This trip occurred at the beginning of May. A long
time ago, I know, but Jennifer told me that if I didn’t write about it (and a
subsequent family trip to Port Aransas) I’d have to change the url of this
blog from mattjennifertravel.blogspot.com to matttravel.blogspot.com.
Besides, I should write about it anyway at least for posterity, though of
course we’ll never forget being attacked by sheep.
So, here goes:
I always enjoy the Beck family gathering in Concan, on
the far side of the Texas Hill Country along the Frio River, every Columbus Day
weekend. The Hill Country was one of the main reasons I decided to
relocate from flat-as-all-get-out Houston. So now that I have a family of
my own there’s no reason not to try to repeat the Concan experience with them.
Jennifer and I had several criteria:
-
It had to be a cabin. I camped growing up. We’re both
fine with camping. But when you’re taking a family trip for the first
time and particularly with a two-year old who may be keeping you up all night
anyway due to unfamiliar surroundings, we needed four walls, an air conditioner
and indoor plumbing. We’ll wait a few years to actually camp.
-
I preferred a cabin that was by itself on a bit of land allowing
us to roam. Kind of like a mini-state park. I didn’t mind if there
were other cabins though.
-
It had to take pets. Not only was the Kid going to be with
us (we might not take a trip by ourselves until sometime in 2016 at our rate,
eh) but Maisy the pooch would be a fine addition to the party...maybe.
But we’re optimistic and besides, it’s easier to bring her along than to find
someone to take care of her and cheaper than boarding her. Actually, we
boarded her one time which was fun for us because you can watch on
webcam. Maisy was always the dog by herself, either in the corner
watching all of the other dogs or tagging along right behind the kennel
workers, not waiting for food but rather for acknowledgement.
-
It had to be on a river. Texas in May of course is hot so
you need a river to cool off in. The Hill Country rivers in particular
are awesome for this purpose as they are shallow, cold and rocky, meaning that
there is little mud to obscure the water.
-
I also preferred a cabin on the Llano River on the northern edge
of the Hill Country. Everyone knows the Guadalupe and the Frio but nobody
really talks about the Llano. Yet I kayaked it once a few years ago and
it’s awesome, particularly because of the red granite seemingly growing right
out the river (the same stuff that Enchanted Rock is made of). Plus since
we live in North Austin, the Llano is a bit closer than the others. And
it’s far enough away from Austin and San Antonio that you aren’t necessarily
going to get huge crowds.
I settled on this place:
To me, it seemed perfect. By itself on 25 acres
with a little cabin overlooking the Llano River. The nearest town would
be London, population 180. Plus it would be close to Junction, a town
I’ve been through a few times and that I knew would have a few restaurants for
the nights we didn’t want to cook dinner.
We made reservations for Friday and Saturday
nights. I took a half day from work on the Friday, we loaded up the Kid,
the pooch and all of the provisions in the trusty minivan (its first family
trip) and we were off. I’ll take a second to have a word on minivans:
holy moly can you fit a lot of junk in them. And no more do I have to
actually plan for how I’m going to pack stuff like the time I managed to fit
the Kid’s wagon in the small trunk of my Toyota Camry Hybrid (which loses 1/3 of
its space to the battery). I can just throw everything in. It’s
like sacking groceries actually; just be careful not to put the breakable stuff
on the bottom.
One of the great things about driving through the Hill
Country is also the drive, particularly if you can get on the little two-lane
roads and off of the larger roads like 290, 281 and I-10. As long as the
road doesn’t require four-wheel drive, I’ll drive on it. You just never
know what you’ll find on some of these roads.
Getting out of town on the Friday afternoon, we got on FM
1431 west of Cedar Park heading to Marble Falls. 1431 is an awesome road
just for all of the twists, dips and turns. It was always the road I took
people on first when taking hiking trips in college; it’s like the Hill Country
slapping your face and saying “Here I am, vato!” Of course, with a family
there are sometimes other considerations as I’ll get to later on.
Oh, another note. The Sienna had come with three
months free SiriusXM radio and our subscription hadn’t run out yet. It’s
quite nice driving on a long trip and not having to search the radio dial for a
station that suits you. Of course, you also miss some of the local color
such as the really small radio stations playing country music from the 1930s or
local talk radio hosts who know all of the callers personally (and of course
Jennifer and my favorite is still the Memphis provocateur who referred to a
local politician as ‘Buffalo Butt’). At the same time, when you’re
negotiating two lane roads for 2-3 hours, it is nice not to have to fiddle with
the dial either. If you’re wondering, our station of choice is the
current light pop station, played low. Think Train and Maroon 5.
