Circling the U.S. Chapter 71: Texas Hill Country

Wednesday, January 29 - Thursday, February 6, 2020

Having met our deadline to connect with our kids in San Antonio, we now felt no time pressure so we decided to check out Texas' Hill Country. Adventure Cycling publishes a loop that starts and ends in Austin, that we could pick up north of San Antonio. But first we detoured to Seguin because a friend told me that her husband's cousin has a nutcracker museum there. We thought it would be fun to check it out and maybe meet the cousin. So on Wednesday, after visiting the McNay Art Museum, we rode 37 miles on more chip-seal highways to Seguin where we spent the night at a Motel 6, my least favorite cheap lodging.

Thursday, January 30, we started the day with a five-mile ride to Pape's Nutcracker Museum on the outskirts of Seguin. I'm always fascinated by people who have a unique passion. 

The museum and gift shop is part of a larger business that supports anything having to do with pecans:
https://papepecan.com/about/

Kenneth Pape, the man who collected over 8000 nutcrackers, passed away several months ago from Parkinson's Disease. His wife has dementia and is in a nursing home and their son is deceased. James, a nephew on the wife's side of the family, runs all aspects of the business.

Kenneth Pape's passion for collecting nutcrackers probably followed naturally from his pecan business. He would find them during his travels and on the internet and e-bay. 

I had no idea there were so many different kinds of nutcrackers out there. When I think of nutcrackers I envision the soldier that comes to life in Tchaikovsky's "Nutcracker Ballet." We saw sports figures, cartoon characters, and nutcrackers dressed in traditional German garb.

I asked one of the store clerks, "Do these nutcrackers actually work?" 

She said, "No. They are really just art, or craft pieces."

In addition to the 'art' nutcrackers, Kenneth collected hundreds of functional ones as well.

I wonder, what happens when the driving force behind a passion like this passes away? Will James continue to keep the gift shop and museum open? One of the women who works in the store told me that they are a stop on the bus tour circuit. I can easily picture tourists lining up at the cash register to buy bags of mixed nuts and candied pecans. I convinced Rob that we had to buy a bag of dark chocolate-covered pecans.

From Seguin we rode 19 miles to New Braunfels, settled by Germans in the mid-nineteenth century, arriving by lunch time.

We stopped for a tour of the Conservation Village located several miles from downtown New Braunfels, where several acres have been set aside for the relocation and restoration of historical buildings from around New Braunfels. The Germans were cotton farmers and I was curious to know if they were also slave holders. George, our tour guide, told us they were not, but they fought on the side of the south in the Civil War because they were told that if the south lost their land would be taken away. I guess they had their own version of Fox News back then.

By afternoon the day had turned gray, cold, and windy. Neither of us wanted to camp. A little bit of research and a phone call brought us to a lovely inn, the Gruene River Inn, in historic Gruene (pronounced "Green").  Gruene is actually part of New Braunfels, but sits about five miles from central New Braunfels, off by itself with a rural small-town feel. I spent the rest of the afternoon curled up in a window seat with tea and chocolate and a good book. Rob took a nap. Then we went out to dinner.

We spent many relaxing hours at the Gruene River Inn. Our room overlooked the river as did the dining area where we ate our breakfast. Tea and snacks were available at all hours.

Upon awakening on Friday, January 31, Rob declared that he wanted to see a doctor because his foot hurt. I said that it was arthritis and he wouldn't learn anything that he wasn't already told by the doctor six months ago in Wisconsin. But he was determined and the forecast was for another cold and windy day and I really liked where we were staying so I let him get his way. 

While Rob went urgent care I bicycled to downtown New Braunfels, to check out its historic buildings and murals. It's a very bustling town, and has several museums, but a cursory tour sufficed for me. This mural celebrates the town's German heritage.

Friday afternoon we wandered around Gruene, which consisted of just a couple short streets with a winery, craft shops, and art galleries in historic buildings.

Gruene Hall, built in 1878, is Texas' most famous and oldest continually operating dance halls. Inside is a bar and large rustic dance hall, furnished only with long wooden picnic tables and benches. The hall hosts live music every night, often free.

