COLORADO BEND, TX 2011

You didn’t know that the Colorado River cuts across Texas to empty into the Gulf of Mexico? Well, it does.  And about 200 miles southwest of Dallas/Fort Worth, there is a great spot to camp along the river in Colorado Bend StatePark. The park opened its doors Memorial Day of 1988, after having been a cattle ranch and a cedar farm, making it one of the newer state parks in Texas. It is also one of the more rustic parks in the state. There are no campsites with electricity or a water tap, and there are no real showers, other than a “rinse-off shower” where families line up in the evenings, parents holding up towels as their children squeal and rush through their cold showers.  In Wendel Withrow’s book “The Best in Tent Camping: Texas” (which has served me as an excellent guide, so far), he suggests you “watch for Texas-size red ants and silver dollar-size spiders that seem to like to spin their symmetrical webs between the junipers and directly across the trail. Luckily, it’s easy to go around these scary-looking friends, but don’t forget to check the trail ahead for the far-more dangerous diamondback rattlesnakes as they wait in the shade or come out in the cool of the evening after the hot Texas sun heads toward the horizon”. So, it may not be the best place to be introduced to the great outdoors. In fact, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go, either, but it seemed like a good place for us to further our backpacking practice. So on Friday, William and I again left work early to head out for a weekend of camping with Pumba.

Traveling down from DFW toward Waco and Austin, half the fun is the trip itself. There are so many lovely little Texas towns along the back roads. We drove through Granbury with its beautiful lake and its race track (yeah!), Dublin (also known as Dr. Pepper, Texas) with the oldest Dr. Pepper bottling plant started in 1891, and … well, a whole lot of what you would expect from the Texas countryside –tufts of dry grass and cactus interspersed with rocks and scrubby cedar and mesquite. When you finally turn past Bad Bob’s Bend Store and enter the lowlands closer to the park, the grass gets a little greener, the trees get a little taller, and the cows look like they have something to eat other than just dirt! Even here, though, the severe Texas drought was evident. Half the vegetation was dead and brown, making it almost look like fall foliage from a distance. By the time we got to the park headquarters, we had been driving just under four hours and it was now dusk. There were deer and armadillo roaming all around across the open field that divided one row of campsites from the riverside campsites. This place is definitely off the beaten path!

Just a few days before our arrival, the drought in this part of the state had been so bad that their burn ban included the little propane cooking stoves that we normally use to cook our dinner. This meant that, although we were backpacking out to what they call the “primitive campsites” (the drive-up campsites are very open and exposed, and I prefer a little more privacy when I’m sleeping), we would be hiking back to the car every day for our meals because I was not about to drag a cooler all the way out to our campsite. Also, the water level in the river had been so low (there were only pools of water as opposed to a flowing river) that the boat ramp was closed as you could not even launch a kayak from it. As luck would have it, the weekend prior to our visit, the park had received about 5 inches of rain, and about 7 inches had fallen upstream, so the river was again flowing and gurgling past the campsites. There are two primitive campsite areas within the park boundaries: the River Back Pack Area and the Windmill Back Pack Area. We, of course, chose the area along the river (William later checked out the Windmill Area when he was mountain biking and said that it was very dry with only a few trees here and there to pitch a tent under). The three of us threw on our backpacks (yes, Pumba sported her doggie backpack) and hiked down the trail less than a mile to our campsite. In Texas there is no burst of autumnal colors like there is in New England. Instead, as we walked along down the trail, the bright orange monarch butterflies fluttered across the path in front of us like falling leaves. The armadillo rustled along in the undergrowth sniffing out grubs for their own dinner. We picked a spot toward the end of the trail and set up camp just as it was getting dark, then relaxed under a very star-filled night sky. The river gurgled past like a lullaby. The wind rustled through the leaves of the cottonwood tree sounding like a light rain. I was quickly asleep.

The next morning we were up early, hoping to catch sight of some wildlife on the trails. The three of us headed out onto Lemons Ridge Pass, a trail covered in white rocks, so bleached by the sun that it was a bit like walking over a bed of bones. We hiked the three miles up to the dirt road that had led us into the park the night before, accompanied by the constant sound of cattle lowing in the distance. Crossing the road, the trail becomes Spicewood Springs Trail, for hiking only (no bikes). This was by far the most beautiful area in the park. Crisscrossed by several little streams (Pumba was more than happy to wade into each and every one of these), there is much more vegetation shading the trail, and a greater variety of it, at that. We got lost a couple of times (the trails in this park are not as well marked as other places we have been), mainly where the trail crossed the streams. I cursed myself for not wearing my waterproof boots or my five-fingered Vibram shoes (swamp monster shoes, as Dad calls them), but held my own with my tennis shoes. Toward the end of the trail there are some beautiful views as you peer from what must once have been the shore of the river, down down down to the springs below. Being that we were closer to the end of the trail and the campsites, there were also more people on the trail (we had not seen any all morning), and families with kids splashing around in the pools of the streams. If I had it to do over again, I would probably hike this loop in the opposite direction as there were a few steep spots where I had to pick Pumba up and set her down further down the trail, but it was a lovely hike all the same.

