海角大神

Deep in the heart of Texas, the traffic is backed up for almost a mile.

It鈥檚 a jarring sight for long-time residents of the Hill Country, a rural oasis of scrubby green hills, crystalline water, and bright white limestone west of Austin and San Antonio. But it鈥檚 not the only sign that change is afoot in this once rustic and hardscrabble region of the Lone Star State.

Eighteen-wheelers roll over the narrow country roads, and housing developments dot the limestone hills. Home values are climbing as low-wage workers struggle for housing. Meanwhile, sewage systems are hitting capacity, and drinking water supplies may not last through the next long drought.

In one of the fastest growing states in the country, this is the fastest growing region. The population has grown by nearly 50% in the past two decades, according to the Texas Hill Country Conservation Network (THCCN), with much of聽those gains聽in unincorporated 鈥� and largely unregulated 鈥� areas.

There have been positives. A larger tax base is funding high-quality schools; small businesses, particularly in tourism and hospitality, are flourishing. Development is inevitable, and not inherently bad, locals say, it just needs to be planned carefully.

But careful, regulated growth isn鈥檛 something Texas has typically prioritized. And with growth and development here only expected to continue in coming decades, the clock is ticking to lock in safeguards for what has made the Hill Country so attractive to newcomers.

鈥淓verybody is, you know, loving it to death almost,鈥� says David Baker, executive director of the Wimberley Valley Watershed Association.

鈥淭hat鈥檚 the challenge: how to balance growth with conservation,鈥� he adds. 鈥淗ow do we make sure that we don鈥檛 destroy the thing that attracted us here in the first place?鈥�

Rapid growth 鈥� especially beyond the city limits

There was a time when Dripping Springs 鈥� known as 鈥渢he Gateway to the Hill Country鈥� 鈥� didn鈥檛 have a single traffic light. Today it has five, and a bona fide rush hour.

The sign at the city limits informs visitors of the population just shy of 1,800, but the sign has been out of date for over a decade. The population has more than doubled since then, and 10 times that number live outside the city limits in its so-called 鈥渆xtraterritorial jurisdiction鈥澛爋r ETJ.

鈥淚n the last five years the traffic has been out of control,鈥� says Bill Foulds, the Dripping Springs mayor.

Like most Hill Country towns, recent population growth has not been in Dripping Springs itself, but in its ETJ and unincorporated areas of the county. Residents there don鈥檛 pay city taxes, but many do use city roads, sewer systems, and other infrastructure.

Dripping Springs鈥� population still isn鈥檛 big enough to justify a police or fire department. Mayor Foulds desperately wants to improve the city鈥檚 central intersection, but there鈥檚 only so much they can afford.

In the counties directly west of Austin and San Antonio, the population in unincorporated areas has more than doubled in the past 30 years, according to a recent聽report聽from THCCN, a coalition focused on preserving the region鈥檚 culture and natural resources. In addition to city infrastructure, those residents also benefit from access to local schools.

鈥淲e take it to heart that we cause some of the traffic problems here,鈥� says Thomas Price, superintendent of the Boerne Independent School District.

Indeed, weekday mornings and midafternoons in the city herald a choke of cars dropping off and picking up students. Over 10,000 children attend the district鈥檚 12 schools, and 400 have joined this year alone.

Enrollment聽is聽expected to double in the next 10 years, and the district wants to get ahead of the inevitable traffic聽challenge.聽

One example: They鈥檙e hoping to put an elementary school in a new subdivision, near two other subdivisions,聽so more kids are walking, biking, or riding buses.聽

Dr. Price grew up in Houston, watching the city sprawl out 30 miles in every direction with little forethought. He doesn鈥檛 want Boerne to end up in that situation, he says, 鈥渢rying to figure it out afterwards.鈥�

A 鈥渕iracle,鈥� but is it affordable?

If 鈥渢he Texas Miracle鈥� could be captured in one image, it might be聽the main street of a town聽like Dripping Springs聽or聽Boerne.

