There is such an unmistakable, yet unquantifiable value to wilderness
adventure. Spending time out in nature, pushing oneself physically and
mentally, taking risks, venturing into the unknown. Over the years, it has
become something I long for. It is a passion. And the more experiences I have
on the rivers and trails and mountains and canyons of this awe inspiring earth,
the more I realize how much I need them. My soul needs time in creation. My
spirit needs adventure. These experiences make me a better person. They teach
me lessons about life, about myself. They remind me how good it is to be alive.
My best friend Casey understands this as well. For the past ten years, it has
been our understanding of this shared passion that has largely made our
friendship what it is. We understand each others longing, and we love sharing
adventures together. After living on opposite sides of the country for
the better part of a decade, Casey in Utah and myself in West Virginia, we found
ourselves both back in Texas where we grew up. Over the years, we would travel
across the country to meet up, doing river trips down Cataract Canyon out west,
and the Gauley River back east, but often we would get to see each other only a
few weeks to a month out of the year. Now, we were living in the same town
again, both grateful to have ample time to hang out, but we found ourselves
wondering, where is the adventure? We were living in New Braunfels, a town on
the I-35 corridor between San Antonio and Austin, and though it is a beautiful
place with some great people, wilderness is, without a doubt, lacking. Without
realizing it, we had both become somewhat spoiled when it came to open spaces.
In both Utah and West Virginia, wilderness abounds. Casey and I worked as river
guides and wilderness instructors, and spent the majority of our time out in
nature. Experiencing wilderness had become a part of life. So now
what?
Initially, I accepted to role
of victim. There are no open spaces, no wilderness here, so there is nothing I
can do about it. I resigned to putting that part of my life on hold. But as
time passed, both Casey and I soon realized that our desire to spend time
outside, our passion for wilderness, was not something we could just turn off.
I began questioning myself. Why was I letting my situation in life dictate what
I do with my life? If I am truly passionate about something, shouldn’t I be
passionate about it everywhere? Casey and I would spend our evening hours
enjoying cigars and a few beers and tossing out ideas. Then one day, it hit us.
It was time for an adventure.
About a month prior, Casey
had heard about stand up paddling and how it was a big hit on Town Lake in
Austin. He bought a few boards, and we started taking them on a flat stretch of
the Comal River in downtown New Braunfels. It was great. We’d go out and paddle
early in the morning, while the fog was still rising off the water, or under
the glow of a full moon. The more we paddled, the more we talked about how good
it is to be on the water. We reminisced about river trips of the past, down the
Grand Canyon and Cataract Canyon and down the New and Gauley Rivers. For the
both of us, there is nothing we love more than river trips, especially when
they involve multiple days. The moment of pushing your boat into the water,
disconnecting yourself form the hectic pace of the “real world,” and knowing
that you have everything you need is like none other. It is the ultimate sense
of freedom. For the next few days, week, or month, your world is only as wide
as the river and its banks. Senses are fully engaged with the chosen few around
you and the natural world abounding. And so, naturally, after a couple weeks of
paddle boarding, we both asked the question, “When’s our next river trip?” I
guess instead of “When,” the real question was actually “Where?” Where could we
do a multi-day river trip on stand up paddleboards? Our answer was literally
just up the road.
