Bonnie and Andy, escaping into the Hill Country and down Cow Creek, just west of Lago Vista, Texas and north of Lake Travis.
The 20th Short Story
Cow Creek
"Cow Creek"
ANDY'S LESSONS FROM LIFE
My 20th Short Story
This short story took much longer to write. It can take a while to get over writer's block when it hits. That's why I had to keep writing the orphanage book -- non-stop. I knew if I took any breaks, it could drastically affect the schedule I was on. Fortunately, everything worked out well, and I was able to publish "Andy and the St. Joseph Home for Boys" -- nine months after I started writing it.
Many readers have asked if I'd be writing another book. There are a few reasons for my reluctance to do so. One of the more important reasons is that I can't possibly top the orphanage book! Why? Like many of you, our childhoods can be the scariest and most fun-filled time of our lives. That's what makes such a story so good.
After we get older and begin raising a family, the vast majority of our time is consumed by not-so-fun chores, like working 40-plus hours a week to earn a living and pay a mortgage. Most weekends tend to be reserved for to catching up on the never-ending To Do's List!
For the most part, that type of existence doesn't quite lend itself the exciting stories created from our youthful years. Of course, there were plenty of family vacations and mini adventures later in life, but none quite as thrilling as the majority of time during our childhoods.
I love writing and will continue sharing these short stories for you amazing followers and for the fun of it, but you should NOT anticipate a book at the end. I love you all for wanting more stories, and I will keep sharing them as long as I continue writing!
I hope you enjoy more of Andy's life experiences and the lessons that come with them.
"Cow Creek"
“Some of the most enjoyable moments arise from unplanned adventures.”
--Andy Skrzynski
Bonnie’s indoctrination to Texas, before and after our marriage, was a whirlwind of mixed blessings. During one of her earliest visits, I took my dear friend on a trip around Lake Travis, arguably the prettiest lake near Austin, Texas.
Nestled within rock canyons, the 60-mile-long lake’s crystal-clear water allowed one to admire the white limestone bottom at 30 to 40-foot depths. These deeper portions were most easily observed in the larger body of water, nearer the southern dam, which controlled the Colorado River’s flow into Lake Austin.
If you were from other parts of the country, like Michigan, it seemed implausible to see a lake’s bottom at such depths, but mark my word, the water of some of these canyon lakes, in and around the Hill Country of Texas, turned crystal clear during the right conditions.
In some of the shallower areas of Lake Travis, small amounts of algae, drifting within the waters, created a mesmerizing emerald-green hue when the sun sat at the perfect angle. With an average depth of over 60 feet and the deepest floor at over 200 feet, those who did not know how to swim were best served by not stepping out into unknown waters.
Waders might have felt comfortable standing ankle-deep only two feet from shore, but if they ventured that fateful one step further, they could sink like a rock off a sharp ledge into water well over 80 feet deep. Such were the beauties and dangers offered by the magnificent Lake Travis.
One sunny, bluebird of a day, I started out driving Bonnie around the southern and western sides of the lake, along a road with one of the dullest of names imaginable: FM 620. Texans must have loved boring names because they have thousands of farm-to-market roads and county roads with numbers for names. Such mundane titles made it much more difficult to recall than something a lot more memorable like Lover’s Lane or Rainbow to Paradise Drive.
I figured some engineer like myself, whose life was all about numbers and theories, must have been responsible for coming up with the names. Anybody with any kind of life at all -- even a child -- could have been more creative, for heaven’s sake.
Even so, I enjoyed being located in my own slice of paradise. Beside me sat the most gorgeous woman I knew. How on Earth did I ever deserve her?
After passing Lakeway, one of the more attractive communities along the lake’s shoreline, I turned right onto Highway 71 and continued past Spicewood, beyond the Llano River.
Bonnie and I fortunately got along great when we traveled together. She never minced words which meant I knew exactly what was on her mind -- most of the time.
We continued all the way to Highway 281, where I hooked a right and crossed over the Colorado River, which fed into the northernmost part of Lake Travis. As we cleared the bridge, I glanced at my beautiful partner. “You hungry? There’s a quaint little restaurant up ahead.”
She smiled. “I’m starving. I was wondering if we were ever going to see another town or not. Besides, I’ve got to pee really bad.”
This so happened to be one of those times I misread my lovely companion’s mind. I chuckled. “Why didn’t you say so?”
