actually tie proper knots so this could have been avoided.)

After clambering in and seating myself, I reached up and got hold of the branch. Then, I carefully guided myself all the way to the end. Then I let go....

....and the current immediately shoved me toward the brush, the boat flipped over and took off down the river ahead of me. Simply reacting, I started swimming after it, thinking only of not wanting to lose my only means of transport.

I caught up to it just as the flow was slowing down into another pool, and where I saw Chris sitting on some rocks on shore, his boat beside him as he waited for me to come along. As I was about to climb up, he started laughing and pointing behind me. I turned around and saw that the CAKE bag, which I'd abandoned in my haste to catch the boat, was floating a couple feet behind me. It wasn't going past with the current....and with the hole in the top and all the waterlogged stuff inside, it should by all rights have sunk, but there it was.

"Now, that is some loyal luggage!"

We had a good laugh, and while I poured 5 gallons of river water out of the bag, we cheerfully ranted about all the things that had gone wrong since we'd gotten into the water. This was one of our running gags after having seen Willow several years before.

"We haven't found a campsite, or any way to get out. We've lost our anchor. We're soaked to the bone and have no idea how far we've gone. We've got no food, and no idea how to get back to Mike."

"Are you suggesting we go home?"

"Nah, this is more fun!"

With that, we loaded up, grabbed our paddles, and continued downstream.

Labor Day Canoemping! (Epilogue)

2009-02-09T15:04:00.002-06:00

As I finally put the finishing touches on that story and post it, I realize that it has been almost 6 months since that trip, and we haven't gone camping again yet. We had planned to go one more time before the weather got too cold, but then Angela was suddenly working 10-hour days at work, 7 days a week, and the only chance there was to see her at all was Saturday and Sunday mornings before she left for work. So we chose not to go out on overnight trips, and even our day trips were limited in distance.

Around the beginning of October, we splurged and bought a used canoe from an ad online...it may not be as nice as the ones we've rented, but it was only a couple hundred bucks and should suit our skill level nicely for a while. We've also invested in a dehydrator, with which we are still experimenting, in the hopes of turning out some really good camp meals without having to deal with perishables.

We've decided to split up our tax refund and spend it as we wish -- I happen to be building a dream list of camping gear I plan to buy as soon as that money hits the account....this season promises to be much more comfortable and lightweight. Oh, and dryer -- thank you girls for buying me some more dry bags for Christmas!

The point is that we're getting twitchy. We have been spending the winter looking at places to go, ways to camp, stuff to take, food to cook, and forums to tell the stories. We've taken a couple driving trips, but nothing in which we stayed out, to enjoy the park at our leisure, knowing we wouldn't have to drive home until the following day -- our home for that night was just a short walk from whatever we were doing in the park, fishing, hiking, or whatever.

Spring is coming -- we had our first taste of it last weekend (yes, look for another post soon), when we were all over East Texas looking at history and the various parks in the area. I'm willing the universe to cooperate and give us a third nice weekend in a row -- the first, Brandy was sick, for like a week. The second, we had a different quest in mind, as it was Angela's birthday weekend, and she's more into history than camping. The next nice weekend, whether with the gear we have now, or with the new gear I plan to buy, we will be out of the house and gone, spending more than a full day luxuriating in our passion for the outdoors.

Wanna go!

Labor Day Canoemping! (Sunday)

2009-01-23T15:27:00.005-06:00

The funny thing about camping is that somehow, you are almost guaranteed to wake up shortly after the sun rises, and this time was no exception. As is our usual habit, Brandy quickly got dressed and got started making coffee and breakfast, while I got to work breaking down camp. In the process, I managed to pack things into the backpacks much more efficiently than before, and they were no longer wobbly.

Paused to scarf down Brandy's offering, which was considerably better fare than mine the night before -- scrambled eggs, bacon, and a potato and onion hash on the side. My appetite was at a very high ebb, as it would be when I'm getting as much exercise as we were enjoying this trip. Gonna be rowing all day? Make sure you have a hearty breakfast.

After cleanup, we loaded everything back into the canoe, and also found that I had managed to get a bit of a sunburn the day before, as had Brandy where she hadn't been able to reach with the sunscreen. We coated ourselves as best we could with the remainder of what we had, and agreed on the plan that we would pretty much stay wet....if we felt overheated, we'd pull ashore, go for a brief swim, then continue on our way.

From what we could tell, we figured we had only gone about 4 miles on Saturday, out of the total 20 miles that the trip would be. We wanted Monday to be a relatively short day, so as to have plenty of time to go home, unload the car, do laundry, and all that other real world stuff before having to go back to work on Tuesday morning.

We looked at the map, and the only useful landmark we could determine near the end was a lifeguard chair at an old Boy Scout swimming beach....this was supposed to be at the 15 mile mark or so. That meant we would be rowing roughly 3 times the estimated distance we had gone the day before. So, yeah, the goal was to make up some lost time.

It was around 9am when we hit the water, paddling down a wide, slow-moving section of the river. There was a slight breeze, and we were enjoying the cliffs and trees on either side of us. For a while, it was easy to think we were the only people on the river, as there was nobody around us, and it was very quiet.

Soon, we saw a couple of figures ahead on the bank. As we approached, one suddenly jumped up and ran back toward their campsite. When we got closer, I couldn't resist calling out, "What's the matter? Needed to throw some clothes back on?"

Laughing, the guy replied, "Nah, she saw a snake."

We struck up a conversation with the couple, and at one point they commented that they may have to end the trip early, as they had run out of ice and had perishable items. Well, far be it from us to let people suffer when we're pretty well prepared -- we'd left with 2 large frozen gel packs. We gave them one of ours, and also preached a bit about how nice the microfilter bottles had been in terms of the amount of stuff we had to carry. They're planning on buying a couple of their own now.

As we departed, I joked to Brandy, "now let's see what the next mission is for River Rescue."

Aside from glorious scenery, our time was spent quietly paddling, with no major events, as we were looking for the "yellow and black pipe" that was supposed to mark the halfway point. We were a bit confused as to why they didn't also mark the power lines, as those were considerably more obvious. Next time, I plan to bring my own map.

Eventually, we met some nice folks who explained that what was probably meant was a dock, that once upon a time had a cooler, and sold ice and a fresh meal to those poor souls who had just spent 10 miles on a river. At that point, we were starting to realize that while not having to lug bottled water was nice, we could also really go for a cold soda.

So we paddled and paddled, visions of sugar highs dancing in our heads, and we finally saw a dock in the distance. As we approached, however, it appeared that the cold drink thing was not going to happen. There was a covered area with picnic benches, and a grill is horrible disrepair, a rusty refrigerator, an overgrown playground that hadn't been used in years, and now us, two disappointed canoeists. I went up the dirt road a bit, but it didn't look like it connected to a main road anytime soon, which meant that a short hike to a convenience store wasn't what was meant, either. Note to self: don't believe that it's still there if the information you're getting is from a vague memory.

No big deal, though -- we certainly weren't having any hydration issues thanks to the water bottles, and we still had plenty of food. Course, we weren't really hungry, but it did seem like a nice place to sit down for a while and relax in the shade. Both of us were starting to feel fatigued from all the rowing, and we wanted to rest a bit before starting on the next 5 or so miles we were estimating. Besides, some other canoeists showed up, and while they pretty much stayed down by the beach, the view was worth hanging out and watching -- ah, bikinis and the Texas sun...

Soon after they left, a truck came barrelling down the road. Hm, maybe we had just been early and this dock had hours? Nope -- they had a cooler, all right, but it was a group of young men with their beer, out for a swim off the public dock. We rested for just a bit longer, but then decided to go ahead and get back underway.

Time can be a funny thing on the river. We hadn't brought any timepieces with us -- the cell phones were safely stashed in the car (no signal anyway), and neither of us wore a watch. While I couldn't simply look up at the sun and tell you it was 2:18pm or anything, I had picked up somewhere a simple way to figure out how much daylight you had left. So far it's worked out reasonably accurately, at least when I can check it against a clock. Assuming it's the afternoon, when your arm is fully extended (it doesn't matter which one), count the number of open handspans between the bottom of the sun and the horizon. That tells you roughly how many hours you have until sunset. If you know about what time the sun has been setting, this can give you a fair idea of what time it is, too.

This, of course, is relevant because after paddling since early morning, with one more dropping of a paddle while zipping through some minor rapids (a tree branch knocked it out of my hands while I was ducking -- fortunately, we maneuvered and recovered the paddle without capsizing again), and passing a few campsites (although I didn't recognize anyone from the group we had set out with....so I was wondering how many groups passed us), we finally saw the tall wooden lifeguard chair from the overgrown area that used to be a beach. Oddly enough, we'd come all this way and it looked like it was only about 2pm (the sun was just barely past the middle of the sky).

We had a problem. Someone had planted the thought in our heads of a store where we could get some drinks or something at that midpoint, which turned out not to be there. We still had supplies, and if we wanted, could put together a fairly nice dinner for camp food, especially compared to stuff we'd seen other people bringing.

We knew we were only 4 or 5 miles from the take-out point. And a Chinese buffet was starting to sound more and more appealing. Hm....we loved being outdoors, though....but....chinese buffet.....

The hell with it -- we rationalized that we could get all the stuff washed and otherwise rest on Monday so we were prepared to go back to work -- we'd already paddled 12 miles; what was another 4 or 5? So we got back to it, paddling, paddling, paddling....

Along the shores, we noticed that we were apparently past the good campsites, anyway. The shoreline was now either fenced off, or contained cows. Lots and lots of bovine bunkmates didn't really appeal to us in choice of campsites.

Speaking of cows....one thing they didn't warn us about was that we'd go through a six inch deep patch of water right where it was a favorite crossing path for the herd. There a a slightly tense moment as we veeerrrryyyy sssssllllooooowwwwllllyyyy passed a large bull with vicious-looking horns. He was maybe ten feet from us, and if he had decided he didn't like us, we pretty much just had a pair of aluminum and plastic paddles to defend ourselves with. Fortunately, he seemed content to merely watch us and make sure we didn't make any sudden moves at the other cows crossing the river....we floated by saying "nice cow, good cow...."

In the home stretch, we passed some families that were out for the day, that had apparently started at Rochelles and just gone upstream a mile or two. We also finally passed someone that had been in our original group! A few more fun riffles and paddling, and ah-hah! The bridge!

We make our way to shore just after the bridge, and Brandy heads up to get the car while I'm unloading the canoe and making sure that all our stuff is accounted for (except the griddle we'd lost a few hours into the trip). We left their gear in the boat, with it pulled well up onto shore, loaded our stuff in the car, and said goodbye on our way past the house. Course, it was a bit after 6, so we were gonna be charged for the extra day, but that's okay -- we were suddenly ravenous, and looking forward to that buffet. We made our way back to the nearest main road, and as soon as we were in town, there was a dash for the bathroom, followed by the purchase of some Powerade. I guzzled mine and a liter of Dr. Pepper before we made it to the next town, 15 miles away.

Pulling in to Mineral Wells, we decide to clean up a bit before appearing in public, so after a brief stop at the state park (ah, showers!), we made our way to the buffet and gorged ourselves....I think I made 5 trips through the line. Course, on the way home, I apparently hadn't yet taken in enough calories, as I had a large soda and a pound of Skittles.

Yeah, I burn a lot of energy....high metabolism + lots of physical activity (you know, like rowing 16 miles) = one very hungry Jacob.

Got home, said hi to Angela, and promptly passed out....we saved all the unloading of the car, laundry, etc. for Monday.

Yes, we were exhausted, and yes, while we packed well, we noticed a few things we could improve upon....and I can't wait till we go again.

Labor Day Canoemping! (Saturday)

2009-01-21T16:31:00.005-06:00

6am, and I'm up, showered, and guiding Brandy's semi-comatose form into the car. We head out, stop for donuts and some coffee, and then we're on the road! We stop briefly around Weatherford, where the coffee caught up with us. For fun, I try the harmonica out, just playing a random melody running through my head. Seems I have a knack for melodic doodling, although I'd need a lot more practice to play a song people would recognize.

We eventually make the turn to head north of I-20, but soon discover that a bridge is out, so we asked for some directions to reroute (we weren't in the car with the gazetteer and Roads of Texas). The amusing thing was having to ignore the detour sign which, according to the woman who gave us directions, was actually pointing the wrong way.

