The Texas Hill Country Unleashed: Boerne, Texas

When I’m in Boerne, I park on River Road, across from the microbreweries, and walk the path by the creek. Hands in my pockets, I drift under the bridge, along the water that runs parallel to Main Street, though hidden from it. The trail winds behind the historic downtown. It’s almost always busy: people, ducks, lunchtime chatter. I don’t “play” much, but something about that walk makes me imagine shedding the weight of adulthood, cutting loose like the platinum-haired kid I vaguely remember being. I rarely think about childlike play, except when I’m in Boerne.

The creek veers off, swallowed by brush and high grass. The path climbs toward Ye Kendall Inn, past a small field that once held the town’s public pool. Now, a drum circle meets there. The Inn’s façade is rustic, lavish, and impossible not to admire. Beyond it, the town square. A gazebo. A pond. I find a bench tucked behind shrubs and listen to the fountains ripple. The water slaps against the limestone wall without sound. I could sit there all day.

Eventually, I get up and cross Main Street. I stop at Black Rifle Coffee Co. for a cup, then wander back into the bustle. I’m a Main Street connoisseur; small-town main streets intrigue me. Boerne’s is one of the best. You’ll find coffeehouses, boutiques, galleries, breweries, antique shops, and restaurants. And there’s no fast food, only places meant for lingering.

I’ll walk passed the old Daily Grind, now folded into the Boerne Grill. That’s where my love of coffee began. I spent hours there: reading, writing, and people-watching. Every coffeehouse I’ve loved since: MUD in New York, Sunset in Salt Lake, Ikonic in Santa Fe, Tru North in Livingston—reminds me, somehow, of the Daily Grind. Boerne has good coffee. BRCC, Daily Grind, Dienger Trading Co., Bear Moon Bakery. The pot’s full. I tend to avoid Starbucks, although there is one on the edge of town. And Electric Coffee—you are sorely missed.

I walk the mile, popping into shops. Arbitrarily. I sit by the creek, watch the ducks beg and dodge traffic, then head to Cibolo Creek Brewing Co. I order something from their farm-to-table menu and a cold beer, brewed in-house, arguably the best microbrewery on the planet. I sit on the patio swing and watch Main Street move. On your way to Boerne Lake, stop by Random Beer Garden.

Several times a year, Boerne closes Main Street for events, car shows, “Dickens” on Main, parades, and block parties. You walk the street with a beer in hand, vendors and food trucks lining the way. Boerne has always felt almost like home (it was home for nearly fifteen years). I’ve made memories here that shaped me. I’m grateful for that.

Texas gets misunderstood. But it can be one of the friendliest places on earth. People often ignore that for the sake of generalization. Texas has four of the ten largest cities in the country and one of the smallest—Luckenbach is tied for the second smallest town in the U.S. It’s a music town. Go there. It’s forty-five minutes from Boerne.

Boerne is remarkable, geologically and culturally: the rivers, creeks, caverns, lakes, bluebonnets, Indian paintbrushes, lanky pines, and limestone. Founded by Germans in the mid-1800s, it’s a town of festivals, music, art, celebrities, and history. It’s my highest recommendation in the Lone Star State. And it’s surrounded by places worth the drive: Gruene, New Braunfels, Dripping Springs, Luckenbach, Comfort, Wimberley, Bandera.

Visit Boerne. Walk the Hill Country. Then go home and tell people Texas isn’t what they thought. Maybe you’ll be inspired to explore Port Aransas. Or Marfa. And when you drive through Boerne, stop at Hungry Horse on Saunders Street. And say hello to Steve for me.