FREDERICKSBURG & CANYON LAKE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I woke up to the sound of raindrops on our roof the morning we were to pack and leave San Antonio. This was the first time it had rained since we have been here. Before we took off for America it had rained for weeks and weeks, it was always gloomy and lacked of the sun we had hoped to soak up with friends and family before leaving home. But I was soothed by the thought of chasing an endless summer, as we would arrive here half way across the world just in time to start it all over again.

The rain didn’t stick around for long. As we headed north towards Frederickspurg, the sunshine came beaming out with so much light and shimmer. The more we drove, the greener and brighter the scenery got around us. They call Frederickspurg the hill country. A town part German from the early German settlers that came roaming into its grounds. When we arrived here, we crossed paths with an overly happy lady who insisted we go and see the fields of wildflowers. Her excitement became contagious and suddenly butterflies appeared in my curious stomach.

Fields of flowers remind me of Alice In Wonderland. That scene where Alice is laying on the grass swimming in a meadow of white daises, bored and daydreaming as her mum read her a book under a tree. On this day I spent hours and hours following a road trail where the fields of wildflowers just never ever stopped. I was climbing up and down the ladder of our van, as Kieran would pull up relentlessly when we would come across a noble patch.

We came across a darling range that was a graveyard where lavender coloured wildflowers grew tall over the handsome graves. I found it very romantic that lovers were buried side by side one another with messages of love on their marble stones.

Along the way, I asked Kieran if he thought people were aloud to pick bunches of flowers to take with them. He said that he didn’t think so. And so I did it anyways. Our van felt very homey that night.

It’s a good thing Kieran and I make a real good team. I am terrible with maps and he is a walking talking GPS. Whenever we go to leave a place to go to another he would flip out a map, look at it for a few seconds and say ‘right, let’s go!’ As I sit there wondering how he does it. He says that I am good with finding hidden gems. Small endearing and untouched towns that he wouldn’t at first consider. I would say ‘take a look at this place, that sounds nice’. And he would disagree at first only to find these are the towns that we grow completely smitten with.   

Canyon Lake was one those hidden gems.  Population 3,000. In the end, the one single day we spent here is so darn close to being the best day I have spent here so far (perhaps even better than Disneyland?) It’s really a tough call. We were greeted by some locals when we arrived who told us that there is a river that flows throughout the whole town and that we could hire some tubes to lay in and float down the river with for hours on end. 

We laid there in the summer-daze, drinking under the sun with the cold icy drinks we had taken with us in a small eski. Every time the water hit my skin, it wouldn't take long for the heat to soak it back up again. With both of our tubes tied to one another, the river softly pushed us around with it's gentle current. This lasted for hours. We were told how perfect our timing was and how lucky we were. Spring brake had just finished and summer holidays weren't quite here yet. That usually the river is full of hundreds of tubes and bodies. But for the meantime, the river was empty and it was just ours. 

That night we collected sticks from around us and Kieran built a small fire next to our camper-van. We made coffee and stayed up all night around the fire telling stories to one another. I always find it hard to stop replaying perfect days like this over and over in my head. It's almost quite impossible.