Finally, we were on the right path, approaching the country we'd soon be floating through. Winding around a mountain, passing small towns that weren't much bigger than a couple of buildings by the road, and growing more and more eager about our trip the closer we got. Fooling around with the harmonica, stopping at a little wooden building for some last-minute bait, and at last, we crossed the final bridge and made our way into the parking lot at Rochelle's.

We paid for the rental and shuttle fees, and fended off a half-dozen attempts to sell us cheesy souvenirs or things we'd already brought with us. He dug out the little paper map, and scribbled on it in red ink while describing landmarks, half of which I didn't remember, to give us a rough idea of when we'd be where along the trip.

Last chance to pee in a civilized bathroom!

Then it was back to the car, unload our gear, and take it over to the shuttle truck. To judge by the looks on other people's faces, we were woefully under packed. We had no water (everyone else had at least a case of water bottles), and all our gear fit in 2 backpacks, one of which was just a regular schoolbag, with the minor exception of the camp stove, griddle, and small cooler (which basically just held some meat, eggs, potatoes and onions). Brandy sat in the cab, while I went back to my Mexican roots and made myself comfortable in the pickup bed.

I'm not sure how far we drove, but I know it took probably 20 or 30 minutes before we were at the put-in. With as little gear as we had, Brandy and I were the first boat actually in the water. Paddle out a little bit, and dunk the water bottles into the river. Take our first drink of filtered river water - hey, not bad! It actually tasted a little sweet...interesting.

Blue skies, a light breeze, beautiful canyons, trees, and pretty green water -- yeah, it was a gorgeous day for paddling. We started off at a nice slow pace, and saw where some people were planning a nice, relaxed pace for the weekend -- we were barely around the first bend, and they'd already set up camp (unless they hadn't broken camp from the night before).

We got a good laugh, when we passed a broken rowboat left ashore from who knows how long ago. And a little bit later, we were almost bumped into by a couple of guys that were apparently on their first canoe -- they hadn't yet gotten the hang of going straight...it probably didn't help that one of them was practically lying down in the canoe and trying to reach up to paddle. We joked in our best pirate voices about ramming speed and plundering their boat, but that was about all the interaction we had with them for a while as we soon left them behind.

In just a little while, we were passing a rocky shelf that just cried out that fish were probably hiding there, so I guided the canoe closer and held onto a rock while Brandy cast into a quiet cove. Not much action going on, so she had me continue paddling. No sooner were we back in the middle of the river than she has a fish on her line. A good size one too! Sadly, just after she got the hook out, it jumped out of her hands and swam away.

She kept trying for a bit, but didn't catch anything worth keeping, so she had me row on, with her in the rear of the canoe kinda trolling her line, until we saw a quiet spot, where off in a small hollow, there was a patch of algae providing natural cover. Brandy cast into that a few times, then asked me to back up a bit.

A brief "oh, shit" was all the warning I got.

Scarcely were the words out of her mouth when I found myself underwater. Within seconds, we had surfaced, righted the canoe, retrieved the paddles, and dug out a couple of pots from the mess kit to begin bailing, and only then did she get a chance to explain what had happened. It seems she had dropped her paddle and tried to reach for it, overbalancing the boat and giving us a chance to go swimming in the Brazos.

"Oops," I grinned, as I began taking stock -- thank goodness we'd had the foresight to double-bag the camera and put at least the sleeping bags in a dry bag. Unfortunately, we didn't take the same precaution with towels and spare clothing. We were also missing a few heavy items -- camp saw, stove, griddle, and the like.

Flash forward an hour and a half...the boat is bailed, everything is found except for the griddle (the hard way...note to self, get a saw that doesn't expose the pointy bits), we've been passed by a few people, including our fellow pirates from earlier, and our bare feet are covered in mud from sliding them along the river bottom in shoulder-deep water (for Brandy), searching for everything. I hop up and back into the canoe (who would have thought all those ladder-less exits from the community pool would have resulted in a useful skill?), and paddle it closer to shore so Brandy can rejoin me.

The revised plan for the day? Find the next good campsite so we have time to dry our things out, then put more effort in the next day. Besides, we were operating on two hours of sleep. A short day sounded like a good idea.

So we paddled for a bit, but soon came across the two guys we joked with before. One had the canoe up on a rocky shore, looking puzzled, while the other was obviously swimming in fairly deep water, with water bottles floating all around him. Having just been through it ourselves, we knew they had capsized, and started rowing over to help.

The one swimming seemed to be okay...he was mainly gathering the water bottles, while the other one was trying to figure out how to tip over a canoe full of water. I grabbed our pots and stood on a bit of rock that jutted out under the water and started bailing. He tried to join me, stepped off the rock and was immediately underwater. Spluttering as he surfaced, he asked how I was standing like that. Poor guy, musta thought I was Jesus for a second there.

Eventually, we got the majority of the water out of the canoe, and I told him it'd be better to do the actual tipping after they unloaded for camp later. Funny, though, it looked like they had packed more poorly than people assumed we did -- all it looked like they had to eat for 3 days was some snack-size bags of chips.

Meanwhile, the buddy in the water was calling for his friend to come and pick him up.

"No way! You'll just tip the boat again! Just swim over here."

"There's leeches in this river, dog!"

Eventually, they sorted themselves out, and we were on our way again, Brandy and I still giggling about the leeches line.

About thirty minutes later, we were approaching a trail leading up the shore of a sandbar through some thick brush. We were still with the buddies, and all of us started looking around when we heard a loud roaring sound from somewhere upriver. A few minutes later, we saw an airboat approaching -- turned out to be the game warden.

Hm...guess it's a good thing that fish earlier had gotten away, as we were able to play off the fishing gear as a misunderstanding, which it was -- we'd gotten so used to being able to fish in any state park that we had forgotten about needing a fishing license to go elsewhere. We promised to put it away, and the warden let us go with a warning. Then they started up their propeller and continued downriver, while we dragged the canoe ashore and said goodbye to our travelling companions.

First thing's first, set up camp and start laying all our wet stuff out on the gravel to dry in the sun. Eventually, we ran out of gravel and started draping things on the bushes. Meanwhile, I aired up the mats and took out the nice dry sleeping bags (yay for at least a little forethought). Lunch was a packet of pre-cooked salmon and some bread, which thankfully had managed to stay dry during the dunking. After that, we curled up and took a much-deserved nap.

Later that evening, we found that the stove had dried out enough to be usable, so after we stowed our mostly-dry gear, Brandy explored a little bit, and I threw together a pot of chili. Funny, even on low, the stove's flame was hot enough to turn the aluminum grill blue. I learned a lesson this evening -- when you're used to guesstimating spice measurements by the volume of stuff in the pot while it's cooking, don't try to put these guesstimations into a pre-mixed bag to add later. Sadly, the chili turned out to be so peppery as to be inedible. Oops.

After "dinner," we cleaned everything up, and we realized why it would be a good idea get a scrub brush for the cleanup supplies list instead of a sponge. In the wilderness, you're using just-boiled water, not merely hot, to wash dishes. Ah, another lesson learned for next time.

After dinner, I was still pretty tired, so I basically put away the camp stove and such, and made my way into the tent. Brandy hung out down by the river for a while, then came into bed sometime after it got dark.

I don't know what time it was. All I know is that we heard a snuffling sound, like a dog, wandering around our camp. Before I could be all manly and such, Brandy had already hopped up, grabbed the flashlight, and was opening the tent to go outside, buck naked, and shouting at the errant raccoon to skat.

Yup, that's my wife, all right.

Labor Day Canoemping! (Preparation)

2009-01-21T16:07:00.005-06:00

Labor Day was coming....a guaranteed 3-day weekend. What did we want to do with it? A camping trip out east...Daingerfield or Caddo Lake sounded like a nice plan, since we hadn't been to either in a while. But then another idea struck...to do something we'd only done together once before -- canoemping! The Brazos River wasn't as far as Village Creek had been, and it would be a completely different type of terrain -- a wider river, cliffs, gravel, and considerably less sand....or so we hoped. I suggested this on the Wednesday before said weekend, and we were going to browse Academy for fun while mulling it over...but after 3 wrong turns and thus a very scenic route, we realized that our heads were really already in the river. The hell with it, we're going!

But first, we needed some changes to our gear. We remembered what worked well and what didn't with our first canoe camping trip. Ponchos = good...having only a basic rain cover cinched shut to hold towels and sleeping bags = bad. Our first time, we had a torrential downpour that made sure everything was soaked. We also realized we had over packed, treating it like car camping. We decided we needed to do a little homework, so we continued on to Academy.

I've said before how bad I can be when surrounded by camping gear. We did try to rein it in...honest! We managed not to blow our wad on the kayak we saw. Instead, we noted items that would be useful: a decent camp stove, individual air mats that were smaller and lighter, a waterproof bag for things we wanted to keep dry (like sleeping bags), a griddle for a cooking surface that would eliminate the need for the big mess kit (or so we thought), microfilter water bottles (that sounded promising), and shortly before we left, we saw a backpack that looked like an incredible deal - external frame pack, about 2700 cubic inches of storage, and only $40. Wow. I tried it on, and it was easy to size to me...fit well, didn't feel awkward to carry. Yeah, I needed one of these.

But we were good! We didn't buy a thing that night. Instead, the plan was to do a little research (whether microfilter bottles work well, among other things), and swing by the army-navy surplus place to see if they had anything to beat the prices we saw. If not, then I would pick up stuff based on a list we would compile during my lunch hour (yes, we'd have a gear checklist for once).

So Thursday, I compiled the checklist as best I could...it used most of two columns in a 10-point font, and even then, we were still adding things as we realized we'd need them (oh yeah, no bathrooms...put toilet paper and a camp shovel on there). According to das intarwebs, mainly backpacking sites frequented by people who go way out into the wilderness, microfilter bottles are a very good thing to have, with maybe some iodine tablets as an emergency backup. So, crazy as it may sound, 2 microfilter bottles were to be our only water supply for 3 days.

Of course, by the time I got out of work, I had an appointment to fix someone's computer later that evening, so I glanced around the army/navy place (sadly, I wasn't too impressed with their camping or backpacking equipment...it may have been rugged, but it was a bit heavy and overkill for our needs). The guy running the place was pretty friendly, though...it was like visiting the lonely kid whose only desire in the world is to personally show you every single odd item he's collected in his lifetime.

So, with an hour and a half till my client, I whipped into Academy and quickly got everything on the list as well as a few other useful goodies...good thing we'd been there the night before and decided on everything we would want. Heck, I was still early to do some work and earn a bit to help pay for the trip.

Late Thursday night finds the girls and I wandering around in Walmart. They were searching for fabric, while I gave in to a whim and bought my very first harmonica. Brandy giggled at me, while Angela took one look and said, "oh, hell no..." What? It's a camping instrument! I had never played one except for a little bit of blowing the whole thing when I was a kid, making horribly discordant music as kids often tend to do.

Friday at work could not move any slower. I swear, it felt like I had finished all my work for the day by 8:30 am and then had nothing but extra time to kill until Brandy picked me up around 6:30 that evening. To make it even more frustrating, the boss said everyone could go at about 2pm....leaving me alone in the building for over 4 hours...yup, the universe wanted to emphasize the wait.

At long last, we were on our way home, although we did stop again at Academy for "just a couple more things." Then we spent the next several hours gathering everything together, sorting out what food we would take, and getting it all packed up. I don't think I packed the backpack as well as I could have...it was a little wobbly.

Just as the packing is finished, there turns out to be a bit of drama with the roommate, so we didn't actually get to bed till well after 2am. It was hard enough to fall asleep -- we were pretty much wired...but we knew we'd need to sleep at least a little, or we'd kill ourselves the next day from fatigue.

Random=Better (Part 3)

2008-11-04T17:50:00.005-06:00

Sunday morning.

Time to make the return trip.

Usually by this time, we have completely worn ourselves out doing whatever it was that occupied us during the weekend, and we sleepily make our way back along fairly conventional routes.

But not this time.

This time, we had things to see, and the energy to seek it out.

We first backtracked along the path from the night before, passing the huge entrance for Natural Bridge Caverns, and crossing over the Guadalupe until we were just northwest of San Antonio. Then the fun began, as I dug out the Roads of Texas and started plotting a course through the county roads that are merely unlabeled red quiggles in the regular Texas gazetteer.

Deep into the hills, passing deer fences and ranch houses, carefully navigating gravel roads, many twists and turns. We passed a guy on a motorcycle that seemed a bit lost, but before we could pull over to ask if he needed directions (since we had a good map), he revved up and was gone.

A brief look down a tunnel of shade, but it looked like it crossed a gully and the planks weren't in the best condition, so we went around.

