Texas - Day 138 - Kickapoo Cavern to Lost Maples

Lost Maples State Natural Area, Vanderpool

Sunday, 21 March 2021

An oddity of the Kickapoo Cavern State Park is that they offered no trash disposal.  They told us to pack out what we brought in.  There were no dumpsters or trash cans or any other receptacle for waste products (other than the bathroom).

today's route

After leaving the park, I was driving along a farm-to-market road when I saw a group of 6 deer beside the road, including 1 stag and 2 fawns.  All these deer absolutely panicked as I came near - as I've noticed other deer doing when I pass them on the highway - but these couldn't figure out anywhere to go.  The fence that bounded the property along the road was built - probably deliberately - too high for them to jump and strong enough to remain standing when they tried to jump anyway and bounced off the fence instead.  

I was afraid to try to pass them, because of previous incidents of deer running across the road right in front of me, and this vehicle doesn't brake on a dime, so we kept up this bizarre chase for more than a mile.  Finally I realized they'd run themselves to death if I didn't pass, because they had nowhere else to go and were clearly not getting over their panic.  And just as I was pulling over into the oncoming lane to pass them, someone came up from behind me and tried to pass me on the right, in my own lane.  So I moved back over a bit, and by then I guess the other driver had seen the deer because he quit trying to get around me - but I clearly had to do something.  So I took a chance and speeded up enough to pass the deer just as someone came by in the opposite direction.  And then the guy behind me passed, probably disgusted with someone who doesn't know how to drive around deer.

I was glad to be past the deer myself and assume they figured out a way to get to safety before they next car came along.  But I am still surprised at their reaction.  They were running at close to 30 mph for a long way.  Adrenaline can do wonders, which I suppose is what fueled the whole thing.

I passed more of those brown-headed sheep.

At Brackettville I picked up TX Hwy. 131, heading south to Eagle Pass.  An oddity of that highway is that there's a prison at each end.

I saw 9 Caracaras today, an all-time high for me; often they were in pairs.

Near Eagle Pass I saw another one of those signs saying, "Warning - Tick Eradication Quarantine Line."

It took me an hour and a half to get from the campground to the county courthouse in Eagle Pass, and I'm really glad I made the effort.  The highway department didn't put up a sign, but I can tell you that with 26,255 residents in 2010, and being a county seat, it deserves a sign.   

This is the current courthouse:

Maverick County Courthouse
in Eagle Pass

And just around the corner lies the previous courthouse:

This earlier one was built in 1885 and every website I can find sings its praises.  I can't find anybody who wants to tell me when the new one was built; in fact, only one of them even mentions that there is a new one, which was in existence when they wrote that mention in 2006.  But aesthetically, the old one is superior even though the new one escaped mediocrity.  You can see a historical marker on the old one and here's a closer view.

not only history of the courthouse and the county but also early scandal

Next door to the old courthouse is the public library, which has its own history.

There were other historical markers in this area which were unfortunately on granite.  I had a really hard time reading them when I stood in front of them, and my photos just can't pick out the letters from the grain in the granite.  But I did get this metal one about the county and El Camino Real.

After the dogs and I walked around the block here, we got back on the road where, once more, Google's directions were for the birds.  It took me some extra time to figure out where I'd ended up and how to get where I wanted to go.  In the process I noticed the flashing lights of 2 Border Patrol cars at a house, possibly denoting trauma for some family.

Eagle Pass is a border crossing, and as I got back on the road I saw a sign saying "Welcome to Texas - Drive Friendly, The Texas Way."  But since the message was only in English, I'm not sure how welcomed a visitor from across the border would feel.  

I passed the Consulado de México, and that sign was only in Spanish.  In fact, I saw several billboards that were only in Spanish and several others that were bilingual.  Eagle Pass seems more bilingual than the other border towns I've visited.

All traffic was stopped at a Border Patrol Inspection Station.  They had a sign saying, "K9 on Duty - Restrain Your Pets," and they had it in both languages, sensibly.  I noticed that their machines took a photo not only of the driver, but also a side view of the vehicle and a rear view that included the license plate, and I can't help but wonder what they do with all that information.  

When it came my turn with the agent, he asked me, "Are you a US citizen?"  That's the only question I've been asked at any of these stops I've been through.  And they always accept my answer without question.  And it's not my accent they're going by, as several times I've just nodded.  I could be Canadian - and I understand there are a surprising number of them here in the US illegally, having overstayed their visas.  I could be European.  I could be hiding a half dozen foreigners in the back of the RV - they don't look at anything but Dexter sitting alertly in the passenger seat.  Seems odd to me.

I drove through miles and miles of land that isn't being used for anything that I could see.  No cows or crops or even oil wells.  Just uncleared and unplowed miles of scrub brush.  In a way, that's kind of reassuring - that there's still space in this country where nothing's happening.

I got 2 light-flashing thank yous today.

I turned north at a town called La Pryor, and that name perplexes me.  Wikipedia says it was named for the Mr. Pryor who owned the land, but I don't know why they stuck that article "la" in front of it.  The highway sign didn't include the population, which Wiki says was 1,643 in 2010.  And the only other thing I can say about it is that 41% of its residents live below the poverty line.  But it seems to be supporting the agricultural area surrounding it, and nobody goes into farming to get rich.

