After we took to the road and fully embraced The 50 Amp Vision Quest, our name for this extended motor home adventure, we noticed small changes in our lives. Oh sure, living in motor home is inherently a major change is one’s life. Besides joining the general diaspora of folks more or less constantly on the move, America’s 21st century Gypsy/Romas, and all the obvious trade-offs between living in a house with a foundation versus living on top of wheels, there are unexpected changes that sneak into your psyche that are unforeseen. Changes in focus, importance, and finally habit, wedge themselves into your day to day life and become the new normal for you.
For starters, your morning prefatory upon waking up may no longer be your neighbor’s car or the increasing dull roar of the nearby roadway. It could be the pleasant cacophony of birds in the trees above your camper. Or, it could be the deep harumphing tone of a generator that your neighbor uses as he fires it up just after the campground “quiet time” has expired. You may be stirred from your slumber by the often times cheerful, sometimes admittedly under-appreciated voices of children running carefree through the campground as if they had just gained their freedom after years of imprisonment, laughing and yelling to each other as they pedal their bikes furiously past your camper. Maybe the divine aroma of bacon crackling in an iron skillet over a campfire drifts in through your opened window, or considering the yin yang philosophy, a deafening crack of thunder and flash of lightening shakes your camper and causes you to consider where to seek shelter in a more substantial structure, should the specter of a tornado descend upon your campground. You must remember that mobile home parks and any house on wheels are a delicacy to the taste buds of a violent wind. That’s just the way it is.
Most of us become creatures of habit over our lifetimes. Brew some coffee, turn on the tube, catch up on the news, probably on your computer or phone, and out the door.
“...Woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my head. Found my way downstairs and drank a cup and looking up, I noticed I was late...” A Day in the Life by Lennon and McCartney. Those lyrics, written nearly 60 years ago, still apply to most of us in our day to day pursuit of living in the 21st Century. Oh sure, we could insert something about checking Facebook or Twitter in there, but the theme of the repetitive nature of how we awaken each morning is as relevant today as it was last century (Whoa...last century...did I just say that?) But...when you’re living in a camper full-time your habits and rituals change. Actually, you adapt and come to realize that welcome or not, change itself is your new constant.
For a great percentage of Americans, change is threatening. Ritual and habit are the twin comforts that they rely upon in this uncertain world. The daily and weekly rituals, habits really...the morning alarm all the way through the last glimmer of The Late Show before you nod off to sleep are the cradling limbs that their nests are built upon. The nests being sewn together by being physically close to friends, family, and loved ones. When I talk to friends and my family they reflect that they’d love to try our lifestyle. “It would be a dream come true” for them to do so, but in actuality it remains a velleity. They can’t and won’t pull the trigger and change their world. And that’s the way it should be.
To live fully on the road and appreciate change requires a deeply rooted passion, almost a need to experience the unexpected...daily. Change is the implacable certainty. Surely, most everyone wants to stand on the precipice of the Grand Canyon and ponder the ages, or hike among the Redwoods and marvel at their scale. That’s the sought after wonder of traveling. We plan these grand adventures around our scant two week vacations. Yet innately, most of us need to get home eventually, admittedly or not. After the thrill wears off and we’ve seen over the horizon we want to climb out of the Ferris Wheel and replant our feet on familiar ground. The marvels of nature, the refreshing new views through the windshield on the road trip, and even the wicked allure of campfire bacon all begin to lose their romantic luster. (Well, maybe not the campfire bacon…)
What Diane and I have found is that it is the Dark Matter, that which physicists say makes up most of the mass of the universe, that fills your world while living on the road and that you need to embrace to find happiness. You don’t see it when you daydream about travel, when you make plans, but it’s always there. It takes up most of our lives, whether we be sedentary city-dweller or Gypsy born with the travelin’ bone. John Lennon said, “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans.” That’s the Dark Matter I’ve discovered and come to appreciate in our Vision Quest.