I think we actually passed a local small winery -- not that it had a sign....but at the least, we saw fields of grapes going off into the distance -- we were probably following their back fence.

We explored for hours, then rounded a bend and found ourselves crossing the bridge at the edge of Blanco State Park. Good thing too, as we weren't sure when the last time was we'd stopped for a bathroom, and we hadn't yet grabbed anything to eat! So with a quick stop in a gas station, we opted to just follow 281 north for a while.

Well, not due north.

Brandy had asked about good barbecue places in the Hill Country on a forum she frequents, and she was enthusiastically directed to a place in Llano. Well, hell, it was only an hour out of our way! Let's go get lunch!

Cut west a bit, passing much granite, and only briefly got twisted in our directions coming in over the Llano River bridge (I think we ended up crossing it 5 times by the time we left town), and we found ourselves at Coopers BBQ.

This, folks, is not just a barbecue joint. This is an experience!

We seemed to have gotten lucky by coming in just behind the lunch crowd, as the line only went across the front of the building, rather than wrapping around it. The whole time, we were teased by the delicious aromas wafting over from the group of huge brick smokers. When we got up to the smokers, not even into the building yet, the guy opened the lid, revealing masses of meat, and asked us what we'd have.

"Um, brisket?"

He spears this 15-pound brisket and carves off a giant hunk. "About this much?"

"Uh...yeah, okay..."

"Sauce?"

"Sure."

He dunks it into this vat of the stuff and tosses it onto the tray. "Okay, what else?"

We continue like this for a few minutes, with ribs, sausage (jalapeno or regular?), sirloin (carved off a slab of meat as large as a brisket), chicken (I think he gave us half the bird).....By the time we actually went in the door, we must have had 20 pounds of meat on our tray. We handed it off once inside, and everything was weighed, priced, and covered in aluminum foil before being handed back to us.

Come to think of it, I don't think we even bothered with sides. We just got some sweet tea, made our way to the tin building that served as a dining area, sat down at a long bench table, where there was a roll of paper towels (no plates!), a loaf of bread, and a big jar of whole pickled jalapenos. Some onion and pickles from the side bar (we skipped the barbecued beans), and we were ready to dig in.

Oh, that food was incredible! We ate considerably more than was wise, seeing as how we were barely halfway home, and we still had a ton of leftovers to take back with us. We may have spent way too much on lunch (cause we got a bit carried away with our selections), but it was definitely worth it....so worth it.....*thinking back*....gotta go to Llano again soon....

Fighting afternoon and post-gorging sleepies, we got back on the road and worked our way back toward our normal route up 281. We stopped at the Hidden Dutchman, as has become habit, when I talked the girls into going off the paved road once more.

Wandering a maze of gravel, crossing briefly over pavement just to reach the next road -- it was so underused that Brandy felt compelled to point out that at points we were driving over grass that barely had tire tracks to follow.

Even better was when we discovered that the numbers on the signs didn't match the numbers on the map. Rather than let this stop me, I simply followed the orientation of the road's lines, figuring we'd still end up in the right spot.

"Um, Jacob? That's a riverbed down there."

"Yeah, we're supposed to cross it -- the road should continue on the other side."

"Jacob, that's a river BED down there."

"Yeah, but the road continues on the other side."

"There's no bridge, Jacob."

"Okay, I'll go scout it."

So we stop the car -- the girls already think I'm nuts -- remember when I said earlier that we were driving a luxury car? I walk out, and whatever river it is, it seems to be dry. I walk across, and sure enough, there's a road leading off on the other side. I kick a few of the bigger river rocks out of the way, and it's a flat surface -- sort of. I walk back up, Brandy takes the wheel, shaking her head, as I walk ahead of the car, guiding it along the safe path across.

That's right, folks, we forded the Bosque River in our Chrysler.

Once we finally got to the paved roads again (miraculously, right where the map showed we would end up), there was much rejoicing, and a resoundingly voiced opinion that we'd had enough adventure for one day. We made our way on up to Glen Rose, and finally back to home.

It had been a long and winding road this trip -- the first time in too long that we had just sort of wandered in whatever direction seemed interesting at the time. We got a bit caugt up in destinations for a while -- sure, it was along the lines of "Hey, we haven't been there before, let's go check it out!" and then plot the most interesting course we could. But this time, we didn't know where we were going, aside from "south"...that felt good to do again.

While not practical all the time (sometimes you can get screwed pretty badly when finding lodging at the last minute), it's nice to do now and then....a bit of adventure, a bit of wanderlust sated, just seeing what there is to see.

Yup, once in a while, random is better.

Autumn nights.

2008-10-14T11:41:00.002-05:00

The weather has been cooling off, and for the past three weekends, I just haven't been able to stay indoors. The road just keeps on calling. Moonlight and soft cool breezes beckoning to come and explore. Friday I had to come home with a stomach bug that made its way around the office, and got home to crash.

Then it got dark. 9pm and I've rested, feeling good.... and the moon is up. Sitting on the back porch, moon over the trees, smelling the moisture in the air. The hell with it. South is calling. Well, I've heard there's a monument to some guys who died while fighting for Texan independance down near La Grange..... and there's Bastrop and Buecher down there too. The Lost Pines. Toss some clothes in a bag, a book to read in case I might get bored, and on the road. 11pm.

Miles and miles of moonlit vistas. Fog creeping into the creeks and rivers... rising from the lowlands. Deer grazing along the road. Cool night air smelling so sweet... of the end of summer. Of the changing of the season. Moonlight and stars reflecting off the water from the ponds and lakes that are silently passed by. Flying through the night.

The plan was to stop in Giddings for sleep.... but that just wasn't meant to be. Silver pools and streams appearing through the banks of fog.... reflecting the starlight, sending up the tendrils that fill the meadows. Deer appearing in the darkness, gently stepping through the tall grass to disappear into the night a moment later.

Around 4:30, pulling into La Grange, spotting a very small family run motel and being overcome with exaustion. Clean room, soft bed, ... Tomorrow is calling.

*ping*
For no good reason that I can fathom, my eyes open and I'm awake. Lying there in a far too soft to be a cheap hotel bed, surrounded by my favourite lumpy pillows, and realizing the sun is coming up. Fresh air and the lightening sky showing through the teeny bathroom window. Stepping outside for an early morning smoke, noticing that the "office" of this cheap motel is a huge old victorian mansion of a home, with fully mixed gardens with her pepper plants and tomatoes growing in with her roses and easter lilies and phlox and 4-o-clocks.

On my way into town I'd spotted a taqueria and made a mental note of its location, but while driving the same path, I totally missed it. Thinking I might have seen it in Giddings - it WAS 4am when I was driving through here - We headed in that direction. When we got to Giddings, I did spot one on the route I took the night before, but it was officially forever closed, but I did spot a back up plan. A whole bunch of trucks and a sign reading "Fine food" just off 77. Always a good sign. Getting closer, its "Mel's Diner" and the place is PACKED. Locals sitting and drinking their morning coffee, chattering about who isn't there yet, whose cows did what, and all other sorts of the small town gossip that this transplanted country girl misses dearly.

Totally stuffed on sausage, eggs, hashbrowns, homemade yeast biscuits, gravy, and coffee, its time to go check out that monument.... but driving through small towns on a saturday morning there's another thing that must not be missed... Garage sales! 1$ for a pair of pink depression glass candleholders, 5$ for a leather bomber jacket... 100 year old jail that looked like a castle.. and then that drive. Up steep twisties overlooking the Colorado River. I see a gentleman on a motorcycle with a huge grin on his face and wave. Someday.

Monument Hill.

I've been wanting to visit this place for a while... but it was usually passed in the middle of the night, or on the way to somewhere else. warm gentle breezes through the old live oaks carrying the scent of barbecue. Sounds of birds and children playing. The view of the Colorado far below the bluffs, winding around a bend. You can easily imagine what this country looked like 100 years ago... and more. Sitting there, listening to the echoes of the past. The story has been told, made larger than life, their decendants coming later paid homage, but did they know? Men who sacrificed everything so that those who came after could live free. Who saw the right thing, even if it wasn't the easy thing, and did it... because it needed done. Men who loved their land, loved their wives, loved their children... and did what needed done. The story is found again and again in this great land we live in, but each time it takes my breath away... brings tears to my eyes.. that there are some who will stand when everyone else falls. The monument that was built to these men is a nice sentiment, but it really does not do them justice. I can think of nothing that really could.

The Kreische house was a monument all by itself to what a creative active mind can do with time. A beautiful limestone home built on a high bluff overlooking the river and town below. To know that one man, one family, created this... through hard work, sweat, and passion for their home. Whenever I see homes this old, I listen.... what were the folks like. Who built it. What stories could these walls tell. Listen for the laughter... the music... the children playing.. listen to the years pass... of thanksgivings and christmases... of birthday celebrations a hundred years ago. Echoes of the past... of our past... that make this life so precious. We are continuations of those hardy souls who fought and scratched out an existance. Who came to this country with almost nothing, and made it something. Who gave us a world filled to the brim with splendor they only dreamed of.

Too soon it was time to go. There were other things on the agenda, and we only had one day to play. I could spend a lifetime listening to those stories.. listening to the echoes of days gone by. I will be back. Soon.

On our way out of La Grange, headed north on 77 to 71, something is noticed that makes the car erupt in laughter. That taqueria place I'd spotted on the way in last night. Apparently we had missed it. TWICE! Laughingly, it is commented that we meant to do that! Really! We're just saving it for the next time!

I had been to Bastrop briefly twice. Once just driving through, and another in the middle of the night.. so I had never gotten to enjoy the lost pines. If you have ever read my stories before, you know I have a deep love of pine forests... and on my times through this place, I had fallen in love with it. The smell is right. The look and feel are almost right. And I wanted to go play in this forest. To dip my toes, if only briefly, in the deep pine thickets. Pulling into Buescher State Park to take the 12 mile drive into Bastrop State Park... and rolling down the windows. The scent of the forest filling the car. Some very narrow, steep, TIGHT twisties.... and some damn suicidal squirrels that dart out in front of you. It doesn't induce exactly the same feeling of deep East Texas, but its close. Very close. I do believe I need more time to investigate.

There was also some fishing planned out here, and a quick stop off at the walmart for bait and munchies.... and there's some purple embroidered silk that's calling to be made into ..... something. ..Still working on that design. Pulling out of Bastrop on the way back to Buescher so we can fish while there's some daylight left and there's a sign on the side of the road. I can only remember one word. Chocolates. Stop, turn around, circle back.... beautiful wood home set up on a hill set into the pines. I HAD set the limit "Only two each!" .... Yeah. Right. Uh.... well, at least I kept sorta to that! ... I think I only got 5 or 6 truffles... oh and the Rose filled thing... yes, rose flavored chocolates. I think that poor lady behind the counter learned a little more about me than she ever wanted to know with that first bite. Oh well, at least I made her laugh!

Caught up in the rapture of chocolate heaven, we were absorbed by this boutique shop that belonged in some exclusive mall in North Dallas...we finally managed to tear ourselves away, open the door, and stepped out into the glory of a Texas autumn afternoon. Sunlight filtering through the trees, soft breezes, and Oh Yeah! We were on our way to fishing! Heading back to Buescher - I'd spotted a lovely little spot, we pulled in, grabbed our stuff out of the back.... and discovered that the sun was Directly in our eyes in our exclusive little spot! Well I think I see one on the other side of the little pond, so we head back up to the car and I look down.... and there is a broken rock.... glassy yellowish brownish center, chalky white outer coating. I haven't seen flint in YEARS. Point it out to Jacob and he's instantly curious and takes out his steel knife. And doesn't realize how many irregular sparks he's throwing in a very dry area. We're taking that home to mess with LATER. Drive around to the other side of the lake, and setting up... there's a family out there teaching their kids to fish. They're having a whole lot of fun, and being kids.... and chasing frogs. Can't blame 'em. They were fun to send a little ribbiting squealing wave in front of you as you walked along the lake! Jacob went off chasing frogs with the excuse of "I'm taking pictures!" Mmm hmm. Sure you are. And Angela and I just sit and relax. Enjoy the scenery. Listening to the music of the countryside, and being the fish grabber, hook baiter, and general ookystuff dealer-with..er. And a teenage boy appears walking around the lake. Strikes up a conversation, and sits down to chatter.

Between the stories of the day's events, a certian story of a squirrel, and various other writings, I believe his world view got just a little broader. New friends are always good to find.

