1. We Went Camping
We glamped four nights at South Llano River State Park this past week in a rented vintage VW Vanagon.
The weather was mostly cooperative. It rained hard two nights, but the days were great. Not hot. Not cold. No bugs. Camp fires every night. Mercifully out of reach of the nearest cell tower or wifi hotspot.
Nani, you would have been proud. We took our long-collected dry kindling of various sizes, including a few pine cones.
I fantasized uncharitably that the neighbors were watching our fire-starting with envy as they broke all the rules and sawed and chopped at wet, fallen wood, resorting to regularly squirting lighter fluid on their forever-smoldering, ill-begotten campfire.
Our embers glowed orange. Izzy dozed contentedly in Trudy’s lap, disturbed only by the Armadillo which wandered out of the woods each night, making Izzy whine and howl and wiggle and squirm, a signal that perhaps it was time to dowse the fire and retire to the van.
The park is an official dark sky park, and the sky at night was … indeed dark. On the last night as we lay marveling at how exhausted we were and how comfortable the Vanagon’s bed was, the sky was indeed black. Pitch black. Orion’s belt shined thru the skylight. Venus blazed in the side window screen eclipsed periodically by the leafless branches of a distant Oak. The Seven Sisters followed behind.
After four days and nights, we were finally recharged.
2. The River Was Rising
On the morning of the Vernal Equinox, a ranger banged on the door of the van as we were beginning to pack. We hardly rose with the first singing of the birds on any of those mornings, nevertheless we had been up for a while. With a firm upward yank on the handle, we opened the sliding door.
“Hello baby,” the ranger said.
(Trudy and I were both fully clothed. The ranger was talking to Izzy who stuck her nose out when the door opened.)
“Are you staying today or leaving?”
“Leaving,” I said.
“Go now,” she said and ran to the next site.
“Is the low water crossing crossable?” I shouted.
“Go quickly,” she said. “The river is rising.”
We picked up the pace.
3. We Packed Up Quickly
We had prepared for rain the night before, having packed much stuff and secured the containers for a coming thunderstorm. We wanted to be ready just in case it was raining in the morning.
As it happened, it wasn’t a bad storm. There was not much wind even though there had been a lot of rain. Everything was fine. Indeed, the camp chairs under the picnic table under the shelter were dry. The containers were wet but intact. With the ranger’s alarm, we began packing those remaining items at a furious pace.
We dried off what we could and threw it all into the van. Within minutes, we had decamped. Proud of our pace, we drove by other campsites who either had plans to stay or were unable to pack quickly. We followed a line of trucks and RVs.
4. What Happened At The Crossing
The South Llano River flows along the edge of South Llano River State Park just south of Junction, where the north and south forks join together for a final march through the Cretaceous limestone of the Texas Hill Country where it empties into the (Texas) Colorado River . There is a low water crossing at the entrance. The campgrounds are on high-ground above the flood plain where major flotsam and jetsam from the last major flood is still piled against every tree, towering to seven feet in some cases.
The ranger’s concern that morning was not the safety of the campsites but alerting anybody who planned to leave the park that day that now might be the only time to get out that day.
When we got to the crossing, the line of pickups and RVs in front of us was waved on by a park ranger. He waved us on, too. There were no cars. I suspect that if we had been in our wagon, they would have turned us back. The water was flowing over the pavement. It was swift and at least 12 inches high on the downstream side, although we found it reassuringly shallower (although faster) on the upstream side.
The van’s clearance was high. We made it across. There was nobody behind us, and the ranger walked into the middle of the road after we passed, evidently to prevent anyone else from leaving.
We had made it out, barely.