ANGELINA NATIONAL FOREST IN FALL

Last week, I managed to squeeze in a day and a half of outdoor experience in Angelina National Forest, where I boondocked in the Boykin Springs area.

Some Forest Service websites say reservations are required, but at the present time, this one is first-come-first served. 

In recent years, the federal government has fundamentally changed the way that it manages these types of relatively remote sites.

They were unmanned for a long time, which allowed them to go into serious decline as they were subject to vandalism and neglect (general rule of thumb in Texas:  Any developed but abandoned site is at risk of becoming occupied by those who endeavor to cook methamphetamine (PDF link)).  But now the government is engaging workampers to serve as hosts who carefully control access and report to Forest Service staff.  The workampers are usually retired individuals who set up their own rigs on the property and are given free utilities and are maybe paid a small volunteer stipend to cover expenses.  In some larger public campgrounds, the positions do pay a salary, although I'm told it's not very much - it's just a little to augment retirement savings.  At any rate, this strategy is an efficient way of protecting valuable public resources at an extremely low cost to the taxpayers.  I'm told that a lot of these positions are advertised on www.volunteer.gov.  

Part of this rec area was a Civilian Conservation Corps project, which certainly gives it a unique style.

I found this old bolt on the ground near some of the improvements... it may date back about eighty years to when the CCC program was active, but it actually looks better than some of the hardware we've pulled off our 8-year-old Interstate.  

Self-portrait.  

Getting into Boykin Springs was interesting, as it entailed my first low-water crossing in the Interstate. 

You don't see this every day.  I made sure to get back out before predicted rain started falling.  

"You must be a pretty good driver," the workamper host noted after I inserted my Airstream Interstate into this little space among the trees.

This is what it's all about:

This is why we bought the Interstate.  This is why my husband and I are working diligently on converting it into a much more versatile boondocking machine, so that we can enjoy the likes of this, away from crowds, away from RV parks, away from civilization.  

After getting settled in my spot and grabbing a bite to eat, I set off on the 5-mile round-trip hike to the old Aldridge Sawmill historic site.  Here are some pretty pics I took along the way.   

For starters, here's the map of the trail area.  No development.  No FS roads.  No public roads.  No nothing.  Every once in a while, a high-altitude aircraft would pass overhead.  Otherwise, there were no human sounds at all, which is very rare, especially in densely-populated southeast Texas.  

Fall is for mushrooms, and I never get sick of photographing mushrooms. 

And these. 

This is called a "widow-maker" for obvious reasons, and the piney woods are full of them.  A strong cold front came through the day after I left this area.  I hope this came down with the winds, because it was right on the Aldridge trail and posing a risk to hikers.  

Boykin Creek as it flowed from the rec area toward the Neches River. 

A sweetgum leaf caught by chance.  

If I'm remembering my local deep East Texas history correctly, this part of the trail was probably a raised train track bed from the area's industrial logging past.  It looks like a levee but I think it was a train bed.  

Moses got his burning bush, and I got this upon my Exodus from Houston.  What does it mean??

The eerie Aldridge ruins, over 100 years old.  

Do you see the resemblance?
Screengrabbed from this site.  

Window on the past, not necessarily a door to hell as the spray paint claims.  

I'm not going to post any additional pics of the Aldridge ruins because that would be too much of a spoiler.  

I hiked back to Boykin Springs as the sun was setting and the deer were emerging.  This is blurry, but if you look at photo center, you can make out the image of Bambi staring at me from the left side of the skinny tree.  

Another mushroom, because we can't have too many mushrooms. 

Return to Interstate, with rear screen in place and a heavy-gauge contractor trash bag slipped over the open rear door to protect the interior door finishes from exposure.  One day I will invent a more elegant solution for door protection, but the trash bags work just fine in the meantime.   

I had dearly hoped to sleep with the rear door open, but temperatures fell into the 50's and I'm not as physically robust as I was when I began back-country camping over 30 years ago.  I left the door open most of the evening so that I could listen to the critters, but then shut it for sleep so that I could retain some heat in the vehicle.  Our model of Interstate has flap windows directly above the couches, however, such that when the couches are folded down to make the bed, one's ear is still right next to an open window, which approximates the tent-like feel that I want.  

All in all, a wonderful trip, probably my favorite thus far, due to the remoteness and solitude I was able to experience.