Eventually it gets too dark to fish, bellies are demanding food, and we pack up. As usual, I still want more time to explore this park. There's game trails leading off into the forest that are calling to me. Scents and sounds that are just so enticing, but its getting dark and the last thing we had was breakfast! Jacob remembers a beautiful catfish joint in Bastrop overlooking the Colorado River and we spend at least an hour... possibly two, driving up and down main street in "downtown" looking for it. Finally pulling over and asking a cop (hey, the cops always know where the best food is, right?) and they're permanently closed.

Denny's in Austin, listening to stories of the folks around us. Getting back in the car and turning back north. My loves passing out around me as I bring us home again. Flying through the night... the echoes of the day calling me. Old songs my mother used to sing coming to my mind, and being sung softly under my breath. Folks will say I'm crazy for doing something like this. For tearing out in the middle of the night to just wander through a couple small towns.. but this is the stuff of life. To listen to the song of the stars... to listen to the music of our past.... and to dream. Expand our souls to become something greater. Hope is there in spades... not just hope that came before us, but our own hope. Dreams for the future, dreams of our past. Memories and wishes in crumbling barns and old oaks.
Come... see.

Random = Better (Part 2)

2008-08-23T17:30:00.007-05:00

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!

2008-08-23T17:12:00.003-05:00

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!

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

2008-08-23T17:10:00.002-05:00

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.

2008-08-14T12:08:00.002-05:00

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.

2008-08-13T22:05:00.001-05:00

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!

The Call. Part Two.

2008-06-08T13:49:00.002-05:00

Dreams.... of flying through the treetops, of the woods behind my aunt's house. The old fig tree in her back yard that me and two of my cousins could not wrap our arms around the trunk. Of the little crook in that fig tree where I used to climb with a book and eat figs and read... and would throughly irritate my parents because I could walk out the back door and vanish.

Dreams of seeing a woman who I recognize as my mother, but much younger than I can remember holding a tiny red haired baby... and thinking to myself she is so beautiful.. so much potential. I want to BE her. Late late at night, stealing into the house through an open window and slipping in through those innocent blue eyes. I open my... OUR .. mouth for a gasp....

..... and am startled into consciousness by loud, high pitched beeping next to my head. Fahk.

Wait... I seem to remember other things happening last night. What happened??? How did I get back?? And where are my pants! Growling, I reach for the offending technological "wonder" and after fumbling for a bit, I finally get enough brain cells functioning to silence the irritating object and start dragging myself back towards consciousness.

Dragging on some clothes, I make my way to the ranger station to check in and apologetically explain my unannounced arrival to the park rangers. They're fine with it, and the system shows I was here before, so after paying the fee for my campsite, I start asking for some of that sweetest nectar of the gods.. the only thing that makes mornings tolerable... coffee.. and find they have none. After asking around, I am directed to a cafe in town, where I can find coffee... and, glories of all glories, breakfast tacos.

Pulling up to the cafe around 10ish, I'm delighted by yet another find. Well, it sure looks authentic! Old building, many many things hanging from the ceiling.. anything from pinatas, dollar bills, sparkly bits of stuff, an indescribable collection of various bits and pieces. A jungle of plant life all over the front of the store giving the light a greenish tint, and making the inside even more humid than the outside. I make my way to the counter, find the lady there BARELY speaks any english, but together with my broken spanish, her broken english, two barbacoa breakast tacos and coffee are aquired and I settle down at a table next to the window to eat my breakfast and contemplate the night's events.

Did anything really happen? How did I get back to the tent?

Just be you. You know your own soul. Remember me. Remember your own skin.

My rational mind wants to explain it all away. It was a dream. Nothing more.... and yet. I don't know. I've dreamed for so long. My life has been spent trying to discount the things I've seen. I slept for years. Watched others, when I did finally open up and start talking about what I had seen, either say I'm crazy, or ... worse yet.. start wrapping it into some stupid fantasy... of elves, and being a "princess of the fae". Bullshit. My life, my beliefs, my very being are not some child's fantasy... an escape from reality to be played with. I've hidden for so long. Can it be real? Is there even the slightest chance that it could be? Images from the night before flash through my mind... of an endless sea of stars overhead, of a crystal clear pool, of a curtain of deepest green with motes of reflected starlight from night jasmine.... and of golden eyes out of an inky black face.

Maybe. Just maybe. But tell no one.

Flying down the road again, this time I'm headed for Galveston. The gulf. Salt spray on the wind. The land of proper seafood! Oh I love seafood... and I grabbed an empty cooler to bring back some of the good stuff. Dallas is great, and there's glorious variety, but there's a difference between the good stuff down here and what you get at home. I remember when I was a child, and we would come down to visit my aunt in League City, that there were places in Kemah where you could stop and get a 5 gallon bucket of shrimp right off the boat for 20$... bring your own bucket. Last time I was in Kemah, I discovered "The Boardwalk" where the boats used to be. The shrimpers are gone, and this loud, garish, crowded tourist trap is in its place. Progress... Bah. After poking around for some time, I heard that there's a place in Galveston where the shrimpers park now, and I will be stopping there to check it out.

Calling ahead, and Lady Luck has definately smiled on me, and there is a campsite available in the state park. No water or electric, but I don't need any. Its just me and I'm not going to be cooking... although I may grab a bag of marshmallows and some grahan crackers and chocolate. ;) You've gotta forgive a lady her indulgences sometimes. On the bay side... away from the strongest winds off the gulf. Those have always bothered me, and I can't sleep well with them buffeting the tent. Something to do with growing up in tornado alley and hearing the gale outside and wanting to dive for the storm cellar. Eventually I make my way to the park, set up my sleeping quarters during the daylight... one of the few times I've done that. I'm usually pulling in well after dark and have become quite adept at setting things up with no light. , and head off in search of supper.

Cheap or exquisite. That is the biggest question on my mind. I have heard of a place that serves excellent, authentic shrimp poboys, and while I'm in the mood for seafood, I'm also in the mood for lots of it. My fish craving has kicked into overdrive and I head to a rather expensive, but awe inspiring place that I know I can get all I want.

Sitting at a window seat, overlooking the bay, the Elissa parked next door, I curl up with a book written by a fellow traveller. His journeys and exploits what kept that hope alive during those dark years. Hearing of how he had always been free, how he was taking off to hither and yon, seeing... feeling... experiencing. Actively writing the book that was his life.. and it was a page turner indeed.

Making my way back to the park.. its still early, but the lack of sleep and a full belly of fish is catching up with me. I decide the hell with it, its my vacation, and I can nap if I want to... and turn in before the sun has set.

Wind.
Angry. Violent. Caving in the side of the tent. The sun had set long ago and its late enough, there is no sound from other people... at least none that I can hear over the wind.

... and then I smell it.

The scent of salt and metals on the air. Blood. Sickeningly sweet rotten meat.

Oh god. Not here. There's noplace to run to. No place to hide. No one to protect me. To hide behind.

I've spoken to a couple people who know that scent... and the thing that reeks of it. I always wait for them to talk, but all who have admitted to it, have that fear. That haunted, hunted look in their eyes, only whisper of their existance, and always while watching over their shoulder. I knew it well in Oklahoma... and I refuse to set my foot in that place again because of it. I remember as a child, watching them reveling in the moonlight on the far side of the garden outside my window... and cowering in abject fear. Praying for god, jesus, or whatever was out there, to protect me. I knew better than to run to my parents, as they had already gotten to my father, and my mother did not believe in them.

Not here. I am alone. Oh god... please.

SNAP OUT OF IT. YOU ARE NEVER ALONE!

A memory of golden eyes in the starlight. Of the scent of pine and jasmine. Of the taste of pure, cold, sweet water.

But I'm small, squishy, and helpless! I can't do anything! I can't stop them!

BULLSHIT. Stop listening to them, to the people who tried to tame you. To break you and mold you into some mindless creature. You're better than that. You're STRONGER than that. Stop cowering and FIGHT!

Howls in the wind... not of earthly voices. Evil laughter echoing in that wind. They can smell me... and others. I grab my hiking staff from beside me and step outside... quaking in fear. The wind almost blowing me back inside the tent, I struggle to zip up the door.. and strain my eyes along the beachfront.

Three humanoid shapes stand out against the cloudy night sky... reflecting the sickly yellow of the city lights. About child height, with thin arms and legs, but bloated bodies.... and teeth. Rows and rows of gleaming, pointed teeth.

Okay, now what? Every time I've ever been in a fight, I've always gotten my ass handed to me. I'm no fighter.

You know your own soul. Remember your own skin.

Closing my eyes, I remember wings. Covering me when I was afraid as a child. A strong hand in the darkness, cradling me in saftey. I remember music... an ancient gypsy tune.. older than time... spiraling to the stars. And then the stars themselves. Vast beyond measure. I remember laughter in the light of two moons. I remember the floating trees of a poision planet.. above the noxious layer of gases, with giant mosquito like sap suckers flitting from tree to tree for the next life giving sip. I remember fields of black and purple flowers, trees taller than any I've ever seen... and laughter. Looking over by my side, running at full speed, long black locks... dark eyes... thin frame.

Not every time does shaking mean fear... and just because I am showing my teeth doesn't mean I'm smiling.

Come and get some... if you dare.

The howls change tone and retreat. The forms vanish... the scent fades... the wind calms

.. and I crawl back into the tent for more much needed rest. Knowing that I am safe.. for now.

Tomorrow a full day awaits, and then the drive home.

The Call

2008-06-08T01:28:00.003-05:00

**** FICTION****

Thursday after work I was too tired to cook. Not in the mood, LONG frazzling day at work, and just grabbed a pizza on the commute home. It normally takes me about 45 minutes to get home from my work in downtown Dallas and after grabbing pizza, I was about 10 minutes out. Delicious pepperoni and cheezy greasy goodness smells filling the car... and I "zoned". I really don't know how I ended up passing the side street into our neighborhood, going all the way through Cedar Hill, and well on my way south on 67 headed southwest. I called my husband and apologetically told him I was going to be late, where I was, and that I had pizza. Hung up....

...and almost missed the turn on 287 to come back north.

Took the back road home through a little ghost town called Britton with a wonderful falling down Citizen's bank. I needed to be out. To feel the wind.

Fine. I can't go tonight. I have obligations. I promise... tomorrow.

Friday.. I love my job. Really and truly. I get to problem solve, firefight, and screw around more than any place I've ever been before. I'd already thrown a couple changes of clothes in a bag the night before.. so at 6, I don't think they realized I'd gone until after the smoke trails cleared from my tires. This one was for me.

South on 45. Traffic doesn't bother me that much, and I wanted to get out of the metromess before I started playing. I knew I wouldn't start really feeling things until I got into the pines anyway. I'm headed for Galveston, but as 287 looms into view in Corsicana, I swing that way. Southeast. My home. Again and again, I'm called to one area. Out in the Angelina national forest. Deep woods. As the miles speed past the smell changes. First, prairies and grasslands. Warm, rich, but dry. I can smell the dust. Oh, its still got a lot of green... it is May after all, but its a hot May. As the terrain changes, the smell changes. The feel of the air. The feel of the heat itself is lessened. Entering the edge of the forests around Palestine and my soul sings. Finally. Rest. Now it truly begins. Take a small break at a gas station cafe in Palestine, and start talking to the lady at the counter as I drink my sweet tea and relax. She seems a bit amazed I'm out here "all by my little lonesome", so far out of the way from Dallas to Galveston, and going to go camping??? Me? All by myself??

Why not?

But aren't you afraid? So many things can happen on the road, and I've heard bad things happening to single women.

Then, I'll deal with them. Bad things can happen to you at home, just getting to work every day there are a thousand things that could happen. You can't spend your life in fear of what Might happen, or you'll miss the reason for life itself.

She laughed and tossed her hair back, leaning across the counter.. "So, sage of Dallas, what is the reason for life?"

The experience of being alive.

Tea finished, it was time to go. The forest, and eventually the gulf calling... beckoning.. Come. See. I pulled out into the cooling evening air, hopefully leaving her with something to think about. I don't know if she'll ever follow, but maybe... just maybe... I have liberated another mind.

Trees. I can't stay still for long out here. I need speed in these woods. When I was a child and we would pull in from Oklahoma, the first thing I would do would be get a few deep breaths.. to smell the forest, to smell home. Then the shoes would come off, and I would run. Until I could run no more. The thrill of running through the forest, through the trees. Eventually, I would stop, then just sit and listen. It was very hard to get me inside when we were down here.

