THE HEADWATERS: This series of photos start at the headwaters and
work their way down to the dam near Ingram.
THE HEADWATERS
If you leave out the half dozen traffic lights holding us back, we breezed through
Kerrville just like it wasn't there. By this time hunger had its hold on us and,
having foresworn fast food, we were on the lookout for a quaint little family restaurant.
Story & Photos by IRA KENNEDY
I just knew we'd spot something just up the road in Ingram.
No such luck. Then I remembered I forgot to remember to buy my very own Lucky
Pig. Not to worry, cause just up the road a piece was Hunt. I'd heard tell it
was quite the tourist destination in the summer so we kept up the pace certain there was a
quaint cafe in our future. |
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 here it was. "Elaines Table". It looked
a little pricey but we were in no position to pick and choose. While stumbling out of
Nigel the Land Rover I surmised Ms. Intrepid left the engine running. Then it came to
me. That was my stomach growling like a cornered coyote. I held the door for
Ms. Intrepid, then for three ladies on their way out.
"We're closed," the owner stated flatly.
"We close at three. (It was 2:55) I mean two."
"Can you recommend a place nearby?" I said
to her back as she disappeared into the kitchen. Just about then a young woman
stepped out.
"You might try the Hunt Store. It's just up the
road."
We tried the Hunt Store. Seems it catered more to
swimmers, campers and such. Un-air conditioned, the place was as humid and damp as a
Louisana swamp what with all the soggy swimmers tracking in and out.
Sure, they had a restaurant but it was closed. Now, I
was past confused. Here you have a tourist town along the river in the middle of the
summer with crowds of people milling about, at least five good hours of daylight left and
no place to eat. Hunt didn't even have a fast food joint so we headed for the refrigerated
cases with those plastic wrapped white bread sandwiches. Clutching our chicken salad
sandwiches and a bag of chips we returned to Nigel the Land Rover (being British and all I
feel obliged to use his full title at every turn) for a place to sit with some air
conditioning.
The bread was soggy and the salad, lumped in the
middle, never came near the crust-colored part. Yummy! Then Ms. Intrepid
noticed the expiration date. Seems our meal would expire in a month.
I don't know when that thing was created, but I ask you: Would
you eat a chicken salad sandwich that you knew was a month old? If you ask me -- and for
some reason no one ever has -- they oughta put the birth date right alongside the
expiration date so a feller can make an educated decision.
We ate the sandwiches anyway and lived to tell about
it so I reckon they know what they're doing on the preservation side.
Despite the dismal food (?) we were near the
headwaters and the road ran parallel and close to the Guadalupe. Practically the
entire stretch of land between the road and the river was mowed and carefully manicured
real pretty like. You'd never know the river had risen past its banks recently.
Seems we'd just get past one high-toned Inn when we'd come across another. (Where do these
people eat?)
Every now and again I'd have Ms. Intrepid pull over
so I could shoot some pictures then we'd move on till we were satisfied I had reached
imaginary my starting point. Needless to say, by this time I had abandoned the neat
little linear story I had intended. I can testify that this stretch of pavement is
about as pretty a river road as you'll come across.
 Along the way we
came upon what only be described as a shoe fence. Every post had anything from a tennis
shoe to a boot stuck on top like a mounted critter. It was really a remarkable sight, and
you can't help but wonder who thought this up. And do they just sit around waiting for the
next shoe to drop from some poor souls foot so they can snatch it up and add to this
magnum opus?
Further on, just outside of Ingram we stopped
at The Dam Store located in the same shopping center as the Dam Laundry , the Dam Shop and
the Dam Cafe. As seems standard in these parts, the Dam Cafe was closed. Just across the
road was, you guessed it, the dam.
While I crossed the road to get some dam pictures of
the youngsters sliding down the backside of the dam -- one of them did the dam thing
standing up -- Ms. Intrepid headed for the Dam Store. Although we kinda swore off
food for a spell we were delighted to find the place offered real iced tea with fresh
mint.
Ms. Intrepid engaged the Dam Store manager, Brenda
Harrison, in conversation. They got to talking like they had known each other all of
this life and part of another. Women can do that. Men, as we all know aren't
all sweet on each other from the get go. Ever.
I stood off to the side and watched in wonder.
About all I heard was Brenda saying how the mint came straight from her garden that
morning. And that the tea, no matter what size, was all the same price and worth
every penny. Naturally, we chose the super-duper version which held out nearly all
the way home.
From Ingram we headed straight for I-10 and hotfooted
it down to the Waring exit for more backroad adventure.
PAGE 1: THE UPPER GUADALUPE / PAGE 2: COMFORT
PAGE 3: CAMP VERDE /
PAGE 4: THE HEADWATERS
PAGE 5: DOWNSTREAM / THE MAP
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