Rope swangs!

   What could a person add to a Texas tank, spring-fed river, cypress ringed pool, or any other body of water to make it better. Why a good ol' traditional rope swing hangin' over the water. Now notice I didn't mention hanging from a tree, cuz they don't always hang from trees. I have seen steel drill pipe fashioned into a device to hang a rope, logging chains hanging from overhanging cliffs, and even once saw a long 2'' x 10'' and rope hanging out over the edge of a rock quarry with a pick-up sitting on it to keep it steady. One favorite swing on Blue Hole on Cypress Creek in Wimberly, TX wasn't even rope, but made out of 1/4'' chain with a steel ring to hold on to.
   One rope swing I had a hand in was off of the cliffs surrounding Hamilton Pool on the Reimer Ranch (back in the day...) which is now part of the Travis County Parks system. Mike C. (the names have been kept anonymous) and I were on the gravel beach at the outflow of the pool, when he remarked that he had a 50' length of 2'' hemp rope that was dying to be turned into a monster rope swing. I likened that would be cool, but there was at least 75' of space from the closest tree to hang from the edge. I also pointed out that in my truck was an add'l 25' of 1/2' logging chain that would probably make it all happen.

  Well happen it did, I let Mike do all the figuring, and before long this rope was hanging just right of the waterfall that spills on a big chunk of flostone at the edge of the pool. Now I probably will not do this justice, but this rope swing was a caution to even think of using. One had to climb way up under the cliff to get any good swinging action. That rope would be angled anywhere from 15 to 20 degrees when you were about 20 feet up the cliff. Not much on the geometry on the whole affair, but the whole experience was adrenalin packed. You would kick off from that cliff, swing down past that Volkswagen sized rock, swing back up about 20 feet above the water and let go. WHAT A RUSH! Before long there was a pretty good line of long-haired (Summer of 1979!) excitement junkies ready to go, go, go!
   Now being one of those said excitement junkies, I had swung a couple of three times, and had swam back to the beach where my homeys were hangin. You see, when that swing was going through the downward stroke, the centrifugal force was mighty powerful and my arms were getting jellied as I never was one to have much meat on me in those days. Wasn't long before an adventurous female decided she would give it a try. This didn't go to well cause the further she went on the downward stroke, the further down the rope she slid. She ran out of rope just as she was going by the rock and bounced off and disappeared into the emerald green waters, to be immediately rescued by her buds and fellow rope swingers. Ended up being carried out by EMT's about an hour later. Neither Mike or I had any intention on claiming our rope gear.
   One of the most exceptional rope swings that ever existed was on the head-waters of the Medina River, not far from Quiet Valley Ranch in Kerrville. Coming down TX Hwy 16 from Kerrville toward Medina (the city) it was at the first low water crossing. This was where the Sonora-Burnet-Austin contingent of the Kerrville Music Festival crowd (or Kerverts as we were known!) would wile away the days before the next night of music and festivities would begin. The river was always clear, blue-green, and perfectly cool for a summers enjoyment. Just upstream from the river crossing was what I consider the best rope swing in Texas.

