I am wandering with slight aim. I have a goal of going to Dallas, but beyond that, I am uncertain. To that end, after Fort Davis, I simply headed east on I-10 and waited for the mood to strike.
Years before, my then-husband had mollified my craving for nature with an overnight stay in Sonora, TX, where we ventured up a small hiking trail—supposedly the hideout of the Sam & Tom Ketchum gang at some point. While I had little interest in revisiting the hike or the memory it stirred, I thought the town a fair enough place to pull up for the night and contacted the Caverns of Sonora. “First come, first serve,” said the chipper young man on the phone (who would later be our competent and pleasant tour guide).
The Caverns site sits atop the fringe of the rolling, rocky Hill Country terrain about eight miles out from Sonora and is well-maintained with a peaceful atmosphere and friendly personnel. This “attraction” is a lovely peek into the underground world of the Texas Hill Country and a beautiful camping spot.
The Caverns of Sonora has facilities for campers of all sorts: from tent campers to small travel trailers like mine to fifth wheels and Class A buses. If you can drive it or haul it in, it seems you can set it up at the Caverns and the price is reasonable for water, electricity, showers, and restrooms if you need them. A well-stocked gift shop is on the premises with clothing, jewelry, and geological trinkets of all sorts. I felt utterly at home.
What I found there on the hilltop was a beautiful, wide expanse at the mercy of winter winds. The blanket of night was almost as dark as the Davis mountains but with a near-180° view of the stars. The Milky Way shimmered and a new friend reminded me of constellations I thought I had long since forgotten. I had the company of stunted oaks and juniper and we walked on soft grasses that kept Sammy free of foxtails and goat’s head burrs. Of course, I also enjoyed the warm, humid depths of the caverns that surprised and impressed me with their beauty and variety.
What I also found there, beyond the beauty of the caverns and the surrounding countryside, was brief company, several days of peace, “down time” to drink beer and chatter incessantly, and solid sleep after the dark restless night in the mountains.
It was difficult to leave, especially with only a vague idea of where I was going next and for how long. I could imagine myself there for days, but I could feel myself sliding back into too much comfort again; back into too much reliance on the kindness of others to make me feel safe emotionally such that I would not move forward. How easy it is for me to make that mistake!
On day three, the wind let up and in 19°F weather, I packed up Blanche, Betty, and Sam, bundled myself in my coat, and said one last, difficult goodbye.
It was with both relief and sadness that I pulled away from the Caverns. Like most places I visit, I plan to wander back if my time on earth allows. For now, the niggling discomfort of the road is also odd reassurance I am on the right path.
