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Tamara
and Derek enter "the ditch," Menard's
centuries-old irrigation canal, about four miles
into our paddle. |
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The
Llano River crossing, swollen by rains upsteam
in its watershed, is impassable near London, Texas |
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Dark rain clouds menace the western sky, and
as we sit down for lunch at the Sideoats
Café & Bakery, a heavy downpour commences.
The Sideoats is located on U.S. Highway 83, the
main drag through the small town of Menard. It replaced Jay's
Hamburgers, which I remember as a decent place to eat -- a
place where I could get Blue Bell ice cream by the scoop.
This is now a wonderful place to eat. Prices
are still reasonable - under $10 for most entrees - but the
menu includes offerings like Cobb salad with grilled salmon,
steak topped with blue cheese and thick Reuben sandwiches.
Tamara and I both start the meal with a bowl of roasted eggplant
soup.
As we finish our lunch, Derek asks the waitress
if canned mutton is still available. A framed label on the
wall advertises the product under the brand "Fort McKavett,"
the name of the U.S. Army frontier post (and now a state
historic site) just up the road. The waitress checks with
the café's owner, who returns to tell us: "Not
in about 50 years."
The rain has stopped and we head to my friend
Brent Frazier's home on the other side of town. Brent runs
San
Saba River Adventures, a kayak guide and livery service
in Menard. Brent won't be paddling with us this day, but he
is providing kayaks and shuttle service.
We put in at the Bois d'Arc Road crossing (also
known as "8-Mile" for its distance from town). The
San Saba River, spring-fed and fast-flowing over limestone
bedrock, is inviting.
"See you in about four hours," I say
to Brent.
"Yeah … right," he answers. "Just
start paddling like crazy if you hit the buzzard roost and
it's after 6 p.m."
I'm notoriously slow on these streams.
But we do make it in time -- around the falls,
under the heron rookery and past the buzzard roost. We watch
clouds of butterflies mudpuddling along the banks and come
across a dense stand of bluebells. A shortcut down "the
ditch," an irrigation canal that started life as a Spanish
acequia in the mid-1700s, gets us to our takeout early.
We retrace our route to Ann and Derek's. At the
London crossing of the Llano River, county officials have
placed a barrier across the road. We walk down to the edge
of the raging stream, now pouring over the road in a cataract.
The Texas Department of Transportation safety
slogan flashes through my head: "Turn around, don't drown."
No way we're going to attempt to cross here. Derek gives me
the bad news: We'll have to swing west and then south through
Junction, a detour of about 60 miles, to reach his home though
it is just a few minutes beyond the river.
Tamara and I arrive back in Austin just before
midnight, tired from the day's adventure, full of the things
we've seen and done. We're grateful, too, to have encountered
no more downpours or flash flooding along our route.
The coming weeks will be filled with news of
people forced from their homes, of cars swept away at low-water
crossings and kayakers and rafters missing on the state's
streams and rivers.
The much-needed rain that will end Texas' yearlong
drought brings life, but takes it too.
Aaron
Reed
9/9/07
