Zedler Mill by Kayak

    On a sweltering central Texas afternoon in 1989, Lee Wheelis moistened his mouth nervously with a piece of watermelon as the crowd held it's breath. In one smooth motion, he took a giant step to the line, threw back his arms, tilted his head to the sky, and launched a smooth black projectile off his rolled tongue and into the air. It landed and skipped forward down the Spitway with unbelievable tenacity, as if possessed by unseen forces. 68 feet, 9 and 1/8 inches away from where Wheelis stood, the judges made an announcement that caused the audience to fall, weeping, to their knees. The world record was broken.

Texas by Kayak Continues

     For this second entry in my chronicle of Texas's paddling trails, I took to Austin where I met up with my friend Angie, who has been a fan of the blog since way back when it began two weeks ago. Our original plan was to kayak the trail at Lady Bird Lake, but we decided against it out of anticipation of the weekend crowds. The next closest trail was 40 miles south, in a place I had never heard of. Once serving as a railroad and oil town, this small city named Luling is now known for it's watermelon festival and associated seed-spitting contest. And on a sleepy stretch of the San Marcos River, the Zedler Mill acts as a reminder of the community's history as well as a quaint picnic area and the namesake for Texas' very first inland paddling trail.

    At 8am, we arrived in front of the mill, where we met Donald, our guide for the day. The jovial, mustachioed, grayish-blond haired man heartily welcomed us and waited patiently while we grabbed our gear and snacks and loaded them into his truck. "I like your car! Does it do everything they say it does?", he asked about my black Subaru Outback. "Thanks, oh yeah, definitely!", I replied, muttering to Angie that the all-wheel drive has sure proved itself useful in the rugged mountain village of Houston.

My legendary Subaru at the picnic area behind Zedler Mill. Also, one of the many oil rigs that garnish the city of Luling

    I didn't bring my own kayak this time, as it was far more convenient to rent a couple from Donald, who works for the city park department. On the way to our drop-off point, Donald waved at an oncoming car, "Hey, Shirley!"Apparently, Luling is one of those eerie, Animal Crossing-esque places where all the townsfolk know each other by name. Six miles later, we were at the put-in and as I rigged up our fishing rods and Angie secured her ukelele to make sure it would stay dry, Donald went over the river conditions. Although it was generally a mild trail, he warned us that some ladies had recently reported a fallen tree causing a serious obstacle to new paddlers somewhere along the way. I promised we'd give him our own report when he picked us up back at the mill, and then we were off.

At the put-in for the 6-mile Zedler Mill Paddling Trail

   Around one of the first bends, we encountered an almost completely submerged tree in our path. Our kayaks bumped over it with ease, and we joked that maybe it was the nightmarish obstacle Donald had spoken of. I imagined British women in Victorian dresses sipping tea on a kayak and squealing about spilled drops as their boats knocked against the wood. We laughed and made impressions of them sobbing, "How DREADFUL!".

Heading under the arches (not the golden ones, God forbid)

   The first mile or so passed uneventfully, and the current was too strong to easily fish in, so we pretty much drifted through. But we soon reached the foreshadowed fallen tree, and this time our path was truly blocked. It only took a short portage to navigate around it, but we did have to wade calf-deep in mud that reeked of decomposition. The Victorian ladies would have surely died by now. 

"How high do you think I can climb up that tree?" A little higher, honestly, but I was still pretty impressed.

   The Legend of Zedler: Ukelele of Time

 

A piece of moss dances in the flow
Of golden chords plucked
Under the shade of lazy branches
-My haiku of the day

 Although we ran into several more light rapids, we didn't have to get out of our kayaks again for the rest of the trip, but a couple miles in, we did stop for some natural inspiration. After my last expedition, I felt pressured to produce more paddling haiku, so with our vessels tied to a log and a shady tree to rehydrate under, I got out my notebook. Angie offered to enhance the atmosphere with some ukelele melodies, including a surprise cover of one of my favorite songs, Eddie Vedder's Rise. We also took the chance to fish, although this proved completely fruitless, as is usual for me. In fact, the only fish I saw the whole day was a lonely gar sulking by the bank.