After picking up speed for the remainder of a quarter of a mile, I slowed a bit and turned into the parking lot of the Bluebonnet Cafe in Marble Falls. Bonnie hurried to the restroom while I found an empty table. I browsed the menu and offered a couple of suggestions when Bonnie returned. At that point, I took my turn satisfying Nature's call.
Bonnie ordered for me, and before long, the piping hot meal arrived with a friendly smile from our waitress. Taking our time eating lunch, we shared interesting stories of our earlier lives. In between sentences, Bonnie savored her first-ever chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and a heaping glob of white gravy, speckled with black pepper.
Empathy crept over me as my friend unveiled her sad story of how she and her daughters had all contracted chicken pox. That would have been bad enough in and of itself, but they caught the malady within a few weeks of each other, after just moving to Chicago a couple of years earlier, after her divorce. Needless to say, her new job as a lawyer’s assistant didn’t last very long with her prolonged absence from work.
Sighing, she set her silverware down and looked at me. “Do you want the rest of my food?” She slid her plate toward me.
I glanced at her dish, then mine. She had only eaten two thirds of her meal, and I still hadn’t knocked off my ketchup-encrusted meatloaf. I smiled. “I’m not sure. I haven’t even finished mine yet.” While I consumed the rest of my meal, we continued trading more interesting pastimes.
After paying the tab, we hopped back into my red Camaro and headed down the windy but scenic FM 1431. The narrow road wound its way through some of the most beautiful hills of our trip on the way to Lago Vista, a small community that bordered one of the prettier shorelines of Lake Travis.
Before we reached the little community, we crossed over a creek and came to a narrow road bearing a peculiar name. With a huge grin, I looked at Bonnie. “What do ya think? Wanna explore Cow Creek Road?”
Cow Creek wasn’t the most creative of names, but after driving down highway this and highway that, and traveling several miles down FM 1431, “Cow Creek” had a tad bit more appeal going for it. With Bonnie’s blessing, we turned left and slowly made our way down the bumpy road.
Before long we drove over a couple of teeth-rattling cattle guards, a set of thick pipes lined side-by-side across the road to keep the cows from escaping their prisons, which Texans referred to as ranches. A little more than a half mile further, I spotted the tiniest waterfall, cut out of the moss-covered limestone by the steadily flowing water as it wound its way down the creek.
My eyes grew large. Perfect! Time for a little break!
I pulled the car onto a little-used drive, overtaken by tall weeds, and stopped. Slipping the shift into park, I looked at my precious passenger, who had that inquisitive stare thing going on.
I grinned. “Let’s take our shoes off and wade in the water.”
Without a second thought, she swung the door open and hopped out of the car. “What are you waiting for?”
I was a bit surprised after remembering some of our past conversations. From what I recalled, Bonnie’s idea of camping was finding a suitable motel and perhaps taking a little hike. While I was all about “nature,” Bonnie usually could take it or leave it, but here she was -- ready and willing to go.
With a wry smile, she headed toward the creek. “Come on, slowpoke.”
As she worked her way through the knee-high weeds, I hollered. “Not so fast! There’s rattlesnakes in these parts. They like to sun themselves on the rocks.” She immediately halted her march and stood frozen until I caught up.
I surveyed the area and smiled. “I don’t see any, but we need to keep our eyes open.” We gingerly proceeded over the drier portion of the cream-colored limestone formations of the creek’s bottom.
Lucky for us, we were already dressed for the occasion. My intriguing companion simply rolled up her black jeans, and I was set to go with my shorts. For good measure, I happened to be wearing my favorite blue and orange nylon sport shirt, the one I bought the year our softball team chose me as one of the two players to represent them in the Jackson City Softball All Star game.
Good thing it wasn’t from my earlier years playing on the team, when we were sponsored by a building construction company. The local business provided us with shirts displaying their catchy logo, “Perfection Erection." I’m sure Bonnie would never be caught dead with me wearing such a crude but absolutely hilarious piece of fashion wear.
Before venturing out into the creek’s clear, shallow waters, we slipped off our tennis shoes and socks and set them on a boulder. I lugged my trusty Canon A1 camera over my shoulder, like I always had for such adventures. We waded as the cool waters rushed through and around our toes, before coming upon a spot where I could snap our form of “selfie” back in those days.
I cradled my favorite photographic equipment on the ledge of a large, flat rock and set the timer. In a wink of an eye, I cautiously hustled into place, next to my pretty companion, and encouraged her to smile into the lens. When I heard the anticipated click, I retrieved my camera, and we continued down the creek.
