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by margaret
hundley parker
When
I think of Texas, I don't think of kayaking under
a waterfall, yet there I was. I had gone to Austin
to visit my friend and ex-band mate Lizzie, who'd
gone and gotten herself pregnant. I wanted to see
her before she got busy-but what were we going to
do now that she has to be good? It was supposed to
be hot for the next few days, so we wanted to be near
water. And whenever I leave New York I want peace
and quiet. So we sought out Canyon of the Eagles Lodge
& Nature Park on Lake Buchanan.
We
loaded Lizzie's pickup and headed out to Hill Country.
After an hour or so driving along the winding roads,
singing along to Tammy Wynette, we arrived at the
lodge in darkness. We went straight to the restaurant.
The menu was surprising; although we were out here
in the "wild," the food was very sophisticated.
We ordered after eavesdropping on the table next
to us - a couple in search of the perfect crab cake
wondered out loud if the search was over. In Texas?
Lizzie agreed the crab cakes were fabulous. I enjoyed
Portobello mushroom pasta. The food was Texas with
a touch of Europe. It's a dry county, so there's
no booze on the menu, but you're welcome to bring
your own stash.
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After
dinner we had to find our cabin in the dark. Although
the nice young man at the desk had given us a map,
it meant nothing in the velvety black. We got a
bit lost. There we were, with our full bellies,
the perfect meal for night animals. I heard a critter
shuffling around the leaves, but neither one of
us could tell what it was. A few squeals later,
we found our cabin. We collapsed into the comfy
beds with the homemade quilts and soft pillows,
and left the windows open so we could hear the wind
blow.
When
I got up the next morning, I was surprised at how
different everything looked in the daylight. Instead
of man-eating beasts, green trees and a view of
the lake surrounded us. A roadrunner stood defiantly
near me. I realized the Canyon Room where we'd had
dinner was in sight, and that we'd walked around
in circles the night before. The monster we'd heard
was probably a little armadillo.
That
morning was unexpectedly cold. I'd forgotten a golden
rule of travel: always bring an extra layer. Although
the waterfall and kayaks awaited us, my flimsy shorts
and tee shirt were insufficient. Kayaking would
have to wait. Instead, Lizzie and I decided to embark
upon the Vanishing Texas River Cruise, a slow moving
boat with an enclosed bottom deck. We huddled inside,
peeking out the windows at great blue herons, egrets,
and mountain goats perched on the rocks surrounding
the lake.
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After
the cruise, the sun began to burn through the fog,
so Lizzie and I joined a few other guests on a hike
with one of the park naturalists. We winded our way
through trails blanketed on all sides with colorful
prickly pear cacti, wine cups, Texas bluebonnets,
Indian blanket, and prairie cone flowers. It was an
explosion of color. By the time we got back to our
cabin, we were officially warm enough to jump in the
pool. The pool was like a pond, round and nestled
in limestone. We had it to ourselves this time, but
as the weekend began and the weather warmed up, it
would be filled with laughing children. (CONTINUED...) |