Night time in deep east Texas. Well, I meant to go to Galveston.. really! But I'm having far too much fun out here. I guess it will have to wait until tomorrow... but wait.

Over on the edge of the light.. a shape. Keeping pace with me. I've felt and seen this before. When I was a child, I would welcome them. Audibly. Mom always knew I was a bit... strange. I hadn't done that since I'd grown up, and certainly not with my ex-husband in the car the few times he deigned to come out here. But I had never been out here alone. Free to do as I would. Nobody with me to say I'm weird, strange, "cracked", or what have you. I smiled.

Hello old friend. It is good to see you again. Come and talk a spell if you like.

I feel a smile.. a warmth.. the smell of night jasmine and fresh crushed pine needles fills the car... but its not time yet. Its time to run. To fly. Speed increses, Twisty, windy, curvy roads.. The joy of flight. The closest I can come. My machine and I are one... smiling as we speed through the night, until exaustion overtakes.

Livingston state park. Suitably deep woods. Proper smells. I pull in around 2 in the morning... setting the alarm on my phone to go check in with the ranger station / park office at 9 when they open. Pull out my tent and sleeping bag ... and air mattress.... sorry folks, if you were there that night, I didn't mean to wake you... and settle in.

...and start listening. Wind. high above me in the treetops. Skittering a few wisps of high thin clouds across the stars. Starlight. So bright, so beautiful. Hearing the wind as it travels through the treetops, rolls, dips into the underbrush. As it plays with the leaves. So many scents on the wind here... and as I lay there, listening to the wind... watching it around me, the scent of jasmine again. Very faint, but it is there. Footfalls.. slow and light, lighter than a human would make... especially with the thick carpet of pine needles all around my site. I am tired, but I know.. it is time. I pull on some clothes and step outside the tent.

I've never understood why some people need a flashlight out here. Yes, it is dim, but unless its raining, the starlight is plenty bright enough to see by. Sitting on the edge of the campsite is a feline form, with its head about level with my waist. Golden eyes reflecting the starlight, and watching my every move. I take a deep breath and decide if I'm wrong about this, no mere tent is going to hamper those claws or teeth, zip up the tent behind me, and go sit on the ground with my back against a tree.

Slowly, she pads up to me. Purring deeply. Watching me still. Letting me know I have seen her before. Over a year ago, deep in these woods, in a way that I could not dismiss. Forcing me to see, and to believe that she was there. Then, as now, when I saw her, I knew.. she was a part of me... she was me. Without the constraints of work, of family, of bills. I smile and reach out my hand ... as she squarely headbutts me in the chest. As with any housecat, it is a sign of affection, but I am grateful I had the tree behind me, or she would have bowled me over. Gently now, she places her nose to my forehead and purrs even deeper. Turning, she looks over her shoulder and starts walking away. I see a faint trail, leading off into the forest in the starlight.. the nighttime music calling. Just the tip of her tail flicking, she pauses for me to follow, then starts off down that trail. All exaustion banished from my mind, I get up and start walking. Twists and turns of the path, sometimes down to the lake's edge, sometimes you can barely hear the frogs piping from the the cool black water.

Further and further we go, turning off the main trails, through a barb wire fence, and down what must have been a rabbit trail... until we stop at a clearing.

Immediately I know this place. I've dreamt of it since I was a child. I had thought I might have been here, on a fishing trip with my uncle, as that would have been the only rational way to explain the memory, but my uncle would have never fished here. It is a small pool. Clean, clear water. As clear as the best kept swimming pool.... and much much cleaner. Bubbling up from below, it is ice cold. Jasmine and wisteria climbing the pines around the clearing... creating a living curtain from the outside world. Night jasmine in full bloom, filling the area with the scent and looking like little white stars in a curtain of deepest green. She stops and drinks from the pool, and I do the same, feeling complete refreshment from the cool, sweet liquid.

Why did you turn your back on me?

I stammer and sigh. Obligations. Responsibilities. Real life. I had no choice. I was with those who could not understand. Years I spent doing what was expected of me. What others wished for me. I did it well, and I made those people I loved most, happy.

I have always been here. Do your needs matter so little, you would sacrifice me to those who would betray you for a thrill? Who could not know, could not understand, and refused to see you for you?

I had no choice. To be accepted, to be loved, I had to lock you away from me. I had to slip on those chains. I eventually broke free, but even now, I hide most of what I am. Those who would love me and accept me do not need to see everything.

Love is complete or not at all. You know this. You live by this. Acceptance is total or it is worthless. You judge people by double standards, allowing them faults and lies you could never live with in yourself. You lie to yourself and to those you love most by hiding who you are... who I am.

What should I do then? Speak my mind? Attack those who irritate me, or have wronged me? I, WE, are shapechangers.. chamelions.. wandering through time.. I know this.. I've always known. I change myself for those around me to be most comfortable. I've been changed for so long, I don't know who I am. What in god's name should I do?

Just be you. You know your own soul. You ignore your own needs for the needs of everyone else. Trying so desperately to be accepted, you lose yourself in others. Be the shapeshifter, but remember me. Remember your own skin.

Running my fingers through her luxurious pelt, I smile. I'm nowhere near as tame as someone tried to make me. Leaning back, I find I can keep my eyes open no longer, and with a parting worry that I need to check into the ranger station in the morning and that my cell phone is still back in the campsite, I drift off into slumber.

*******

Hill country musings

2008-06-06T16:54:00.002-05:00

Curves.
Sensual, alluring, compelling, calling for a gentle nudge here, a strong swift stroke there, up, down.

Moonlight.
Soft, creating mystery, cool light, speaking - calling to the inner wanderer.

Night wind.
Cool, fresh, all the smells of the day, the drying grains and grasses in the field, water over the next ridge, skunk a half mile back, playing with the moon and clouds. The smell of the gulf a hundred miles away, the pine forests, the prairies, all wrapped into one being. Feel the joy of the wind... of being free. To toss the wisps of clouds skittering across the moon. Calling to come play... to tell you the stories of the places its been.

All of these things together creates magic. A late spring evening finding me lost way out on some back road.... well, not exactly lost.. I was somewhere on a red squiggly line on a map, roughly between Hye and Blanco. The song of the wanderer filling my ears as the pavement sped beneath me. Stars filling the night sky, with moonlight so bright you could go on forever. Why do some of us have this need? Need to be free, to fly, to see the unknown. Its so rare... so many look at us with this wayward glance when they ask me what I did all weekend. How, in god's green earth, did it take you 12 hours to get to Dallas from San Antonio???

I wanted to see what was between here and there.

Oh, I've made the trip many times. I've gone the "conventional" way, the back way, the round about way, but they're all the old way. Lets find the new way. Plot a new course. Something with lots of curves, some really neat terrain, a lot of water, and open sky. Reflections of the weekend flashing through my mind. Tubing down the Comal river, an old fiddler in Kerrville sending up the most beautiful piece to the stars above... and a luscious little blonde with a glorious Texan twang walking up to my husband in Lukenbach and without hesitation or asking for a name, "Are you wearing a thong?" to which his prompt reply was "Are you?" which led to a rather interesting and amusing conversation.

Why do we do it? Why do we need it. When so many are comfortable in this digital age to sit at home and see the world from the comfort of their couch or computer chair. It would be cheaper and safer to just stay home. With the prayer that was the old fiddler's song still ringing in my ears, I knew the answer.

Life.

But what is the meaning of life? Why are we here? What purpose is it?

Simply to be alive. We are creatures born of pleasure and pain. Strife, passion, blood, sweat, rage, jubilation. A creature of pure energy, made of flesh from star stuff, here to wander.

But why do look at me so askance when they hear my answer? Why, even among those special people in my life, are those who cannot understand? Who cannot share that same passion... that same drive?

Not all are the same. No, there are no better or worse, but there is a difference of spirit. Some are here here to teach others, or to learn themselves.. others here to fight, to heal, to mend... And then there are some here to watch. Oh, we've been around this world a time or two.. played all the roles. Each of us has that special role we love playing, that one that feels so comfortable, but with one key difference. There is that passion... that lust for knowledge, for the new, for the unexplored. Not a thirst for danger, exactly. We are the pioneers that settled this great country. We are the adventurers who find what was lost. The records of our lives are kept not as a record of one person who tilled his fields, kept his sheep, and died old and happy... but as the one who brought back knowledge of what was beyond the great waters.

Speeding on through the night, the wind speaking of cactus blossoms, cool springs, and hidden glens.

Life is short.

Time is fleeting.

Change is forever.

Come see.

Time to Go

2008-03-13T09:30:00.002-05:00

Sunday morning, I stepped outside, and do you know what I smelled?

Spring.

The scent of growing things: green grass, the leaves on the trees returning, even the weeds quickly trying to take over my lawn. I smelled freshly-turned dirt, from the garden that we began planting the day before. The chill wasn't in the wind anymore - it was nice to be outside.

Oh, we were tempted to take off right then and there, but we knew that we still had more planting to do if we wanted to enjoy lots of fruits and vegetables over the summer, so we remained at home and dug in the dirt some more.

This week, we've been working, depriving ourselves of sleep because we can't seem to stop thinking about what we want to do now that the long winter is finally going away.

With spring comes good fishing weather, as it's time to spawn as the water temperature rises. We already know of one lake where we'd seen the fish getting into the really shallow water right next to the shoreline, practically beaching themselves among the reeds. Last year, when we discovered this, we tried to catch them with our bare hands, and when that failed, we wasted the whole day tossing baited hooks in that direction, but with no luck. This year, we simply have a net -- we're looking forward to seeing if we can actually catch the limit on anything, even if it's simply carp. We looked it up, by the way -- it's one of the most-consumed freshwater fish, some 100+ thousand tons eaten each year around the world. We figure we'll try it -- why not, if it's free?

Another plan for this weekend is to dig the tents out of storage, set them up in the backyard to air out, and sweep the inside and out thoroughly. There's also the travel bag, packed with many of the small items we don't want to forget when we're out camping (firestarters, cooking utensils, cards & dominoes, MAX DEET, sunscreen, spare bandannas, stuff like that). We had bought a couple ponchos for our big canoemping trip last year, and I think we still need to rinse the sand out of those... We have utility shelves in the garage, where we try to keep all the camping gear together, but it gradually migrates to wherever we set it down when we last unpacked the car, usually at about 2am while feeling like a zombie from the drive home. So that needs to be sorted back out.

We're gradually putting together a wishlist of travelling/camping/fishing gear we'd like to acquire or upgrade -- a nicer digital camera to take high-quality, poster-size-printable pictures of the places we've been and things we've seen, so that we can put them up around the house; a two-burner camp stove for the occasions that there's a burn ban where we end up; a canoe with a hookup for a small outboard motor, good for paddling in the shallows or fishing in the deep water; more lures and books as we continue educating ourselves in fishing, and so much more.

Spring is a time of new beginnings, when the world reawakens, and the spirit of adventure can take hold of you, telling you it's time to explore those dreams you've been having while hibernating through the winter.

And I, for one, can't wait to go.

Don't look back
A new day is breaking
It's been too long since I felt this way.
I don't mind where I get taken
The road is calling
Today is the day.
-- Boston, "Don't Look Back"

The Hills Are Alive.... (Part 3)♦

2007-06-26T16:49:00.001-05:00

It's official -- I married Snow White. Sunday morning, I awoke to hear Angela telling Brandy and Amanda about her early morning encounter. Apparently, she had stepped outside for a little fresh air, and she saw a couple of bucks fighting up on a hill a distance from the camp. While she was watching them, she heard a noise near her. She looked over and saw a baby deer approaching.

Now, she knows better than to mess with young animals, so she peered around, and spotted the mother, watching closely. By this time, the young one was nudging her, and so, with mama's apparent approval, she carefully petted a baby deer for a while, before mother and child decided it was time to go. As they disappeared over a rise, Angela reflected on how rare a thing that was, that moment of being literally in touch with nature. She was giddy about it for the rest of the week.

Today was to be the last day of the trip, which meant it was time to show off the twisties Brandy and I had run through the previous week on a day trip. First thing was first, though...repack the car, go let the park know we were heading out so as to get the deposit on the cabin returned. We headed out, and stopped briefly at Longhorn Caverns, where Brandy bought Amanda a ring that had caught her eye, and I picked up a bag of magnetized hematite - boy, that stuff is fun to play with. Slip down to where 1431 crossed near us, and stopped again right at the beginning at the scenic overlook above a bend in the Colorado River.

