The Journey

The convertible top is down. My “Life’s Good” cap is set firmly on my head. Sunglasses are perched on my nose, even though the sky is heavy with clouds, allowing only a few tattered patches of pale blue to give me hope for a reversal in fortune.

Michael is in charge of our picnic today, and his choice is to purchase barbeque in Llano on our way to the Colorado Bend State Park for this week’s alfresco adventure. Today, our two-and-a-half-hour journey should be as good as, possibly better than, the destination. These are favorite roads of ours to travel. But, because of the pandemic that grips the world—it has been too long since we have seen their curling, curving path.

The drive down RR 12 ends at the junction of Hamilton Pool Road, and we follow it as it meanders and wanders, dipping down to get its feet wet as we cross the Pedernales and then climbing up out of the gorge to continue its way till we connect with FM 962.

We cross the river again and continue on our bucolic journey. I feel like we are the only two people in the world this morning. Texas opens up before us with views of distant hills, green fields dotted with wildflowers, and an ever-widening blue sky.  What could be more perfect?

Near Disaster in Llano

Too soon, we come to Highway 71 and race west toward Llano. Before stopping at Inman’s BBQ to purchase lunch, Michael noses the car into a convenience store/gas station establishment to refuel. As soon as he is out of the car, he is back at the wheel and begins honking the horn of the Mustang loudly and continuously. The owner of a large truck left the pump unattended while fueling his vehicle. Gas spills and flows from the too-full fuel tank, filling the air with its acrid smell. The chance for disaster is possibly minutes away. 

The fuel continues to gush as I leave the car to warn the proprietors, while Michael continues to honk and moves the Mustang away from potential destruction. His noise-making attracts the attention of a young man leaving the convenience store, who turns and goes back inside. I hear shouting and commotion and yells to cut off pump number 5. We leave looking for a quieter, safer service station with more attentive patrons.

The Masked Lady

Closer to the center of the tiny town of Llano, Michael fills the car with fuel, while I put on my requisite mask and go inside. I am the only one wearing a mask. I feel extremely conspicuous. Back in the car, I wonder what I look like with a black mask, sunglasses, and hat—surely, no skin shows at all. I pull down the mirror on the passenger side and check, trying to adjust my unusual attire.

Suddenly I hear a voice—it is talking to me. A pick-up has pulled up next to our convertible, and an elderly gentleman with a tractor cap on his head, covering long gray scraggly hair and an equally gray scraggly beard, is trying to get my attention.

“Don’t mind that mask, little lady. It looks just fine the way it is.”

He repeats this admonition, and then he drives off. I look around and notice that there is no one anywhere in this town who is wearing a mask. We are definite outsiders. While Michael purchases our lunch at Inman’s, I check Covid-19 cases in the county of Llano—three. We should all live deep in the country. It surprises me that they even let a stranger into town.

Inman’s Kitchen Bar-B-Q Restaurant

Baby Head Cemetery

We leave Llano on Highway 16—another of my favorite roads—heading north until it is time to drive east toward the “blink and you will miss it” town of Bend. Before turning, we stop at a historical marker for Baby Head Cemetery. Baby Head seems such a strange name for any place, but I discover it was also the name of a community. The origin of the appellation is heart-wrenching.  I can only wonder why they chose it—maybe it was to leave a reminder of the times and the tragedies they lived through for future generations.

Not long after this sobering revelation, we turn east, and Michael directs the car toward Bend. The glory of the day, the expansive, sweeping views of fields and cattle and hills and hay and life that goes on, lifts my spirits and makes me grateful to be alive. To be here, on this road, on this day.

Bend

Passing by the general store in Bend, I am charmed by its rusticity. I can’t help but wish to stop and have a burger, even though we have more than we can eat safely tucked in our picnic basket—the aroma of smoked brisket filling the air. Another day, another year, perhaps.