Should your personal Dark Matter require a solar system of the familiar or the universe of the unknown? That’s the simple deciding equation that you must honestly admit to yourself and not only embrace, but hug deeply and treat as your closest friend, whether you travel in an RV or live in a mansion.
Often people say to us things such as,
“I’d love to live the life you do but I can’t afford it.”
Ironically, there are many folks living in RV’s who could not afford not to live that lifestyle. They work jobs remotely on a computer, or they work as seasonal employees in various fields. We’ve been in and are currently part of that group of travelers. We’re camp hosting most of 2023 after spending several boatloads of money traveling through the Maritime Provinces of Canada last summer. In order for us to continue living as we are on the road along the 50 Amp Vision Quest there are times we need to conserve money. This summer, for instance, we plan on working a paying gig as camp hosts. Up to this point we’ve volunteered our service in exchange for a camp site only. We’ve worked as seasonal sugar beet harvesters in the past. There are part time paying gigs for full time campers everywhere. Yes, there are ample ways to live on the road affordably, and not simply during your retirement. Even here in Cedar Breaks Campground there are couples wherein one of them has a job while the other volunteers. Three couples here do both. They volunteer and on their days off they work another job, two of them remotely on their computers.
Some folks say,
“Don’t you miss having a home to go back to now and then?”
The answer is... we have a home wherever we are, wherever we go. The thing is, once we came to understand and actually accept that our RV is our home...really, our home, we never missed our last house and home of 30 years where we raised our kids. We had a great, though modest house with the best yard ever. We wondered as we considered hitting the road and selling our house if we would miss our backyard. We spent most of our time there as it bordered a forest. These days, almost in jest, I periodically ask Diane,
“How do you like your backyard today?” We laugh together over that concern we once had because our backyard changes and it’s usually in some wonderful setting. And, I don’t have to mow it.
“What about your furniture and all your things, your mementos? Don’t you miss not having them?” they ask.
The truth is, no, we don’t. We came to realize they are simply things. In and of themselves, things generally do not make you happy. I ask in return, how many ultra-wealthy people are really happy. Don’t we see them seemingly always wanting more? Another house, a newer, faster, prettier car, a trophy wife, a swimming pool...how much does it take to make a person happy. For us, the truth is that things don’t make us happy. Oh, surely we have a few items we cannot give up. A few guitars, some precious photos, some legal documents, that’s about it. At first, we had a storage unit that we rented that was 10’x15’. Over 5 years we have whittled it down to where now it is a scant 5’x5’, and we regret not getting down to that size earlier than we did. All those trappings of life seem nearly meaningless to us now. For Diane and I, as we honestly confront the question of what matters most to us we agree that it comes down to three things:
…Our faith
…Our friends and family (and our circle of friends actually expands as we travel)
…Our experiences
In reality, those are the things that make us happy.
…Thus, we wake up every morning and thank God with heartfelt gratitude as we alternately marvel at the places we visit, and perform the few mundane tasks and wrestle with minor emergencies we have to deal with.
…We alternately make absolutely sure we keep in touch and visit with our dear friends and family in St Louis and Austin while we form new and lasting friendships with those with whom we meet and work with on the road.
…We continue to have fresh experiences almost daily, relishing the natural world and this amazing continent we live in as we now have the time and the means to explore it and be a part of it.
One day this life on the road that we sought, dreampt about, and finally dove into... will end. It may come to a halt because we want it to, or it may be a forced decision upon us due to age, illness, lack of funds, or even the clock which will inevitably strike midnight. Who can foresee the future? But most emphatically, the 50 Amp Vision Quest will not end there. No, our faith, our friends and family, and our experiences will not end. We carry them with us always.
Return to Enchanted Rock
The past two winters and this our third we’ve hunkered down near Austin, TX as our daughter and her family live here. We volunteered twice at Pedernales Falls State Park and this winter at Cedar Breaks Campground in Georgetown, TX. We’ve taken in most of the uniquely Texas natural areas near here set aside for preservation with just a few exceptions left on our list. One of those places that continues to beckon us back is Enchanted Rock State Natural Area about 18 miles north of Fredricksburg, TX. I’ve written about it in past entries.
