Lost Maples State Natural Area

Sunday, 11/15/2009

"The Land That Time Forgot" might be an apt description of the Lost Maples State Natural Area in Texas. A holdover from the last ice age, the area is protected by surrounding mountains and has retained a colder and wetter climate than Texas desert, forest, and coastal areas. Lost Maples State Natural Area is located about 5 miles (8 km) north of Vanderpool, Texas and 71 miles (114 km) west of San Antonio. The park sits along the Sabinal River in western Bandera County and far eastern Real County.

The approach to the area is through steep passes carved through the Guadalupe Mountain Range, and enters into a high mountain plateau (elev 2100 ft).



Evidence suggests that the maples that give the park its name are relicts: remnants of a larger, more widespread population that flourished during the cooler and wetter climate of the last ice age. Today, soils and microclimate control their present distribution. Some of the flora and fauna are unique to Lost Maples.

In the heart of the Texas Hill Country, the 2,208-acre Lost Maples State Natural Area is an inspiring mixture of sheer limestone cliffs, deep canyons, dense woodlands, and numerous clear streams. Designated as a National Natural Landmark, Lost Maples State Natural Area contains the state's largest stand of bigtooth maples east of the Guadalupe Mountains. When conditions are right, the maple leaves put on a dazzling show of fall colors, attracting thousands of visitors to the park. Peak fall foliage viewing is during the last two weeks of October through the first two weeks of November.

Sandy and Rick decide to take advantage of the peak season (second week in November) and take a Sunday day trip to the Lost Maples reserve near Medina and Vanderpool.

Purple Sage meadow.

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Castroville, the Alsace of Texas

Castroville is a historic little town with a rich cultural heritage nestled in the Medina River Valley just 15 miles west of San Antonio. It is known as “The Little Alsace of Texas” because of its origins. The town was founded in 1844 by Henri Castro, for whom the town is named. The first European emigrant settlers in this area were mostly Catholic farmers from Alsace, a region of France, brought over to fulfill Castro’s contract to colonize vacant Texas Land. Calling themselves Alsatians, they were mostly of German decent speaking a dialect of German and French.

Henri Castro, founder of Castroville

A Childhood Friend

The year is 1958, the place is the southside of San Antonio. Midway between the ancient Mission San Jose and the abandoned Terrell Wells (a natural hot springs spa whose sulfuric rotten-egg scent wafted for miles) lay tiny working class tract houses, one of which was my childhood home. On lazy summer afternoons, the boys of the neighborhood would play baseball in the street or explore the woods adjacent to our subdivision...

Approaching dusk might bring out blinking lightning bugs, or if you were really sharp-eyed you might spot a horny toad on a tree branch or fence post. It wasn't actually a toad (the real name was horned lizard), but the crowning achievement of a summer day was to capture one of these creatures and drop it in your pocket.

I haven't seen a horny toad in 50 years. I suppose they're still around - some say they fell victim to the fire ant invasion from South America. Progress has its place, I suppose, but I'm glad not to have lived my childhood in the sadly depleted world I see around me now.

Take a look at:

Rick's Photoblog

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Two Tons of Steel crash into Landa Park!

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Texas favorites Two Tons of Steel give a decidedly western swing twist to the Ramones punk classic Sedated. (2009 KNBT Crossroads Party):...

Zephyr Nods in Your Direction

Our youngest family member is Zephyr, a five year old Paint. He resides at a ranch near Luling, Texas, until he can join us after we retire and move to the country.

(Video editing by Sandy)

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The Mystery Ranch

The Light of the World illuminates rural Texas.






If you take a spin on the interstate, cruising east along I-10 past Seguin, you will see something rather curious and unexpected. Off to your right, in place of the usual cow pastures, mesquites, and cacti, arises a bizarre vision. A Shrine Circus with minaret domes, perhaps? An Algerian village abducted by aliens and plopped down in the vastness of central Texas?


We've passed it dozens of times and had fun speculating as to its nature and origin. Finally I decide to investigate this mystery - armed with a single clue: an ornate sign along the highway proclaiming the Silver Wolf Ranch.



Information about the ranch is not easy to find, but I did run across an archived article in the San Antonio Express-News:


"KINGSBURY — Almost every day, at least a few of the 27,600 motorists who drive Interstate 10 through this speck of a ranching community pull over to check out a curious fenced ranch just off the highway.

