Thursday, April 30, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Catchin' Up - Part I
I’ve probably been voted worst blogger ever. Is everyone sick of the picture of me waving goodbye from my car? And my last blog exceeding 10 words was a couple of weeks ago. We found Waldo but WHERE’S CHERYL?
She's NOT in Texas.
Let me explain. Texas, it seems, has been suffering from severe drought for a couple of years. I’m not sure who should have told me that in advance but SOMEbody should’ve. Let me describe a moisture-deprived Texas. Beige. The grass is beige. Incessant winds are blowing the beige dust far and wide across the tree-deficient lands so that the cars are beige. Most of the people are beige. Got the picture? Even many of the abundant cows are beige.
I was tooling down the road after bidding farewell to the Palestinians and was soon passing pasture after beige pasture of cattle when I came upon a tiny town (oops, will have to add its name later). On the one developed block of Main Street was a restaurant. Jacques Downtown Bistro.
I ate there, of course. I had a spicy chicken enchilada. Sounds very Texas but not so very "Jacques" but it was tasty (though rather rich). The waitress offered to "accidentally" add more chicken to my remaining bit of tortilla and sauce so that I'd have some to enjoy later. Even hearts are bigger in Texas. Gotta love it.
It was around 6 pm when I reached Austin. I couldn't find evidence of camping facilities in the area, so I kept going. The sun did not set as picturesquely as the night before and darkness enveloped me without a bit of comforting tenderness. I was on a back road of some sort and found myself in Johnson City, which is more of a hamlet than a city. Still no campgrounds and the easiest accessible motel thought itself worthy of a ridiculous sum of money (in memory of LBJ, I suppose), so I journeyed on. I was contemplating roadside sleep but remembering childhood horror stories of murder visited upon occupants of parked cars, not to mention a few actual news stories of the sort. Finally at 8 pm a KOA sign loomed. Hooray. The office was closed but it happened that the manager was just driving through. She kindly opened back up so that she could register me. Ironically, they did not allow tent camping there (never mind the tent in the logo) but the next best option (economically) was a Kabin. (They spell it that way.) The security/maintenance guy told me the Kabins are little more than tents with walls but it seemed immensely safer than roadside slumber, so I checked in. The Kabins are more like Kabinettes. Really, they're Kute. And much more than tents with walls, as there are beds...one full and a bunk bed set. There is a window a/c unit and a portable heater and, thus, electricity. And there is a door that locks. There's even a little front porch with a swing. No bathroom but the bathhouse was nearby. I was in Fredericksburg, Texas, and the wind had kicked up several notches.
She's NOT in Texas.
Let me explain. Texas, it seems, has been suffering from severe drought for a couple of years. I’m not sure who should have told me that in advance but SOMEbody should’ve. Let me describe a moisture-deprived Texas. Beige. The grass is beige. Incessant winds are blowing the beige dust far and wide across the tree-deficient lands so that the cars are beige. Most of the people are beige. Got the picture? Even many of the abundant cows are beige.
I was tooling down the road after bidding farewell to the Palestinians and was soon passing pasture after beige pasture of cattle when I came upon a tiny town (oops, will have to add its name later). On the one developed block of Main Street was a restaurant. Jacques Downtown Bistro.
I ate there, of course. I had a spicy chicken enchilada. Sounds very Texas but not so very "Jacques" but it was tasty (though rather rich). The waitress offered to "accidentally" add more chicken to my remaining bit of tortilla and sauce so that I'd have some to enjoy later. Even hearts are bigger in Texas. Gotta love it.
It was around 6 pm when I reached Austin. I couldn't find evidence of camping facilities in the area, so I kept going. The sun did not set as picturesquely as the night before and darkness enveloped me without a bit of comforting tenderness. I was on a back road of some sort and found myself in Johnson City, which is more of a hamlet than a city. Still no campgrounds and the easiest accessible motel thought itself worthy of a ridiculous sum of money (in memory of LBJ, I suppose), so I journeyed on. I was contemplating roadside sleep but remembering childhood horror stories of murder visited upon occupants of parked cars, not to mention a few actual news stories of the sort. Finally at 8 pm a KOA sign loomed. Hooray. The office was closed but it happened that the manager was just driving through. She kindly opened back up so that she could register me. Ironically, they did not allow tent camping there (never mind the tent in the logo) but the next best option (economically) was a Kabin. (They spell it that way.) The security/maintenance guy told me the Kabins are little more than tents with walls but it seemed immensely safer than roadside slumber, so I checked in. The Kabins are more like Kabinettes. Really, they're Kute. And much more than tents with walls, as there are beds...one full and a bunk bed set. There is a window a/c unit and a portable heater and, thus, electricity. And there is a door that locks. There's even a little front porch with a swing. No bathroom but the bathhouse was nearby. I was in Fredericksburg, Texas, and the wind had kicked up several notches.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Palestinians
Palestine, TX (a considerable distance from Iran, TX, by the way, and pronounced "Palesteen" by locals) is far more peaceful than it's Middle Eastern counterpart. While the town itself is a bit drab, the people are friendly. I stopped here Monday night primarily because I was tired and night had fallen. The cheerful young man, possibly of high school age, at the front desk of Best Western gave me a good rate despite my claiming to be in a party of 2 (a woman traveling alone should be careful about saying she's traveling alone, right?). He peered out at my car and must have wondered where my passenger could possibly be stowed as it is packed bow to stern. Later he ran out to give me my driver's license and glanced again into the car. I almost confessed but decided there was no need. I've stayed two nights and have found the accomodations quite good. Housekeeping even goes to the trouble of fanning the end of the toilet paper roll.