After you cross 281 in Marble Falls, 1431 kind of curves
northwest following the Colorado River. Before it hits US Highway 29 (one
of my all-time favorite roads), you can cut west on a small two-lane road
called FM 3404. It crosses the Llano at a place we later learned was
called The Slab. At this point the river was about ¼ mile wide but
seemingly not more than 3-4 feet deep except for lots of pockmarks resembling
moon craters. There were a few people just lazing about in those
craters. Awesome. I’ve resolved to go visit sometime, preferably
when the Llano has sufficient flow to enjoy it (i.e. not in late summer after
it hasn’t rained substantially for several months).
Eventually the small road hits US Highway 71, the highway
that begins in coastal south Texas, goes through Columbus, Bastrop and Austin
before ending somewhere out northeast of Llano. We’d need to take it to
get to Llano; there was no other good east-west connector between 290 and
29. We stopped at a small barbecue joint in the south side of town.
Jennifer stayed in the minivan while the Kid and I went inside. When we
walked in, everyone (well, all 7-8 of them) turned and looked at us. I
don’t mind that sort of thing, particularly since the Kid’s flaming red hair
always draws a comment from somebody. Or he sees a woman and pretends to
be shy. Anyway, I don’t remember the details but I remember cracking a
joke or two as we ordered brisket and sausage sandwiches to go. What’s
the point of visiting the Hill Country if you’re not going to eat barbecue at
least once?
We headed west out of Llano on 29 until we reached the
metropolis of Mason. Mason is home to Texas Monthly’s #1-rated barbecue
joint in the state, circa 2002, though it’s fallen off the list since
then. Jennifer and I had been there specifically to sample the meat which
I remember as the most awesome brisket I’d ever eaten (Jennifer doesn’t agree,
for the record). So anyway, we were familiar with Mason. From
there, we headed southwest on RR 1871, a little two lane road that was so small
the river crossings on the Llano were one-lane (actually, this is not uncommon
out here). This road was great with plenty of scenery, even some leftover
flowers from the springtime bloom.
After about three hours of driving, we arrived at the cabin.
The entrance was so non-descript we almost missed it. It was very remote
and definitely reminded us we were out in the countryside. We had to pass
through the first gate (with a combination lock) and then a second with what
I’ve always heard called a ‘gap’. A gap is a gate in a barbed wire fence
that, rather than being of a solid frame, is essentially several posts linked
by the barbed wire. You have to unhook the post on one side and carry it
across to the other side as the wire bends and wraps around. My
grandfather on my dad’s side would always make fun of me whenever he would
watch me open one of the several of his property near Rockne. “Put your
back into it, City Boy”, or something to that effect :)
Anyway, once past the gap we were at our cabin. It
wasn’t much to look at, being made of cinder
blocks, but it would do. The
thing that struck me actually was the vegetation. It was more sparse than
I’d expected and most of the plants were unfamiliar. That’s when it hit
me; this is what Austin will look like if we keep getting less precipitation
every year. The plants this far west were adapted to a drier and hotter
environment yet I still saw plenty of flowering plants. I was inspired to
try to get only native plants, preferably from the Edwards Plateau region,
integrated into our landscape from now on.
The cabin had a bedroom with bunk bed (awesome for the
Kid), a full bed and a separate room with a kitchen, dining table and
couch. The intended clientele were actually fly fishermen and
birders. I had no idea that this part of Texas was such a great place to
watch birds (I’d been warned by the proprietor that this was a good time of
year to see painted buntings, several of which I did see during the
weekend). There was a cute back porch that looked out over the river
valley.
Since there was still an hour or two of daylight
left, we decided to head down to take a look at the river. There was an
easy walking path down that took you through the sheep area. The property
was divided up into thirds. The first part contained the two cabins, the
second was an L-shaped area hugging the first area and the third was the part
with river frontage. The second area was the domain of the sheep and we
would have to cross it in order to access the river. No problem. We
crossed through a gap just below the cabin, walked maybe 150 yards through
brush, crossed through a second gap and voila, we were by the Llano
River!
We spent maybe ten minutes scoping out the river.
On the upstream side was a small lake formed by what appeared to be a natural
bottleneck in the river. On the downstream side was a wide open flowing
river that couldn’t have been more than five feet deep at the most.