A little later as the sun warmed up, I took off my shirt and set it on a rock. Bonnie snatched my camera. “Let me take a picture of you.” She stared at it a moment and peeked through the viewfinder. “How do you work this thing?”
I chuckled. “Here, let me show you.”
After demonstrating the intricacies, my attractive photographer-in-the-making was ready to shoot. I positioned myself near the littlest of waterfalls, and she snapped the picture. We each smiled at each other and continued our adventure.
We savored an absolutely lovely day while we shared more interesting stories of our past. About 20 minutes into our journey along the creek, distant moos filled the air.
With curiosity getting the best of me, I gently tugged my friend's wrist. “Sounds like cows up ahead. Come on. Let’s check it out.”
Bonnie warily smiled. “Okay, but not too close.”
As we turned a bend, there stood a herd of cattle -- some milling ankle-deep in a pool of water. There were a mix of Angus heifers, steers, and what looked to be a hefty bull.
The massive beast didn’t appear to be all that pleased to be sharing HIS territory with a couple of two-legged strangers. Its huge muscles bulged with each movement of the massive beast’s body as it slowly turned toward us and snorted not just once but twice -- his way of telling us to get the hell out of his sight, OR ELSE!
As I was about to lift the strap of my camera to get a picture of the brute, Bonnie shot me a stern look. “What are you doing? Let’s go -- NOW!”
I sighed, and we slowly stepped backward, keeping an eye on the bull to make sure we didn’t have any unwanted company as we headed back up the creek. Normally, I would have captured a photo of such an exhilarating moment but thought it prudent to do as my lovely partner demanded.
On any other occasion, I would have loved to hang out to see what that bull would have really done, but I didn’t particularly relish the possibility of losing a good friend over some stupid bully on Cow Creek. Besides, the day had already been perfect up to that point.
Why spoil it? We still had the rest of the day to enjoy!
**************
That's it for now! I hope you enjoyed a bit of the adventures Bonnie and I loved so much.
Thank you so much for your wonderful support!
Andy Skrzynski
ANDY'S LESSONS FROM LIFE
My 20th Short Story
This short story took much longer to write. It can take a while to get over writer's block when it hits. That's why I had to keep writing the orphanage book -- non-stop. I knew if I took any breaks, it could drastically affect the schedule I was on. Fortunately, everything worked out well, and I was able to publish "Andy and the St. Joseph Home for Boys" -- nine months after I started writing it.
Many readers have asked if I'd be writing another book. There are a few reasons for my reluctance to do so. One of the more important reasons is that I can't possibly top the orphanage book! Why? Like many of you, our childhoods can be the scariest and most fun-filled time of our lives. That's what makes such a story so good.
After we get older and begin raising a family, the vast majority of our time is consumed by not-so-fun chores, like working 40-plus hours a week to earn a living and pay a mortgage. Most weekends tend to be reserved for to catching up on the never-ending To Do's List!
For the most part, that type of existence doesn't quite lend itself the exciting stories created from our youthful years. Of course, there were plenty of family vacations and mini adventures later in life, but none quite as thrilling as the majority of time during our childhoods.
I love writing and will continue sharing these short stories for you amazing followers and for the fun of it, but you should NOT anticipate a book at the end. I love you all for wanting more stories, and I will keep sharing them as long as I continue writing!
I hope you enjoy more of Andy's life experiences and the lessons that come with them.
"Cow Creek"
“Some of the most enjoyable moments arise from unplanned adventures.”
--Andy Skrzynski
Bonnie’s indoctrination to Texas, before and after our marriage, was a whirlwind of mixed blessings. During one of her earliest visits, I took my dear friend on a trip around Lake Travis, arguably the prettiest lake near Austin, Texas.
Nestled within rock canyons, the 60-mile-long lake’s crystal-clear water allowed one to admire the white limestone bottom at 30 to 40-foot depths. These deeper portions were most easily observed in the larger body of water, nearer the southern dam, which controlled the Colorado River’s flow into Lake Austin.
If you were from other parts of the country, like Michigan, it seemed implausible to see a lake’s bottom at such depths, but mark my word, the water of some of these canyon lakes, in and around the Hill Country of Texas, turned crystal clear during the right conditions.
