Brisketexan
1,000+ Posts
. . and the beauty never ends . . .
So, took a short 5 day jaunt to West Texas last week . . . the family needed to escape the jurisdiction for a while, and leave some bad juju behind (dog died, car wrecked, washing machine broke, etc.). We stayed at the Indian Lodge at Davis Mountains State Park. Quite the cool place. The weather was a bit hotter than we wanted, so in the heat of the day, we found things to do that didn't involve walking around in the heat. One day, we did the "Scenic Loop Drive" that takes you from Ft. Davis nearly to Valentine, up towards the McDonald Observatory, and back to the state park (about 70 miles). That's where we took the photo above.
It's also where we saw all manner of critters, including this guy -- one of my favorite Texas denizens . . . a vestige of the pleistocene, and a snapshot of the land before we were here:
We also spent a great day at Balmorhea State Park, just up the road, spending the afternoon swimming in the cool, clear waters of San Solomon Springs. My daughter particularly loved swimming among the Mexican Tetras and Pecos Gambusias, which flitted all about her as she twisted and turned through the emarald-tinted edges of the pool. It, like Barton Springs, is a true Texas treasure. 150 years ago, Apache peach orchards grew on its banks. Now, kids frolic in a CCC-built pool. No pics from there -- too busy swimming and laughing.
Then, on our last full day there, we headed down towards Big Bend. I am ashamed to say that as a 38 year old native Texan, I had never been (nor had my wife -- and it was she who insisted we go down there). We hit Terlingua and Lajitas -- you can keep them. Especially Lajitas -- the huge, bankrupt, out-of-place luxury resort doesn't belong there at all. We did, however, go downriver a ways, where there was a State Park put-in site on the Rio Grande. The kids were excited to see Mexico, and even more excited when I easily chunked a rock over the thin ribbon of muddy green water that was the border, and hit Mexico. "Daddy hit Mexico!" was a jubilant cry from the kiddos.
We then headed to the national park. As the road wound through the park, the landscape changed from the badlands of Terlingua to the Chihuahuan desert landscape I knew and loved (I grew up going to my grandparents ranch south of Chihuahua in Mexico). It was beautiful, but we had no idea what truly waited for us. After checking in, we doubled back to the road to the Chisos Basin. Shortly after turning on that road, this scenery began . . .
It was as if the earth had sprouted teeth, worn smooth in so by chewing on millenium after millenium of time.
I am a grown man ("I'm a man! I'm almost 40!"). But I had never been to, or seen such a place. I am not ashamed to tell you that as we drove up that road, drawing ever closer to the imposing, green-capped mountains of the Chisos Basin, I teared up. It was breathtaking. It was majestic. It was a vision of one of the greatest cathedrals on earth -- not a cathedral of man's making to glorify God, but one that was a living testament to the glory of God. Man could toil for eternity, and not come close to replicating the divinity of such a place. I have said before that I see God in his creation -- in the laughter of my kids, in the rhythm of the waves, in the whistling wingbeats of ducks coming in to the spread at dawn. Well, I saw Him here -- up close and personal. I needed a reminder about Him, and that reminder hit me upside the head with tons of stone.
To be in such beauty is one thing. To share it is another . . .
We got to The Window well before sunset, which both gave us a great seat, and a chance to eat our picnic dinner (and the kids a chance to herd the ants wandering around the trail). I don't know if they fully appreciated what they were seeing -- but they will someday.
The sun continued on its westward arc, going . . .
. . . going . . .
. . . and gone . . .
As the sun tucked itself behind the mountains, the air got even cooler. The crowd (except for my yammering kids) was reverent and silent. I could hear the breeze coming down the mountain even before it brushed the back of my neck. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Again, tears welled up, thankfully hidden behind my otherwise unnecessary sunglasses.
We loaded up in the car to head back to Ft. Davis, knowing that we'd get there well past the kiddos' bedtime, but not caring. Still, the trip had one disappointment -- we saw EVERY type of critter (well, except bears and mountain lions), but not the ONE thing they wanted to see -- javelinas. My kids were OBSESSED with seeing a javelina. We had been to place after place where they were supposed to be, and not a single glimpse.
Then, at mile marker 6 in the park, I ground to a halt on the gravel shoulder. Within seconds, the pack of javelina I had seen was both in front of and behind the car. The kids were each climbing out of their windows, laughing and pointing to the unflappable javelina, who continued their rooting and pawing. I got a decent shot of this gal . . .
Of course, every time that javelina came up in conversation, I couldn't help but remember an obscene song I once heard, with a line that went "Miss Lucy had a ***** like a javelina hog . . ." Needless to say, I did not share that with the kids. And when I shared it with the wife, she was, shockingly, disgusted with me. But not surprised.
We will be going back. Next time, we will spend a week at Big Bend. We hardly scratched the surface. But we reminded ourselves at every turn that Texas is a treasure trove of images, experiences, and natural glory. And they are even more valuable when shared with those you love.