Enchanted Rock is but the tip of the iceberg so to speak of a giant granite batholith that is 100 square miles in measure, nearly all of which is underground. The tip of the iceberg, Enchanted Rock, is a ginormous granite mountain of sorts. Huge slabs and boulders that have sloughed off the sides through erosion litter the place creating a natural playground for kids of all ages. The invitation to climb around and clamber down these huge boulders is irresistible. Likewise, climbing to the top of the mountain, which reaches 1900’ in altitude, is hard to resist. It’s just difficult enough to be challenging, but not so strenuous that most people can’t make it to the top.
I knew Jack and Ella, our grandkids, and Suni and Dane, their parents, would just love the place. It’s a natural delight for kids of all ages. Suni and Dane have been working their tails off lately and need an escape as well. Off we drove on this particular Sunday the two hours or so it takes to get to Enchanted Rock from Austin. It’s a long enough drive to gain the inevitable, “Are we there yet?” from the kids, but not so long a trip as to drive them full loony tunes Bugs Bunny crazy. It was that perfect hiking day with weather in the low 60’s and a full sunny sky for good measure and pleasure. No clouds appeared all day long. During the weekends you must make reservations here or you won’t get in. They have a limit on visitors, parking being the issue. Diane packed us a great lunch of roast beef and horseradish cheddar. Oranges and apples with ample trail mix were thrown in as well. Plenty of water...Perfect!
There are dozens of hiking routes you can enjoy here by combining various named routes to suit your fancy or ability for that matter. During past visits Diane and I have taken a few different ones but never took the route that leads to the top of the Enchanted Rock. This time we did. Actually, it’s the shortest hike in the Park at .85 miles each way up and back but it probably has a 900’ to 1000’ altitude gain.
As I expected, the kids had a fabulous time climbing up and around the casually strewn boulders and precipices.
“Careful, Jack, don’t slip going down.”
“Look over here, Ella. Give me a smile for the camera.”
“DO NOT try to jump that crevice! You’ll never make it!”
“Look, don’t those people at the top look like ants?”
All the typical admonitions and parental (and grandparental) warnings were given when needed and happily, neither Jack nor Ella broke anything on their bodies. I mentioned the hike was about 1.7 miles in total but I bet good money that the kids put on 4 miles or better what with all the climbing. They would sleep well that night. Truth be told, the place brings out the kid in everyone. We all did our share of rock climbing and shuffling around the rocks. It was later reported that the kiddos slept well that night. We did as well
The view from the top is inspiring. Once up there you find that it’s relatively flat and you can wander around for about three to four acres. As you roam around up there you find the views and panoramas are exhilarating as well as sublime. Your perspective of the immediate area of the Park is dramatic as you peer down at the bolder and slab-strewn landscape while as your gaze reaches towards the horizon you find the gentle, rolling hills stretch out before you, seemingly forever. An occasional minor mesa juts upwards here and there for divinely inspired texture. The Live Oak and Cedar canopy of the forest out yonder is somehow restful to the senses and causes one to ponder the creation of such a place. While not the Grand Canyon or one of the 7 Wonders of the World, the view provokes deeper thoughts of one’s place in all this. You feel small...yet part of it all. We had a grand family adventure that Sunday. Simply grand.
Visitor High Jinks and Campground Crazies
When you spend a fair amount of time in campgrounds you ultimately come across the occasional and unavoidable soul, or even family or group, who is just lost in time and space. They probably shouldn’t be attempting to camp or in some cases drive a vehicle for that matter. For those folks the world is spinning too fast and they’ve lost their grip. Most of the time they are not dangerous, they’re just confused. We always try to be kind and respectful with them while keeping a watchful eye. Two such cases appeared at Cedar Breaks this January. Their antics punctured the peaceful umbrella of the campground during the weekdays they were here.
