So long, Lone Star

I'm beginning to wonder about that voice in my head, imploring me to get out of the south for a while. Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe it said get out of South Carolina for a while. Because I surely have not managed to break through the southern boundaries. HOWEVER, I'm having a lot of fun and am experiencing new vistas, vicissitudes, and victuals of the beautiful U.S. South.

Whoa, hold the phone! Darn, too late. I can tell I'm not too far from Memphis because I just saw Elvis in this tiny library in Star City, Arkansas. I tried to find a way to discreetly snap his picture with my cell phone but he left before I was able to do so. Thankfully, he's slimmed down and wasn't wearing anything shiny.

Anyway, where was I....oh, blogwise, I'm still in Fredericksburg, Texas, but in reality I've long left the Lone Star state. How in the world can I get my blog caught up? I guess I'm going to have to make short shrift of my brief sojourn into big ol' Texas.

Fredericksburg is a touristy little town but has some interesting history. The area was settled by some Germans who actually stayed true to a treaty they made with the local native Americans. Jah! Gut!! Wunderbar!! (That's about all the German I know, folks.) There are wineries, roads with names like Schmidzinksky, and a genuine Sunday house or two. Sunday houses were small abodes typically used by a man when he rode into town to do business or get supplies. He'd stay over in the house, go to church on Sunday, then head back home.

My outings in the area included Enchanted Rock State Park and Pedernales River State Park. The former is second only to Stone Mountain in Georgia in terms of large outcroppings of the south. Sandy Creek runs through it during wetter times but there was nothing but the sand in it when I was there. I hiked around Enchanted Rock before climbing to the top of it. Some of the cacti added much-needed color with red blooms. Native Americans once thought spirits of some sort lived up on the rock. They reported seeing strange lights and hearing noises, the latter later being determined by geologists to be caused by rock settling. I would have loved to have watched the sun set from up there but did not think to take a flashlight or my headlamp.

Pedernales River is likely quite beautiful when the rains bless the area. It was pretty but low. Clear and green. I hiked a short distance along it and picked up some small sunset-hued shells. Then I drove up to the bird blind that a volunteer had built at the park. THAT was an exquisite experience. You walk into the blind and feel as though you're in a nature CD of birdsong. I could have curled up and stayed there all day. I saw a number of birds I'd never laid eyes on: a ladderback woodpecker, a red-winged blackbird (you can only see the red when the wings are lifted), and several more that I need to find the names of. Also, there were quite a few cardinals struttin' their stuff, splashing red all around. If you're ever in that area, I urge you to visit the blind.

As I mentioned in my last post, the wind had picked up in Fredericksburg, making sure to spread the dust far and wide. I had wanted to go to Big Bend National Park from there but after studying up on it in my National Parks book, my courage began to flag. My impression was that it could be dangerous to wander about on foot alone in that immense and diverse park, given the wild critters such as bear, mountain lion, and boar. I decided to put it on my list of future destinations with a small group of people.

So, where should I go? I looked at weather forecasts for proceeding westerly. If I stayed close to the U.S./Mexican border, I would be greeted with winds of 50+ miles per hour. Yikes. A bit north of that, snow storms. No thanks. So I headed back toward Austin and San Antonio. I was beginning to feel depressed. The arid landscape was sucking my soul dry. But I had hoped to contact some people whose names I had been given in Austin and San Antonio, and at least go to SA's River Walk and The Alamo. I chose to go on down to San Antonio. I drove into the city, along with the masses. Traffic was congested horribly, parking looked to be terribly expensive, and I quickly became frustrated. It was March 9. I drove back out and eventually found a U.S. Army Corps of Engineers park at Lake Wister. It was a pretty little lake. I successfully set up my tent (note that this was the FIRST time for me to finally use my tent on this trip) in strong winds and settled in. It was late in the day, so no time for anything else. Next day I had to go out in search of supplies. I learned of impending bad weather...the rain that the area desperately needed but with winds I could do without. My depression was deepening and I dreamed of green. Some noisy campers arrived and commenced to playing loud music and partying late into the night. Had my mood been better, I might have wandered down there and joined them. It was a Hispanic gathering and probably would have been fun. Instead, though, I felt angry at their noise and I was worrying about the coming weather and unsure where I should go from there. I actually ended up breaking camp at 1 a.m. (the partiers had pooped out) and hit the road, headed northEAST. I was aiming for Arkansas.