The Colorado River...we'd followed it, crossed it, played in it, and admired it all through this trip. We had been criss-crossing the valley for the last day and a half, and seen it as a bubbling brook, a tubing stream, dammed up as a lake, and now, as the majestic river it really was. When you stand on the side of the road, with a cliff behind you, houses below you, and looked out to where the distant shore was about as far as you could see, you could really sense the strength of the waters that had carved the Grand Canyon. Someday, we'll have to go see the Colorado in that aspect, too.

A simple snack of apples and cheese while standing there, and we continued, keeping an eye out for a new tacqueria. Eventually, somewhere between Granite Shoals and Marble Falls. Another round of ordering food that made poor Amanda turn green, and we all were fascinated to get Coke in a bottle labeled in Spanish...apparently it was Coke from Mexico, which I believe is made with cane sugar instead of the ubiquitous high-fructose corn syrup that seems to be the ingredient of choice for every American food product. Afterward, we picked up some pineapple soda and Mexican sweetbreads, and got back on the road.

Passing through Marble Falls, I happened to be browsing a motorcycle magazine I had picked up which listed some of the most scenic rides, best stops, and other goodies in all parts of Texas. As I flipped over to "Best Swimmin' Holes" and was amused to see Balmorreah, there was an exclamation from the rest of the car at the number two site.

"Ooohh!! Where is that?"

A quick flip through the Gazetteer showed that it was actually in the general direction we were headed and not really far, either. That was easily settled, and Hamilton Pool was added to our itinerary for the day as a must-see spot.

Twisties and hills on 1431, and even smoke from a fire on a hill somewhere in the distance...we watched it get thicker and darker, then fading back away as firefighters dealt with it. Just another day on the job for them...but a unique sight for those of us out for a country drive.

Skirting the west edge of Austin, we marvelled at the hills, valleys, Lake Travis and the dam. There was the requisite joking of going to Hippie Hollow when we passed the sign, and then all of us chickening out at the allure/embarrassment in the idea of visiting a clothing-optional beach. Ah, the hippie culture that is Austin.

Soon enough, we found the turn for Hamilton Pool, and after wisely stopping at a gas station so as not to have a repeat of our arrival at Colorado Bend, we continued through the glorious scenery that is the Hill Country, where we soon found ourselves trapped behind a jeep that didn't seem entirely sure of where they were going, judging by their low speed.

Months later, we finally arrived at the park, and amused the ranger by showing him the picture that was our inspiration to visit. We parked, and then headed for the trail leading to the pool itself.

The path proved difficult for Angela, who seemed to be dropping heavily off each step on the way down...unfortunately, this wreaked havoc on her knees, and she was limping by the time we made it to the pool area. Needless to say, she was quite upset, angry that it happened, and angry that she would also have to deal with the return trip.

At least she was able to enjoy the incredible environment that is Hamilton Pool. Here the Pedernales River drips over a limestone cave, and you can sit within it, watching the water falling in front of you into a pool with blue-green water so inviting, we almost went for a dip before we remembered what the Colorado River had demonstrated the day before -- it was still February. Clinging moss with clear water dripping from the plant life, limestone boulders, stalactites at the edge of the cave roof, making the whole thing resemble a giant mouth...just, amazing.

Yes, Angela was upset about her knee...yes, she suffered the long uphill climb, although we went up the smooth trail instead of the rocky step trail, even though it was officially closed. We saw more deer cross our path on the way up, and it reminded her yet again of why we were really out there. There are things you can see and experience in nature that you simply can't match by watching it on TV. Yes, nature can make you pay dearly if you're not prepared for it, but the rewards are certainly worth it. Despite the pain, Angela has said that what she got to see, the place she got to take in, was worth every bit of it, and she still wants to go again.

The afternoon was starting to get long, and we knew it was time to start making our way north, but first, we continued past the entrance to Hamilton pool, down a steep switchback into a canyon, where we paused on a one-lane bridge just over the Pedernales River to take it in once more, before driving up and out into more open road.

Wait, what was that bounding along the side of the road? We stopped and backed up (I love country roads), and Angela was treated to her very first sighting of a live armadillo.

Eventually, we were back to 281, on the long drive toward home...unfortunately, Amanda began feeling ill, with symptoms that had us worried about appendicitis, but it turned out later to be an ulcer. Dragging ourselves home and into bed sometime near midnight, exhausted.

A stomach-ache for Amanda, a hurt knee for Angela, an aching back for Brandy....our bodies were screaming at us when we finally made it home...the weekend made us pay for every bit of experience we had.

And we'd gladly pay it again.

Slice of Time : Galveston 6/2/07

2007-06-02T21:53:00.000-05:00

"Beef goes moo!"

"You'll get sand up your hoo-hoo!"
"He doesn't have a hoo-hoo, he has a ha-ha."
"Nope, I have a back-hoo."

"My dragon got all wet and quit flying!"

"The screaming monkey was pretty cool..."

"Look past the bikini...I know it's hard, but you can do it. See the guy on the kayak?"

"Her tits have a fish cleaning station?!?"

"He's getting to have his dessert before his dinner."
"He's an adult, he's allowed."
"At this rate, I might get to finish my dessert before my dinner arrives."

"Hey look, we're next to a titty bar -- we are in a classy hotel."

"My aquashoes are soulless!"

"We're looking for Kansas Street."
"No problem, we just passed Texas Street...should just be a couple more blocks north."

"This is the coast. Thunderstorms here just go pooft!"

"What's up?"
"Nothing, just freezing the moment."

"Yay, I get to de-head the shrimp too!"

"That's a much cooler Surrender the Booty flag....and there's some booty that needs to be surrendered."

The Hills Are Alive...(Part 2)

2007-05-24T21:06:00.001-05:00

Oh, would that I could describe the sunrise in the Hill Country, yellows and reds and oranges and pinks, a pastel magnificence as the life-giving warmth returns once more to our lives and we once again make the transition from night to day. I would gaze upon the lake surface, stirred by a stiff morning breeze, small whitecaps picturesque against a blue lake that somehow remained clear rather than murky. Perhaps I would also describe the people around us, starting morning cookfires to prepare breakfast or get a bit of early exercise, stretching their waking muscles to make ready for the day's activities.

Of course, all of that would require I had been awake for it. We did get to camp at 4 in the morning, after all, so it was an amazing enough feat that we rose around 10 as it was. Well, I woke to see a half-naked Amanda on the other top bunk writing in her journal, and in the process of getting out of bed and making some orange juice (from concentrate!), everyone else started making somewhat more conscious movements. Today, the plan was to drive around the area and see what uplifting sights the Hill Country had to offer us, to best cheer Amanda up. To save money on dinner, we had brought along ingredients for chili and a slow-cooker. I dropped in the still frozen chunk of ground beef and the sauce and spices, then we loaded up and headed out for breakfast.

It's always interesting to see people's reactions the first time they go to a tacqueria. Some, like us, see the menu that we can barely understand and start picking things at random to try. A few are more hesitant, but if they at least know what they're getting are still willing to experiment. Still others see things like goat, beef cheek linings, and pork skin and go "eeeewwwww!", then either run screaming in terror or order something "safe." Well, at least Amanda didn't run screaming in terror...she did stick with potato and egg breakfast tacos, though. I actually hadn't known there were chicarrone breakfast tacos (think pork rinds, but not dried up), so I had a couple of those as well as barbacoa. A little sweet tea to round it out, and we thought about where we wanted to go for the day.

One plan for the weekend was to take highway 1431, which was full of twisty roads, gorgeous vistas of the Colorado River Valley, and was simply a fun drive. We opted to save that one for Sunday and instead went a bit north, passing through many little farm roads, including a county road we had thought would be a shortcut, but turned out to be a dead end. At least we got the amusement of driving right past a herd of cows milling around the road...we were inside the fence, after all. We mooed at them a bit, then made our way eventually to Colorado Bend state park.

On driving in, all we could see was the dust kicked up by the car in front of us on the chalky, gravelly dirt road. We saw a watering hole, and hiking trails, and were driving a bit faster than we technically should have. You see, we'd been in the car a while, and it had been a long time since we'd passed any kind of gas station or anything else which might house a bathroom....the urge was building, and at that moment, all we cared about was actually getting into the park, finding park headquarters, and finding relief. Damn, that was a really long, bumpy road, and for much more time than we would have liked, we weren't seeing any real signs of civilisation. Finally, though, the road dipped down (a steep, curvy hill -- the 5 mph limit wasn't just kidding around), and we entered the park proper.

Wow.

Some scenes give such a sense of majesty that words cannot do them justice. A limestone cliff face towered over the park, like a canyon with only one side. The river was shallow here, and it rippled over stones scattered throughout its bed. Grassy banks sloped down, along with a few little waterfalls of their own, but the eye ignored much of that and was drawn back time and again to the wall, analysing it, finding handholds and footholds, as that was a surface that demanded to be climbed. Maybe not today, but soon, an attempt must be made.

And then a bit of reality set back in.

"The bathroom! Gangway!"

Miraculously, I think we remembered to lock the car before abandoning it. After we were all feeling much better, we took another look at the scenery and knew we had to go play in the river. Yes, the water was ice cold, but no problem...it was shallow and I had my boots on. Of course, it was just deep enough I would have gotten wet anyway, but I managed to carefully balance my way across on very slippery rocks. I waved at the girls, then sat down and relaxed, looking out over the river bubbling along in front of me.

A moment later, I heard a squeal, and looked over in time to see Brandy rising drenched out of the frigid waters of the Colorado River, with a dripping Amanda perched on her back. Apparently, she had leaped on, calling out, "Carry me!" Brandy did okay for a little bit, but those rocks are more slippery than they look, and the water much deeper than it appears. After reaching the bank I was on, Brandy was quickly out of her jeans, with her socks and boots drying near them.

I went and visited with Angela for a while, back on the original side of the bank, as she was uncomfortable with the slope of the ground down to the water...maybe next time. After a bit, I went back, this time saying the hell with it and just slogging through the river, setting my boots out to drain and my socks to dry once I got over there. We spent who knows how long just pocking around the rocks and cliff face, joking with some fishermen on their way upstream -- wise men...they had waders, and just generally having a good time. Eventually, though, it was time to depart, and we prepared to wade back across the mighty Colorado.

Deciding my boots and socks had absorbed enough of the river for one day, I hitched up my pants and waded across barefoot.

The river opted to remind me that it was still late February. I found that barefoot, it was not only very, VERY cold, but also that river rocks are unpleasant to cross without something on your feet....note to self, buy some aqua shoes at some point...I don't think I could feel my toes by the time I was delicately stepping on the gravelly shore like someone walking across burning coals for the first time. I squeezed another quart of water out of my socks, which I had carried across with me....I think they got wetter just by being close to the water. I also poured a gallon of river water out of each boot, then went ahead and put them back on. I then paced about, skipping a few pebbles while I waited for Brandy to cross....I think Amanda was up the shore somewhere...then we went back and sat with Angela for a bit before we were ready to get back in the car and start making our way back to camp....hurray for Angela's homemade trail mix!

It was quite a pleasant meandering drive back to Burnet, and when we pulled into town, the sun was well past down....we might not have planned originally on a campfire, but what the hell. We bought some wood, some marshmallows, and some Little Smokies to roast, then continued back to the park, where the chili was delicious, built a fire, and relaxed a bit before finally drifting off to sleep.

Come see.

2007-02-22T12:03:00.000-06:00

Come fly with me.
come spread your wings.
Wander the forgotten paths with me.
Explore the lost trails.

Experience what life is about with me.
Experience what makes us human.
Feel the joys of freedom
as your soul takes flight with mine.

Feel the sun on your face
hear the avian chorus above.
Dip your toes in the crystal clear waters,
as your eyes gaze on an infinity of stars.

Welcome the cool morning dew
and the scents carried on the morning breeze
of places nearby that have been lost
and of memories buried long deep.

Drink of the fountain of youth with me
of the splendor and glory which is life.
Pain and sorrow and joy and strife
and the laughter that frees us all.

Come fly the paths less travelled with me
See the wonders that are there.
Live life as it was meant to be lived,
with the universe whispering.. "Come, See!"

The Hills Are Alive... (Part 1)

2007-02-21T21:11:00.000-06:00

It may be mid-February, but in Texas, it's just starting to warm up for spring. Life is returning after lying dormant for a frozen couple of weeks (regardless of the calendar everyone else uses, winter in Texas is about a month long), and the urge to go was raging within us.

