Casa Jonsson

My dad has a milestone birthday today, so last weekend I took him on a road trip into the Texas Hill Country in order to mark the occasion.

The first order of business was a tour through Longhorn Cavern, a large cave system near Burnet that was formed by an underground river. (By the way, the locals pronounce ‘Burnet’ the way an arsonist would.) Most caves are hollowed out by acidic moisture dripping down from the soil above; only one in twenty is created, like Longhorn, by flowing water. So walking through this ancient riverbed was like being on the set of 2001 with its serpentine, globular contours and expanses.

Parts of the cave were once home to innumerable bats—daisy-chains of up to 300 of them per square foot—and black discoloration on the ceilings of some rooms bears witness to this fact. Bats weren’t the only tenants; an Indian tribe, an outlaw pistoleer, a church congregation, and a speakeasy all set up shop in the ample recesses of this cavern at various points in history. The bandstand is still in place, and weddings and other events are held there with some frequency.

Among the strange and surprising natural formations in the cave are what look like the prow of a Viking ship, the profile of Abraham Lincoln, a human fist, and a dog that looks like a sculpture from antiquity. Yes, this piece of rock really was formed by the erosive action of the river, but it was moved from where it was discovered to this prominent location for tourists to enjoy.

Originally, I had arranged for a muddier caving expedition involving rappelling ropes, lanterns, and special reservations. Reservations, indeed. Good sense prevailed as I mulled over the prospect of a blood sugar crisis or a sprained ankle occuring deep inside an ink-black labyrinth.

Hey, forget shiny, new Microsoft operating systems—this is living la vida Longhorn!

Later that night, after a shockingly good meal at a restaurant in quaint Georgetown, we did some stargazing at the observatory run by Canyon of the Eagles Lodge & Nature Park. The circumstances couldn’t have been more perfect: new moon in a cloudless sky meant nothing got in the way of the celestial light show. I haven’t seen so many stars since I was in Yosemite with my dad on my 15th birthday. A 17½" and a 12½" telescope gave us a good look through the cosmic time machine. What was taking place on earth centuries ago when that starlight set out across the void in our direction?

The next day we took a boat ride across Lake Buchanan to spot bald eagles. The birds didn’t come very close, but we saw half a dozen of them drifting across the sky in two hours. The scenery was impressive, too.

All in all, it was a great escape from the concrete jungle. As I consider our itinerary and the awe-inspiring sights we saw, I’m reminded of King David’s words:

Where shall I go from your Spirit?
    Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
    If I make my bed in Sheol [or, in the depths], you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
    and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
    and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
    and the light about me be night,”
even the darkness is not dark to you;
    the night is bright as the day,
    for darkness is as light with you. (Ps 139:7–12)