The highlight of our day was a free evening concert in the historic Gruene Hall. Ezra Charles is an amazing pianist. I have no idea how old he is, but he's up there. Evidently he tried to retire. He's written many of his own songs and plays lots of stuff that was popular when he was young. He describes his music as Texas Boogie Woogie and Blues. When he came out of retirement he put together a band with an acoustic bass, trombone, and his son on drums, who is incredible. They played three sets. We stayed for all of them. Click below to see a a couple short videos:

https://photos.google.com/photo/AF1QipMMfJHNUzOtYB7qT6cXatlXBQkfOhZeRDCthfj2

https://photos.google.com/photo/AF1QipODlf84djoSDH01TOIM4D-X21Wp4L6TmlEYFf3l

We left Gruene shortly after nine o'clock in the morning on Saturday, February 1, and didn't get to Blanco until after five o'clock, after riding 51 miles. A head wind didn't help. Though challenging - they don't call it Hill Country for nothing - the riding was pleasant enough. 

We started out riding along a river that, during the warm months, is very popular for tubing. We saw several fishermen out in the middle of it.

Compared to other states, especially in the west, Texas has very little public land. My understanding is that they sold it all to pay off its debts after it was admitted into the United States. 

We passed dozens of picnic tables along the river, all fenced off, and not a single public access spot until we arrived at Blanco State Park.

Barbed wire prevented us from stopping anywhere along the river and there was not a single public boat launching site. It appeared that anyone wanting to go tubing would have to pay one of the private property owners for river access. Same thing if you wanted to enjoy a picnic lunch or barbecue along the river on a beautiful summer day. 

We stopped at this historic store in Fischer. A small farmer's market was set out in back where we were able to pick up a few vegetables from a tall middle-aged guy wearing a black T-shirt with a small picture of an assault-style gun on it. Underneath it said, "Go ahead. Come and take it."

When I came to a cemetery by this small church, I thought it looked like a good place to stop for a rest. A young couple with their motorcycles was also there. They told me they were engaged and wanted to have their wedding inside the church but were getting pushback from the Catholic hierarchy. 

The church is no longer in use but was open and is beautiful  in its simplicity. The young man's parents were married here. They are both deceased. He said it would really mean a lot to him to have the wedding here. I imagine that would be his way of having his parents take part in his joy. I suggested they just go ahead and do it. It's in the middle of nowhere. Who would know? I wished them good luck.

After the couple took off on their motorcycles, Rob and I enjoyed a snack, sitting on a bench outside the church. Like everywhere else in Texas, going to the bathroom presented a problem, likely the reason the young couple was having trouble getting permission to use the church for their wedding. No bathroom inside. As usual thoughout Texas, I had to count on the fact that traffic was scarce when taking care of business.

We rode on a quiet back road that took us through, rather than past, some small ranches. Rob said it felt like we were riding on someone's driveway. We crossed a bunch of cattle guards. The lack of barbed wire lent it a peaceful mood.

We weren't worried about getting a campsite because someone had told had us that they don't turn away cyclists at state parks in Texas.  Someone was wrong. 

When we arrived at the state park a CAMPGROUND FULL sign greeted us. The office was closed. We rode through the campground looking for someone who might be willing to share their site. We stopped at the host's site where two older couples were sitting around a picnic table. 

The campground host was, as is often the case, an older couple. I explained our predicament, that we had expected to be able to camp. I said, "We just need a small patch of grass to pitch our tent."

The wife began suggesting motels nearby. I ignored her; she clearly was not an ally. I looked directly at the husband and said, " Our tent is small; it doesn't take up much room." He hesitated, then said, "I guess you could set up over there," and pointed to the large grassy spot behind them. Then the other couple visiting offered to let us camp with them. Beverly and Gordan are full-time RVers from Maryland. They weren't using their picnic table, just warned us to watch out for the red ant hills. They didn't seem to be interested in visiting with us - just went into their RV and hung out there the rest of the night - but we were happy for their generosity.

After dinner we ventured out of the campground to explore the town but didn't see much worth exploring when we got back to the highway. But in the morning we found the historic downtown and were sorry to have missed it.

Our destination on Sunday, February 2, was Fredericksburg, a small city I was looking forward to visiting as someone I hiked with said it was a great base for good cycling. Of course we had more hills, no surprise there. We also had that west wind we'd been wanting so badly. The only problem was, now we were heading west. 

In rural parts of New Hampshire, often the only indication that you have arrived in a town will be the church. In this part of Texas it's the dance hall. There was nothing else in Albert, Texas, but we were able to sit at a picnic table and enjoy a snack and a brief rest.

Albert's dance hall from the other side.

Mostly we had pleasant riding on quiet country roads, but I wouldn't give the scenery anything more than a C+. We passed lots of farmland but it was mostly brown with many barren trees. I imagine it's prettier in the spring when the wildflowers are blooming.