Alas, the camping/canoeing trip we had hoped for was not to be, as overnight lows were predicted to be in the mid-30s. *shudders* Oh, hell no.... So Plan B was to go and wander the Hill Country in some detail, especially the area around Inks Lake and the Colorado River west of Austin. We'd find a hotel room near Burnet or Marble Falls to be home base, trek down Friday night, spend all day Saturday and most of Sunday wandering, and back home Sunday night.

Oh, fickle internet, why did you forsake me? The nearest reasonably-priced hotel room was all the way off in San Marcos! Hmph...hey, wait a second...some state parks have cabins...I wonder how much those are...

Lo, and behold! A cabin at Inks Lake, for the same price as Econolodge in San Marcos. So we might need a space heater to help warm the room, and the bathroom is a short hike away...but what does that matter against stepping out on a crisp but warming February morning to seeing the lakeshore and trees and ducks and deer and...but I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's back up a bit.

This trip was to be about many things....showing Angela the twisties Brandy and I had found on our last day trip, finding new twisties as we explored the area further, enjoying another "outdoorsy" trip with all three of us, and de-stressing from a very busy couple of weeks with me out of town on business more than usual. We also were bringing a friend with us, who had just been through a nasty breakup, and planned to use this trip to do a little soul-searching. We hoped to give her the kind of experience that always helped our own souls.

A little last-minute shopping with Angela to pick up some supplies, and packing the car while Brandy was on her way home from work, and finally, on the evening of the 2-month anniversary of Brandy moving in, we piled in the car and were on the road.

First stop, Buffalo Jones for dinner! Since finding this little gem of a burger place in Venus, we have become regulars there, trying to stop by whenever we were heading south. Of course, with Brandy's new schedule, we were arriving much later than normal, and sure enough, they were closed. The girls were disappointed, but rather than drive on by, I figured we'd take a chance on playing the "regular customer" card, and pulled into the gravel lot, walked up and peered in the door. Sure enough, as soon as Dwayne spotted me, he opened the door right up and invited us in as his wife fired up the grill to take our orders. Skittish, squeaky, shy Amanda got the honor of having one of the last two buffalo burgers, as this was her first experience. It was so funny to see her reaction as we explained she was eating actual buffalo meat, that the burger wasn't just called a buffalo burger to have a catchy name. Lemme just add "squeamish" to that list of S-adjectives, as her further reaction of "ewwww" when we told her they also had ostrich burgers was to become a running theme for the trip. I guess not everyone can have the cast-iron stomachs and adventurous appetites that we do.

After much fun chatting with the Buffalo Jones proprietors and a very good meal (as usual), along with several attempts to get Amanda to stop reading a catalog and eat so we could get going, she finally admitted to being full, and we got her a to-go box, said our farewells, and drove on, into the night.

It was a glorious and clear sky, and we knew the stars would be very visible, so that meant a stop in Chalk Mountain was on the agenda. We missed the turn that we used there before, but found another good spot, just off a county road as 67 meets with 220. We piled out of the car, stood in the darkness outside the glow of the metroplex, and looked up.

Infinity.

I know that green is the color of life, the rebirth of the forests and fields from their winter slumber, but black dotted with white, the inverse of frost-covered expanses, holds a different kind of promise. The promise of mystery, of something to explore, no matter how far we look, there will always be more to see. Brandy has described the Hill Country as naturally breeding curiosity - what's around the next bend, behind that hill, down that trail? I grew up in the Hill Country, exploring those trails, climbing those hills, and peeking around those bends. My second love was astronomy...I may not have studied it as deeply as I could have, but the mystery and promise of things to explore always appealed to me, and so I love to take the time to look at a full night sky, even when I'm shivering from the cold. Shooting stars, satellites, constellations, and the Milky Way...there's so much to see, and Amanda was seeing shooting stars one after the other. It was like the universe was telling her, "Everything is going to be all right." Eventually, though, the cold began to get to us, and one by one, we slipped back into the car, with Brandy the last to leave the stars behind.

A quick stop for some cocoa in Hico, and we were at last making our way south on 281. Angela had fallen asleep as per usual, and we had just switched drivers so Brandy could make the second leg to the cabin. Night driving is usually Brandy and I keeping each other awake and is typically when our conversations take a more philosophical turn. On this occasion, we spoke with Amanda about where she's been, where she's going, and offered hope that while things may have gone sour for her recently, there is always opportunity for happiness if you don't let yourself miss it. I spoke of when I had a romance end in high school and spent so much of my energy missing her that I missed several girls that in hindsight were pretty blatantly hitting on me. While unfortunate, I can't regret that it happened that way, as I otherwise might not have learned the lesson I saw later. Be happy with yourself, and it will be easier to be happy with others. If you spend a relationship waiting for it to fail, you might just find yourself unable to see how well it really is going. There is always more out there...whether you see it is up to you.

After an hour or two of good deep conversation, she was feeling basically good about things, and we were finally turning onto Park Road 4, one of our favorite roads to drive...the first hill gives a great roller-coaster sensation, followed by a nice, hilly, twisty road, and even a castle! Unfortunately, it was dark, so we couldn't admire the scenery just yet, but that would come in the morning. Carefully making our way around, trying to make sure we don't hit any deer as we progress, we pull into the Inks Lake park entrance, find the keys to our cabin, and go on a quest to locate our accomodations in the dark...after a while, we found where the cabin numbers were hung, and drove around until we found ours, right on the shore of the lake, and only a couple minute hike from the bathroom. Everyone was sleepy and ready for bed, but we got the gear unloaded, the space heater set up, and one last pause to view the stars over the lake before bed.

Beautiful...and this is only the beginning...

Returning thoughts...

2007-02-20T13:36:00.001-06:00

Another incredible weekend. Amazing vistas of rolling hills, tree covered mountains, Lush green valleys, sparkling bluegreen pools with waterfalls and moss covered limestone. Granite hills, quartz beaches sparkling next to crystal clear rivers.

I'm still recovering from this latest outing. Blisters on my feet from falling in the Colorado River and getting about 6 cups of water in each boot. Wrenched knee and bruised leg from having a very dear friend jump on my back going "Carry me!" while on the rocks in the river... and stepping on an unstable mossy stone and taking a very cold dip. Twisted ankle from running up the trail to Hamilton Pool ... and the Perdenales river. Looking up that steep trail to go back to the parking lot, knowing that nobody can help me, and laughing at the situation and attacking it wholeheartedly. Miles and miles and miles of back country twisties. Deer, armadillos, coyotes, raccoons, more deer, MORE DEER, goats and llamas and sheep and horses and more cows than you want to try to comprehend. Prickly pear everywhere.

So many folks get so damn squeamish about food. What's wrong with new experiences? It can irritate me to no end how folks think that food means it comes prepackages in some styrofoam container, lacking all resemblance from what it actually was. Screw that. Meat is meat. It irritates the **** out of me how people will hear about something other than beef or chicken or pork and go EEEEWWWWW! What the hell?! .. Let me give a for instance....

One of our favourite places to stop when we're out on the road and want breakfast is Taquerias. Good, CHEAP, filling breakfasts. To the tune of 18$ (including tip) for 3 people... with plenty left over! There's many excellent dishes on the menu, and we had a new friend with us out for the first time. She'd never been in a place like this before, and needed a translator as she spoke NO spanish whatsoever. Barbacoa.. cow cheek meat.. very flavorful and tender. Cabritos = barbecued goat. Lengua = beef tongue. Chicharrones = similar to pork rinds, but much much better. During this description, she turned various colours of green, white, and other less than savory shades. Finally we all got our orders and she was of the opinion that she didn't want to hear any more of the menu or what it was that we ordered. At work, talking about various things and the subject of food comes up. A comment on duck eggs brought on the reaction of EEEWWW! and it went downhill from there.

People always hear of my travels and want to come with me. They hear of the glorious scenery, the wonderful people I meet, the new friends in far away places, and want to experience it... but they don't want to experience the whole thing. They balk at the idea of a goat bbq cookoff, or tamales on the side of the road, or of lengua breakfast tacos, but this is the essense of the places we find ourselves. When experiencing life, you make a choice. Styrofoam contained "all american beef" preformed patties... the same food you would get in New York City or New Orleans, or you can experience the life the people there lead. Jambalaya from our lovely coast, fresh fish and shrimp caught just earlier that morning in the gulf. Barbecue from a falling down tin shack on the side of the road. Tamales made by a grandmother according to a generations old family recipe. Make new friends in far away places. Find a family you never knew you had.

The writeup of this latest trip will come later. I have so many things I need to write up as is, but time constraints get in the way. I would rather be out doing it. Experiencing life at its fullest. More posts will follow soon... until then remember to live the life you've got now.

The Wurst Trip Ever - Day 4 (In which the Wurst happens...)

2007-02-16T11:31:00.001-06:00

Day 4, and it's time to make the trip home. After a home-cooked breakfast (thanks, Dad), we load up the car and make our way north, along boring old Interstate 35, so that we can begin the day in New Braunfels, where it is the last day of WurstFest, a German sausage festival that goes for a little over a week. The only tricky part is in figuring out where to exit 35 to get to the right place -- these things never have decent maps drawn, just a couple cross streets and you're supposed to puzzle out how to get there. Fortunately, I've got a knack for puzzles.

We exit and make our way to the main square of downtown New Braunfels, where we see a whole bunch of little craft tables set up and people in German folk outfits. We stop and wander about for a while, looking at birdhouses, glass etches, pottery, pressed wildflowers, clothing, and all kinds of other goodies...but no sausage! Guess we weren't at Wurstfest itself yet.

No problem.....I use my big honkin' nose to do what it does best -- sniff for food!

*sniff sniff*

*sniff sniff* Ah-hah! That way!

We hop back in the car and continue driving past the far more obvious but less entertaining method of the sign with an arrow pointing in the direction of WurstFest, and make our way to the traffic jam of people trying to find a place to park. After a bit, we made our way into a little lot where a couple were directing folks in (wow, that wife had some serious cleavage on display...oh, right -- story) to park in a field that was right next to the front entrance. We parked under a tree next overlooking the Comal River, where I could see a small waterfall where we would be entering the festival.

We hike a bit to the gate and while we're standing in line, we're greeted by an elderly couple in front of us who just happen to have an extra coupon for buy 1 entrance fee, get the second free. Well that was awfully nice of them to give them to us, I think as I put the remote control to the orbital mind control laser back in my pocket. We pay our fees and enter the park, first pausing to take a few pictures of the waterfall I had noted on our way in. We debate entering the contest for a vacation or whatever it was, but on purusing the back, found that it was mainly a trick to get registrants for contacting by a timeshare sales company. No thank you!

Besides, it was lunchtime and I was ready for some wurst-ification! Make a beeline for the Marketplatz and within minutes, I'm tearing into a knackwurst sandwich loaded with sauerkraut and dijon mustard, followed by sweet potato fries, a multi-wurst kabob, and a slice of german chocolate pie....mmm....chocolate & coconut.....

We debated going on a couple of the rides, but at a buck a ticket and all of the rides costing 4 or more tickets each, we figured our funding was getting a bit low for rides. We took a stroll along the Comal River, enjoying the scenery and getting another nice shot of the waterfall there, before glancing at the time and realizing our time was running out, since we wanted to stop at the Hidden Dutchman on the way back, and they closed at 6pm.

Cutting over to 281 out of New Braunfels took us along some more interesting Hill Country roads, and we even passed a ranch with a castle look at its front gate. It appeared to be a tourist ranch, and we may have to see if we can stumble across it again to find out more about it. Heading north along a familiar back road, we reflected on the trip, all that we had seen and done, the messed up plans and easy shift to backup plans and we saw that it was a microcosm of life.

You see, life will throw you hardships...what matters is how you deal with them. Granted, that's a little bit of wisdom you might hear everywhere...life also lobs the occasional bit of opportunity, which takes a different kind of viewpoint to see. As you travel down your path, you will see many branches...some merge back together, barely having any consequence except slightly different scenery...some veer off in distant tangents, where you can easily become lost, and some have obstacles that must be hurdled, avoided, or otherwise overcome to continue that path. Many see the obstacles easily. Some become stuck staring at them...others take steps to chip away until they can get through them...others see the barely visible game trails of opportunity that slip through the forest, only to come out in the clearing just a bit down the path. These are backup plans, each with their own risks and rewards....we couldn't set up the tent on the beach? We could have slept in the car, or gone to camp at the next nearest park, or even found a hotel room. But instead we went just that little bit further to stop at my parents' place a day earlier than expected, and ended up getting to have my father along on an adventure for a day. That reward was worth giving up the night on the beach, and we at least got to see the full moon over the waves with the beach all to ourselves...not a ruined plan, just a shift to a different one.