The first was a retired Air Force Lieutenant Colonel who was touring Texas in a modest trailer towed by his F-250 pickup truck. I first happened upon this fellow as I was walking towards the campground from the gatehouse as I had been working there with Diane, training a new camp host on the computer program we use to check folks in and out of the campground. This wide-eyed and animated fellow approached me as I walked with Diane and our trainee and began asking me questions about our regulations. He spoke so fast I could barely fit in answers to his questions. He quickly rambled on covering several complaints disguised as questions in what you might refer to as a low-key rant.
After a bit I figured out that once you polished it all down to its nub, its core, he was upset that he couldn’t spend more than 14 days in the campground. That is a hard and fast rule here. It’s designed to give more campers more opportunities to stay here. It’s a busy Park and at times it’s hard to get a reservation to camp here. It also keeps what we call squatters at bay, those folks who want to set up a campsite indefinitely, either for a seasonal job or because they are low on funds and can’t afford to travel very much. They’re usually semi-destitute, these squatters.
I listened to the man attentively and responded to his ranting as empathically as I could, my years of sales and customer service experience kicking in. I was able to keep him placated and at least satisfied that I cared about his feelings, though nothing was going to change regarding the 14 day policy. Diane and our fellow camp host walked on ahead and out of sight sensing correctly that this guy was going to take up a lot of time haggling. Finally, I parted ways with the Colonel, feeling I did my best to help him. However, I made a mental note to keep tabs on this upset guest.
Sure as the Sun rises in the East, the next day he provided some real fireworks around the ol’ campground. He had decided to call our local Corps of Engineers office and complain and wrangle and spit and fume over the phone. When the inevitable tirade of four-letter spears and darts came flying over the phone from him our office staff put a stop to the conversation and advised him that if he continued to verbally assault them they would hang up. Of course, he amplified his anger all the louder.
After the predicted hang up the Colonel, as I’ll call him, contacted some peers of his still in the Armed Forces, a general and another colonel. They, in turn, called in on his behalf attesting to his credentials and demanding he be accommodated. Well, that didn’t go over very well. Colonel, general, or whomever, the regulation was not going to be bent and broken for one disturbed and angry guest. To his eternal credit, our Unit Leader was not about to let anyone verbally assault his team of volunteers. The Colonel, however, continued to believe in his own mind that he was owed the consideration because after all...he was a Colonel by God, and he was not used to being told, however politely...No.
Apparently more profanities followed upon which he was duly hung up on. At that point one of our Rangers drove over to the campground from the main office to try to calm him down in person. Perhaps a face to face discussion would satisfy the Colonel. It was the right thing to do in my mind.
Well, the meeting didn’t satisfy our guest. Though I wasn’t in attendance I was right up the road where I could see the meeting plainly play out. After much spinning around in angry circles with arms flailing for good measure, the Colonel ran into his trailer. Now, the Ranger had kept his composure and cool during the entire session. This was not his first encounter with a disturbed guest, it was evident. However, once the man literally ran into his trailer flags of deep caution were raised. Was this a signal that he had lost his last grip on sanity? Was he going to get a weapon and act out in defiance?
The Ranger made a quick call as he proceeded to back away from the general area of the trailer. He now stood behind his truck. I gathered that he would use the truck as a shield in the event the Colonel came out firing. Within two minutes two police cars arrived on the scene. They, too, stood at a distance behind their vehicles. I continued to watch from afar. It would do no one any good for me to get involved. I wasn’t needed or wanted in this encounter.
The police called for the man to come out and talk to them. There came no answer, just silence. They calmly and professionally called out again to him. I thought to myself, man, these guys are handling this exactly the right way. They were doing everything to dissipate the tension, not escalate it.