In some of the shallower areas of Lake Travis, small amounts of algae, drifting within the waters, created a mesmerizing emerald-green hue when the sun sat at the perfect angle. With an average depth of over 60 feet and the deepest floor at over 200 feet, those who did not know how to swim were best served by not stepping out into unknown waters.
Waders might have felt comfortable standing ankle-deep only two feet from shore, but if they ventured that fateful one step further, they could sink like a rock off a sharp ledge into water well over 80 feet deep. Such were the beauties and dangers offered by the magnificent Lake Travis.
One sunny, bluebird of a day, I started out driving Bonnie around the southern and western sides of the lake, along a road with one of the dullest of names imaginable: FM 620. Texans must have loved boring names because they have thousands of farm-to-market roads and county roads with numbers for names. Such mundane titles made it much more difficult to recall than something a lot more memorable like Lover’s Lane or Rainbow to Paradise Drive.
I figured some engineer like myself, whose life was all about numbers and theories, must have been responsible for coming up with the names. Anybody with any kind of life at all -- even a child -- could have been more creative, for heaven’s sake.
Even so, I enjoyed being located in my own slice of paradise. Beside me sat the most gorgeous woman I knew. How on Earth did I ever deserve her?
After passing Lakeway, one of the more attractive communities along the lake’s shoreline, I turned right onto Highway 71 and continued past Spicewood, beyond the Llano River.
Bonnie and I fortunately got along great when we traveled together. She never minced words which meant I knew exactly what was on her mind -- most of the time.
We continued all the way to Highway 281, where I hooked a right and crossed over the Colorado River, which fed into the northernmost part of Lake Travis. As we cleared the bridge, I glanced at my beautiful partner. “You hungry? There’s a quaint little restaurant up ahead.”
She smiled. “I’m starving. I was wondering if we were ever going to see another town or not. Besides, I’ve got to pee really bad.”
This so happened to be one of those times I misread my lovely companion’s mind. I chuckled. “Why didn’t you say so?”
After picking up speed for the remainder of a quarter of a mile, I slowed a bit and turned into the parking lot of the Bluebonnet Cafe in Marble Falls. Bonnie hurried to the restroom while I found an empty table. I browsed the menu and offered a couple of suggestions when Bonnie returned. At that point, I took my turn satisfying Nature's call.
Bonnie ordered for me, and before long, the piping hot meal arrived with a friendly smile from our waitress. Taking our time eating lunch, we shared interesting stories of our earlier lives. In between sentences, Bonnie savored her first-ever chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and a heaping glob of white gravy, speckled with black pepper.
Empathy crept over me as my friend unveiled her sad story of how she and her daughters had all contracted chicken pox. That would have been bad enough in and of itself, but they caught the malady within a few weeks of each other, after just moving to Chicago a couple of years earlier, after her divorce. Needless to say, her new job as a lawyer’s assistant didn’t last very long with her prolonged absence from work.
Sighing, she set her silverware down and looked at me. “Do you want the rest of my food?” She slid her plate toward me.
I glanced at her dish, then mine. She had only eaten two thirds of her meal, and I still hadn’t knocked off my ketchup-encrusted meatloaf. I smiled. “I’m not sure. I haven’t even finished mine yet.” While I consumed the rest of my meal, we continued trading more interesting pastimes.
After paying the tab, we hopped back into my red Camaro and headed down the windy but scenic FM 1431. The narrow road wound its way through some of the most beautiful hills of our trip on the way to Lago Vista, a small community that bordered one of the prettier shorelines of Lake Travis.
Before we reached the little community, we crossed over a creek and came to a narrow road bearing a peculiar name. With a huge grin, I looked at Bonnie. “What do ya think? Wanna explore Cow Creek Road?”
Cow Creek wasn’t the most creative of names, but after driving down highway this and highway that, and traveling several miles down FM 1431, “Cow Creek” had a tad bit more appeal going for it. With Bonnie’s blessing, we turned left and slowly made our way down the bumpy road.
Before long we drove over a couple of teeth-rattling cattle guards, a set of thick pipes lined side-by-side across the road to keep the cows from escaping their prisons, which Texans referred to as ranches. A little more than a half mile further, I spotted the tiniest waterfall, cut out of the moss-covered limestone by the steadily flowing water as it wound its way down the creek.
My eyes grew large. Perfect! Time for a little break!
I pulled the car onto a little-used drive, overtaken by tall weeds, and stopped. Slipping the shift into park, I looked at my precious passenger, who had that inquisitive stare thing going on.
