Saturday Morning in the Davis Mountains
Dressed barely good enough not to scare other hotel guests, the smell of coffee lures me forward, down the hall into the dining area. Nothing here. I look in the adjacent room where two couches offer the opportunity for group conversation and games, discovering a half-empty coffee carafe on a cabinet against the wall. Looking for the promised food part of our continental breakfast, I find only Cheerios, and milk in the fridge. I guess its breakfast at the Black Bear Restaurant in the Indian Lodge which is tucked inside, and at the edge of The Davis Mountains State Park. That was my original plan anyway. Wanting to eat breakfast there fourteen years ago, we were ten minutes too late. Several years after that they were closed for renovation. Their Facebook page says they are open for business today. I’m not sure I trust them, but we have nothing to lose.
The Indian Lodge
At the entrance of the Davis Mountains State Park Michael purchases a yearly pass for all Texas State Parks and we follow the sign to the Indian Lodge. Another sign leads us to the Black Bear Restaurant parking area at the back of the complex—at the far end of the back of the complex. The restaurant is at the extreme opposite end. But still, it’s not that far. And the view that greets me as I exit the car is worth the short walk.
The Indian Lodge — recently renovated and now the most pristine, bright and blindingly white adobe in the world — was originally built during the great depression by the CCC with a total of 39 rooms. In the 60’s the lodge was expanded to include additional rooms as well as meeting rooms and a restaurant. The whole reason we are on this trip was that I wanted to stay at the Lodge, letting area events be our guide as to timing. I was immediately foiled. The special night opening at Fort Davis National Historic Site and room availability at the Indian Lodge were not in sync. I chose the old Fort over the Lodge. Another time. Hopefully, it won’t take fourteen years to try again.
The Black Bear Restaurant
The restaurant is virtually empty at nine in the morning. Either we are late or everyone else is sleeping in. Sitting at a table, our waitress lets us know that there is no menu this morning—instead there is a breakfast buffet. I try hiding my disappointment because steam table buffets are not on my list of favorite things.
We smile and say, “Great!”
Faced with the buffet I realize that we are not early—but late. It seems as if most things have been picked bare, with only 3-4 servings of a few things left in the steamer trays. I spoon a few breakfast potatoes on my plate as well as some type of egg casserole. Hardly any sausage patties remain. Not wanting to be greedy I choose a single piece. There are small French toast sticks–I can’t tell by looking–I have to taste one. They are hard and dry. I add three to my questionable bounty and drench them with maple syrup. There are six small pieces of pineapple—I take half of them.
Happy to be here, I am slightly less happy with my meal. Barely lukewarm, none of it stellar.
The Davis Mountains State Park
With the top down on our convertible and the sky a gorgeous shade of blue, Michael noses the car toward Skyline Drive in the Davis Mountains State Park. The park is riddled with hiking trails and we see many couples making their way up out of a valley or descending a trail in another direction. At the topmost part of our scenic drive, we have company, but there is space for all of us. Some head down the trail which is 2.6 miles one way. Down would be fun—2.6 miles up—I’m not so sure.
After exiting the car we walk, and sit, and look at clouds, aiming our cameras lens at the sky. Michael points out the shape of an interesting cloud. The last time he did this we were also in the Davis Mountains and the sky was filled with clouds that looked like Oreo cookies—only white. I, myself, am a cloud freak. I love them. Perhaps that is why I love our convertible—they sky surrounds me. At least it surrounds me here in this land of expansive dramatic views that open up and go on forever.
A Quick Stop
Our mountaintop exploration at an end, Michael asks me which way I want to go, knowing that my deep desire is to take a long leisurely drive on the scenic loop through the Davis Mountains. I look at the map—thinking. The scenery is so different, depending on which way you travel. It’s a toss-up. “Let’s start on 166,” I say.
We stop by the historic Fort Davis on the way to get better details on tonight’s agenda. The stop proves to be fortuitous. The event is FREE, that is all I know. While standing in line waiting to ask my question I pick up a brochure and start reading. I discover we need reservations for tonight’s tours. Twenty people at a time for a total of ten tours. Cringing inwardly, I try to explain to the park ranger volunteer, with the long white beard, wizened face and kindly eyes, how I totally messed up and didn’t realize…
I live under a lucky star, there are two cancellations (a.k.a. vacancies) on the 7:10 tour. Our names take up residence in the blank space on the list.
The Scenic Loop
I think that a picture must be worth more than a million words, so I begin aiming my camera at the world before me. It doesn’t work. It is almost impossible to capture the height and depth and breadth of this vast emptiness. Maybe it is being in a convertible—but I think it is more than that. I feel diminished. The land intimidates and dwarfs. The sky soars, engulfs and swallows you whole. There is no place to hide.
We have fallen into a land of stark beauty. The summer rains have dusted the hills a pale green—matcha powder green. Michael thinks I am crazy when I tell him this. Then he looks in the rearview mirror and stops the car.
“Turn around—you need to take a picture.”
I say, “This country is…”
“…spectacular.” Michael finishes my sentence.
I take the picture.
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