We stopped briefly at the LBJ historical park which covers many acres and includes an historic town site and visitor's center. The Texas White House was being renovated and wasn't open for tours so we weren't tempted to ride the 14 mile detour just to see the grounds. 

After 43 miles we arrived in Fredericksburg in time for an early dinner at one of the few restaurants not closed for the Super Bowl. I ordered weiner schnitzel with hot potato salad and red cabbage. Given the strong German culture of this area it seemed like the thing to do. My meal was delicious. I only wished that the serving of potato salad was larger.

We camped at the Lady Bird Johnson County Park just outside of town. Unlike the previous night, the campground had plenty of room. While Rob is not as keen on camping - he prefers a comfortable bed - I was happy to be outside again, appreciating the expansive views. 

On Monday, February 3, it was warm and lovely when we woke up. We had breakfast while watching the sunrise, packed up, and went for a short walk on a nature trail. The ride back to town, grocery shopping, and a brief stop at a bike shop brought us to 11:30 and lunch at a German restaurant. 

Fredricksburg is a charming old German town, filled with many historic buildings like this one.

Our plan was to bicycle about 20 miles to Enchanted Rock State Park where we would camp, do some hiking and explore the rock formations. The weather called for the temperature to be in the seventies, mostly cloudy, and in the fifties overnight. But after lunch the sky became overcast and the temperature plummeted and it began to rain. We visited a couple art galleries.  

Oftentimes we'll pop into a local art gallery only to find it filled with amateur art of dubious quality. This was not the case in Fredericksburg. The Good Art Company featured many artists whose work sold for several thousand dollars, worth every penny.

Lee Alban

"Dreams Are Wiser Than Men"

(The photo that looks like it's taped to the painting is really part of the painting.)

Anne-Marie Kornachuk
"Cocoon"

By two o'clock the weather wasn't looking too promising, with  a cold wind and dark sky. Bicycling and camping had lost their appeal. But we had another option. We had previously contacted John through Warm Showers, requesting to stay with him Sunday night. He replied that, while he was unavailable Sunday, we could stay Monday. I gave him a call and he said the offer was still good. We scrapped plans to bike anywhere and spent the rest of the afternoon exploring more art galleries and spending some time in the library. 

I continue to be impressed with the quality, not to mention the architecture, of the many local libraries we've visited.

As disappointed as I was that we had to give Enchanted Rock State Park a miss, it was worth it to be able to spend time with John and Brenda, two generous and engaging people. They also have a sense of humor. Dallas people themselves, they have a sign that says, "Life is too short to live in Dallas."

John showed us his photograph collection which includes some of his own beautiful prints. He and Brenda have gone on many bike tours in addition to leading quite a few so of course we talked about bicycling. And we talked about the challenges brought on by old age health problems such where to live when the lack of oxygen at higher elevations becomes a problem.

On Tuesday, February 4, my brother's birthday, it seemed appropriate that I thought about him while riding my bike. Frank would have been 67.  He was my first bicycling partner. When we were living in West Virginia we'd set out on our bikes - three-speed English racers - for an all-day exploration of the county's back roads, climbing one hill after another. He was in high school and I was in junior high. We both hated living in West Virginia but we enjoyed our bike rides together.

We had more hills and some wind on Tuesday. The scenery was a little more interesting, with some rocky outcrops. I passed two very large dead javelinas by the side of the road and one freshly killed skunk. There were more carcasses, too many to count. 

We also saw lots of white-tailed deer bounding across the road. We were on quiet country roads all day. It was really quite pleasant except there was no place to stop. We ate lunch sitting by the side of the road.

We'd ridden over countless cattle crossings in the past couple days. The signs say "Loose Livestock," and there they were, a line of cattle strolling along both sides of the road toward us. But we spooked them and, as Rob rode ahead of me, I watched one turn and run alongside Rob and then cross the road in front of him. A couple others also started crossing the road in front of us, then got confused and went back to where they'd started. We rode slowly while they made up their minds on where they wanted to go. 

The thing that's really unnerving about all this barbed wire is that even the driveways and private roads have gates across them. Which is terrific when there's a dog ready to charge, but not so good when you wonder what you would do if you needed help.  What if we had a medical emergency and no cell phone service? Or if we ran out of water? In other parts of the country, we've knocked on people's doors and asked for some. Not here. 