I grinned. “Let’s take our shoes off and wade in the water.”
Without a second thought, she swung the door open and hopped out of the car. “What are you waiting for?”
I was a bit surprised after remembering some of our past conversations. From what I recalled, Bonnie’s idea of camping was finding a suitable motel and perhaps taking a little hike. While I was all about “nature,” Bonnie usually could take it or leave it, but here she was -- ready and willing to go.
With a wry smile, she headed toward the creek. “Come on, slowpoke.”
As she worked her way through the knee-high weeds, I hollered. “Not so fast! There’s rattlesnakes in these parts. They like to sun themselves on the rocks.” She immediately halted her march and stood frozen until I caught up.
I surveyed the area and smiled. “I don’t see any, but we need to keep our eyes open.” We gingerly proceeded over the drier portion of the cream-colored limestone formations of the creek’s bottom.
Lucky for us, we were already dressed for the occasion. My intriguing companion simply rolled up her black jeans, and I was set to go with my shorts. For good measure, I happened to be wearing my favorite blue and orange nylon sport shirt, the one I bought the year our softball team chose me as one of the two players to represent them in the Jackson City Softball All Star game.
Good thing it wasn’t from my earlier years playing on the team, when we were sponsored by a building construction company. The local business provided us with shirts displaying their catchy logo, “Perfection Erection." I’m sure Bonnie would never be caught dead with me wearing such a crude but absolutely hilarious piece of fashion wear.
Before venturing out into the creek’s clear, shallow waters, we slipped off our tennis shoes and socks and set them on a boulder. I lugged my trusty Canon A1 camera over my shoulder, like I always had for such adventures. We waded as the cool waters rushed through and around our toes, before coming upon a spot where I could snap our form of “selfie” back in those days.
I cradled my favorite photographic equipment on the ledge of a large, flat rock and set the timer. In a wink of an eye, I cautiously hustled into place, next to my pretty companion, and encouraged her to smile into the lens. When I heard the anticipated click, I retrieved my camera, and we continued down the creek.
A little later as the sun warmed up, I took off my shirt and set it on a rock. Bonnie snatched my camera. “Let me take a picture of you.” She stared at it a moment and peeked through the viewfinder. “How do you work this thing?”
I chuckled. “Here, let me show you.”
After demonstrating the intricacies, my attractive photographer-in-the-making was ready to shoot. I positioned myself near the littlest of waterfalls, and she snapped the picture. We each smiled at each other and continued our adventure.
We savored an absolutely lovely day while we shared more interesting stories of our past. About 20 minutes into our journey along the creek, distant moos filled the air.
With curiosity getting the best of me, I gently tugged my friend's wrist. “Sounds like cows up ahead. Come on. Let’s check it out.”
Bonnie warily smiled. “Okay, but not too close.”
As we turned a bend, there stood a herd of cattle -- some milling ankle-deep in a pool of water. There were a mix of Angus heifers, steers, and what looked to be a hefty bull.
The massive beast didn’t appear to be all that pleased to be sharing HIS territory with a couple of two-legged strangers. Its huge muscles bulged with each movement of the massive beast’s body as it slowly turned toward us and snorted not just once but twice -- his way of telling us to get the hell out of his sight, OR ELSE!
As I was about to lift the strap of my camera to get a picture of the brute, Bonnie shot me a stern look. “What are you doing? Let’s go -- NOW!”
I sighed, and we slowly stepped backward, keeping an eye on the bull to make sure we didn’t have any unwanted company as we headed back up the creek. Normally, I would have captured a photo of such an exhilarating moment but thought it prudent to do as my lovely partner demanded.
On any other occasion, I would have loved to hang out to see what that bull would have really done, but I didn’t particularly relish the possibility of losing a good friend over some stupid bully on Cow Creek. Besides, the day had already been perfect up to that point.
Why spoil it? We still had the rest of the day to enjoy!
**************
That's it for now! I hope you enjoyed a bit of the adventures Bonnie and I loved so much.
Thank you so much for your wonderful support!
Andy Skrzynski
Bonnie and Andy always knew how to have fun and make the best of their many adventures!!!
At the age of 68, I don't quite look like this anymore!!! I should have eaten a few less desserts over the years -- LOL!!!
We discovered why the road was named "Cow Creek." Bonnie decided to slip my shirt over hers, when the cool water gave her a chill.