“Whoa, look at that, dude,” piped one of the kids from the back seat of the car. “Oh, cooooool!” “Man, look, it’s huge!!!” “I’ve never seen one like that before!” came the clatter of replies from the others as we rounded the turn, heading toward the river and the resort’s main office. What had caught their eyes? After all, we had already passed the six-story water-slide tower and the castle with the harrowing Schlittercoaster Toboggan ride, not to mention plenty of 12-year-old bikini action; so I was confused as to what could possibly be titillating their Nintendo-soaked attention spans. “I bet it’s a hundred years old! Kate, do you think it’s a hundred years old?” asked one as he pointed at the strangest thing. I pulled the car over and tried to follow the imaginary line of sight made by the boy’s finger as he excitedly pointed out this marvel. I grinned when I saw what had entranced them so.
A tree. A gigantic live oak tree.
After 70 minutes of rush hour between Austin and New Braunfels with four clever, chatty preteen boys headed for a two-day, two-night weekend extravaganza at Schlitterbahn, I began wondering if I should have my skull examined. At this age, jolted by the reflective glow of the latest video game, young men are easily unimpressed — totally unabashed about telling the world how stupid, lame, or dorky something is. So for a simple, elegant tree to capture their imaginations … that’s a fine trick, indeed.
According to Darren Hill, resort manager at the Schlitterbahn Waterpark Resort in New Braunfels, the live oak in question is more likely hundreds of years old. For as slow-growing as live oaks are, and considering survival deterrents like oak wilt and tree-unfriendly humans, it’s quite a feat for one to grow to be the diameter of a dining-room table. This particular live oak had indeed survived and currently resides majestically in front of the Henry Haus, a gorgeous five-bedroom ranch house, just one of five vacation homes available for occupancy along with a variety of cottages, apartments, and motel rooms in Schlitterbahn’s Resort at the Bahn.
“The Bahn” is the half of the park where the original Schlitterbahn, one of the country’s first water parks, was built in 1979. The Henry Haus is actually the haus … errr, house where Bob and Billye Henry, the park’s original and current owners, lived with their three children. The home sits adjacent to the old 40-acre Landa Resort, a motel on the banks of the winding Comal River. The old Landa was refurbished into the vacation apartments and motel rooms of the Resort at the Bahn. Shaded today by the same live oaks and cypress that were there ages ago, the resort maintains much of the same character of the original family-style summer river camp.
The resort, the live oak, and the Henrys aren’t the only “old-timers” at Schlitterbahn, either. Hill, the resort’s young and affable director, began his park tenure first as a lifeguard at the park 10 years ago. Digging a little deeper, we also learn that Hill met his wife, Anna-Terese, at the park. She was working in the admissions department (and still does), and the two have been together since.
Schlitterbahn seems to engender that type of loyalty. Among American theme parks, Schlitterbahn is certainly one of the most connected to its past, and not in some tacky retro-revisionist way, having truly survived its expansion into one of the nation’s largest and most highly attended seasonal water parks — quite an accomplishment, considering that in its 21 years, the park has added more than 40 acres and boasts some of the most innovative water-ride technology in the country.
The Henrys’ son Jeff designed many of the park’s 40-plus attractions and water rides. Joined by attorney/inventor Tom Lochtefeld, Henry developed some innovative water-ride firsts — which include the butt-pummeling Dragon Master® and Master Blaster® uphill watercoasters and a continuous surfing wave called the Boogie Bahn, where novices and pro bodyboarders alike come to ride the wild man-made surf. These rides set trends, and water parks in other parts of the country took notice. Henry now designs attractions for water-park and theme-park clients around the world.
The Dragon Master and the Boogie Bahn are located in a later extension of the park called Surfenburg, while the Master Blaster, part of a six-story castle of insane water-slide action, serves as focal point and main attraction of another park addition, four acres called Blastenhoff which opened in 1996.
Wrapped around the newer Surfenburg and Blastenhoff areas rests the other half of the Comal-hugging guest accommodations. The Resort at the Rapids, like the Resort at the Bahn, is an updated, renovated piece of river-front property that had also already seen life as a holiday camp. The original Camp Warnecke consisted of a row of cabins with perfect views and access to the river. Today, Resort at the Rapids retains the feel of a modest mom-and-pop river ranch, but with fully refurbished apartments, motel rooms, and townhomes.
