On revisiting some favorite sites along the back roads to Austin and finding a new place that will be revisited.

You see some odd things on the back roads of Texas. And sometimes a sense other than vision becomes preeminent as aromas can arrive long before you get to the scene. The above nearly apocalyptic image is from Farm Road 1323 near the very small town of Willow northeast of Fredericksburg. You can see a larger image of it here or here. 

The realities of a meat and wool farm don't often match the bucolic images we keep in our brains of rams and ewes contentedly watching their lambs gambol with careless abandon and joie de vivre over lush rolling grass covered hills. We might also imagine a stoic sheepdog standing guard against predators and trespassers happy in his work for the farmers cozy in the distant cottage. As far as I can tell from the Google Earth image of the actual location, there were no living quarters for humans nearby, which given the seeming toxic nature of the atmosphere is probably a good thing. Not much has changed since my last visit to this depressing waystation though what's missing from a previous visit are the iconic and not unexpected turkey vultures sitting in those trees ruined by untold tons and gallons of animal waste.  

I was on my way down to Austin, traveling again on the back roads to avoid using the boring and ugly Interstate 35, to help my son. He's a recent graduate from the University of Texas and he's finalizing some parts of his start up business. He needed a couple of track lights installed so I grabbed my electrical toolbelt and other bits and pieces that might be helpful and headed south. The installation went well, and though I know enough about electrical work to avoid zapping myself too severely, I did call my friend Jeff in Boston who's a real live certified electrician to verify some procedures. I'm glad it was unseasonable cold as working in an attic can be problematic at times in Lone Star Hades.

The son's business is all about pursuing his passion for the arts, and helping others do the same. It's a studio co-op where students and faculty can use state of the art photo equipment and work stations to complete their projects and dreams. Once a student is no longer taking a studio art class at UT, then she no longer has access to the fabulous facilities and equipment there. Hence the genesis of Myna Studio Co-Op. You can click on that link, then on the FAQ link to get the story behind the choice of Myna for the business name. Colin's a great kid, though now that he's nearly 23 I guess I should stop using the word "kid."

I was still decompressing from my trip to Santa Fe when my son and I decided on the time frame for me to come to Austin to help him out. I have a lot of stories still in the tank that need to come out in this blog, but with not enough time to get them all sorted and done. Everyone suffers from the triage of time as we either neglect or get after those things that need to be done. I'm still processing the images from the most recent Santa Fe trip, sorting and selecting, with no end in sight. Time triage. It sometimes seems there's just too much to do. When that happens to me, I retreat to some comfortable place, or revisit a favorite spot. It helps clear the mind so an effective list of things that need to be done can be constructed. Working through that list is another matter.

So I started off to Austin early on a Sunday morning, heading southwest before turning south. The route takes me by a favorite place once again, the Dinosaur Valley State Park near Glen Rose which is a bit southwest of Fort Worth. It's a place that seems disconnected to our normal understanding of time and a perfect place to sit and think. I'm never in a rush when I'm off on back roads, it's best to go slow and allow yourself to be distracted by things that catch your eye or fire the imagination. I got there just as it opened, early in the morning stillness. 

I wrote about the place here on Open Salon, and the anachronistic disconnect it induces in this post: Time And Again. It's worth a visit again just to see the images that evoke prehistory.

I started off by visiting the location called The Blue Hole, so named because of a deep depression in the lazy and meandering Paluxy River that runs through the site. It's long been a swimming hole. And for much much longer than that, it's hosted some dinosaur footprints on the limestone ledges at the edge of the pool. Before you actually get to the footprints you come across a curious sign:

The sign reads: Life Jugs: Throw To A Drowning Person. I'd never seen a Life Jug before, but it makes as much sense as a life preserver, and is probably a bit cheaper to have on hand and more easily replaced if gone missing. I put the photo up on Flickr with the title of Life Jugs, which was probably a mistake, since there is a worldwide contingent of voyeurs who use the word jugs in the Flickr search fields to fuel their prurient interests.

Theropod tracks, probably that of the 20- to 30-foot-long carnosaur Acrocanthosaurus

The remains of a more modern reptile near the Blue Hole

The Blue Hole

I love the theropod toenails

One of the advantages of getting to a place early is the possibility of seeing things that you might otherwise miss. Off in the distance as I was inspecting some dinosaur tracks just barely submerged in the Paluxy River I saw some fellow creatures also crossing the river.

Since I didn't have a long telephoto lens with me you'll have to click through on the image to select a larger size to see the three deer crossing the river, or click here

After spending a lovely hour wandering the park in complete solitude I saw one of the deer as I was leaving. You can't really tell in this view, but I noticed that she was either pregnant or had just given birth. I think they know they're in a refuge and that most people intend no harm, though she was alert and cautious.