After a good ten minutes the Colonel reappeared, cell phone in hand. He appeared to be talking to someone as he came forward slowly towards the police, still behind their patrol cars for safety sake. The man stopped some 20 feet away from them and appeared from my vantage point to be talking simultaneously to the person on the other end of the phone and the Police. I don’t know even today what was said during the half hour give or take that they conversed, but the police eventually and slowly drove off. Perhaps the person on the other end of the phone call gave the right advice and calmed the Colonel down. Maybe the police convinced the man that he was not going to win this battle and he decided that he best retreat today. What I do know for certain is that the Colonel left the campground by 5:00 PM that day and hasn’t been back.
It’s a sad thing that in these days of mass shootings you need to be concerned about gun play in a campground. No, the Colonel never brandished a firearm. Yet, we all figured that he well could have. We were all thinking that this encounter could well have been our own chapter in gun violence, our turn to be on the national news. But...it wasn’t. Yet inescapably filed in our minds...it could have been.
Now then, the very next day came a woman by herself in an F-350 towing a 40’ long 5th Wheel. I believe the name of it was Momentum, an apt name for a big 5th wheel. She arrived around 11:30 PM. Now, typically in rv parks, and in government parks for certain, you are not allowed to set up after 10:00 PM, or quiet time. But, here she came trundling through the campground with her loud diesel engine clattering and her headlights flashing this way and that as she repeatedly tried to back her 5th Wheel into her spot. Though I wasn’t awake when all this was going on I can just imagine her neighbors being rousted from their sweet slumber.
After several attempts she still could not get her rv into her spot correctly. So, she drove up to the gatehouse at the head of the campground and used the phone there to wake up the poor camp host on duty that day. She wanted help backing her caravan into her spot. As camp hosts we’re not supposed to get involved in directing folks into their spots as that could make us liable for any accidents that might come about. I’m uncertain if that is legally the case, but, it’s policy. Well, when she was told that she left the campground and stayed in a Wal Mart parking lot for the night.
The next day she arrived again and now we were on duty. She promptly sought us out and asked us to find her another spot because she felt that her assigned and reserved spot was too difficult for her to get into, I have to say that her head was spinning around and her hair was on fire as she tried to talk to us. At times I didn’t know what she was saying. She had two curs in the back seat that were literally trying to climb over her to get to me. She continually beat them back as she screamed at them to shut up. The poor woman was still very upset and tired and frazzled to a crisp from the night before. She told us she didn’t sleep a wink in the Wal Mart lot she was so fearful. As we looked through our camp site inventory we saw that there were no sites available to fit the length of her vehicle, and even those one or two sites that were available didn’t fit the length of time she was asking for. We’re pretty busy this time of year what with people from the North flocking to Texas for warmer weather in January.
Fortunately for her, we hold back two emergency sites for dire situations. One of them would fit her caravan perfectly and it was pretty level to boot. We could accommodate her in that spot for a few days. Now, as we were talking together I was visually scanning her 5th Wheel. I couldn’t help myself. Though this was a fairly new camper there were battle scars all over the rv. One of her two slide outs had a hole poked clean through. It didn’t fit right against the wall of the rv proper. It jutted out a few inches at the bottom. I thought she had probably bent the slide out frame somehow. Other dents and scratches were prevalent all over the place. I at first considered that she might have purchased the camper at an auction at a steep bargain or something and intended to fix it up. But, once we saw her drive it became really obvious how the dents got there. Whew boy…
Figuring now that I really better try to help her back that big boy back into the spot we secured for her, I told her, and made sure I had a witness, that I would help her if she would promise not to hold me or the park responsible for any damage that might happen. She gladly accepted that. So, off she drove to the spot and and we hurried on over on foot to meet her.
One of the camp hosts here has a 5th Wheel almost identical to her length and this fella maneuvers it like a veteran truck driver. He knows his stuff. He’s got it down pat, brother. We sought him out figuring that he could guide her steering while we kept watch from the rear, signaling to him as helpers. I’m pretty darn good with a motor home but I’ve never handled a big 5th Wheel.
