The Road to Shangri-La
It seems there is more traffic this morning than other days when we have pointed the nose of our car west, deep into the heart of the Texas Hills. Usually, there are no cars at all. But the beautiful 4B Ranch awaits, and despite the small amount of traffic, the journey is still a joy. The weather is perfect, and apparently, others are also breathing a sigh of relief that Covid-19 has stopped its rampage and hopefully continues its constant decline.
I have forgotten the peaceful beauty of this area of the Texas Hills. The valley we drive through from the tiny town of Medina toward Elam Creek Road, recently kissed by the rains of September, is verdant green. Turning north, it is impossible to believe that it has been three years since our car—a different convertible, always a convertible—climbed this gravel path to the 4B Ranch. But here we are, curling and bumping along the three miles it takes us to get to the first gate. We progress to a dash-board of pavement and gravel until we get to the second gate.
At the impressive entrance to the 4B Ranch, a spring-green field dotted with wildflowers and filled with a herd of Longhorns munching happily away is here to greet us. Too late, I ask Michael to stop so I can take a picture.
“Wait until we get on the other side of the gate,” he advises.
Camera in hand, ready to exit the car, I notice that the majestic animals are inches away from Michael’s side of the vehicle. Their giant horns are too close for comfort for this city girl.
“I think I’ll wait until tomorrow.”
With paved roads ahead, we reach the third gate, wait for it to close, and continue toward the 4B Guest Lodge, where we will spend the next two days. Ronnie, the ranch foreman, and his wife Christi follow closely behind to check us in. We confirm our scheduled tour of the Ranch for Sunday at 7:30 AM.
4B Ranch Lodge
The lodge hasn’t changed since we were here in the spring of 2017. It retains its pristine newness with comfortable seating and a well-appointed kitchen. Walking through the door feels almost like coming home.
Because lunch is not even a memory, once we unpack, I put together a plate of crostini with creamy herbed cheese and pour two glasses of red wine. We exit the wall of glass through two ample sliding doors, making our way to the west-facing patio where we while away the afternoon. Sitting on a mountain top in the middle of Bandera County, surrounded by wide-open spaces and distant hills, it feels like we are the only two people in the world. The 4B Ranch is indeed our Shangri-La.
A hawk soars over the valley—Michael tells me it is a vulture—I want it to be a hawk. They both live here. We see distant exotic animals making their way to a feeder below. Michael hands me the binoculars.
“Look at the tip of that large rock over there,” he instructs.
Well, there are a few. One even looks like a teddy bear lying on its back with a smile on its face—Michael doesn’t see what I see. Finally, I find the one rock he refers to, and I see a brilliant red bird resting on the very tip. We think it is a scarlet tanager, a lovely gift this mellow afternoon.
Michael wanders off to take a picture of the setting sun, and I am alone. The silence is palpable. The world is quiet. Finally, I know what it is to hear the sounds of silence.
Night Falls
Later I slip inside and put the stuffed baked potatoes I fixed earlier this morning into the oven to warm. I parboil the asparagus and take that and a liberally seasoned NY Strip steak for Michael to grill in the outdoor kitchen. The charred asparagus is delicious, and the orange aioli is the perfect, slightly sweet, and tangy accompaniment to everything savory on our plate. We finish the bottle of red wine.
The air grows chilly, and we don our sweatshirts. Michael walks to the edge of the porch looking north to the distant horizon and watches a far off pin-prick of light that hops and skips and glides along the tops of the distant hills, then returns and remains stationary.
“It is a UFO,” he muses.
“It is the Marfa Lights—they are lost,” I say. And I think of old movies. ET. Close Encounters. Cocoon.
We hear a lone cayote howl to the dark moon. The single howl turns into a chorus as his friends across the valley echo his lament.
Lunch in a Treehouse
A little after 10 AM, we slip down the mountain to have a private lunch with four friends in a treehouse just outside of Utopia. Texas hills, lush with leafy trees, and stark cliffs, accompany us on our journey south as we reach the end of Elam Creek Road. Stunning vistas continue as the gray ribbon of RR 337 that runs through this valley leads us by beautiful scenery that becomes ever more rugged as it reaches west for the intersection with RR 187.