Both before and after I came to La Pryor, I saw large fields full of some green, grassy crop.  It didn't look like turf grass, but I also couldn't identify it with any vegetable I know.  Whatever it was, they were growing a lot of it down there.

I crossed the Nueces River and noticed it too had a very low water level.  And in what may be a related notice, I saw a sign saying, "Driving in Riverbeds Prohibited by State Law."  That's a law I didn't know about, though it makes sense for a lot of reasons.

With relief I came to a section of the road that had been very recently repaved.  They'd used a new kind of surface to alert drivers to the centerline and shoulder line - it was much rougher than the usual markers and highly reflective.

I came to Uvalde, pop. 15,751, established in 1855, and a county seat.

Uvalde County Courthouse
in Uvalde

The highway department sign didn't tell me the population, and when I looked it up I also learned that Uvalde is considered one of the best soaring locations in the US.  It has twice hosted the World Gliding Championships.  Who knew?

What I did learn myself is that it looks like a nice town with a very nice municipal park and this lovely old opera house on the square.

see details below

the finial on the tower

Uvalde is a Tree City USA.  And I hadn't realized that, geographically, it's considered to be the southern edge of the Texas Hill Country, or the northern edge of South Texas, depending on your point of view.

From Uvalde I drove another 42 miles toward Hondo, passing a lot more of that grassy crop, plus other fields of plants that were just starting to show above ground.

I crossed the Dry Frio River (dry), and then the Frio River (also dry).

I went through the town of Knippa (with 689 residents), where the high school teams are known as the Rockcrushers.  As far as I can tell, there's a quarry nearby owned by Vulcan Materials Co., which bills itself as the "nation's largest producer of construction aggregates," and I'm guessing it's the town's primary employer.

I started seeing bluebonnets along the road.  I was afraid I'd be leaving Texas before they really came out, so I'm glad I've gotten to see at least a few.

Hondo is another town that didn't get a sign but it too is a county seat and has 8,803 residents.  Seriously, are these signs being stolen?  If not, what criteria does the highway department use?  At any rate, Hondo itself put up a sign: "Welcome - This is God's country - Please don't drive through it like hell."

Medina County Courthouse
in Hondo

Those flags are at half-staff, by the way, for the victims of the insane shootings at those massage parlors in Georgia.

Here's the historical marker that gives information about the courthouse.

I thought the back of the building was as attractive as the front, and this photo shows more building details.

On the edge of that photo you can see part of the old jail, so here's the front and a marker explaining its history.

Old Medina County Jail

On one side of the courthouse square, I noticed a nice little picnic area that I'm sure is very popular with the courthouse staff.  It's odd because as soon as I saw it, I thought something like this would make a good Eagle Scout project.  And it turns out a plaque said that's exactly what this was.

And finally, back around to the front of the building, I was curious about the plaque I saw near a tree, and was glad I bothered to go look.

the Stephen F. Austin
Memorial Oak

I stopped at the local HEB and wished I hadn't.  I know HEB is beloved by everybody else in Texas, but those stores always irritate me because they carry only their own brands, or shove the national brands into a tiny corner of one shelf.  I got the bare minimum and got out as quickly as I could.

Up until this point I hadn't seen any Trump signs/flags today, but when I turned down a farm-to-market road on my way to Utopia, I saw 5 in one neighborhood, including one that accompanied a Confederate Battle Flag.

But I also saw a Scissortail, and a lot of cows and more planted fields.  The countryside held mostly oaks, with still a lot of mesquite and cactus.

I saw some more of those deer-like critters, white and brown with long, thin, curved-back antlers.

I saw a line of sizeable hills to the west, but they're not shown on the AAA map, and though Google maps shows them, it doesn't identify them.

I came to Utopia - not incorporated but with 227 residents in 2010.  They have their own sign: "Welcome to Utopia - A Paradise - Let's Keep It Nice."  The town's information page says it's located in the Sabinal Canyon, and there's a Sabinal Canyon Museum in town, but that's all the information I can find about this canyon.

But more research tells me that Lost Maples State Natural Area, where I'm heading, is also in this canyon, so it must be a long one.  And apparently not too deep in places, because in the Utopia area I wasn't seeing canyon walls.

The road ran along the Sabinal River, and I crossed it 7 times.  All along the way I saw signs saying "Save Our Sabinal," sponsored by the Bandera Canyonlands Alliance.  Apparently area residents have become concerned that a Young Life facility nearby is discharging untreated wastewater into the Sabinal (not very Christian of them).  If this is true, it's no wonder the neighbors are concerned.  They've got a petition online they're asking people to sign, hoping to pressure the national Young Life office in Colorado to rethink their corporate responsibilities.

The Sabinal, by the way, looked like it had plenty of water, unlike most of the others I've been seeing.

I passed 2 Miatas, both with their tops down, traveling together.  This road that's full of s-curves and warnings to slow down on curves would be perfect for that car.  I still haven't quite gotten over having to sell mine, though that was nearly 20 years ago.  But true love lasts forever.

In the nearly non-existent town of Vanderpool, population 22 in 1990, I passed the Lone Star Motorcycle Museum.  It offers a collection that dates back to 1910, they say.  But they especially tout their location "in the heart of the Texas Hill Country with beautiful motorcycling roads all around."

And then on to Lost Maples, where I'll be staying 2 nights, for a change.  After driving more than 240 miles today, and driving every day for 9 days in a row, I'm pretty tired and need the break.