I was in pretty desperate need of a quick getaway. Between the news that I barely listen to anymore being forced into my brain via the digital world of modernity and a pretty rough week at my usually easy, plush job, plus minimal recent excursions from home for various reasons, I was really feeling the need to escape the dullness of daily grind life, so I forced the issue.
On Thursday, February 27, I made a campground reservation at Garner State Park, about a hundred miles west of my home in San Antonio, in the heart of Texas' Western Hill Country. I got my '12 Triumph Tiger as ready as possible, packed all my gear, and headed West on Highway 90 as early as possible Saturday morning, around 9am.
Upon my arrival, I set up camp at the site I had reserved near the bathrooms and showers in the Pecan Grove camping area (aptly named), then sat on my backpacking folding chair under a Pecan tree and ate my packed lunch of almond butter and apricot jam sandwiches with some pita chips, admiring how much can actually be packed on an adventure bike.
In my duffle that sits across the back seat and my panniers, I'm able to fit all my camping gear, and as I sat in the shade of the yet-to-bloom Pecan tree, I admired my setup. My yellow REI Trailmade 2 tent was set up near the concrete picnic table, the gentle wind rustling the rainfly. Inside of that was my thick yoga mat, which I'd brought rolled up and strapped to the top of my right pannier, my inflatable pillow, air mattress, and sleeping bag, all ready to receive me warmly later in the evening.
It was a virgin trip for the tent, but all my other gear had been used before on the various other trips I've shared.
View of my campsite from under the Pecan tree where I ate my lunch.
But first, an arduous hike was on my schedule, and it was a perfectly sunny and quickly warming seventy five degrees with a gentle breeze that was forecast to increase in the evening.
I'm 45, not in the best shape, but still consider myself pretty strong for whatever that's worth. However, I definitely struggled with getting to the top of Mount Baldy, and I honestly expected that. While I do yoga intermittently, walk around Woodlawn Lake a couple few times a week, wrench on bikes, and play drums almost daily, I probably don't get enough cardio, and that was very evident on my way up the steep, scraggly slopes. There's a lot of loose limestone rock, and you really have to pick your way carefully and slowly (if you like safety), but for the record, I would've run up it twenty years ago while smoking a cigarette, like a dumbass.
The elevation gain is dramatic from the get go, with steep natural steps climbing, climbing, climbing up the tall hill. There are several beautiful places to stop, rest, and take in the scenery, all while surrounded by Cedar, lots of smaller Oak, and all the small brushes and cacti that make up the ecology of the Hill Country, Agarita, Texas Persimmon, Sage, Prickly Pear, etc. Spring hadn't quite set in yet, so there weren't a ton of wildflowers yet, but there will be in just a few short weeks, and then the scents will be pretty amazing.
Making my way to Baldy
A baby Mountain Laurel growing in its weird spot, as they do.
I stopped several times on my way up, and I also went very slowly, quite intentionally, because the back injury from last year really did teach me a severe lesson in humility, and I refuse to overdo anything anymore. I just mowed the lawn the other day, and that's probably where it's hardest for me to be slow and take breaks, completely out of ridiculous habit, but seriously, I don't want to overdo it. I want to have fun on hikes and not risk injury. It's who I am now. *maniacal laughter*
There are a lot of natural steps up along the way, not in any kind of regular spacing, completely covered in limestone scree of all shapes and sizes. The trail is marked pretty well with lil yellow feet painted on the rock, which made me think it'd be much cooler to have stainless steel pins imbedded in the rock, but they've probably already tried something like that. I used my cheap Ozark Trail trekking poles the entire time I was on this hike, as I'd done on my longest hike in Arkansas during the Fall of last year. I won't hike without them now. Changed my life.
