Enchanted Rock

Yesterday I made it to one of the seven wonders of Texas, the Enchanted Rock. No one knows who first called the Rock enchanted, either the native Americans or settlers as they came into Texas. However, the giant granite dome was most likely characterized as enchanted because of its nightly apppearance, the water in numerous pools on its surface reflecting the moonlight, giving the structure a celestial glow despite its pink hue in the daylight.

The sun was out and the weather was fine climbing the rock. Only 2/3^rd of a mile from base to summit, the dome of the Rock itself is more difficult to climb than I had originally believed. The grade of the incline can at times be 40 degrees, and I would have been wise to equip myself with hiking boots as opposed to the tennis shoes I wore. The rock face was slippery in places, but more fascinating than the smooth spots were the giant slabs of granite that, despite not being attached to the dome face, did not slide down the steep grade. Held by gravity and the friction produced by their massive weight, these megaliths appeared always in danger of sliding down the rock face to crush an unsuspecting tourist or rockclimber.

Once atop Enchanted Rock one is treated to fantastic views, able to view both the wide world around for many miles as well as tiny microclimates that exist only on Enchanted Rock. If, while gazing from the top of the rock around at the Texas hill country, you wondered what manner of plants populated your vista, you need not look farther than just below your feet. In the slightest of depressions in the rock face, life has found a way to flourish. With no shelter from the shade whatsoever, tiny grasses first held bits of dirt blown into the rock together, which then sheltered the shortstem bluegrass so abudant in Texas. If a declevity was deep enough, perhaps it could hold enough soil for a hardy shrub, standing about waist-high, to grow. This shrub was all the protection from the constant wind and the elements that fall on Enchanted Rock.

The precursors to these microsystems can be found as other rock pools, called vernal pools. Filled about an inch and a half with water, these pools’ rock bottoms are coated with a diaphanous layer of mud brown algae, above which dwell tiny, translucent beings that compete with numerous mosquito larvae, called “fairy shrimp”. Over time, the water in these pools would collect the dirt and dust thrown into them by the wind. As the floor of the pool rose with the dirt, water would begin to be pushed out or blown off the top by the wind or evaporated, and shallow water grasses would begin to grow, beginning the process of turning into a grassy area at the top of the barren rock.

Though Enchanted Rock is moste definitely the main attraction of the area, the state park is studded with a few granite peaks that rise abruptly from the Texas earth. The more craggy of these attract rock climbers and boulderers, of which I saw many. Seeking to escape their view and the sound of cars, I walked on a trail called The Loop, because of its circulatory path around the park. The entirety of the park around the “Enchanted Rock” is full of strangely shaped granite boulders and stones. The dome itself continually “sheds” giant pieces of granite as the dome heats and cools over the years. This results in the slabs mentioned earlier, or in a tumbling rockslide that produces the irregularly shaped stones surrounding the base of the mountain. Seeing an oblong one with a rounded top standing like a monolith, I ventured closer and saw a handhold I could use to scramble to the top.

Sitting silently about 10 feet above the ground, I heard the birds begin to chatter as they could no longer hear my ambulations. A ground squirrel sprinted past, and the longer I sat and listened, the more that suddenly seemed to be going on around me. It seemed even walking quietly was too much for these animals when it came to betraying their positions; but once I sat quietly atop that rock, perhaps seen but certainly not heard, they felt safe enough to speak again. Funnily enough, after a few occurrences, I was able to predict when a fellow human was about to walk down the path, as the birds would cease singing about a minute before a photographer, or rock climber, or hiker came into view.