At the Laurel Tree, we follow our hostess up the long ramp to the treehouse where our friends await. The next four hours are filled with laughter and wine and friendship. And food! The day ends with a perfect miniature pecan tart crowned by a mound of sweet cream. We take the long way back to the 4B Ranch, heading west through more hills till we eventually drive north and then turn east. Dinner is nonexistent tonight. Even snacks seem like too much.
4B Ranch Tour
The alarm rings at 6 AM. My early-bird husband has been awake and out of bed since 5:00. I walk groggily into the main room of the lodge and sip strong dark coffee.
Michael quickly and efficiently creates breakfast magic out of bacon, eggs, a flour tortilla, cheese, and salsa. The thermometer says it is 59°F. this morning. Sweatshirt weather.
By the time I am seated in the ATV’s back-passenger area, securely tucked in with the low door closed, I have added a long sleeve blouse under the sweatshirt, and a scarf wrapped twice around my neck—windows on this vehicle do not exist. As we bump along the rocky dirt road, I pull up the sweatshirt hood and tie the strings tight. I decide that roller-coaster rides couldn’t be this exciting—or beautiful. We trundle up and down hills, occasionally stopping to look at the elusive wildlife and listen to Ronnie talk about their efforts to bring back the land to the way it was before all the vegetation invaded the hills.
I kind of like all the trees, but then Ronnie points out the areas beyond those that have been cleared. The intention is to plant prairie grasses and wildflowers beneficial to wildlife. I see a tangled mass of gray and brown—living and dead—limbs that any two-footed or four-footed creature would have a hard time penetrating. We stop often and learn much. I should be taking notes. Ronnie loves his job and loves the land—both are evident in his words and his tone.
Copperhead Canyon and Horses
The ATV noses down a steep hill, and I hold on tight. Once in the canyon, we learn that at one time, the area was called Copperhead Canyon—that doesn’t sound good. Apparently, in the fall, the ground is covered with Autumn leaves so deep that this deadly snake had the best of natures hiding places. I do want to return in the fall, but I think I need to buy thick boots. I look down at the type of boots our informative guide is wearing. Thick. Sturdy. Knee-high. I look at my feet and sigh.
The canyon is also the location of the headwaters of Elam Creek, and within a short distance, is a catch-water swimming hole. The setting is idyllic. I daydream.
Out of the canyon we make our way to the horse barn. I feel the beautiful steeds want me to rub their noses, but when my hand is offered sans apple or treat, they lose all interest in me. Standing here with no fleeted footed friends made, I look out the window and see their view, and I am jealous of the horses in this barn. The sky, the mountains, all that is beyond, takes my breath away. I wonder if they notice?
Doodle the Longhorn
Back in the ATV, we bounce along pastures that we have not yet explored, running into the herd of longhorns. They seem to travel together. One whose name is Doodle stands in the middle of the road barring our progress.
His stance and solemn expression seem to say, “This is my land. Where do you think you are going?”
Perhaps his name should be King. Doodle looked at us the same way yesterday, posturing at the edge of the road, his very long horns reaching to the middle of the narrow strip of gray asphalt. Doodle always seems to give up his ground, but I don’t think he is happy about it. I wouldn’t be. One really does have to love Doodle. This stately longhorn would make a wonderful subject for a children’s book. I would buy it.
Too soon, we are back at the lodge, gathering our things and packing the car for the trip home. Driving down the road toward the exit, I realize again that 4B Ranch is a place to fall in love with—a Shangri-La that will call us back multiple times.
To read about other adventures at the 4B Ranch, click on the following links.
July 2017 – 4B Ranch
April 2016 – 4B Ranch
4B Ranch Information
- 4859 Elam Creek Road
- Medina, Bandera County, Texas 78055
- Phone: (281) 802-4739
- 4B Ranch Website
- Reservations & Pricing
Laurel Tree in Utopia
For more information on the Laurel Tree Restaurant click on the following links:
Springtime Lunch at the Laurel Tree
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