Just North of Baby Head

Even through the scent of top fuel nitro-methane in the air, the drag boats were really interesting enough to stick around for (yawn).  We moved onto Fredericksburg.  This town was the least satisfying of any on this trip.  Is was nice, and clean and beautiful to look at.  But it was crowded and everything seemed very brand-conscious with a heaping helping of faux-finishing.  It was just not our kind of place.  Glad we visited, but not our favorite township.
  

The next stop was Ink Lake.  But we were unwilling to take a direct route.  So we nav-ed out a course that took us North only on county roads.  Two of those roads were easements running through operating ranches.  The roads were beyond rough.  At first I was worried that we were driving on celetche clay because of the redness.  Not the case.  The roads were mostly crushed granite.  Very solid, but so very prone to having very deep washboard grooves.  In the worst places we could only move at 1-2 MPH.   We loved it.  Around every turn and hill was something amazing that we would have never seen in any other way.

The combination of an could'nt care less look, the tuft of red and the tongue made this is a photo that Debra liked a lot.  She described it as my first cow-portrait and has requested a good print to frame and hang in the sewing room. 

The entire trail across these ranches totaled ~30 miles.  On much of those trails were these intrepid stacked-stone borders. 

This was an massive outcropping of granite from the ground.  I loved the colors and texture.

As we rounded a corner and went down into a wash, we were greeted with this alien vista.

Maybe 100 yards away, this is how drastically the scenery changed.

When 100% of your income will not even cover the taxes but it has your name, two thumbs up is all I could muster.

There were genuine farm houses from a 100 years ago and amazing landscapes all prepared from His goodness.

After scouting out the camping at Inks Lake we made our way North on FM-500 to the Regency Bridge.  This place is North of a ghost town called Baby Head.  The only thing that remains of the town is the cemetery.  As much as I hate to admit it, this was a good example that marketing may be of some value after all.  What wife really wants their home to have a zip-code in Baby Head?

Not sure if you know this but back in the day I have climbed communication towers.  I even rode the wire on a drilling rig up to get an injured worker down.  But I am often terrified of suspension bridges.  Yes they are nice and yes there are interesting, but I am never comfortable on one. I am always inspecting the wires, rivets and anchors.  For Debra there is not even a hint of concern; 'if it wasn't safe, it wouldn't be here...'. The Dorris Day view of risk (que sera sera) is just not me.  Things fall and break all the time and it is always a surprise.

As we drove up to it there were three cars parked on the side of the road, clearly not wanting to make the trip over the bridge.  I knew that I had to make at least one crossing.  Notice the bridge is crowned.  You can see nothing until you are in the middle of the bridge.  If there were timbers that missing or damaged, you would not know until it was too late.

With deep breaths and sighs like a whining pup I made it across.  The wind was up and the swaying was very pronounced, but not nearly as noticeable as the creaking wood.  Now we had to go back across to get home...  That trip was worse, but Debra cheered the whole way.

I stepped out to take some quick pics and then to get out of there.  My motivation was based on knowing how much Debra loves the self-y/Us-y pictures.  My hope was to get the pics done and out of there before she realized my plans. 

 No such hope.   If you could only see the death-grip I have on that wire behind me.

Manly Flowers

We arose early to a stunning morning with light fog and an empty pool.  It was my task to retrieve breakfast from the motel office.  For most motels 'continental breakfast' can have a broad range of curious meanings.  For this motel, to their credit they had much more than just cereal and bagels.  However, the orange juice dispenser filled with Sunny Delight was a surprise to be sure.  

Being on the road did not last long.  As we headed back to Burnet I noticed an abandoned bridge near Lake Buchanan

I could not resist and had to stop.  The fencing on the sides to keep me from jumping off was a distraction, but not has great as my concern for the vultures in the girders above us might provide a 'squirt gift'.

Back on the road, in Burnet there is a canal that runs near the main part of town.  It was early morning and town folk were gather with fishing poles in hand to fish in the stream.

Most of those fishing were scraggly old guys who were shirtless or or had on grease-stained wife beaters.  But this kid was impressive; notice the muppet-babies fishing pole and clean white shirt.

As I was heading back to the mighty Prius Debra requested that I take some pics of these beautiful gardens.  No doubt these will become rough plans for a future yard project.  For us killing plants takes effort and planning.

In Marble Falls we got a proper breakfast of donuts and milk from Walmart.  I also picked up some socks to help keep the bandages on.  We meandered around and found the older part of town.  They have a great array of sculptures.

I saw one that stood out.  We have a friend that is a purveyor of fine and exotic munitions.