While cars pack the streets, people聽crowd聽the sidewalks. Antique shops, boutique clothing stores, and small restaurants stand next to chain stores like Walgreens, Home Depot, and H-E-B grocery stores.

A combination of low taxes and business-friendly policies have fueled this 鈥渕iracle鈥� of growth and prosperity, state leaders say, and helped Texas weather the Great Recession and the pandemic better than most states, economically. (When it comes to the COVID-19 death rate, Texas ranks roughly in the middle.)

The degree to which that is true 鈥� and not just the result of, for example,聽a thriving oil industry聽鈥� has聽been debated聽for years. But in the Hill Country, while the economic benefits of growth have been welcomed, some market forces have been raising concerns.

The Hill Country region saw an unprecedented volume of land sales, and increases in land prices, beginning in the second half of 2020,聽reported聽the Texas Real Estate Center at Texas A&M University. And as land values have surged, so have home prices and rent.

In Boerne, Ty Wolosin has seen it firsthand. Both a city council member and owner of a brewpub in the heart of the town鈥檚 Main Street,聽he has staff making聽$17 an hour. 鈥淚t鈥檚 still hard [for them] to afford to live in Boerne,鈥� he says.

Meanwhile, the school district is struggling to hire hourly-wage workers like custodians and bus drivers, most of whom have to commute from more affordable San Antonio suburbs. At one of the high schools, just five of 14 custodial positions are filled, says Dr. Price.

鈥淭here鈥檚 not a lot of affordable housing,鈥� he adds. 鈥淚f we want to be a viable community ... that鈥檚 got to be a focus.鈥�

Growth itself could be an answer to affordability issues, some argue.

鈥淚t will attract more services and things that will keep our economy diversified and attract opportunity for everyone,鈥� says Jason Giulietti, president of the Greater San Marcos Partnership, a nonprofit that works with a variety of stakeholders 鈥� from business leaders to environmental groups 鈥� in Hays and Caldwell counties to attract suitable businesses to the region.

鈥淕rowth is going to happen,鈥� he says. 鈥淲e think by being involved and active in it, it lets you control that narrative a bit more.鈥�

Keeping local character alive

In a region where locals used to drive to Austin or San Antonio to buy groceries, development has brought more convenience, but also more homogeneity.

鈥淲e鈥檙e seeing a sort of encroachment on local community character, local economies,鈥� says Cliff Kaplan, program director at the Hill Country Alliance. 鈥淢ost towns would like to see that look and feel maintained throughout their new development.鈥�

Bandera has been particularly focused on this. Thirty minutes west of Boerne, the town known as 鈥渢he Cowboy Capital of the World鈥� has not yet seen the growth of some Hill Country cities.

There isn鈥檛 an H-E-B, and the largest store is the Tractor Supply Co. on the edge of town. Downtown, one- or two-story shops line the street with awnings covering the narrow sidewalks. Hitching rails for horses are still found,聽and used, outside businesses. As a whole, the town鈥檚 layout is virtually unchanged from the 1800s.

Rebeca Gibson, a city council member, is hoping it will stay that way regardless of the development she knows will arrive in the coming decades.

An effort by the city council to revamp local zoning codes is 鈥渧ery, very technical,鈥� says Ms. Gibson. But 鈥渋t鈥檚 a great example of how our city is working towards achieving more responsible development.鈥�

A fragile water supply, under strain

Bandera is now hoping to get ahead of the next big challenge: water.

The town can look like a sepia-toned photograph of the old West, but there鈥檚 nothing nostalgic about the liquid waste known as effluent 鈥� from the local wastewater treatment plant and sometimes from surface runoff 鈥� draining daily into the Medina River that flows through town.

A new wastewater treatment plant is in the works (further from the river), along with some other potential disposal methods.

鈥淚鈥檓 just grateful that we have the opportunity to change it,鈥� says Ms. Gibson.

Indeed, of all the development-related issues here, water might be the most challenging 鈥� and one where many cities, unlike Bandera, are playing catch-up.

First, there isn鈥檛 much of it. The primary source of drinking water has long been a network of underground aquifers flowing through the karst limestone under the hills and feeding a thousand miles of pristine streams. And these aquifers are聽among the most stressed in the state.