Separating the two was a small stretch of rapids with some calm and shallow
riffles where we could chill out. It was perfect except for a lack of
trees which would have provided some shade for a five month pregnant Jennifer
(who wasn’t planning on swimming). Satisfied we knew what was available
to us, we headed back through the second gap to the house.
We had not seen the sheep on the way down but we had
heard them. Well, we had heard one of them, the one who had a bell
on. Ding-ding, ding-ding. While we were down by the river, we heard
it again. Ding-ding, ding-ding. As we crossed back through the gap
by the river, we heard it again. Ding-ding, ding-ding. There was no
cause for concern on our part because a) they’re sheep and b) if there were a
problem the owner would have mentioned something (his cabin visitor’s manual he
sent me in Word after making the reservation had even warned about mountain
lions and water moccasins and admitted he put it in for liability
reasons). And again, they’re sheep.
Ding-ding, ding-ding.
And away on our right in a draw we saw them. In the
lead was a ewe with the bell around her neck. She was followed by around
twenty or so shorn sheep who looked more like goats to me. They were no
taller than the middle of my thigh. No problem.
Ding-ding, ding-ding.
Then I noticed the two rams in the middle of the
pack. They both had curved horns that spread out sideways from their
heads, did a corkscrew and pointed pretty much forward. And they were
with the herd of sheep that was recognizing our presence and was slowly walking
towards us. OK...
Ding-ding, ding-ding.
I knew what they were after. They were thinking
that the man, woman, little boy and dog that they had never seen before had
food. Thus they would trail us until they got within a certain respectful
distance, getting no nearer but following us until we either gave them some
food or until we got through the gap. This was my totally logical thought
based on my limited experience with my grandfather’s cows. And I’d never
visited them with a dog whose behavior in the face of farm animals was unknown.
Hmm...
Ding-ding, ding-ding.
I told Jennifer to walk faster. She was holding
Graham by the hand and I was walking Maisy on a short leash. The sheep
reached the path about twenty feet behind us, made a right turn and proceeded
to match our speed in a big pack. And one of the rams was moving toward
the front.
Ding-ding, ding-ding.
We kept walking. I was of course trying to act like
everything was perfectly ok as I didn’t want to worry Jennifer or Graham.
We weren’t even halfway to the gap that would lead us to the safety of the
cabin. I wasn’t worried but it would be a lie to say I was perfectly
calm. I snuck a look behind me and saw that one of the rams was now in
the front.
Ding-ding, ding-ding.
OK, no problem. All they want is something to
eat. They’re not going to get any closer than ten feet. And the ram
is in the lead because he’s the boss. The ram seemed to have sped up and
was definitely closer than ten feet. I was starting to get very, very
nervous.
Ding-ding, ding-ding.
Walk faster, I told Jennifer. At that moment the
ram was probably six feet behind the dog and I. Maisy, in her infinite
wisdom and in a spirit of being friendly, stopped, turned around and tried to
walk toward the ram. Bad idea. The ram lowered its head and tried
to buck her at the same moment I yanked back on the leash as hard as I could,
let out a strong cuss word and yelled at Jennifer to run. I have no idea
whether the ram hit Maisy with the crown of its head or whether it was aiming
with the horns but Maisy was unfazed as she and I started running after
Jennifer with Graham in her arms. After running for twenty seconds, I
turned around and saw that the sheep had not matched our pace but were still
ambling down the path after us. Better hope we don’t have trouble opening
that gap.
Ding-ding, ding-ding.
I hadn’t been that scared of anything since I don’t
remember when. I was very, very agitated but still thinking
clearly. We had to get to the gap, open it and get through before they
reached us. I was fairly confident we could do it. We reached the
gap with the sheep maybe fifty feet behind us. I got it open with little
difficulty, ushered Jennifer, Graham and the dog through, hopped in after them
and shut that sucker with about thirty feet to spare.
Ding-ding, ding-ding.
Suck it sheep.
After seeing us flee the scene, the sheep stopped their
pursuit, made a left turn and disappeared into the brush. The
dinging grew fainter and disappeared all together when we went into the cabin,
relieved to not be having to rush our dog to the nearest veterinary hospital.