As the lady drove over to the site I met her as she approached. I noticed that limbs hung precariously low in a few places along her last few yards to the point where she would start backing in. I warned her,
“Ma’am, try to avoid staying to the right side of the road. See those limbs right there, they’ll gouge your roof if you’re careful. Whatever you do, stay left of them.”
“Oh, ok.” she said. “I’ve had to replace a lot of stuff that I broke already and I sure as hell don’t wanna have to buy a new roof.”
What did she do? Exactly what I advised her not to do. Scrape! There went her TV antennae. It broke right off its base and flung itself onto the asphalt. Ignoring that revoltin’ development she got herself into position to begin backing into the site. By now the accomplished camp host had arrived and he began giving her instructions as she tried to back the rig in. The thing is, she would not listen, or, was mostly incapable of processing his directions.
“ No, no, turn right, not left. Now, stay straight, go slow. No, I said straight back! Turn a little left. Ok, that’s good, that’s enough, stop turning...that’s too far!” My expert-backer upper clearly knew his stuff and he was kind and gentle with the lady, but his directions were not being processed by her. It took literally six or seven attempts but he got her in there safely.
You know, we all felt for the confused lady. We didn’t make fun of her among ourselves. When we talked about the incidents involving her we tried to imagine what her story was. She was traveling alone. Did she acquire the RV and the dogs in a divorce settlement? Had her husband died? Did she go out and buy this 5th Wheel on a whim and not take it out to a vacant parking lot to practice maneuvering it before she hit the road? Where was she going to? Where had she been? She had told us she’d had to replace a lot of things and by my count there were still many very expensive repairs that were needed on the exterior of the rv...like her busted up slide and now her tv antennae which fell forlornly onto the pavement.
Stories like these come up often when you’re camp hosting. Characters show up that could be right out of Cohen Brothers movie. They all find me somehow. I’m a character magnet I am. I’ve always been. Diane says that’s because I am a character myself, way out on the fringes. I can’t deny it.
The Big Freeze of 23…
Folks come to Texas during the Winter to escape the cold. Retirement communities are beginning to sprout up like the invasive Cedar trees around here. One of them, Sun City, is just up the road and it is a Steve Wynn operation. Mr Wynn has these self-contained senior cities all over the West. Indeed, he’s planning yet another one very near Pedernales State Park, right on the River, which will be, I predict, a disastrous environmental mistake...but, that’s another story. The winters the past few years have not cooperated, however. Two years ago we had what the locals like to call the “Snowmageddon” event wherein it snowed maybe 3 inches and brought the entire region to a standstill. All the local utilities seem to lose their ability to generate electricity at the same time. Last year was unusually cold and this year we’ve already had the Big Freeze.
Now, my wintertime experience here in the Austin area only goes back a few years so I really can’t say if these winters are normal or not. But, I can say, these events of the past few years have a profound effect on the folks here...and the vegetation. Right around the beginning of the year we had a stretch where the temperatures dropped into the teens at night, rising only to about the high 20’s during the day. In a motor home you burn a lot of propane when it gets that cold. We even left our fireplace space heater on all night to help drive out the chill and lessen the burning of our propane, something we do not like to do. There are too many instances of space heaters causing devastating fires.
This past week, as I mentioned, brought the Big Freeze. Though it never got as cold as it did a few weeks ago we did have temperatures in the high 20’s. The problem this time, though, was we had freezing rain...and lots of it.
Come to find out the Ashe-Junipers ( locals call them Cedars ) which absolutely dominate the landscape of the Hill Country, are fragile trees whose branches snap off easily and whose roots are pretty shallow. The mighty Live Oaks, my favorite tree down here in Texas, though their stature in the forest and plains seems unflappably stoic and proud, break down pretty easily too. A good quarter inch of ice formed around every limb and nimble shoot of new branch. For the Cedars, whose evergreen foliage is as thick as a mop head, the ice in many cases was too much to bear. All during the night of the ice storm the collective campground’s snores were punctuated with the off-beat of loud cracking limbs, shredding and tearing off with snare drum efficiency. I can’t recall how many times I awoke to that sound followed by the whoosh of the limb or tree free-falling to the forest floor.
