Episode 88: Texas Is A State of Mind

On our fifth wedding anniversary, Perry wanted to take me to Austin, Texas, where he went to grad school and generally had a great time.. It was the place to be when he was there, where soon to be famous musicians like Stevie Ray Vaughn played all night for a $2 ticket, liquor was cheap, and millions of bats flew out from under the Congress Street Bridge to feed every night.

They still do.

By the time we arrived, Austin had begun changing, with shiny new high rises popping up here and there. Many years later there wasn't much of the old Austin to remember. But there was still much to see in the area.

Perry took me out and about in the country. We drove past a spit of land with perhaps 200 plastic flamingos stuck in the ground, each quivering in the wind. Eventually we found our way to Enchanted Rock. Perry was excited because he claimed you could see the start of the true West from the top.

Enchanted Rock is about 17 miles from Fredericksburg and is part of the Enchanted Rock State Natural Area. It covers roughly 640 acres and rises 425 feet above the surrounding terrain to a total elevation of 1,825 feet. It is the largest pink granite monadnock – or isolated rock or hill—in the United States.

Not-too-Enchanted Rock from my perspective.

None of these facts were shared with me before we began our ascent.

So we started up. Perry immediately transformed into a mountain goat, scampering up and down the rockface while I crawled at practically a negative speed, scraping my knuckles and knees and cussing Texas style. He kept running down the face of the rock and saying, “You’re almost there, just a little way to go!”

A recurring theme in our adventures.

I could see underneath the sweat dripping from my forehead that he was either lying or delusional. I had a long, long way to go but was determined to do it. After 45 minutes, I reached the top wheezing and gasping, dizzy from exertion. The first thing I thought was, “They’ll have to bring a helicopter up here to get me down.”

After dutifully admiring the view, Perry announced it would take hardly any time to get down, so we headed back. At this point, I wouldn’t let him talk to me. Going down was just as hard as going up, at least for me.

As we drove through the countryside, we stopped to visit the Pedernales River where every two feet there was signs warning visitors to keep an eye out for flash flooding. Sheesh, what a relaxing day on the water. At one small intersection in which the fields were lined with barbed wire, a gigantic disgruntled long horn huffed and puffed as he lay in the corner, waving his impressive horns in our direction. We didn’t stop.

Eventually we saw signs for Marble Falls. We poked around looking for the falls and finally went into the small downtown. After we parked we saw a sign for a town museum. As we went in, we heard before we saw a little old lady scuttling out from a tiny side office into the small main room.

Hmmm. The spider and her web.

“Howdy, howdy, howdy,” she rasped. “Welcome, welcome, welcome. Oh, there so much for you to see!” A tuft of unruly white hair topped her head, with stringy strands pulled back into a weak bun. She wore an unseasonably heavy sweater covered with dust. This woman hadn’t seen a guest here for decades and she wouldn’t let go easily..

“We wanted to know where the falls are,” Perry said quickly before she continued.

Tourists visit the towering Marble falls.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, ain’t no more falls around here, “she replied. “They got covered up after they built that dam.”

In reality, the falls had been formed by a shelf of limestone running from northeast to southeast across the river. The upper layer was brownish on the exterior but deep blue inside. It was so hard and ‘cherry’ it was mistaken for marble.

“And the marble,. . ?”

“Ain’t no marble ‘round here. Damn fools dug up some granite and thought it was marble.”

Perry and I looked at each other before she started on in earnest.

“But you two came to the right place to learn about our town. This here dress was worn by the mayor’s wife at the 60th anniversary of the town founding.” She pointed to a faded blue dress with small, scattered holes across its skirt, under glass on the wall. “And over here is the spurs Roy Abingdon wore when he won the rodeo.”

And before we could make a break for it, she went into a full-blown spiel. She gave a complete tour of the flotsam and jetsam recovered from the lives of various citizens over the decades. Cowboy hats, embroidered boots and hankies, dusty tomes that may or may not have the town’s accounts in them, inexpensive jewelry and much more.

Finally Perry made a break for it and dashed out the door, leaving me in the claws of the museum lady. Five more minutes and I couldn’t stand it anymore either , and I too abandoned the Marble Falls historian in her lair.