Easily visible from the interstate, twin white domes of a massive structure poke up like mushrooms from the private 340-acre forested reserve. A giant bronze bison statue stands in plain view, as do live stick-legged emus and ostriches.

But tourists never get through the well-appointed limestone facade entrance that beckons them into the Silver Wolf Ranch. As they have for 10 years since the property came under new ownership, polite Spanish-speaking workers shoo away the camera-toting motorists with the same unrequited promise: The ranch is just about to open.

The land, a 40-minute drive from San Antonio, remains just as enigmatic to immediate neighbors left to ruminate — sometimes darkly — about relentless construction activity, howls of unseen wolves, reports of gun-carrying guards, and especially the tint-windowed SUV caravans for which the gates do occasionally open.

“I don't know nothing; I don't want to get involved,” said neighbor Jesse Weinaug, who owns a cattle ranch next door. “They don't come over here. I don't go over there. It ain't none of my business.”

The property, it turns out, is the private playground of a Mexican family that has grown immensely wealthy and politically powerful while ruling as a dynasty over the controversial religious denomination known as Iglesia La Luz del Mundo, or the Light of the World Church.



The Pentecostal-like denomination's supreme leader, the iconoclastic 71-year-old Apostle Samuel Joaquin Flores, is viewed as a messianic figure to be worshipped as a direct link to God and obeyed by church faithful in Mexico and abroad.

Some of Joaquin's nine grown children, themselves considered quasi-divine royalty, have transformed their Texas land into a lavish private zoo-themed family retreat for their father's enjoyment on the scale of some owned by American pop stars or Saudi oil sheiks.

The Guadalajara, Mexico-headquartered denomination, which claims 5 million members worldwide, a figure disputed by some religion researchers, is not without some tenacious allegations of wrongdoing against Joaquin involving abusive treatment of followers."

The Silver Wolf Ranch remains as mysterious as ever, but (at least so far) there have been no threats against neighbors or any hint of confrontation. Texans are wont to mind their own business, and the Light of the World people aren't acting like Branch Davidians or the infamous "Republic of Texas."

Image via Wikipedia

La Luz del Mundo headquarters, Guadalajara

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You Really Can Go Home Again...

You really can go home again...

...Even if home is not quite the same.

It's a nice, warm Sunday afternoon. Of course, when I say "warm" that really means hot enough to melt the rubber on your tires down to the rims...a typical South Texas summer day. This ain't Phoenix, friends...it's not a dry heat. In fact, the air has a suffocating molasses thickness that discourages all but the most foolhardy from venturing from their air-conditioned cocoons.

Speaking of foolhardy, that naturally brings to mind Rick and Sandy. We decide it's the perfect occasion to visit my dad's childhood home in McMahan, Texas.

Grandfather Riley, and his wife Myrtle, raised my dad Monroe (known by his middle name Hulon) and a flock of brothers and sisters. Thelma May (b 1911), Roy Lafayette, Willie Missouri, Monroe Hulon (b August 1915), Glenn Randolf (b January 1917), Anthia Thira (b April 1919), Cynthia Eliza (b 1921), Beatrice Illine (b 1922), Mattie Evelyn (b 1925), and George Marlon (b 1927) made up the clan. The snapshot above is the family homestead.

A few miles down the road was the general store, still standing (although it's sadly no longer a country store). It's some kind of nightspot, now:

When I was a child, this store was still open with its barrels of staple foodstuffs. It didn't survive the advent of convenience stores, big grocery chains, and Walmart. If we're truly looking at the long downslope of peak oil, as geologists claim, maybe the general store will make a comeback.

Right across the street from the general store was the McMahan post office, which along with the Baptist Church formed the backbone of depression-era small town Texas.

Fill 'er up, and check the oil.

Just up the hill is the Bethel Primitive Baptist Church (my Mom, who attended the "regular" Baptist Church, called them "Hardshells"). The Hardshells sang traditional shaped-note hymns without accompaniment, and Bethel still hosts groups such as the Sacred Harp Singers who keep the tradition alive.

Next to the Bethel Church is the Jeffrey Cemetery, the final resting place of my father and mother, my brother Michael, and in due course my own.

In the end, we really do return home.