They come at nightfall. We hear the chest-stirring, low-toned explosions off in the distance. A second later we feel the very earth vibrate ever so slightly, as if a small wave passed under our feet. Diane and I look at each other. “What...was that?” We have decided that what we are experiencing here at our new campground, Cedar Ridge, in Temple, Texas, is either artillery fire from very large cannons or rocket fire from helicopters. The sound is like a single peel of thunder from a very distant thunder storm as it approaches. Often we see helicopters zooming purposefully over head at odd times of the day and night. Some appear to be loaded with missiles and others are not. Our guess is that the maneuvers or night time practice drills with these explosives is coming from deep within Fort Hood which is located right next door to us.
There were times gone by, starting about the time of the first Gulf War in Kuwait, that I’ve heard similar military rumbles. Bob Breidenbach and I would go fishing on the upper reaches of the Gasconade River in southwest Missouri. These were areas where other fisherman and floaters would mainly be absent. We would be floating and fishing alone on the river. This part of the upper river is overlooked by the popular floater handbooks on Missouri streams because in late summer you would have to drag your canoe over the riffles, due to the low water levels. That is exactly why we fished there. There was no fishing pressure to speak of and the fish grew large. Our target there were Smallmouth bass. Rhino Bass as we called them...big boys upwards of 4-5 pounds. We were pretty successful hooking into them and loved to go there.
Several times while fishing there we encountered jets, F-15’s we thought, flying down the river at near tree top level. Bob once claimed he could see the pilot wave at him. I don’t know about that...These jets would drop bombs nearby and the massive thud was mind-numbing. Typically when they would fly over us they came on so fast that they shocked us to the point that we would scream out. They were loud, exciting to see. Such power! Once while out there we heard the familiar thud of impact, but then heard this weird deep buzzing sound, as if something were burrowing into the ground, and then a second explosive thud. We decided they must be “Bunker-Busting” bombs, a new type of bomb that we heard could burrow down through concrete before exploding. We found out later that there indeed was a bombing run near the river where jets from St Louis (MO Air National Guard) would practice bombing. I read that old jeeps and equipment were strewn out in a field for the pilots to practice against. It’s such a contrast to be out in near wilderness surrounded by the simple sounds of nature and then see and hear the war machines at work.
Having ended our contracted time as volunteers at Pedernales State Park, we’ve moved to Cedar Ridge campground on Belton Lake near Temple, Texas. This particular campground is a Corps of Engineers campground. It abuts Fort Hood. It is a nice campground that serves mainly as base of operations for folks who fish here. There are ramps where on the weekends bass boats crowd each other to get out onto the water. The lake is very nice at this point, narrow, and framed by some abrupt 50-100 foot walls of limestone bluffs. Fishing from the bank requires a scramble down broken limestone chunk rock at some opportune place where you can find access.
Our grandkids, Ella and Jack, came to visit us here and I took them fishing from the bank. We went at the finny prizes with old fashioned worm rigs a couple of times but no bites. The lake bottom, at least close to shore, is thickly algae-lined and the slimy goo made it impossible to attract fish on the bottom. We tried bobber fishing but still no bites. My guess is the fish are deep and haven’t yet moved up to the shallows.
Most of the lakes around here in Texas, and most of the streams I’ve visited, are strung with the same disagreeable algae. We saw this in Colorado at Steamboat Lake late last summer at the height of the summer heat when rain was scarce. A good flushing is needed here to get rid of the stuff. A hard and steady rain that raises the water and grants a good current to wash the curse away might be just the remedy. It worries me some to see this predicament. I feel that it is a man-made anomaly such as fertilizer run-off from homes or perhaps agriculture upstream. It just seems too thick to be a natural occurrence. I hope I’m mistaken.
We are hanging around Texas now mainly to help out Suni and Dane with the kids any way we can. We’re scheduled to head to Arizona at the end of the month to start a short stint there as volunteers in Tonto Basin. We spent 5 months there last Winter and Spring as camp hosts and hung out with our friends, Dusty and Cindy.
Suni and Dane, her husband, got their initial Covid vaccine shots last week as did we. It was downrig
ht joyful to finally get those first doses. The country seems to be headed towards better days right now as President Biden is making good on his promise to get 100 million of us vaccinated during his first 100 days. It finally feels, after a full year of this pandemic, that things might get back to normal soon...whatever normal is. I think of that optimistic George Harrison song, “Here Comes the Sun” often lately.
During the day when we are not with the grandkids we usually spend time on our art so to speak, me on my guitar and Diane crafting her “Rattle Heads” out of clay which she paints and had fired at local kilns. Round in shape, Rattle heads are sculpted with intricate and fun designs. Diane paints them to accent the sculpting and the final effect is really something to hold in your hand. It’s a kind of primitive art, yet elegant in detail and thought. I love them. When Suni, our daughter, got married Diane handed out rattles to everyone in the church. When the grand pronouncement came everyone shook the little rattles and it had quite the effect. They served as souvenirs of the happy event and to this day folks who have them still thank her for the creative gifts. We’ve explored most of the country around here and there aren’t many hikes close by at hand. What with being in between camp hosting jobs our hobbies are a great way to spend a lazy afternoon outside. “...Who could ask for more? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64?”
