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Published: March 6th 2018
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After my considerable faux-pas of the day before, the "committee" decided to let Cathy plan out our route across Texas, and I have to say, she did a bang-up job. The first bit was a little busy, as my boo-boo put us into Texas south of where I wanted us to be. So we had to skirt around Beaumont, and we were surprised by the amount of suburban sprawl up around Lake Conroe, and that was slow going. We did see something there we'd never seen before though. A Valero gas station with pumps in front, as usual, but also with a floating dock in back with more pumps for boats – pretty cool!
Once we cleared through there, it was smooth sailing on excellent country highways until we hit San Marcos and New Braunfels, where it got busy again. Lots of development in that part of the state, where the sprawl now fills the whole area between San Antonio and Austin. From there we headed west to meet up again with I 10 out in the Hill Country. We landed for the night at a nice rest stop near Comfort TX – noisy,
but comfortable.
The next morning we provisioned in a Wally-World in Kerrville, then after a short run on I 10 we set out on a long diagonal jog southwest toward Del Rio, and our objective of Lake Amistad. These were more typical Texas country highways, good pavement, low traffic, and high speed limits. The big business along this route, aside from the expected cattle ranching, was 'Exotic Hunting”. These are former ranch acreages that have been turned over to hosting all kinds of strange beasts imported from all around the world. These animals are born, raised, and cared for so that rich “sports” can blast them with high-powered rifles, and then hang their mounted heads on the walls of McMansions all over the country. Some business – some sport.
After a few more hours of passing miles of scub oak and mesquite, interrupted only by a few fancy iron gates, we arrived at the Rough Canyon Campground at Lake Amistad. I have passed by this Lake a couple of times, but had never stopped to spend any time there. It is an impoundment of the Rio Grand, and
it's huge. As big as it is though, it's a lot smaller than it used to be.
Years of drought, and increased use for irrigation upstream have caused the water level to fall far below what it once was. This has badly effected the local economy, and developments around the lake have begun to go to seed. The marina at Rough Canyon has gone out of business, and so has the one at the south end of the lake. All this water, and not a single place where you can buy gas for your boat, or tie it to a dock. All we saw for boats here are launch and retrieve fishing boats, and a bunch of really big houseboats, all of them falling into disrepair. From what we heard, the fishing is in serious decline as well. The bass tournaments that used to take place there have been discontinued, and the fish are fewer, and smaller. It's a sad state of affairs, not the complete Road Warrior/ post-apocalyptic scenes that you see on the East side of the Salton Sea in California, but getting there.
The lake itself though, is still beautiful. The water is blue, and while not the gin-glass clear conditions we're used to on our beloved St Lawrence, still pretty nice. The rock formations all around the lake and up the canyons are of limestone, eroded to fantastic shapes, and frequently shot through with caves. There are still some fish too, I caught several small bass, and I saw quite a few striped bass as well, though I could not get them to sample what I was offering them.
Our campsite at Rough Canyon, on the Devils River tributary of the lake was very nice. Situated high on a point overlooking the lake, and less then 50 yards from the dock where we moored our boat, it was ideal. No showers there, but a bath house with sinks and flushers, a picnic table, and a sun shade, all for $2 (with a Federal Old Farts Pass) a night, hard to beat! We made ourselves at home very comfortably there – good camping!
Before I continue about the camping though, I should take a moment to relate to all of you the ongoing tale of
our cantankerous old Swedish refrigerator. This is the original unit sold with our coach back in those halcyon days of the Carter administration. Last year on our trip, it worked great, after we learned how to properly set the thermostats. This year however, (unusual as that may be for a major appliance) it has developed an odd (perhaps Scandinavian?) sense of humor.
At first it seemed to work fine while on gas. Then, while on electricity at John's it started to display a frosty cold freezer, but a warm fridge, whether on gas or electric. Then, after a few more days the freezer no longer froze, but just got cold. “Well” says I, in my most confidant voice, “It's obviously dying, but we can still use the freezer as we would a fridge.” So when we left Johns, we put drinks, eggs, lunch meat and veggies in the top, and went on our merry way. When we arrived in the pan handle, we set up and started to put dinner together. Cathy asked for the lettuce, from the “upper chamber”. As you might have already guessed, for whatever reason, the old Swede had clearly been shaken from his slumbers, and had decided to get back to work. Every single item in there was frozen harder than a capitalist's heart. That included Cathy's prized head of garden lettuce, which exploded like a green confetti grenade when I pulled it out of the box. Woe is me....
Clearly something has gone afoul in it's mechanical control circuitry, and it has been displaying bi-polar symptoms ever since. You just never know what it will do next. It's behavior resulted in me deciding to buy a Yeti cooler – and that hurt my wallet so badly that I haven't been able to sit down on it since. No worries though, the sun has been shining on us, and we have been spending time on the water, so we have nothing to bitch about.
Our first day out on the lake it blew hard from the northwest, so we confined our venturing to some smaller canyons near our campsite. The next day, the winds died down, and we loaded Sporty up with 12 gals of gas and ran far up the Devils River. It was a perfect boating day, smooth water, clear skies, and miles of river winding between limestone headlands. We found a perfect little nook to sneak into to pull out for a lunch break. We pulled out our folding chairs and enjoyed our sandwiches, drinks, and fruit on a low bluff overlooking a long bend of the river, unforgettable.
Next, we'll be breaking camp again, heading west into New Mexico, the mountain time zone, and the real desert.
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Barb
non-member comment
Just joined your trip
Sounds like you are having a great time, so glad you decided to push on and explore as you had planned. Your blog makes me feel like I am sharing your rugged outdoor adventures while relaxing in the comfort of my living room (the full extent of my ruggedness at this juncture of my life). There was a time, though, when I would have loved it. Thanks for sharing. Forge on and have fun.