   This swing was just about a hundred yards up the river from the crossing. There was a wide spot in the river where the current was slow and deep. This rope was put up every year by an arborist out of Austin that went by the name of Cheyenne. He'd shinny up this ancient Bald Cypress at the waters edge and hang that 2'' hemp way out on a limp. What made this an exceptional rope swing was the downed Cypress tree trunk that laid at the base of this ancient cypress, but pointed at an upward angle upstream. One could run fast up the tree trunk and jump off holding on to that rope as you swung out over the water headed across and downstream. Not nearly as high a swing like at Hamilton Pool, but exhilarating nonetheless. I looked forward to that rope swing every year for the 10 years I attended the Festival, and Cheyenne never failed us.
   There was this one swing on the Guadalupe River at Guadalupe River State Park that was not rope, but made out of an ancient grapevine hanging from an even older Bald Cypress. See-Roy, myself, and about 20+ members of Troop 282 were down there at the park on a weekend excursion in the late Fall. This grapevine was as thick as my wrist and quite pliable, as the other adults and myself had to keep restraining the young lads to not swing on the rope. You see, you could swing out there and as the vine was still tied to the ground behind the cypress trees, someone could pull you back on to dry land. Of course we grown-ups were the killjoys, having to repeatedly tell the boys to not swing on the rope as this was not a swimming weekend campout.
   See-Roy, myself and a number of other buds (OK...Jimmy and Richard too) had a little home-brewing club going on back in Burnet, and I had stashed a couple of bottles of home-made panther piss down in the water close to that grapevine swing. See-Roy and I had gone out to imbibe, and as that brew was potent, it wasn't long I started looking out at that swing with the thought to try it out. I pulled it close to the shore, got a grip on it and away I went. Earlier in the day any number of 60-70# boys had swung on that vine. It was different story when I put my 140#'s on the end of that vine. That vine came loose from the limbs it was climbing and left me standing in the river in my Scout Leader's uniform. See-Roy let loose with 'but Mister Manes, your not supposed to swing on the vine and get your clothes wet!'. Needless to say, I did not set a fine example for those young boys, and I took a lot of ribbing from young and old to boot.

Cliff diving!

Great is the excitement to stand upon a precipice, either drunk from the immortality of youth or later in life, beer, and climbing ever so higher to jump into waters deep and green. Some of these cliffs are found in the limestone strata throughout Texas and Arkansas (my first!), and then the common everyday rock or gravel pit that permeates the lands of North Texas across the Blackland Prairie. My first memory as a daredevil youth was cliff diving while camping on the shores of Lake Ouachita in the Ozarks of Arkansas.

My extended family would go off on summer campouts, with  paternal aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents to different parts of the south in my early youth. As eldest child of my siblings I was able to go on this trip to Arkansas delights at the adventurous age of 12.

Deeply wooded hills, with clear and cold streams wend their way throughout these Ozark Hills all coming into the deep impoundment of Lake Ouachita. The water in this lake is a dark emerald, but not exceedingly clear due to the limestone from which it bubbles up out of. There was plenty of swimming, fishing, both in out of boats and hours of hiking throughout the forest that adjoined our campground.

As a child I was always something of  a loner,  and fairly secure in my sense of direction. I would easily wander off on foot exploring and usually find something quite intriguing. On this one exploration I came upon a group of kids with parents in attendance that were doing some jumping off of cliffs into the lake. Now as I have stated before, I was born of water and grew into an avid aquaphile early in my childhood. This looked really exciting and I was ready to get in the game.

In no time at all I was climbing up and jumping back in repeatedly from that cliff with all the others in attendance. As I had a lot of experience with diving boards, even at this early age, I was doing dives and experimenting with a few flips. All the fun came to quick halt when I landed on my back with what I will call a back flop. You know, one of those landings where you knock the wind out of yourself and your back feels like you got a "pink belly" by the whole football team.

One other memory of cliff diving needs telling, and that is the cliffs at Lake Buchanan know as Bee's Bluffs. Now Bee's Bluffs is on the Morgan Creek arm of the lake there and was accessible easily from my home there at Morgan Creek Subdivision during the 1980's. Bee's as I will call it, received it's name from all the small caves or holes that dotted and permeated the face of this cliff. History books will tell of hundreds of these caves being filled with native bee hives when first found by the early pioneers throughout the Hill Country and no less in Burnet County.

These cliffs are unique in that they start literally at the water's edge and gradually climb to well over 75' when Buchanan Lake is full at 1020' above sea level. So no matter the experience or lack of experience, a diver or  jumper can find a cliff to their liking. My personal liking was jumps of about 30+ feet on a hot day when beer drinking was minimal. Then there were those nights where we literally climbed those cliffs in the  moonlight with friends and companions lighting our way with spotlights in pontoon boats floating on the flat and still waters. Definitely beer was clouding our better judgement those evenings, due to the fact that all those empty bee caves were easily imagined to be filled with all matter of snakes and other creepy-crawlies.