When I saw this pot of flowers, it seemed perfect for his shop.  However the $500 price and weight (notice it is not bolted down) were far greater than my wallet or Prius could bear.

Pancreas Groan (not just the name of rock band).

Once the dehydration was abated we had to find a place to stay.  Although we love teardrop trailers and interesting old boats, that is not why these pictures are here.

These pics are here because we stopped at Burnet to find a room for the night.  Debra was frantic on hotwire and with various coupon codes.  We even setup a hotspot and broke out the iPad (btw, I have been told; "iPad is awesome") in an desperate attempt to book a 2.5-3 star room with at least 75% positive ratings for less than $80.  No way.  Later we would learn the reason why.  It seems this was the weekend for the top-fuel, drag-boat races in Marble Falls.  Everything was sold out and rooms in Marble Falls that would normally be ~$120/night without discounts, were now going for $200+.  While Debra was hard at work, she noted that my verbal help was not effective.  She then suggested I step out into the rain and 'go look at those trailers'.  I did.

We, I mean Debra; located a room in Llano.  We headed off that way and found an old-school Motel with a pool half the size we half in the back yard, with at least 15 kids playing marco-polo and a couple of dozen adults meeting their vaping needs.  By this time there was no doubt; we were hungry.  After Debra got the low-down from the desk clerk the only safe option was Cooper's just down the street.  It is noted as a BBQ place.  That is not really true.  It is more of a meatery.  I got a one pound ribeye, and Debra got an inch and a half thick pork chop, plus we split some house made jalapeno sasuage.  It was wonderful and a terrific balm to my growling stomach.  The steak was tender with a hint of 'bite'.  It seemed to be dry aged, when cut at medium rare there was no concern that a vet should be summoned.  The chops were very, very moist.  Almost like they had been brined and sous-vide.  The young man that handled our food was outstanding.  Serious, competent and professional.  A great experience and wonderful quality.

Most important, they won two thumbs up from Debra!

 We then slipped down town. There was a local access station out of Austin playing 50s/60s windows down, cruising songs.  It was wonderful.  

I know looks like I blocked traffic and took the pic from the roadway.
In reality, I just wrapped the neckstrap around my arm and hung the Nikon out he window.

Cool air and great music.  I got out and was walking around shooting some arty/tarty pictures.  

It seems that when you town is know for hunting, seasonal decorations never need be removed.

 Debra noticed the lyrics to one of the songs; Smiley Lewis One Night Of Sin.

How quant it must seem for young people to hear a pop song that regrets sin...  While I was out I talked to these folks to get their thought on local points of interest and they told me about the 'swinging bridge' just North of Llano.  

Debra loved the idea.  Me, not so much.  Anyway, now that the light was fading I was enthaled in getting some long exposure pics of the water.

Back to the Motel.  Great news, the marco-polo game is still going strong.  None of the adults have moved except for vaping refills and there are two new Harley's parked next to our room. Score!

The Gorman Falls

What the park is really known for is Gorman Falls.   As I started to leave on my quick walk (AKA: the expedition) I asked two college-aged girls what is was like.  They said maybe a mile and be sure and bring water. I figured in 92 degree heat @ 70% humidity that with my top-siders, no socks, no hat, no sunblock, no water; I was ready to go. It was a revelation to learn; it is not a mile.  

To get there you have to hike about about 1.5+ miles over very rugged ground and then descend down a granite boulder.  The ground is rich with small outcroppings of stone just begging to trip and injure.

Seriously, you need to watch where you place your foot every time.  Once you get close to the falls, it is interesting to note that while the water is falling 60 feet on one side, the hiker is making a similar decent down the boulder.  The good news is that the boulder has been carefully polished by thousand of shoes. Hang On!

Nothing to get hurt on here

I did get there and I was very glad to capture some pictures for Debra.

Then there was the trek back.  I was winded and my right foot had a blister.  I really only had one hand because I was protecting the Nikon with the other hand.  Nonetheless, I made it up half-dome.  By this point I was wheezing like a broke lawn mower trying to start but I kept moving.  About half way back a young and spry college couple were crowding me trying to pass on the trail.  No doubt I looked terrible and they wanted some distance to avoid the risk of rendering aid.  I kept my pace and like all 50 year old men, I secretly shouted fro joy when they grew tired and had to stop.  Two and a half hours later I made it to the car.  Yea.  I never stopped except to take picture and was never passed-so I guess that was par for the course.  Debra was pretty worried and almost called in the search party.  But she took good care of me and I was quickly rehabbed.  

About 10 hours after this picture, my kidneys regained the memory of their function and provided me with a grateful reminder they were back at work.