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The saddle fit like a snug pair of khakis. The leather creaked under my jeans. I couldn’t help but grin. Since moving to Texas, I’ve only ridden the occasional trail ride accompanying the occasional and infrequent vacation. So much for dreams of tenure in the Lone Star state spent atop a galloping steed. Really, this ride wasn’t going to be much different from the other gentle lopes I’ve taken at this cowgirl ranch or that.
Sorpresso turned out to be a perfect horse. I snagged him first, as I had scoped out the corral a day earlier. He was sturdy and sleek, but bulky enough, plus he came right over to the fence when I went that evening before for a look. He and I chatted, the way horses and girls do. He let me stroke his ears, and I let him nuzzle my shoulder. Before I knew it, my horse-scoping mission turned out to be an hourlong visit. The entire time, Sorpresso stuck by the fence, like a kid looking for candy.
That next day, Sorpresso and I took our place third in line for the trail ride. He was so responsive, graciously so. I felt tall in the saddle. His previous life as a polo pony (though hardly a pony) ingrained in him a gentle, subtle touch. It took hardly a squeeze of the reins to get him to pull to one side. He had this Radar O’Reilly way of preempting my every move — not that I had many choices in the regimen of the straight trail line. I felt naughty for allowing him to stop for a chew of some wildflowers, but each time we did, that meant we could accelerate to a trot to catch up to the others and not lose our place. Oh, how I wanted to open him up and let him race the wind. Oh, how I wanted to challenge myself to see if the old adage about bicycles was also true about horseback riding; I didn’t feel like I had forgotten anything. But it was not to be. For sensible safety and liability reasons, the average trail ride pace is a slow and gentle walk. It’s not bad if you want to study the native flora, but frustrating for the cowpoke within.
The day before, I had arrived at Balcones Springs to check out and report on the first Camp Camelot, a sort of yuppified version of kids’ summer camp crammed into one mind-expanding, body challenging weekend (see sidebar).
Wanting to avoid Cerebus of the five o’clock traffic Hades — or more succinctly, North Austin — I ditched out of work early that Friday. Little did I know that the dog from hell doesn’t wait until clock-out time. In that end of town, he’s more than happy to begin his petrochemical pile-up as early in the day as he can.
Agonizing over exhaust fumes and sprawl, as 183 North unfurled before me, seemed pointless. But, man, traffic was nuts. It was noon — on a Friday. I figured at least by Cedar Park things would’ve thinned out a little. No way. The lunch rush followed me west. It really wasn’t until a block out of Lago Vista that the folds of the hills and the height of the foliage began to take over. And do they ever. Within one curvy mile, winding and plummeting through hill and dale, it seemed I had crossed into a completely different geographic zone. The sky seemed clearer, the sun brighter, and the trees leafier. Cars and trucks evaporated from view and for the first time on the trip, I was alone.
This part of Texas is gorgeous — not in an ooh-ahh Grand Canyon kind of way — but consumed by its own subtle, scruffy beauty. On this particular day, the few clouds that wisped by cast different, darker hues of green on the sloping backdrop. Stately mansions and old farmhouse cottages dot the hills. I felt my spine relax. My jaw unclench. I was beginning to really look forward to this.
Balcones Springs Executive Retreat & Conference Center sits alongside the northern, pastoral banks of Lake Travis, just south of 1431. In fact, the languid lake borders three sides of the property and seeps through Windergan Creek emptying into the center’s own Lake Ted. The luscious plot of 250+ acres is prime Texas Hill Country, the type of secluded nook seen in cowboy reveries. It’s just the right blend of hillock and straightaway, water and land, perfect for a variety of ambitious recreational endeavors and serious relaxation.
The impressive center is the dream come alive for brothers Bo and Steve Baskin, ex-rat racers, who together with wives Christine and Susie, respectively, have created a Texas wonderland for kids of all ages. Built primarily as a summer kids’ camp, Balcones Springs fills its many cabins during the school year with a variety of corporate and large group events.
CEOs and button-down types who set foot on the property must gasp with a giddiness not felt since childhood when they first get an eyeful of the camp. The main meeting area and focal point of the camp is the Rio Grande Hall, a beautiful, high-ceilinged lodge of mighty yellow pine and Texas granite. The adjoining meeting rooms and offices are laid out with a series of inviting decks, porches, and oak-draped walkways. Those same corporate clients must gulp a little harder when they see how seriously Balcones Springs takes it recreation.
Between the climbing wall, the homemade “Zip”line, and waterslide, the camp boasts enough challenges for the adventurous. For the rest of us, there’s the barn and horse pasture, home of our pal Sorpresso, and enough nature to make you forget city living for good.
Group events are being booked for the fall. Camp Balcones Springs,the facility’s summer youth camp, is currently enrolling. Balcones Springs, HCO4 , Box 349, Marble Falls, 78654, 800/775-9785.
This article appears in May 21 • 1999 and May 21 • 1999 (Cover).