Back at headquarters I asked about their weekend tour up to Gorman Falls in the park. This beautiful little waterfall is one of the prime attractions at the park, along with the nearby Gorman caves. Millions of years ago, most of Texas was under the ocean. So, nowadays, much of the land’s surface is covered in limestone. Acidic rain falls, eating away at the limestone, creating wondrous caves and caverns (the park used to provide tours to these as well, but they are closed for the time being to protect the cave myotis bat population that is currently suffering from the threat of White Nose Syndrome). Once again, luck was on our side: they were having their Fall Festivus celebration up at the falls that day with a bluegrass band from a nearby town! I love bluegrass!

So we drove up to the gate of the maintenance road and I parked my Subaru Outback in amongst all the big pick-up trucks with Palin or Perry bumper stickers. I have two bumper stickers: one is for Cape Cod Organic Farms with a peace sign, and the other says “Bark Less, Wag More” (how very cliché. I know. Sorry). I wondered a bit about what I was getting myself into, but we hiked the one and a quarter miles up the Gorman Falls Trail to get a good look at the waterfall before heading over to the conference center for the music. It is beautiful. For a moment you are convinced that you are in the middle of a rainforest in southern Texas! The groundwater seeps out from beneath the limestone rich with calcite which it then deposits all along its sixty-five-foot drop, creating Travertine formations similar to stalactites from which spring all kinds of ferns, mosses and lichens. It is a very delicate little ecosystem, so there is no swimming allowed in the pools (Pumba was a little disappointed until I led her over to the river that flowed below). I just sat there and let the spray and mist from the waterfall settle on my face and neck.

Refreshed, we headed off to the conference center and the Palin/Perry crowd. We grabbed a spot under the shade of a pecan tree and listened as Dueling Hearts played some bad-ass bluegrass, like “Rose of Kentucky”, some Johnny Cash and some stuff of their own which I actually thought was really good! One of the park volunteers approached to ask if I was enjoying the music. She mentioned that the band’s mandolin player was the state champ and had just been taken up by Ricky Skaggs. I convincingly pretended that I knew which one the mandolin was and who Ricky Skaggs was, and was allowed to stick around and enjoy some more music. Everyone there was very friendly, and we had a fun afternoon. So. There. Don’t judge a book by its cover and don’t judge a person by their bumper sticker!

Sunday dawned breezier than the day before, but still beautiful in the mid-80s. We drove up to the Cedar Chopper Loop parking area for Pumba and me to hike back down to our campsite, and William to head out to enjoy some of the more than 26 miles of mountain bike trails (we met some guys the day before who were with the Waco Mountain Biking Association and were there building a few more trails that would cut across some of the canyons in the park, since the proposed trails had finally been given the green light by archeologists and historians from the state). As Pumba and I hiked down the two miles toward the river, the birds chirped and chatted and the wind brushed through the trees like ocean waves, carrying the clean scent of juniper to us. Close to where the trail was to meet up with the river, we came to a spot overlooking what must have been a waterfall at one point but was now all dried up, affording a spectacular view across the canyon and the brown Colorado River below. I worried a bit about William maneuvering this rocky downhill alone on his bike (sure enough, he told me later that he took quite the tumble there), but had my own problems at hand as Pumba’s feet were sore from all the sharp little rocks and she refused to go down this steep bit. So I again lifted her and carried her 70-pound body down the rocky patch to the much softer area below. Thank goodness she cooperated and just rested in my arms instead of struggling! The path below was shaded by pecan, mesquite and cottonwood and much less rocky than what we had been walking on earlier. Pumba now surged ahead spooking three or four deer that had been grazing just off the trail near the river. We walked slowly, not wanting to rush through this peaceful part of our day.

Back at camp we met up with an exhausted William. He had covered most of the trails within the park and said that the trails up north of the maintenance road (some of which we had hiked to get to the falls the day before) were not well marked and can probably be skipped as they are not very pretty. At one point, though, near the conference center, he hopped off his bike to see a bit of the Gorman Springs Trail (open to hiking only) which he said was lovely. It follows along the springs that are full of lily pads and apparently at least one water moccasin (not so lovely)! I’m glad it was him and not me.

We packed up the site and loaded up my Subaru which was by now happily filthy from the dirt roads. On our journey home we took a different route, this time passing through Hamilton to stop and check out Queen B’s Antiques, through Hico, and through Glen Rose with its historic downtown square so typical of a small Texas town and its B&B’s up and down the Paluxy River (where dinosaurs once roamed and left behind their fossilized footprints in the Dinosaur Valley State Park – but that’s another story for another day). I love rugged camping that takes me back to how things used to be. I don’t entirely understand why. I know it is not everyone’s cup of tea to go out and live like Jeremiah Johnson, for goodness’ sake! Yet I seem to have a consistent need to get away; away from the superficiality and materialism of urban malls, away from congested and noisy highways where I can’t breathe the air, away from televisions and cell phone signals. Away. I don’t understand why, but I do love that rugged camping. Of course, I also love coming home to a warm shower, some pizza delivery and some reruns of “The Office”!