Once again, electricity was lost in most communities around Austin and out here in Georgetown as the delicate independent, regional power grid succumbed to the trees and branches laying on power lines. Because of the fractured independent power grid there is no backup plan. All the little utility companies across the state look out only for themselves. It’s the independent nature of Texas gone industrial.
We lost power for about 5 hours so it wasn’t really an issue, but, as I write this there are still isolated areas where power has yet to be restored, a full 8 days later. Here in the campground the challenge that loomed in front of us was getting all the downed trees and limbs off the camp sites. It’s a real mess. The lead Ranger toured the campground and decided to close a good 15 camp sites until we could clear the damage and render the site safe to camp in. This meant that anyone who had reserved one of those sites was out of luck, their campsite reservation lost.
Compounding the clean-up was the issue of chain saw certification. Unless one successfully completes the US Government certification program on safely using chainsaws you are not going to run one in this campground. I personally have been using chainsaws most of my adult life but I am not allowed to run one here until someone administers the course to me. Diane even gave me a small electric chainsaw for Christmas...but no dice. That leaves two men, our maintenance team, to cut all the downed trees and limbs into manageable sizes where we can carry them out of the campsites and haul them to a dump area. That would be a workable situation...except...one of the men is sick with Covid and the other has severe heart issues. It’s gonna be a slow process.
For our part, once the ice melted the next day, Diane and I went through the campground and moved all the limbs that didn’t weigh too much to the side of the street to help make it easier to load them onto trailers. Those that were still hanging, or larger limbs and entire trees, were left for the chainsaw men to cut up into smaller, manageable sizes. I really have to be careful. I’ve had back issues for decades now, but the stenosis in my vertebrae has gotten worse compounded by a newly discovered disc close to rupture have scared me into being more careful. I don’t like being limited to what I can and can’t do physically, but now I have to self-enforce limits on myself. As I say, this clearing of the campsites is going to be a slow process. Have I said that already?
There are those guests in the campground who own and travel with chainsaws at the ready, just waiting for an event like this to occur. When no one was watching they bounded from their trailers and assumed the roles of First Responders, happily cutting their way around their campsites and stacking the logs ever so neatly in piles between standing trees. We’re not supposed to allow guests to use chainsaws as the liability is too great for the Government. Can you imagine the lawsuit should a camper cut themselves? I informed those so inclined to graciously lend a hand that though we appreciated their help we couldn’t allow it. Still, they found a way when no authority was around to yank on the pull starts and fire up those trusty chains. God Bless ‘em I say.
One such maniacally driven octogenarian who calls himself Fred was not to be denied his First Responder status. When I told him to knock it off (in much more sanguine terms) he simply left the campground and went out onto the streets of Georgetown and starting sawing away there. This guy was the spriest, most fired up and cantankerous 80 something year old I think I’ve ever met. When he wasn’t manning his saw he could be found shoveling sand from our storage area into a 55-gallon drum and rolling it back to his campsite so he could “repair” some divots and gullies. He apparently cannot be satisfied unless he is actively breaking a sweat working. He is, in a word, a dynamo.
Fred will also talk you into submission. He dispenses words like he exhales after holding his breath. You will not get a word in yourself. You will be forced into being enveloped by his unconnected sentences, which are actually self-contained paragraphs, as if you are in a deep coastal fog unable to find your way out. After a conversation with Fred you come away with the feeling that you just attended a lengthy lecture, but you cannot actually put together in your mind what it was he was talking about. You may have met chaps such as Fred yourself. They’re around. If you simply greet them with a “Hi, how ya doin’ ?” you won’t know what hit you a half hour later when they finally stop to take a breath.
We’ll be tackling the effects of the Big Freeze here for a while here in Cedar Breaks Campground and it’s gratifying to see everyone pitching in to help.