After our two week stint at Cedar Ridge Campground we moved south to where our Texas Hill Country sojourn started this year, Cedar Breaks Campground on Georgetown Lake. It is a fitting place to spend our last two weeks with our grandkids and Suni and Dane. During our first weekend there we all took a short drive over to Mother Neff State Park, the oldest state park in the Texas park system. As is the case with so many state parks in Texas, the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corp) of the 1930’s helped build the amenities at this park. It is a nice place for pleasant short hikes and it features a limestone overhang along a little creek that served as a home for prehistoric peoples of the area.
The next week we had just Ella, our grand daughter, with us at Cedar Breaks. We took a hike along the familiar trail that starts at the park entrance. It’s a terrific hike for youngsters as well as adults. On weekends it gets downright crowded with folks looking to get some fresh air. Ella loves this trail and it is so heart-warming to see her enjoy nature as much as she does. She is truly Mother Nature’s Child. On another fine Spring day we ventured out on a trail along the opposite side of the lake. (I Should mention that this lake is formed from the San Gabriel River) This particular trail is really delightful being so close to the sprawl of Georgetown. It courses along ridges perhaps 100 feet or so above the lake shore. The Ashe-Junipers and Live Oaks are plentiful so that you are nearly always walking in the shade. Ella describes the effect you get as “Tree Tunnels”. The geography here being limestone, you find all manner of little caves and overhangs that lend a mysterious overtone to the hike. As you walk along you can’t help but wonder, “What lives in that little cave?”...Or, “What were the natives like who lived here 200 years ago?”
About a mile into the hike the path drops down to near lake level. Here we cut down to the lake shore to check things out, leaving the path slightly above us. The lake being somewhat below normal pool level there were the crumbling clefts of limestone exposed that normally do not see the light of day. Delightful little shells littered the bank and this sparked Ella’s creativity even more. Scurrying to find broad and flat pieces of drift wood she made little boats with the shells as passengers and sent them dreamily on their way in the warm noonday breeze. Looking downward I noticed pieces of rock that at first glance appeared to be shells. Sure enough, the place was littered with ancient concreted shells of various sizes and shapes. Many appeared to me to be oysters. You could even make out the linings of the pearlescent insides of some of them. I thought to myself, “Does anyone else know about this spot and these specimens? Surely this is a fossil site that needs protection.” It reminded me of the Big Bend National Park and the ginormous clam shells we found there along a dry river bed. I don’t know how old these specimens are, but the fact that th
ey are partially encased in limestone leads me to believe that they are truly ancient.
On another day we took the grandkids to an exotic animal zoo near Johnson City. Ella and Jack had a ball feeding all manner of hooved animals as they ambled up close and personal to the Jeep windows. Buffaloes leaned their heads into the Jeep to get a taste of the cylindrical chunks of feed we purchased at the store on site. Sheep with 4 horns instead of just 2, Ostriches craning their necks this way and that, deer with all sorts of patterns and white dots on their fur, all made their way up to the Jeep windows for a sample of the supplied feed. To watch the kids interact at eye to eye and hand to mouth level with “wild” animals made for a great afternoon’s entertainment. I’m certain the kids will remember it for a long time to come.
Another event that I’m sure will last a long time in Ella’s memory was the mighty storm that blew through our campground one rainy night. Storms had been predicted for that evening but we had been assured that tornadoes rarely rumble through this part of Texas. However, a cold front was fast approaching while we luxuriated in the warm afternoon sun of that day. Having grown up in Missouri where tornadoes are plentiful I knew that this was a potential recipe for a big storm. Along about 8:00 PM we all bedded down in the motor home. I instinctively looked at my IPhone to check on the weather. Boom, there it was staring me in the face. Checking radar I could see a broad band of storms with the deepest shade of fearful red moving our way fast. I saw the telltale “hook” in the middle of the storm’s radar image that indicates a possible tornado.
Diane and I decided then and there that being in a motor home was not going to be safe with this bad boy bearing down upon us. As quickly as we could we scooped up Ella (Jack was back home with his mom and dad) and quickly drove to the only concrete structure near us which happened to be the restroom/shower house on site. We raced inside as the tempo and meter of the wind gusts increased and the rain began to fall in torrential sheets. Keeping Ella from being too frightened and perhaps carrying around psychic damage the rest of her childhood Diane and I tried to make light of the whole ordeal. We sang a couple of songs together. Ella, being extremely aware of her surroundings, knew that we could be in serious trouble. Other folks in the campground began to join us in this lavatory sanctuary. Then, the tornado sirens sounded off in that dreaded way that makes your skin crawl and your gut tense up. There was no explaining that away in some lighthearted manner. I heard a dull roar-like sound to the west of us. I have never been in a tornado but I’ve always heard it described as sounding like a freight train bearing down on you. That’s what I thought I heard.
Ella began to cry as she could no longer mask her emotions. We held her tightly telling her we were in a safe place. A lady who had also sought shelter there came over with her cat. “Would you like to pet my little kitty cat?” The cat itself was wide-eyed just as we were. However, in that moment, the cat and Ella found a little distraction, a little peace of mind with each other. Ella stroked the cat’s cheeks and furry head. Ella’s tears were erased and a little smile appeared. The cats eyes closed dreamily under Ella’s caring influence. That moment was the peak of the storm’s ferocity and that is how Ella made it through her first encounter with the very serious side of Mother Nature.
The tornado passed over but never fully touched down according to the local weather reports. No serious damage to any structures and no one harmed. I still wonder if that rumble we heard was, in fact, the tornado.