Saturday Nov 7; High 77; low 53
My Molly morning jog had taken me to the buffalo and longhorn pens, but there were no animals around. But later, Ed and I took a drive to check out the campground and the "North Unit" and we arrived at the stock pens just after feeding time--
Then we drove around the various little roads in the park. We ended up taking a road that was a road no more--the pavement fizzled out and we were driving on flat patches of concrete mixed with short scrubs of grass. In our new Jeep, this wasn't a worry at all!
But that road ended at a low iron fence and we had to turn back. No off-roading for the Jeep this trip.
On our drive up to the North Camping Unit, we passed a dead animal by the side of the road. It was a little larger than a racoon and we wandered what it might be. But we went on, and found that the camping area was closed off by heavy iron gates with locks--hmmm. Turning back to return, we passed the animal again. When we got back to our own camping area, at the gate we asked the ranger about the gates. She informed us that we simply needed to use the gate code to open them. We had the whole afternoon to kill, so we went back.
This area was set up for horse camping. It was nice, though, and had beautiful trees along a creek called the North Concho River. Interesting--the Concho River flows through San Angelo and into the Colorado River at the O. H. Ivie Lake, about 50 miles east of where we were. So, in a single year of camping in Texas, we have camped close to the headwaters of the Colorado and at its end, where it flows into the ocean. But I don't really feel I "know" the river, like I would if I'd swam in it or canoed over it.
After our drive around, all that was left of the day was dishes and a dog walk at evening. Molly and I went down to the lake and were going to walk to the end of the boat ramp which no longer meets the water, but a bevy of kids on bicycles were out there. So we veered toward the dam and waded through the weeds to water's edge, which was a great idea! There were all kinds of interesting animal footprints in the mud there. Wish I'd taken pictures.
We walked back up the hill with the setting sun in our eyes and a falcon watching for dinner. I never saw him move. Kestrel:
No comments:
Post a Comment