My son and I decided to have our own little mini-vacation before he departs to visit family for the summer. “One last blowout before summer,” he called it. “Blowout?” I chuckled, wondering if we could possibly be thinking of the same thing. I shook the creepy visual of a 12-year-old frat party at the Playboy Mansion out of my head and asked, “So I guess you’d like to invite along a friend?” That concept seemed a lot less threatening, which may very well have been his tactic all along. The guest list grew to three. Discussing the plan with the individual lads’ parents, I could see the look of horror on their faces — a look inspired not by concerns of their child’s well-being, but one that conveyed a certain simpatico, perhaps a concern for my well-being. “I think it’s a great idea!” one mom chirped. “I’d never do it, but it’s a great idea!”
As I further explained that we’d be spending two nights, the look of horror turned to one of puzzlement. “Why would you want to stay overnight?” I imagined them saying to themselves, envisioning, I’m sure, the cramped and unappealing quarters of a cheap motel on the highway. When I told them that we would stay at the Schlitterbahn Resort, brows furrowed. “Schlitterbahn has a resort?” The question came not just from each parent, but from just about every person I told about the trip.
People in Austin apparently do not know that Schlitterbahn has a resort. I certainly didn’t until last year, when I ended up upended at the end of a tube-chute ride that dunks riders in the Comal. Surrounding the drop point is the Resort at the Bahn, and I was instantly charmed by its low-key, river-ranch, almost “down-the-shore” feel.
Charmed and curious, my crew of four at the time snuck around and peeked into a few of the unoccupied rooms. The rooms were not only convenient and pretty darned nice for a motel, but came in a variety of configurations as well: standard motel rooms, apartments with separate bedrooms, cottages with full kitchens. Certain rooms at the Bahn even have hot tubs, I later learned. We all looked at each other and knew we’d be back.
This year, once the guest list stopped growing, arrangements were made to stay in a three-bedroom condo at the Rapids. Interestingly, in addition to the acquisition of the original Camp Warnecke and Landa Resort, Schlitterbahn has continued buying property as it comes up for sale around the park. Our condo was one such venture. Two average six-plex apartments have been converted for use as way-above-average vacation townhomes.
Having told my son that yes, he could bring his Nintendo rig (skull exam No. 2), it was a relief to see that our home for two nights had only one TV … on the ground floor. Bedrooms, mercifully, were upstairs. The kitchen was stocked with dishes and utensils and all appliances, including the added handy bonus of dishwasher and washer/dryer. These three-bedroom condos go for $255-275 per night.
Friday night, after surviving a rush-hour commute and unloading our provisions for our two-night stay, we decided to explore the rapids before dinner. Overnight guests can borrow inner tubes for a small cash deposit. The “rapids,” as it were, are a small stretch of the Comal that has a deceptively modest “waterfall,” where riders topple over in cushy tire tubes. The current becomes quite rapid, and the challenge then is to get back to the concrete wall, climb up, run back down to the put-in point, and start the routine all over again. All of this is at the base of a loping hill that tumbles to the riverbank from the Pavilion (the Rapids check-in office). We spent our first evening shooting the rapids and soaking in the adjacent hot tub — the perfect remedy for a stressful workday capped off with some jaunty evening tubing. Our next two days were packed with all the sunburnt SchlitterFun that would be expected.
Staying the night at Schlitterbahn turns a simple day trip into a vacation event. Plus, the convenience of staying on the grounds affords the economical luxury of having meals at “home” while avoiding the long lines of the pricey concession stands. The various accommodation styles make it easy for groups of friends to split expenses and share some serious quality time — water parks are so much more fun with a huge group of slippery nutcases.
The greatest thing about Schlitterbahn is that they’ve managed to develop and keep up with the times without losing the qualities that bring folks to Central Texas in the first place. Schlitterbahn is just Schlitterbahn. They aren’t part of a larger chain of theme parks, and there are no nauseating cartoon-themed marketing tie-ins aimed at your wallet. This carries over to the resort as well. The Henry family turned two small family river camps into a viable international vacation destination — without losing sight of important things like water quality, squirrels, gigantic live oaks, and the serenity of the Comal.
If I could do it all over again, I’d do one thing differently. I’d take the time to stop at that amazing live oak and let the kids get out and get in touch with it.
No problem. We’ll be back. 
This article appears in May 26 • 2000.