So, took a short 5 day jaunt to West Texas last week . . . the family needed to escape the jurisdiction for a while, and leave some bad juju behind (dog died, car wrecked, washing machine broke, etc.). We stayed at the Indian Lodge at Davis Mountains State Park. Quite the cool place. The weather was a bit hotter than we wanted, so in the heat of the day, we found things to do that didn't involve walking around in the heat. One day, we did the "Scenic Loop Drive" that takes you from Ft. Davis nearly to Valentine, up towards the McDonald Observatory, and back to the state park (about 70 miles). That's where we took the photo above.
It's also where we saw all manner of critters, including this guy -- one of my favorite Texas denizens . . . a vestige of the pleistocene, and a snapshot of the land before we were here:
We also spent a great day at Balmorhea State Park, just up the road, spending the afternoon swimming in the cool, clear waters of San Solomon Springs. My daughter particularly loved swimming among the Mexican Tetras and Pecos Gambusias, which flitted all about her as she twisted and turned through the emarald-tinted edges of the pool. It, like Barton Springs, is a true Texas treasure. 150 years ago, Apache peach orchards grew on its banks. Now, kids frolic in a CCC-built pool. No pics from there -- too busy swimming and laughing.
Then, on our last full day there, we headed down towards Big Bend. I am ashamed to say that as a 38 year old native Texan, I had never been (nor had my wife -- and it was she who insisted we go down there). We hit Terlingua and Lajitas -- you can keep them. Especially Lajitas -- the huge, bankrupt, out-of-place luxury resort doesn't belong there at all. We did, however, go downriver a ways, where there was a State Park put-in site on the Rio Grande. The kids were excited to see Mexico, and even more excited when I easily chunked a rock over the thin ribbon of muddy green water that was the border, and hit Mexico. "Daddy hit Mexico!" was a jubilant cry from the kiddos.
We then headed to the national park. As the road wound through the park, the landscape changed from the badlands of Terlingua to the Chihuahuan desert landscape I knew and loved (I grew up going to my grandparents ranch south of Chihuahua in Mexico). It was beautiful, but we had no idea what truly waited for us. After checking in, we doubled back to the road to the Chisos Basin. Shortly after turning on that road, this scenery began . . .
It was as if the earth had sprouted teeth, worn smooth in so by chewing on millenium after millenium of time.
I am a grown man ("I'm a man! I'm almost 40!"). But I had never been to, or seen such a place. I am not ashamed to tell you that as we drove up that road, drawing ever closer to the imposing, green-capped mountains of the Chisos Basin, I teared up. It was breathtaking. It was majestic. It was a vision of one of the greatest cathedrals on earth -- not a cathedral of man's making to glorify God, but one that was a living testament to the glory of God. Man could toil for eternity, and not come close to replicating the divinity of such a place. I have said before that I see God in his creation -- in the laughter of my kids, in the rhythm of the waves, in the whistling wingbeats of ducks coming in to the spread at dawn. Well, I saw Him here -- up close and personal. I needed a reminder about Him, and that reminder hit me upside the head with tons of stone.
To be in such beauty is one thing. To share it is another . . .
We got to The Window well before sunset, which both gave us a great seat, and a chance to eat our picnic dinner (and the kids a chance to herd the ants wandering around the trail). I don't know if they fully appreciated what they were seeing -- but they will someday.
The sun continued on its westward arc, going . . .
. . . going . . .
. . . and gone . . .
As the sun tucked itself behind the mountains, the air got even cooler. The crowd (except for my yammering kids) was reverent and silent. I could hear the breeze coming down the mountain even before it brushed the back of my neck. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Again, tears welled up, thankfully hidden behind my otherwise unnecessary sunglasses.
We loaded up in the car to head back to Ft. Davis, knowing that we'd get there well past the kiddos' bedtime, but not caring. Still, the trip had one disappointment -- we saw EVERY type of critter (well, except bears and mountain lions), but not the ONE thing they wanted to see -- javelinas. My kids were OBSESSED with seeing a javelina. We had been to place after place where they were supposed to be, and not a single glimpse.
Then, at mile marker 6 in the park, I ground to a halt on the gravel shoulder. Within seconds, the pack of javelina I had seen was both in front of and behind the car. The kids were each climbing out of their windows, laughing and pointing to the unflappable javelina, who continued their rooting and pawing. I got a decent shot of this gal . . .
Of course, every time that javelina came up in conversation, I couldn't help but remember an obscene song I once heard, with a line that went "Miss Lucy had a ***** like a javelina hog . . ." Needless to say, I did not share that with the kids. And when I shared it with the wife, she was, shockingly, disgusted with me. But not surprised.
We will be going back. Next time, we will spend a week at Big Bend. We hardly scratched the surface. But we reminded ourselves at every turn that Texas is a treasure trove of images, experiences, and natural glory. And they are even more valuable when shared with those you love.
