South Florida Sun-Sentinel Palm Beach (Sunday)
Take me to the (lazy) river
Texas offers tranquil rides down its emerald-green rivers via inner tube
When Beyoncé — a Texan, by the way — released her “Renaissance” album this summer, she surprised fans and critics by not delivering heavy social commentary on the problems facing the country. Instead, she offered a nonstop flow of retro dance beats, explaining that the idea was “to feel free and adventurous in a time when little else was moving,” offering “a place to be free of perfectionism and overthinking.”
Floating down a slowflowing river feels a lot like that. And so, in a hot Texas summer, with weeks of 108- or 109-degree temperatures and not a drop of rain, there was only one option: Rent an inner tube and get into the water.
I grabbed a friend and headed to the edge of Texas Hill Country, between San Antonio and Austin. The region is known for its rolling vistas, wineries and antique stores. But perhaps its greatest attractions are the endless shady, emerald-green rivers to float down. The Guadalupe, the San Marcos, the Comal, the Medina: Each river offers a different vibe.
The San Marcos, which runs through the campus of Texas State University, can tend to be spring break-y, with packs of young people tying their tubes together and delegating one tube to hold a massive cooler. The Comal is more family-oriented thanks to its proximity to the Schlitterbahn water park. We picked the Guadalupe, a versatile river that appeals to young and old, has a few rapid spots and lends itself to a fantastic Texas evening postfloat.
After renting a tube from Rockin’ R River Rides in New Braunfels, we found ourselves on a Friday afternoon in the presence of occasional groups of friends and families passing by — and just as many Guadalupe spiny softshell turtles, one of about 25 turtle species native to the state. The water was refreshing and clear. Bald cypress trees lined the banks, their canopy creating shaded bumper lanes along the sides of the route. Without looking too hard, we spotted white-tailed deer behind the trees, bright red cardinals flitting about and even a gray fox skulking by. Just five minutes into our float, and we were completely absorbed by nature.
We didn’t have much to do besides look around: The float was a very lazy one. With more rainfall, it would take two hours, maybe even less. But this year, after months without a drop, the route is taking more like 3 ½ , or, in our case, four hours because of the low level of water.
Many Texans skipped a float this summer, fearing the dreaded, sobering scenario of having to stand up in the sizzling sun and drag your heavy tube over rocky dry patches. We never needed to do that, although we did engage in some awkward kicking and arm flapping to get a bit of momentum. Sometimes it felt more like we were in a pleasant but currentless pool than in a flowing river.
At first, this sense of stagnation agitated me. Without realizing it, I had started the float with a goal: My mission was to reach the end. But after about an hour, the heat of the summer made clear the futility of my efforts at propulsion. I was working when I should be relaxing. With no screens to stare at or to-do lists to fret about, I was left with nothing to do but power down my brain and cruise.
Occasionally, the navigable part of the river narrowed, sending us down rapids that made it impossible not to squeal like a child as we spun and bounced our tubes through the chute, arms in the air. “Wait, why aren’t we out here doing this every weekend?” my friend, a recent transplant from Chicago, kept asking as she relished her first Texas float.
Four hours in, and we’d made friends with all kinds of people, from a group of high school girls to a grizzled Santa Claus-like figure lying down in the shallows as if in a chaise longue. Something about the Guadalupe spurred a sense of neighborliness, as these different strokes of people all found themselves in the same slow-moving flow, unworried about time.
With the sun lowering in the sky, we spotted the sign telling us we’d reached the pullout. A Rockin’ R employee shuttled us in a van back to the starting point and our car. For most float operators like Rockin’ R, a ride back to your car is included in the rental price, making it attractive to go with an outfitter rather than with your own tube. The whole float is about 1 ½ miles, but you don’t want to fret about logistics. For that reason, and the possibility of imbibing alcohol on the river, some companies offer packages that include round-trip door-to-door shuttle service from New Braunfels, San Antonio or Austin.
After a quick washup at the hotel, we pulled on our boots and headed into the historic district of Gruene for a strut about town. After some shopping, we settled into a table under the trees at the Gristmill restaurant to eat fried chicken.
Then, as the sun set through the cypress branches, we sauntered next door to Gruene Hall, a building recalling a small-town church, which declares itself the oldest continuously operating dance hall in Texas. It’s got an outlaw vibe about it, thanks to both its notoriety for staying open throughout Prohibition and the cast of characters that have graced its stage over the generations: Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson, Townes Van Zandt, Jerry Jeff Walker.
On this night, The Wilder Blue & John Baumann performed a blend of classics and originals that recalled Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Under the spell of their perfectly tuned consonance, we were transported to another time, and another way of living, where appreciation for the music is shown with yips and yahoos, boot stomps on the floor, or a wave of a Stetson hat.
When the darkest shade of blue finally faded from the sky, I felt myself still floating, peacefully still just drifting through the day.