Keep an eye out for other ways to do things, or other things you could be doing....is it worth turning off the TV and driving out to take a walk in a park or fly a kite in a field? My opinion is my own...but why don't you try it, and see what you think?

To the trees and back.. in one day.

2007-02-01T07:53:00.001-06:00

I'm sorry, life catches up with me and drags me away from the puter long enough that I forget to post or just have so many things to post about I can't decide what to do next. I should finish the San Antonio trip first, however, we have more pressing things to post about. Later trips... about 150 miles of fog through Victoria, about the secret to eating cheap on vacation, and about the latest trip.. back to Lufkin.

I can go a little longer without a long drive than I can without sex.. and that's not very long. About three weeks and I start getting really twitchy. Need to go. Soon. Want to experience. The pines and swamps have been calling me, and after a little discussion with Jacob, we decided we could go... but only if we didn't spend hardly any money, and if we were back that very night. Deal. As long as I can go for a little while, I'm happy.

Up at 5am... well, he's up. I'm slightly less than enthusiastic about being up that early, so around 5:30 I finally haul my keister out of bed. A shower and a glorious cup of coffee made with generations tried and true Valdez family recipe... started with Juan Valdez... or as he is better known, Don Juan Valdez.. not known so much for his sexual prowess, but for the glorious cup of coffee afterwards. But I digress...

Stepping out for a smoke into the predawn silence. Rooster crowing in the distance, birds twittering at the hint of light, the world is just on the cusp of waking, and its the perfect morning to go. The air is heavy with the scent of rain, cool, but inviting. Come. The world is waiting to be explored.

Back in I go, and I go into high gear, sandwiches, snacks, and drinks are stowed in the cooler. The fold-up picnic table is fetched from the attic, and off we go. Before the sun is even up, its 6:30 in the morning, and we're on the road... and never fails, whenever I go home to east Texas, it rains.

Ennis is passed by, with their wonderful kolaches. Corsicana is passed by with their chocolate factory and the pecan place. Palestine is passed by, with all the memories of that city. And then we start getting hungry. Chattering along, hadn't really mentioned food, when around the bend in Elkhart there's a doughnut shop. Ooooh... doughnuts. Sound good? YEAH!

I love small town Texas. Chattering with folks, they're commenting how nuts everybody is to be up at 9 on a Saturday morning. ... I neglect to mention that we've been up since 5ish just for a nice long drive. I can't help but mention how friendly folks are when we're out wandering. It doesn't matter where we are, they're still nice and you always end up with amusing tales afterwards.

Back on the road with doughnuts and coffee in hand, headed towards the deep forest, I am just happy. Its good to be free and alive and experiencing life again.
We pass by Kennard (with the surliest waitress in the universe) and Ratcliff, and turn into the forest. I think they did some road work out here, cause its less... wild than it was before. Its actually a gravel road, and at least 2 cars wide at that!

A sign is seen that we Officially remember that we did not see before, and turn down a narrower dirt road, leaving all trace of gravel or pavement behind. A last house, a car parked on the side of the road, a narrow one car "bridge" that's just a couple timbers spanned over a swamp / creek. and we're deep in the wilderness. Alternating between deep pine forests and swamp on either side. Craning our necks out the windows looking for gators or other wildlife, the only thing we see are birds.. but you can tell there's more out there. You just can't see it. Further in we go and the road gets smaller... small enough that I'm glad we're in my tiny car cause otherwise it may get too narrow.. til we come to a mud pit. I seem to have this knack for finding the biggest potholes in whatever county we're in... and this one is worthy of that title. Wider than the road, longer than my car, with ruts in it that I know I'd bottom out if I tried to go through them, I pause for a moment, line it up the best I can, and go for it. A minor bit of fishtailing, and damn near getting stuck, and my perfectly clean and shiny car absolutely COVERED in mud, we're out... and laughing our asses off thinking about how we're going to tell Angela about it.

We keep going for a bit, and suddenly find we're on blacktop again.. that makes no sense though, as the road is supposed to dead end into the Nechez river. What the hell... did someone just dump a load of tar out here? After about a hundred feet the blacktop goes away, the road (as much as you could call it one) peters out til it simply stops. We stop, get out of the car, and can't see the river.. but there's the birds. Standing there, miles and miles away from civilization, from the nearest people, listening to the birds in the deep forest, my love's arms around me.. the perfect moment of the trip is found.

We're so close to the river, its supposedly just right over that ridge over there, it'd be a shame to not check it out. We start hiking through the forest in the direction of the river and I'm in heaven. I'm noticing so much plant life.. even though its late January, there's still things growing, still things green, and there's all the mushrooms. This is my home. I may not have been born here, but I've always loved the swampland. I can't understand how people could find it creepy.. its so alive, so invigorating. The river was gorgeous, and we found a huge old pine that'd fallen out over it, and climbed up on top of it, and on the river to sit and listen... and that's when it started raining. Nothing too nasty, and unfortunately not even a hint of thunder, but a light cool rain.. that sounded amazing. The entire place smells like life to me.. then add water. Water above, water below me, water all around me. Countless birds chattering away all around us, the rain in the leaves and on the water, watching the river slowly pass us by. Life doesn't get much better than this.

We start talking about canoeing.. one of my all time favourite things to do outdoors, and how this river would be quite challenging to try to get down because its all choked with trees. Not too far away is Silsbee and a canoe rental place down there that I had been to a long time ago.. do we want to rent a canoe for the day and go paddling? Why not? Its a beautiful, if still rather wet, day. Why not?

Eventually we start heading back to the car to get going and Jacob takes the lead. I'm engrossed looking at the vegetation of the area, and am grateful when we finally hit what feels like a game trail to me. The ground is less spongy, more solid than the rest of what we've been slogging through... when he confuses me. I noticed a trail when we left where the car was parked, but before we get all the way back to it, he veers off the trail. I dunno.. maybe he has a shortcut in mind?

After slogging through the bog, and what I swear to god must have been peat moss, he turns around and asks me "what do you think" .... what do I think? I think I'm enjoying myself out here and following you! A little later on, he says he has a rough idea what direction the road is, but doesn't know where we parked the car... Well, my most wonderful love, it was right off the trail you left back there... "Trail?" Apparently the city boy doesn't recognize a game trail when he's on it. *officially teasing my love here*

I turn us around and start heading back to the trail, when I spot something white we'd passed before. Originally I'd passed it up, thinking it was some kind of trash, but this time I veer towards it. Its not trash, its the bottom of a turtle shell! A really big, almost perfect condition, turtle shell! He gets to carry that out, and I lead us back to the car with no further incidents other than enjoying being outside on a lovely long hike.

After getting us back down that mud track, and back over the pit, we make it back to the road safely.. and turn east again. Towards Lufkin, Kountze, and eventually Silsbee. The road opens up before us, the skies open up above us, and laughter fills the car once more.

The Wurst Trip Ever -- Day 3

2007-01-04T15:43:00.001-06:00

Well, we're in San Antonio a bit earlier than expected, but that's all right. I browse through the books and such in the "Travellin'" bag, and find that there are several Scenic Drives near where we are....well, the Hill Country is pretty scenic. Ooh!! The only railroad tunnel in Texas is nearby! A quick invitation to bring my father along, and we pile in the car and head for the drive's starting point in Comfort, TX.

It is early November, and as such, it's the wet season in the Hill Country, so it wasn't any surprise that it was drizzling as we paused for road drinks in Comfort and I read the details of the drive we were about to embark upon. I could recount them again here, but why do that if I'm about to describe the actual drive we took?

Well, the first error happened as we were going out of town. There was a road we were supposed to go east on, and I turned what I thought was east, and as we left Comfort, I noticed that none of the other landmarks that we were supposed to be seeing had come up. Eventually, we turned around and went the other way, but I'm still not entirely sure how that happened. Let's see....

Heading northwest on I-10, we exit for Comfort and turn left...this should be south. The road goes straight into Comfort, going south as far as I know, and somehow a left turn takes us west again. Go ahead and look at a map...I can only guess I missed something, but I think Comfort may actually bend the space-time continuum somehow. Anyway, turning right from a road leading south somehow took us east and then curved to the north, where we crossed back under I-10, and were on our way.

Shortly after passing under the interstate, we looked off to our right and saw what the book told us was the only bat roost of it's kind left in Texas. Looking like a steeple without a church, it was built by the people of Comfort in the hopes of keeping the mosquito population down. Interesting, although I'm not sure how by just building a house for them, bats somehow know it's there and move in.

Driving up a road and it curved to the right....and it curved to the left, and up and down, and oooohhh....this is a fun road to drive....someday, I really need to make this run on a bike....farmland and gullies, and my dad talking about the bonsai trees he could make from many of the twigs he's seeing on the side of the road as we pass. It was drizzly, and things were going dormant in preparation for winter, but it was still gorgeous country, well worth going again in the spring to see it all coming back to life.

Many many sheep on the roadside, as well as goats, cows, horses, chickens, and wait....is that a single turkey in that person's yard cavorting around with the chickens?? It is! Wow...maybe all those hens were well behaved because of the size of their co....er...rooster. *grins*

After much curvy fun (although my dad was beginning to complain of motion sickness), we arrived at last at the Texas Railroad Tunnel Wildlife Management Area. Wow....the view from up there.....as we exit the car, we see a small platform, and just past is are steps leading down into a simple set of wooden benches arranged like stadium seating, overlooking a deep valley. This is the upper deck for watching the emergence of the bat colony which now lives in the cave. Alas, they've migrated farther south for the winter by this time, but I will definitely want to make a return trip for a unique wildlife-watching experience. As I look around, I notice a trail off to the right, leading down into the valley. Angela figures that it's closed (as the bathrooms are locked and the gate is shut), but I notice there's no lock on the gate, so I swing it open and start making my way down the trail, my dad following behind. Soon, we come across the lower deck bat emergence viewing area, which is right next to the wall of the hill leading into the tunnel, from which a haunting noise is emerging.

Ooooooo.....

Oooooooooooo......

It seems a flock of doves or pigeons is inhabiting the cave in the absence of the bats, and all the cooing is eerily appropriate, so soon after Halloween. We creep down the trail and finally see the tunnel from head-on. Shortly after, Angela makes it down, and we pause a bit to take it in, wishing there were time to explore the other mile and a half of trails that make up thie State Park area. But it was not to be, and we reluctantly climbed back up to the car, and continued on our way...

Hm....now there's a guy with way too much time to hunt....as we make our way through the ghost town of Grapetown, we see a ranch entrance with deer skulls hanging from every square inch of that fence. Continuing on, the sun comes out, and we're just chattering away in the car, enjoying the day, following the twisty windy road, when suddenly, a near disaster!

Without warning, we go around a curve and find ourselves facing downhill toward a one-lane bridge, and another car coming the opposite direction zooms onto the bridge without even slowing down. I twist the wheel to the right and press hard on the brakes, bringing the car to a jarring stop......about two feet from driving off the road into the river.

Without even an acknowledging honk or wave that we were even there, the oncoming car cruises past us, and we carefully back up into the lane again and cross the bridge, breathing slowly to give our hearts a chance to restart. Crisis averted, we were soon joking about telling the rest of the family about how I nearly drove us into the river, and enjoying the Hill Country scenery once more.

Next thing we know, we're facing a secondary highway, and I'm trying to figure out how we ended up there, as the book was supposed to take us along back roads all the way to Luckenbach. Strange...it seemed we had missed a turn and wound up on Highway 290, across from a stand where a woodcarver was selling his work. Dad and Angela stopped to browse around while I got my bearings to reorient toward Luckenbach. It didn't take long at all, and soon we were back on the road, turning the correct way, and stopping in Uptown Luckenbach, at the old granite mill, for a Free Postcard! (as advertised by the roadside sign). We browsed around the little gift shop, where I was also given a Fast Armadillo (the proprietor took a drill and a beer bottle and carved an image of an armadillo in it in about 3 seconds...pretty cool stuff). We bought a few trinkets and made our way into Downtown Luckenbach, where there was apparently a biker rally or classic car show or something going on. We poked around in the old post office and listened to the music drifting over the air from the back room before we finally took note of the time and knew that it was time to go.

We take a completely different route back to San Antonio, and along the way, Dad mentions that WurstFest is going on in New Braunfels. Oooh....German food festival....sounds like something worth checking out tomorrow.....