STEPHEN F. AUSTIN STATE PARK

Stephen F. Austin was the sixteenth Texas state park I visited, and it was by far my least favorite.  I would recommend it only to those who either (1) want a limited generic car camping experience, or (2) those who are using its group camping facilities for a primarily social (rather than nature-based) experience, or (3) those who happen to be passing through the area and need a place to stop for the night, and can actually get a reservation.  Let me explain.

First of all, many of its facilities were closed as of April 2016.  The original map you see on the Texas Parks and Wildlife website doesn't reflect current conditions the way this annotated in-park version does.  The bridge is out on what had been the only road into the park, which necessitates a detour along a poorly developed public road, which is also on the verge of being shut down on account of general disrepair (embankments and bridges are eroding and are in questionable structural condition).  

For reasons that are not clear, the number of closed campsites is also very high.  There was no visible defect or problem apparent as to why these would be closed when our entire state park system is not able to even remotely meet public demand for access.  

Are you detecting a pattern yet?  

While we all realize that unfortunate events do sometimes happen, at a certain point we must admit that we are entering this kind of territory:

Stephen F. Austin, You Had One Job - to provide the public service of being a reasonably accessible park.  If you close campsites, trails, and roads, what exactly is remaining within the context of that function?  

I assume that some of the issues with the park derived from the 2015 Brazos River floods, but it seems like we are now entering bureaucratic excuse-making on flood-derived damages.  The worst of the flooding was almost a year ago.  The interval needed for "repairs" will soon be measurable on a geological time scale.  

It's not just the closure dysfunctions that lend a lack-of-cohesion feel to this park.

According to local signage (which is only partially correct as it oversimplifies the situation), the park is divided into a recreational component and an historical component.  Except the two are disjointed and you have to take a car to get from one to the other.  Or presumably cross a golf course on foot, and wouldn't that be fun.  

In the absence of cohesion and presentation, the whole park experience is basically lost, and one is instead subjected to some grass, trees, parking spaces, and public utilities.  Perhaps my expectations were set too high because I had just camped in the wonderful and far-better-maintained Brazos Bend State Park six days earlier, but I really did not enjoy this place.  Nevertheless, I got out on the trails to take a closer look.  Here is what I found.

View of one of the campgrounds at 5 p.m. on a Friday with all campsites reportedly bought and paid for, to the point where none were available for booking (nor does this park have any overflow facilities).  The problem with state park reservations is that they need to be made so far in advance that there are a large number of no-shows when the day of reservation finally comes, because peoples' situations have changed in the intervening time.  But the reservation system doesn't seem capable of re-selling those empty spots, resulting in a financial loss for the state and an experiential loss for Texas citizens.  

I will say one thing about the park - I have never in my life seen so many raccoon tracks.  How this area can support that density of animals is a mystery.  Are they scavenging trash from the nearby neighborhoods and golf course?  

Although both Stephen F and Brazos Bend are both situated on the Brazos River, ecological differences are readily apparent and likely owe their existence to the parks' respective positions farther from and nearer to the Gulf coast.  Stephen F is more piney, and widow-makers such as this one were abundant.  

Wildflower assemblages were also distinct in each.  

Stephen F's bottomland trails had an other-worldly appearance, as the forest floor was scoured out by floodwaters.  Muck was everywhere.  Some of the children who were staying in the park with their families gave up on their shoes and were going barefoot through it.  

You can hike all the way down to the edge of the Brazos; the question you'd have to ask yourself is, why would you want to?  It's too deep for wading, not fit for swimming, and it's an awfully large and potentially dangerous powerful river for paddling, unless someone was in possession of a good level of skill.  And catfish are not my thing (that's the primary catch for anglers).  

This bottomland was also the only place where I've ever seen poison ivy growing in standalone tree form.  It was everywhere.  

Mounds of riverine debris were pushed up far into the surrounding forest.  

Proceeding to the historical area (by vehicle, of course), it occurred to me that Stephen Fuller deserved a monument just for surviving the mosquitoes in this terrain where he set up his colony.  Again I am no doubt spoiled, but we have an extensive system of mosquito control in urban Houston areas - we have to, or else we'd be up to our ears in subtropical diseases.  The same is not true of outlying areas, and it can be a shock to encounter the incredible density of mosquitoes found there.  

The historical area is well-kept, with displays and interpretive reconstructions.  I got there too late to see the small visitor's center.  

As the old saying goes, "You never know until you go."  I went, I saw, and I will henceforth leave these lands to the ghosts of Texas history.  I left the park near sunset and drove our Airstream Interstate to an alternate destination that offered better hospitality and cohesion.