The road out of San Antonio sets the stage for another round of Texan time travel. Starring Buc-ee’s, this time for fuel at one of the 200 bowsers, and the irresistible Buc-ee’s Beaver chips (again), and then a much-hyped strudel showdown in New Braunfels, a town with German roots and big pastry promises. The chips are still crunch bombs, but the strudel is a major letdown after the Kountry Kitchen. The pastry is stodgy and the filling tastes synthetic and could only be described as apple adjacent. No points for New Braunfels.
However the detour is worth it for Gruene, pronounced Green, an historic district settled in the 1840s by German immigrants. The crown jewel? Gruene Hall: Texas’ oldest dance hall still in operation. It’s rustic, charming, and practically begging for boots on the floor. We didn’t stay long enough for a dance, but the floorboards look more than ready for a Texas two step. And it’s fair to say the restrooms are the antithesis of Buc-ee’s clinical cubicles.
Next up, we poke our heads into a beautifully restored 1903 mercantile building housing the Gruene Antique Company – a massive museum-meets-thrift-shop fever dream. Vintage furniture, variations on gorgeous and/or garish glassware, useless but beautiful memorabilia, and enough historic Texana to turn any bookshelf into a Wild West shrine. The air smells like old books and nostalgia. The floors creak like they’re gossiping. It’s all weirdly perfect.
Speaking of weird, part of the reason for this road trip is Austin. With Willie Nelson the spiritual mayor and the late great Stevie Ray Vaughan as a favourite son, the collision of country and blues is perfect. And you’ve gotta love a city that’s motto is Keep Austin Weird. This was once a call to arms, meaning support local, be as eccentric as you like, and yes, your dog looks cool wearing sunglasses and riding a skateboard. Unfortunately, Austin has lost it’s weird. The transformation was fast when San Francisco brought tech to town, arriving armed with start up cash and kombucha. The influx of companies has driven up house prices, and with that comes some bitterness from locals as rents and property prices soar. Unless of course they bought 10 years earlier, in which case they’re counting their fortunes.
We love Austin for the miles of walking and biking tracks that go through the heart of downtown and the multitude of parks and recreational areas. We do a great bike trip with Steve, who looks like a survivor of a particularly emotional Grateful Dead concert circa 1974. We go to Barton Springs, a three acre pool fed from underground springs, ideal for year-round swimming. We’re dreaming of a refreshing plunge after our ride, only to find out it’s closed for cleaning. On Thursdays. Which, of course, is today. Nothing like a sweaty bike ride followed by a contemplative sit next to water you’re not allowed to touch.
The big disappointment, though, is Rainey Street. I expect a neighbourhood of historic bungalows serving as a centre for music, art, and food, where all three combine for an enjoyable evening out. I must’ve missed the memo giving free rein to high rise developments over historic designations. A more fitting name would be Schizophrenia Alley, as it’s now commercial developments, high rise apartments and building sites, with a very small side of once attractive bungalows.
That said, it’s preferable to 6th Street, also known as “the Dirty 6th”, which tells you a lot. A gritty, high octane strip of dive bars, cheap drinks, loud music, and crowds. It’s packed with college students carrying fake ID, and confused couples from Ohio. It’s a place youthful dreams go to party, and then quietly vomit behind dumpsters.
One evening we take a boat trip to watch the bats fly. This could count as slightly weird. Every night, at dusk, 800,000 or so Mexican long tailed bats emerge from under the Congress Street Bridge, and head out to the farmland to eat their fill of insects and mosquitoes. Good for them I say, and so do the farmers who now pay less for bug spray. The colony is all female and when they give birth the numbers will pretty much double in size. It’s a little breezy and these bats are tiny, so by the time they decide to go it’s getting fairly dim. The boat guide shines red light (which apparently bats can’t see – who knew?) to help us see them, but it doesn’t help much. Have a look on YouTube. Anyway, the stunning sunset and city lights alone are worth the trip.
We came to Austin for weird, some BBQ, and some music. We got the BBQ, so in the immortal words of Meatloaf, two outta three ain’t bad. And we got bats. You sure don’t get that everywhere.