♪♫ " Such is the way of the world, you can never know " ♪♬

  

 Even though I had brought waterproof notebooks this time (Jadd's sacrificed haiku book from last time had imparted a valuable lesson), we didn't come up with many cool nature poems, or any awesome wildlife sketches. I guess you can't force these things. But interestingly enough, two of the only haiku we did write described the same moment, like photographs of the same scene from different angles.

Deep in Thought

Melodies floating downstream
Echoes follow paddles rowing
Moments in memories
-Angie H.

Bearish or Bullish?

   As we continued down the trail, I realized I couldn't name any of the trees or birds we came across, and that I would need to learn to identify the native Texan flora and fauna in order to continue writing about the state's natural beauty effectively. I did recognize the hollow knock of a woodpecker at one point, which I was almost proud of. Suddenly, Angie gasped as a large, dark mammal emerged from behind the willow or oak or cypress or something tree in front of us. What she had identified as a bear for a split-second was actually a black cow, and I would have surely made the same mistake if I hadn't seen cows along the San Marcos on a previous paddling trip.

Fun fact: A group of bears is called a "sloth" or a "sleuth"

   Cows are a mundane sight along Texas roads, but encountering them on the river, minding their day-to-day business, almost feels like a wildlife viewing experience. In our case, it was even more interesting since some of the cattle had waded into the water to escape the mid-day heat, and showed no sign of shying away from us. We passed close enough to touch them with our paddles and continued on our way.

Next time I'll bring a bigger fishing rod.

Trail Mix and Spiders

Eight legs dance on water
Majestic beauty, graceful, floating
Smash
-Angie H.

   Although we didn't encounter the same variety of fish and other wildlife as I had at Buffalo Bayou, one thing remained the same: spiders were everywhere. At one point, a spider nearly the size of my hand crept off a log and onto my yak. Intrigued, I took this opportunity to calmly reach for my camera (phone). I raised it to just the right angle, artfully framed the wondrous creature in my mind....and proceeded to jab at the side of my kayak repeatedly, wildly dunking my phone in the water until the thing was gone. Are there are just tons of spiders on all trees on all rivers in all the world? Only by paddling further and further from home will I be able to establish or debunk this so-far apparently universal truth.
    

 

A grotesquely fuzzy creature. Also, a caterpillar that fell from a tree.

   When we thought we had covered enough distance, we stopped for lunch under another something tree. My new Camelbak was still full, so I made a formal note to make fun of Jadd for his now-infamous mishandling of our water supply on the last paddling trip. Earlier that morning, Angie had suggested we each prepare some custom-made trail mix, so we now munched on two bags of haphazardly assorted nuts and fruits, one of which tasted much better than the other (the one Angie made), which brings me to....


KAYAKING TIP #5: Homemade Trail Mix Recipe: 

• 2 parts cashews
• 1  part Craisins
• 1 part hazelnuts
• 1 part semi-sweet chocolate chips (slightly melted by the sun)

A beautiful place to not catch any fish

  It's a good thing we stopped for lunch on the river when we did, because around the next bend, we recognized the familiar Zedler Mill, and realized the six miles were already over. Donald had seen us and was waiting in his truck. He seemed extremely thankful and surprised as we helped him carry the kayaks up the bank and gave him a report on the river conditions. I guess most people don't have the common courtesy to drag their equipment a few yards or to carry waterproof notebooks around to take notes.

 

Kayak renter-outer, possible mayor, and all-around nice guy, Donald Something. I guess I could have just asked him for a picture.

 
Although this trail didn't present nearly as much of a challenge as traversing 26 miles across an entire metroplex, I definitely recommend it for a peaceful but fun weekend paddle. The trail can be done in 4-5 hours at a very leisurely pace, leaving you with enough time to dine at Luling's "world-famous" BBQ pit (just not on Sundays) or cool off with some locally grown watermelon. As we drove back to Austin, passing an oil rig painted like an orca whale, I wondered out loud if kindly old Donald was the mayor of Luling. If he wasn't, Angie and I both agree that he should be.