Colorado Bend State Park

It seems we have been driving forever, and Michael worries about being on the correct road.  I check my phone and see a splotch of green signifying a state park up ahead of us.  I tell Michael it looks tiny.

Once we enter the park, the attending ranger checks Michael’s name off the list and hands us proof of our right to be here for today only. We are to tape the paper onto our windshield.

We drive toward the picnic area. And drive, and drive, and drive.

Michael looks at me and says, “Small park, huh?”

Well, I looked at a tiny map on a tiny phone. I learn that scale can be deceptive. Colorado Bend State Park is 5,328-acres of Texas Hill Country wilderness, full of trails, sinkholes, caves, and springs, with the Colorado River running through it.  The park is located on the former sites of the Gorman and Lemons ranches above Lake Buchanan, and it was opened to the public in 1987.

Driving from one end of the park to the other to reach the river and a place to have our picnic, we see signs to numerous trailheads and a few parked vehicles scattered here and there. Once again, I feel like we are the only ones in the world, and we are in a wild and raw land—the way Texas was, waiting to be discovered. Explored. Settled.

A Picnic

When we reach the river, hidden by tall trees that grow on its banks, the land turns civilized, partially manicured. A lone gentleman on a riding mower drives back and forth across a long expanse of green grass. (I wonder if he sprays for chiggers?) Around the perimeter are tables for picnicking and camping, and there is a small state park store at its center.

We drive left and then right along this expanse of green looking for a picnic site, but all we see are scattered tables, all numbered, indicating campsites. A sign warns us that picnicking is not allowed in these spaces. A park ranger, wearing a flesh-colored mask, walks toward the store. We stop and ask if we may picnic at one of the numbered campsites. She nods and says yes, there is no one here, and camping is limited to those who had previous reservations before the park closed due to the pandemic. The park is virtually empty, even though it has been reopened for almost a month.

We find a shaded table close to a small parking area and unload our stash of Inman’s gustatory delights. Michael purchased thick slabs of black crusted smoked brisket, smoked turkey, pinto beans, coleslaw, the requisite sauce—and an entire pecan pie! It is a feast.  Perhaps I should take a back seat to planning more often.

A Tiny Hike in a Large Park

The table we chose for a picnic looks toward the river, which we catch a glimpse of between the numerous leafy green trees.  The small parking area where our trusty red chariot awaits is also the trailhead for the River Backpack Trail. By now, the thermometer has climbed to 92°.  Even though it is relatively warm, a.k.a. HOT, with walking sticks in hand, we set off down the trail. The trail map warns of rattlesnakes. The trail entrance has signs warning of mountain lions, but still, we forge ahead.

We walk through a dense canopied forest; our views are of shadows, tree trunks, and leaves, tall grasses and rocks and twigs, and dirt. No river views are within sight, at least not for as far as we walk this hot, humid day. We return to the car and air conditioning and wheels, agreeing this is an autumn or early spring type of park to explore.

And we know we are spoiled.

Colorado Bend State Park Trails

Colorado Bend State Park invites you to discover the quiet wilderness, rugged beauty, and hidden gems that await the intrepid adventurer down any of their 14 trails that cover 31 miles and will take you a little less than a 24-hour day to traverse. It sounds like an adventurer’s camping trip to me. This state park is a wilderness and as wild as any place in Texas you may want to be; the trails range from easy to very challenging. The most rewarding views and unique formations are, of course, on the difficult routes. Hikers are warned of the rugged terrain, cliffs, caves, dangerous plants, and animals that exist throughout the park, as well as slippery stream crossings. Hiking this park is no spur of the moment decision. You need to be prepared with a lot of water and proper attire.

I have a son, a daughter, a son-in-law, and grandsons, who would probably relish the challenge. 

I think I’ll stick to picnicking.

For more information, click on the following link:

https://tpwd.texas.gov/state-parks/colorado-bend

Above is a view of one of the falls in the state park, seen during a Vanishing Texas River Cruise on the Colorado River several years ago.