The work was completed at my son's studio space, and enjoyed the time with him and his good friend Maggie. I made dinner for them that first night—a recipe of my own. Actually, it was an appetizer that substituted for dinner—sort of a polenta ersatz pizza—rounds of sauteed polenta with a hatch chili sauce, pulled bbq pork, sauteed onions and topped with goat cheese then broiled to a toasty perfection. We went out to dinner the next night, Sushi Zushi, where I had tempura veggies and they ate bait. It was time to get back, and among more pressing matters, to tell you about the trip.

I mentioned that I was going back to visit a favorite place of mine, Enchanted Rock, on the way home, and probably go through a string of small towns including one named Hamilton. (Hamilton is a gem of a place, with beautiful stately homes, ancient huge trees, and just the right size to support businesses and a lovely community. There are some here on OS who know Hamilton well and can attest to that.)

The mention of Hamilton sparked something in my son's brain and he said I needed to visit Hamilton Pool. We researched and found that the two Hamiltons were not connected nor near each other, but I made plans to visit the pool on the way to the other places.

I'm so glad I did. What a find. I mean that it was a find for me. Austinites and visitors from all over have known and enjoyed Hamilton Pool—and there are artifacts that prove that Native Americans—Tonkawa, Lipans and more recently Apaches—used the site thousands of years ago.

Hamilton Pool interrupts the spring fed meandering Hamilton Creek on its way to the Perdernales River. The pool itself is in the middle of an ancient collapsed grotto. Yes, the thought crossed my mind that if it collapsed before it could collapse again, especially since I was visiting.

The Hamilton Pool Preserve is a little bit quirky, which suits the most frequent visitor—those from Austin just 25 miles or so to the east. It's been a favorite swimming hole since the early 60s. The site comprises 232 acres of protected natural habitat where everything is preserved. You're not allowed to disturb anything, be it fauna, flora or geology. There is no gathering of the abundant fossils found in the exposed sandstone ledges and you may not collect rocks or plant samples. No pets are allowed, expressly dogs, as they tend to have too much fun rooting around and disturbing the wildlife. In fact, you're not allowed to have a dog left in your vehicle during your visit. This speaks to hellish heat during the height of summer and one of the main reasons for visiting and using the pool to cool off.

The Preserve's water quality is monitored and no chemical treatment is allowed. If the water shows evidence of summertime pathogens, the site will close until the quality is restored. Additionally, the site only has parking spaces available for 75 vehicles. Once those spaces are used up, you're not allowed in until a vehicle leaves, so during the busiest months cars are lined up at the ranger's gate waiting to get in.

I arrived when it opened at 9:00 a.m. I spent three hours hiking the two trails and walking around and around the pool. It was only when I was leaving that I saw another soul—several in fact—five octogenarians birding with their books and binoculars.

There's a sign at the beginning of the trail saying that it's not stroller compatible, indeed, it doesn't appear that there is any handicapped access available. The quarter-mile hike down to the pool is steep and rocky, but a canopy of cedars, cottonwood and other deciduous trees make it an enjoyable walk.

View to the southwest, showing the hanging ferns and stalagtites that are formed and grow from the aquifer seeps finding their way through the overhead limestone strata.

The pool is terrific, but don't neglect the trail that follows Hamilton Creek as it finds its way to the Perdernales River. It's less than a mile one way, and a beautiful tree lined leisurely stroll. Along the way you might see the endangered golden-cheeked warbler. Birds abound, and you'll hear an amazing symphony. 

Along the way you'll see evidence of other denizens. Here we see some berry scat, probably from the abundant but mostly invisible raccoons.

Eventually you'll make it to the Perdernales. The water is much cooler than the pool upstream, but it's a gloriously beautiful little river, so typical of Central Texas streams that meander over limestone and bedrock on their way to the Gulf.

Looking north

Deer and bbd tracks

Looking south

If you're anywhere near the area, it's worth stopping for a dip or a hike. I think you should plan to get there when it opens though to avoid some of the crowds. I was lucky to have it to myself during a weekday and after a cold spell. 

Thanks again for visiting, and for coming along on the back roads with me. I hope you enjoyed this trip. As I mentioned, I'm really behind on getting up some posts that are in various stages of completion. There are several that I'm doing some background research on, and they'll get up on OS eventually.

all photos copyright © 2011 by barry b. doyle · all rights reserved

Please note: the graphic images that I occasionally use to separate small chapters are from www.ronandjoe.com. Ron and Joe are brothers and graphic artists that produce wonderful and hilarious content. Their mom still makes them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that they eat at the yellow formica table in her kitchen—which is also where they work. She also contributes pasta recipes on occasion for their website. I've used their images for about 15 years, back to when I was doing some award-winning newsletters and page layout graphics for the Dallas Independent School District. All the images that I've used here and in previous posts that come from Ron and Joe are ones that I've personally purchased and are used by permission. They are copyright ArtParts/RonandJoe.com

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