We arrived in Llano around 2:30 after riding 48 miles. Sadly, it was too cold to camp so we checked into the Lone Star Inn, appropriately named. We showered, had tea and a snack in our room, and then walked around the town. There wasn't much. Lots of thrift shops and an ammo store that sold signs supporting Trump and anti-liberal T-shirts. We checked out a coffee shop that hosted bible studies and music and had a prayer jar. It felt too much like church so we didn't stay.

We passed this sculpture in a small park in downtown Llano.

Wednesday, February 5, was cold, cold enough to stay bundled up all day - hat, neck buff, long-sleeved shirt, riding shirt, fleece sweater, windbreaker, mittens, tights, wool socks, shoe covers. Not a single layer came off, the first time that has happened this entire trip. I did okay, but Rob complained. Fortunately we passed a couple convenience stores that had seating inside where we could warm up and eat a snack.

When we stopped here we didn't realize we were entering a historical landmark. The Bluffton Store was established in 1848, but not at its current location. Its original site is presently at the bottom of Buchanan Lake, created when the Colorado River was dammed in 1938.

We had a lovely conversation with this woman who worked at the Bluffton Store. She entertained us with her story of how her husband tricked her into settling here. She reluctantly agreed to look at a house that he wanted to buy on Buchanan Lake, not knowing that he had already put money down on it. She's had not a single regret about living where this little store  is the closest thing to civilization for many miles.

Occasional rock formations added some interest to the scenery.

Generally the views were uninspiring but at least we weren't dealing with rough chip seal.

After 36 miles, at 2:00 we arrived in Burnet. As cold as it was, we were done for the day. I had hopes of finding a coffee shop where we could hunker down and I could work on my blog. The downtown was charming. We've been finding many of these Texas towns set up in a similar way, with a courthouse in the middle of a town square, and four blocks of shops surrounding it. 

We found a coffee shop with internet, called Unshakable Grounds. It was toasty warm inside and they had an assortment of pastries and Jesus sayings on the walls and counter. 

This is now two days in a row that we stumbled upon "Christian" coffee shops. (I put "Christian" in quotes because, given my understanding of Christianity, I personally don't think a lot of people who call themselves Christians truly are. For example, I don't see how anyone calling themselves a Christian could vote for someone who emanates as much hate for the downtrodden as our current president does.) This is something new for me. Is it a southern thing or  just in Texas, or only in Hill Country? 

We were hungry and cold, captivated by the warm atmosphere of the place.

They had a selection of four different soups for under four dollars which seemed like a good thing to have to warm up. I figured we'd hang out for a while. I don't think Rob cares as much but I was getting tired of hanging out in cheap motel rooms. 

The soup was good. Then I thought about getting a cup of tea but started thinking that maybe I was in enemy territory. Maybe the profits were going to help advance the Trump agenda of putting conservative judges in lifetime appointments throughout the country. How could I find out? I walked up to the counter and said to the young woman working there, "I see you are obviously a Christian business. I'm wondering if your profits are supporting any organizations." She referred me to the owner who was by the door tying up a trash bag. I said, "I like to support local businesses and I like to know what my money is supporting when I shop." 

She said, "We support the pregnancy counseling center here in town."

"Is it pro-life?" I asked.

"Yes, it is."

I went back to our table and sat down. I told Rob, "Dang. Now I can't order any tea." 

I worked on my blog for a while. Rob read a book. Then we went in search of the Comfort Inn & Suites where we'd booked a room.

"I keep my eyes always on the Lord. With Him at my right hand I will not be shaken." I felt like I was in church, not a place where I normally choose to spend time.

Thursday, February 6, 56 miles slipped by rather pleasantly. We were on quiet country roads until the last ten miles as we approached Austin. We spent the night in an Econolodge about ten miles north of downtown. 

It was still pretty cold, but the sky was clear. For some reason a blue sky keeps the cold from soaking into your bones. There was no place to stop for lunch except along the side of the road. We finally found a coffee shop after 40 miles, a deserted place in a strip mall. 

We've finished our exploration of Texas' Hill Country. I can't say that I am overly impressed. While we climbed a good many hills,  we were not rewarded with expansive views from the tops. I am trying to imagine what this looks like when it is green and filled with wildflowers; in February it is gray and barren. We enjoyed our time in Gruene and Fredericksburg and perhaps a return trip with a car to see other historic towns in the area is warranted. And to visit the state parks we bypassed because we're old farts who didn't want to camp in the cold.