The San Marcos River flows
for 83 miles, beginning at a spring in the town of San Marcos and making its
way to the confluence with the Guadalupe River just outside the town of
Gonzales. We began looking at maps and trying to figure out logistics. There
were a few roads crossing the river in between San Marcos and Gonzales, but the
majority of the land on either bank was private ranch land. This meant that
access was limited, which meant the chance remoteness was increased. The next
thing we had to figure out was what we would take. On most long river trips, when
taking rafts, you bring a lot of everything. Unlike backpacking, weight is not
an issue. There is always room for more beer. On this particular trip though,
we would have to strap everything on to the front of our paddleboards. For
those who have never spent time on a stand up paddleboard, simply getting
comfortable with balancing oneself can take some time. The challenge of taking
minimal gear intrigued the both of us. On top of that, we had no concept of how
fast we would move down the river. We did not have a clue what kind of mileage
we could do in a day, what the rapids would be like, or how realistic it was to
stand up and paddle for eight hours a day. Unlike kayaking and rafting, if we
were to move downstream, we would need to be standing. The more we thought
about it, the more we realized how many unknowns there were, which in turn got
us even more excited about trying. After all, it is the unknowns and the risk
that make it an adventure. After a little more planning and some food and water
caches being hidden under a couple bridges, the morning of our launch had
arrived. My wife Laura drove us the to Sewell Park, on the campus of Texas
State University in downtown San Marcos, with the idea that she would come pick
us up in 4 to 6 days when we arrived downstream in Gonzales. It was time to
launch, and both of us were brimming with excitement. We had longed for some
adventure, and we had found it.
The next three and a half
days were absolutely amazing. There was the thrill of being out paddling with
my best friend, not really knowing what to expect. In the research we had done
prior, we found very little info on multi day stand up paddleboard trips.
Nothing we could find showed signs of anyone ever attempting to run the length
of the San Marcos River on one. Near the end of our third day, we passed a
older man sitting in a small fishing boat still tied to the right bank. He was
wearing jeans and boots, an old button down work shirt, and a cowboy hat, the
typical attire for a South Texas rancher. He was enjoying a cold, evening beer,
and as we approached, he nodded. “Howdy fellas. Where you boys headin’?”
“Evening sir. Trying to make it to Gonzales,” we replied. “Gonzales” he
repeated, “well take care, and watch out for moccasins.” An hour or so later,
Casey and I had found a sandy spot on the left bank to camp for the night. Sure
enough around the bend comes the rancher and his fellow old timer. They were
checking fishing lines they had set up earlier. As they passed, Casey and I
were given another nod, and as they puttered off with their small prop motor,
we could hear the rancher telling his old pal, “See, I told ya I seen some
young fellas on surf boards.” The next morning we found out why he felt the
need to warn us about the water moccasins. We saw over thirty in the span of 3
hours!
Like any good adventure, the
trip was a mix of struggle and awe, laughs and bruises. There were time when we
forgot we were in semi-arid South Texas, finding ourselves surrounded by a
thick canopy of trees and vines. Wildlife was abounding. We saw hawks and
herons, hummingbirds and owls. The twitter and chirping of cardinals and
swallows often competed with the gurgle of the ripples and waves. There was
that undeniable peace that is found when surrounded by nature. By the end of
the day, we were exhausted. Our shoulders were sore, our hands were blistered,
and the arches of our feet were tight from standing and balancing all day. As I
crawled into my sleeping bag at night though, I felt good. The good that comes
after you know you’ve pushed yourself. Not knowing what was around the next
bend, or where we would camp or it we would make it to our food cache, the
adventure was invigorating. And looking back, I think what made our paddleboard
trip the most rewarding for the both of us was that we had to search for it. We
had to be inventive. Sure, we had been in way more remote settings dealing with
way more extreme and riskier conditions, but we went out and found this
adventure. Instead of simply sitting back and thinking about the places we
weren’t, we actively engaged in the place that we were. I once heard it said
that, “All great journeys answer questions that you didn’t even know to ask
before you began.” I found one of those answers during our trip. Wilderness is
out there. Time with nature can be found if looked for hard enough. I hope that
I never stop dreaming about adventures in for off places, but I also hope to
remember to embrace the place that I find myself in today. The truest of
adventures is the one I find within. Nature, from the grandest expanse
mountains to the shade of a backyard oak, is the setting and the facilitator of
self discovery. As the wilderness prophet John Muir once suggested, “Keep close
to Nature’s heart . . . And break clear away, once in a while, and climb a
mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.”