A Glimpse into the history of the San Gabriel River valley…
I am always interested in the history of an area where we are staying, be it for a brief day of three or for 6 months as we are Cedar Breaks Campground. Over the course of the past few months here I have gleaned a few tidbits of this area’s very colorful recent past, say the past two hundred years or so. What cannot be lost in the stories is the juxtaposition to what is going on here in this day and age, the mighty immigration of peoples from all over the world into the general area.
If this park is any kind of barometer of the great immigration occurring in the region it is amazing to witness. As we work in the gatehouse on weekends here we see firsthand an array of diversity such as I’ve never witnessed in one place at one time. To see all of these folks from such disparate backgrounds unite as it were to gather in some nature and recharge their batteries is inspiring to us. On any given day here we will be visited and graced by guests who speak German to each other, eager emigres from Korea, China, and Japan, Indian and Pakistani couples and families arraigned in bright cardinal reds and saffron yellows, picnic-bound families from all over central and south America, British technocrats out for a good walk, African Americans, European Americans from Boston and the northeastern United States, former Californians with dreams of wide open spaces...they’re all here right now. The history of this place tells me that it has always been this way...always.
Go back to pre-historic times. Evidence tells those who study humanity over the millenia that very early hunter-gatherers moved through the area often, drawn by the vast herds of large mammals who moved across the then prairie and watered in the river valley. Here, I will paste in a bit from an online source to that point…
...“A skull found at the edge of Lake Georgetown drew the attention of anthropologists at Texas State University over its age.
Assistant professor Kate Spradley said the skull, apparently of a Native American man, could be from hundreds to thousands of years old.
Spradley said Wednesday that the skull is likely prehistoric because of certain features, including three molars that are worn down, possibly due to a gritty diet.
The Texas drought has led to lower lake levels.
The Austin American-Statesman reports some people who were fishing discovered the skull Monday near Russell Park. (just across the lake from us here at Cedar Breaks)
Spradley said the skull is well preserved and she thinks it was embedded in the bank of the lake.”
Later, the prairie tribes closer to our time both visited here for the game and settled here to grow early domesticated corn, squash, and peppers. Originally home to the Tonkawa tribe, the indigenous people were skilled buffalo hunters and flint workers. Several other nomadic groups also camped near the San Gabriel River until they were all invaded, pushed out by the white colonizers. Commanche bands were common here and the Tonkawa were their allies.
In the early to mid-1800’s an immigrant tide from Europe swept the area. Over time, immigrants from Germany, Sweden, Austria, Switzerland, and Mexico began to call Georgetown home as well.
One morning after a volunteer meeting at the headquarters here I asked the head ranger about the history of the area. Had he ever found artifacts in the Park dating back to much earlier times? He took me to a back room in the headquarters and brought out some drawers and storage boxes as I anxiously anticipated the contents. Opening them he revealed all sorts and sizes of points, arrowheads, spearheads, and scrapers. Their sizes and styles, even the stone they were rendered from revealed their purposes and relative eras. Larger spear points were dated to the times when really large mammals were the game of choice. Some smaller ones, more recent in date, were intended for smaller game...even human, should they be needed for a raid or defense of the tribe. Even their design, their fluting and such, was evidence of the eras from in which they were created and used. Fully, eight to ten thousand years of habitation lay right there before me, all found within the confines of the Park. Of course, this lake used to be a river valley and as such was a magnet for habitation and hunting.
The river also drew the European immigrants. While Native American burial mounds and remnants of small villages are scattered throughout the general Park area, evidence of the early Europeans’ first stakes to the land is here as well. Small family burial plots, old fences of cedar, still standing 100 plus years after they were built, rock foundations...there’s a lot of stuff out in the bush here that goes undetected by the thousands of hikers who come here every year. These things are not marked, no interactive displays and such lead you to them. You have to know where they are and the rangers here keep them a secret. Indeed, my ranger buddy wouldn’t even tell me where to find these things. It’s better that way. Simply knowing that they are here is enough for me. Perhaps I’ll stumble upon them some day when I’m bushwacking through the cedars.