Yeesh. How the heck could we not have been warned
about this? I felt like I needed to talk to the owner of the property who
had helpfully left his phone number, at the least to tell him to ‘for the love
of all that is holy, warn people about the aggressive sheep if you’re going to
warn us about mountain lions’. He didn’t pick up when I called but
returned the call about ten minutes later, explaining he’d been outside hanging
laundry. Matter of fact, his own dog had been headbutted by one of the
rams out of nowhere earlier in the week but no harm was done. AND YOU
DIDN’T THINK TO WARN ME ABOUT THIS EVEN KNOW YOU KNEW I’D BE BRINGING A TWO
YEAR OLD AND A DOG?!!!!! Well, I didn’t say that but you’d hope he got
the hint.
So we then set to figuring out how we were going to get
to the river the next day. There was no way to get there without crossing
sheep territory but there was a dirt track we could drive on to get down there,
still having to cross through two gaps. I’d scope it out the next morning
to see how passable it would be with a Toyota Sienna, ha.
We had a nice time watching the sun set over the far away
plateaus. Thankfully we also couldn’t hear any ringing bells.
Still a little shaken from our sheep encounter, we set
about getting the Kid ready for bed. The cabin had a little shower which
was not a problem because the Kid loves taking showers. We shuffled him
into his nice bunk bed, sat around and talked for a while before turning in
ourselves on the full-sized bed which, as we discovered, was a bit too small
for us due to its annoying habit of buckling in the middle, throwing us
together. Graham woke up several times during the night so none of us
really slept well. At one point I took him outside to calm him
down. We looked out at the stars in the inky blackness. It would
have been nice except for a certain sound we kept hearing down in the draw
below the cabin.
Ding-ding, ding-ding.
Stupid sheep.
The next morning I chanced a walk with Maisy down the dirt
road to the river in order to make sure we could drive the Sienna over
it. I figured that with just the two of us we’d be ok because we could
outrun the sheep. Luckily we never saw nor heard them. The
overgrown road had some ruts but nothing a car higher than a low rider couldn’t
handle. Feeling pretty good, I returned to the cabin with the good news.
Later in the morning we headed down to the river in the
Sienna. We had to park about fifty yards away from the river but at least
it was on the river side of the fence and not on the sheep side. I was
thrilled to have a day to hang out in a Hill Country river. They’re
simply awesome. Spring-fed, they’re usually quite cool, particularly when
the temperature is 95 degrees as it was that day. Flowing over rock as
opposed to mud, they’re quite clear. And not having tons of water in
them, they’re usually shallow enough to have a space to chill out in and relax
(you can’t relax in a river with steep banks and is 20 feet deep). The
Kid liked it a lot (though he likes the beach a lot better).
The interesting thing about traveling with a toddler is
nap time. We’re naptime zealots, keeping the kid on schedule as much as
possible. What this means is that whenever we’re someplace fun, we still
take time off from 1-4 to make sure that the Kid has his nap. When we’re
at home, it means we have time to do projects and work we couldn’t necessarily
do with him awake (or just additional work). With us being on long
weekend, it meant that Jennifer and I had about three hours to kill where we
were doing a big fat load of nothing. For me, it meant three hours of
reading books, some of the time on the back porch watching for painted buntings
(I saw several). For Jennifer, it meant taking a nap and reading.
The rest of the day was uneventful as we went back to the
river and then into Junction to find barbecue to eat. Unfortunately
Graham got sick with an ear infection sometime during the night so we had
another restless night (and this time I slept on the floor next to his
bed). In the morning, it was apparent he was really sick so we
packed up the car and got on the road by 10am. We stopped for a quick
lunch in Burnet at Storm’s (the local Hill Country equivalent of Sonic with
quite possibly the greasiest burgers I’ve ever had) and headed back down
1431. This was a great idea from the scenic point of view but a bad move
from the sick kid point of view. Halfway through the drive he puked on
himself and we had to stop on the side of the road to calm him down and clean
him up as well as the car seat. I drove more slowly the rest of the way,
cranked up the a/c and we were all glad to be home.
So thus ended Graham’s first foray into the wilds known
as the Hill Country with just his family and his second overnight trip anywhere
besides his grandparents’ houses in Dallas and Houston. It also fulfilled
a strong desire of mine to have our own weekend out in the Hill Country
wherever the heck we wanted. It didn’t work out perfectly, what with the
killer sheep, crummy bed and illness but it’s always better to get out and try
than to stay at home doing the same old same old. Here’s looking forward
to more Hill Country weekends in out-of-the-way places!