Yesterday I kept mostly to my room as I was dealing with a stomach ailment. This morning I was up quite early and walked over to the diner for my complimentary hot breakfast. A man came in as I was munching my delicious bacon and eggs and tapping away on my computer, took a seat at a nearby table, and began remarking upon today's "machinery." Eventually I realized he was referring to my little computer. Soon this (clearly local) man had told me his age (79) and a good deal of his adult history. (This, folks, is one reason I can't imagine living outside of the South; I adore the friendliness...sometimes mistaken as nosiness...of Southerners!) Another man, probably in his mid-60s, was occasionally included in the conversations. I felt safe enough to give up a little info about my travel plans. Man #1 asked if I am single (okay, so Southerners may be a little nosy) and I confessed I was, to which he replied that I certainly wouldn't be for long. Ah yes, I must remember throughout my journey to drop in at diners when I need a safe dose of flattery.
As I prepared to leave the diner, I called out, "Where should I go for an oil change?" Man #2 immediately piped up with "Palestine Oil & Lube" which was seconded by Man #1. The former told me he has a business repairing RVs and he takes his cars to PO&L. I thanked them both and as I was nearing the door, Man #2 told me where his business is located and suggested I stop by; said I would likely enjoying talking with his secretary. Of course, I will not but I did get a quick oil change at PO&L where more people struck up conversations with me. Always, people want to know where I'm from and where I'm going. (Don't worry, I am being careful about what I say and to whom; and will certainly be less forthcoming in the campgrounds and the woods.) The woman at the counter thought my adventure exciting and suggested that I write a book afterward. I assured her I will try.
Yesterday I kept mostly to my room as I was dealing with a stomach ailment. This morning I was up quite early and walked over to the diner for my complimentary hot breakfast. A man came in as I was munching my delicious bacon and eggs and tapping away on my computer, took a seat at a nearby table, and began remarking upon today's "machinery." Eventually I realized he was referring to my little computer. Soon this (clearly local) man had told me his age (79) and a good deal of his adult history. (This, folks, is one reason I can't imagine living outside of the South; I adore the friendliness...sometimes mistaken as nosiness...of Southerners!) Another man, probably in his mid-60s, was occasionally included in the conversations. I felt safe enough to give up a little info about my travel plans. Man #1 asked if I am single (okay, so Southerners may be a little nosy) and I confessed I was, to which he replied that I certainly wouldn't be for long. Ah yes, I must remember throughout my journey to drop in at diners when I need a safe dose of flattery.
As I prepared to leave the diner, I called out, "Where should I go for an oil change?" Man #2 immediately piped up with "Palestine Oil & Lube" which was seconded by Man #1. The former told me he has a business repairing RVs and he takes his cars to PO&L. I thanked them both and as I was nearing the door, Man #2 told me where his business is located and suggested I stop by; said I would likely enjoying talking with his secretary. Of course, I will not but I did get a quick oil change at PO&L where more people struck up conversations with me. Always, people want to know where I'm from and where I'm going. (Don't worry, I am being careful about what I say and to whom; and will certainly be less forthcoming in the campgrounds and the woods.) The woman at the counter thought my adventure exciting and suggested that I write a book afterward. I assured her I will try.
Sunset drive
I arrived in Texas Monday, having left Mississippi around 11:30. I decided to take the quickest route across Louisiana, eager as I was to get my lone journeying self to the Lone Star State. I did stop off near Shreveport for a while, where I added to my armory, ate Chick Fil-A (didn’t have time to look for a more interesting local establishment), and had yet another Vanilla Latte, this time at Starbucks (again, not having time to seek out local color).
After crossing into Texas, I found that I was feeling well and was making good time, so I just kept on truckin’. Soon I chose to leave I-20 and take some potentially scenic highways. I aimed for Palestine, as it was on a fairly direct route to Austin.
I drove south for a while and then hopped onto a western-bound highway where I was rewarded with a stunning sunset. The initial pink and lavender hues were sweetly calming as the sun began sinking into the arms of Mother Earth, soon to be embraced in a deep purple blanket.
After crossing into Texas, I found that I was feeling well and was making good time, so I just kept on truckin’. Soon I chose to leave I-20 and take some potentially scenic highways. I aimed for Palestine, as it was on a fairly direct route to Austin.
I drove south for a while and then hopped onto a western-bound highway where I was rewarded with a stunning sunset. The initial pink and lavender hues were sweetly calming as the sun began sinking into the arms of Mother Earth, soon to be embraced in a deep purple blanket.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
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