One other point concerning alcohol and Bee's! It was 4th of July and we had a house full (close to 20) staying there at Manes Manor on the lake. Mark and Susan had a brood of kids as did a number of other families, and it was decided it would be safer to light  fireworks off of Bee's. I recall there were three of us menfolk lighting different devices at different intervals at different levels of Bee's. Mark F., my brother Pat, and myself had several hundred dollars of fireworks to consume and we proceeded to git r' done!

Roman candles, mortars, bottle rockets, and firecrackers galore were being ignited as fast as we could grab em' and get a punk on them. Reaching into the bottomless box of incendiary magic, I came out with  a fountain cone. Now for those that don't remember what this looks like, it is something like a Nutty Buddy but on steroids and upside down. Most of these items have a  few disclaimers on them. First would be 'use only with adult supervision', (Strike one!). Another would be 'do not use with alcohol', (Strike two!). Lastly would be 'place on flat surface, light and run away', (Strike three!).

I proceeded to do what I would call a "Statue of Liberty" pose.I lit that thing, placed the base of the cone on my open palm and proceeded to watch it go shooting out the top. And shoot out the top it did, it was amazing and awe inspiring. Until it burned through the bottom of that cone and shot hot fire between my fingers of my outstretched hand. Somewhere deep in my lizard brain came the conclusion that I was on fire, and better do something about it. I took three giant steps backward and off Bee's I went. I remember treading water, after my jumping off about 30 feet and hearing a voice say, "Mike, where's Mike, he was here just a minute ago?" It was Pat my brother who the proceeded to look over the edge of the cliff and ask, "Mike, what are you doing down there?" "Caught on fire, seemed the fitting thing to do," I replied. In the wink of an eye I swam over to where the Bluffs stepped into the water and everyone was circled around me inspecting the damage from the experience. I had a webbed hand, as the gunpowder had fused my fingers together whilst the flesh was molten.

The next day I was at the doctor (second time in two days burning myself...but that is another story that will not be told!), and he proceeded to cut my fingers apart without the use of local, so that there would not be a third incident. He wanted me to remember every bit of the experience of slicing my fingers apart! All this reminds me of my favorite line in my favorite Redneck joke. What is the last thing a Redneck says before he dies? "Here hold my beer and watch this!" Shalom Ya'll!

Devil's Hole

It was the summer of 1978 and I had just moved to Burnet County. I was working for  a private publisher at a company called Eakin Press. As I mentioned in earlier posts, I am quite the aquaphile (one who loves water features). Asking around to some of the locals, I asked where one goes swimming on a hot day. As Burnet (the city!) is based in the center of the Highland Lakes, I figured something was going to be close and easily accessible.
The young high school student working for me said the quickest place to go was 'Devils Hole' out at Inks Lake State Park. So loading up my  black Labrador Retriever named 'Travis' (after the boy from Old Yeller not the Hero), we headed to 'Devils Hole'. So off we go to try out the new swimming hole.

Now folks not familiar with this part of Texas probably have not heard of the Burnet-Llano Uplift. This is a geological feature that covers over 4 counties in the Hill Country. Significant to this geological feature is the prevalance of granite, marble, gneiss, and other ancient rock strata.
So 'Devils Waterhole' is at the nexus of a creek out of the hills to the Inks Lake. At this junction is weathered granite outcroppings and cliffs galore. Cliffs, did I mention cliffs? Having jumped my first cliff when I was 12 years old at Lake Ouachita in the Ozarks, I was ready for some cliff jumping. As Inks Lake is for the most part a constant level lake there is an awesome 20+ foot jump into the "hole". I was jumping off as fast as I could climb up, and Travis (the dog) was running up and down as fast as he could. You see, there was no way that Travis was going to make that kind of jump. He would follow me up to top, watch me jump and then run down and jump in with me at the bottom.
There were and are dozens of swimming holes around and in Burnet County. With names like Bees Bluffs, Hubbard Falls, Smithwick, Krause Springs, and spring fed tanks on the ranchs like Wilson's Ranch on Shady Grove Road. I hope to relive and illuminate the fine times that I had and that can still be had to this day. That is if the developers haven't ruined the opportunities for everyone.
Shalom Ya'll