It's less than around a mile, but it took me a full hour to reach the summit. The average human walks around 3 mph, and I did it in at an average of 1 mph, breaks included. There's a massive pile of limestone boulders at the top, with a small American flag planted in it. I have not climbed this because there's always someone up there, and I'd rather sit under the shade of the biggest Cedar tree up there, where I ate a snack of pita chips and salted plums, overlooking the valleys to the West and South. Remember that the Texas Hill Country was cut (eroded) rather than uplifted, except for the Llano Uplift to the northeast of Garner, near Enchanted Rock and containing the oldest geology in Texas.
The shadiest Cedar on the summit of Mount Baldy
The Frio River Valley to the South
The Frio River to the East, along which Garner's campgrounds lay.
After chilling in the shade with my snacks and water for a while and walking around the top of Mount Baldy, I headed back down the Baldy trail to where it meets another called Foshee, and started making my way north along the west side of the ridge. Foshee basically takes you along that ridge for quite a while with lots of elevation changes and a nice long flat piece. There are a few forks off Foshee, and I'd like to explore them all eventually.
My hiking route outlined in red, about 4.4 miles (I think). TPWD map
Mount Baldy in the background over my left shoulder while I hike Foshee Trail. Listen to Burnout.
Mount Baldy on the left, far behind me at this point.
Foshee Trail heading North on the west side of the ridge.
Foshee Trail, now on the east side of the hill.
Juniper berries from the Cedars littered all the trails in various states of decay. I will probably make wine out these next year.
Natural steps cut out of the limestone over eons. Love to see it.
After taking my time along Foshee Trail, I eventually reached the junction of several trails shown above and decided to take the occasionally steeply descending Crystal Cave trail. The cave itself was just a cute lil thing, with some very shimmery rocks strewn about the bottom. It wasn't really tall enough for me to stand at 6', and it was full of other weirdos, so I snapped a couple quick pics and got out as quickly as possible.
The rest of the descent was pretty uneventful if steep and completely full of scree, a Texas standard, but it was really enjoyable to exert myself in almost perfect weather and be away from the things of man. I don't get reception at Garner at all unless I'm on the top of Baldy or on the Visitor's Center wifi at the entrance of the park, so I really was disconnected, and it was lovely. I missed my girl and the cat, but it was so refreshing to be hiking out in nature, in my favorite part of Texas.
That evening my friend Andy met me around dinner time, and we enjoyed simple meals, good conversation and the stars, slept well, and headed home the next morning.
I spend a lot of time riding my motorcycles in the Hill Country, but this was just so much more refreshing and absolutely necessary in that moment. The ride out there was great, but all the movement of the hike itself, the prolonged exertion, the fresh air blowing across my entire body, all amounted to a spiritually cleansing experience that I have always thought all of humanity needs more of, and that constantly.
Our genetic memories call out for us to use more of our brain chemistries than most of us ever do anymore. Fight or flight response isn't a part of most of our lives anymore, but our genes are like, "Dude, there's something wrong with us sitting here all the time," and it leads to all kinds of spiritual, physical, and mental maladies, in my humble opinion.
I feel I'm able to avoid a lot that (definitely not all of it) because I've always tried to stay busy with my music, writing, various landscape and construction projects, mechanics, reading, etc., but there's nothing like intense physical exertion to remind your body that you're actually a living human being, that there's much more to this world than our bills, taxes, the economy, and the politicians that are eternally fucking with it all, that life is good and you should live it well.
The real irony is that it's been a few days since I last sat to write this, and so much has happened in the world in the last week that just seems so terrible. I don't know when humanity will ever learn to stop fucking itself so terribly and just let everyone live and love, and I hope it doesn't take World War III for us to realize it as Roddenberry wrote it might.
In our household, we try to spend our money wisely with companies that aren't supporting imperialism, but alas, that machine is great, and sometimes escape from it is far more necessary for your mind and body than you might realize, and that goes doubly for me, who lived a previous life working outside every single day and now works in a home office in a home purchased just so we can work on the damned thing constantly. *maniacal laughter*
I have a lyric in one of the newer Wulfholt songs that goes, "You'll need this next for your home. Just sign the line, and we'll give you more." So take that, and dwell on it, cuz we're not doing the right thing for ourselves as a whole.
Good luck out there.
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