Second, the water that is there is exceptionally clean, and exceptionally easy to contaminate. Karst is the geological equivalent of Swiss cheese, full of holes that allow rainwater 鈥� and contaminants 鈥� to easily infiltrate the water supply. A diverse and fragile ecosystem has developed around this pristine but fragile hydrology, and development poses a variety of threats.

Developing open land could pave over areas where water can filter down into the aquifer, and it could whisk contaminant-laden effluent directly into streams and rivers. More people in the Hill Country means not just more pavement, but also more sewage and more demand for drinking water.

鈥淕overnmental entities charged with stewarding our water resources are faced with an almost impossible task,鈥� says Mr. Kaplan from the Hill Country Alliance.

In Dripping Springs, the wastewater system has hit its maximum capacity. The city has implemented a moratorium on development, and for six years it has been trying to get a new wastewater discharge permit from the state to increase capacity. The permit has been tied up in legal battles, however, as environmental groups fear the permit would lead to the pollution of local waterways.

David Baker鈥檚 dilemma

When it comes to water in Boerne, quantity is as big a concern as quality for Micah Voulgaris. As general manager of the Cow Creek Groundwater Conservation District, the local groundwater regulator, it鈥檚 a looming crisis he can鈥檛 ignore.

鈥淭he drought of record is the seven-year drought in the 1950s,鈥� he says, settling into a leather chair in a meeting room at his office. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not an 鈥榠f,鈥� it鈥檚 a 鈥榳hen鈥� on a drought worse than in the 鈥�50s.鈥�

Meanwhile, the interstate through Boerne is slated聽for expansion, and the city continues to grow. The district hasn鈥檛 been drilling as many wells as they did when he started there in the early 2000s. Instead they鈥檝e been restricting the number of wells landowners can have. But it all adds up.

鈥淵ou鈥檙e constantly adding onto that total use,鈥� he says. 鈥淲ater levels are going to decline the more people you have using it.鈥�

Leaning back in the chair, he sounds tired. But he tries to strike a more positive note.

鈥淧eople aren鈥檛 going to just stop moving here,鈥� he says. 鈥淲e just have to figure out: Is what we鈥檙e doing going to be enough along the way?鈥�

David Baker was on his way to New Mexico in 1988 when he stopped in Wimberley for the first time. He saw Jacob鈥檚 Well, a natural spring that sinks over 100 feet into the Hill Country aquifer system, and never left. The spring shares a name with his son 鈥� 9 months old when they found it 鈥� and it was privately owned then, so he bought a portion and opened a bed and breakfast named Dancing Waters. His daughter was born at the B&B.

In 2000, for the first time in its history, the spring stopped flowing, and it鈥檚 stopped flowing twice more since then. Mr. Baker donated聽a conservation easement on聽his land聽and sold the well to WVWA, with the county eventually acquiring the property. He's聽devoted聽the past quarter-century聽of his life to preserving Jacob鈥檚 Well and other Hill Country natural resources. He鈥檚 now such a conservation icon here that a species of amphipod discovered in the spring last year is named after him (Stygobromus bakeri).

He鈥檚 been telling his story for decades, and it鈥檚 one he repeats to two elderly women he runs into on their way to the well on a warm morning last month.

The women aren鈥檛 just visitors. One of them 鈥� from Denton, a city north of Dallas 鈥� tells him she鈥檚 looking to move here. It feels great to get out of the city, she says. She鈥檚 just hoping land prices here fall back into her budget.

Mr. Baker thanks them and wishes them a good visit.

鈥淪ometimes I鈥檓 like, 鈥極h man, it鈥檇 be nice to just not have all these people here,鈥欌�� he says. But it鈥檚 a dilemma.

The more people who visit Jacob鈥檚 Well 鈥� and the Hill Country 鈥� the more people will, like him, want to move there. But the more people who visit, the more people will, like him, want to protect places like the well.

That鈥檚 the hope, at least.

鈥淒eep down inside, we all know we need water to survive,鈥� he says.

鈥淚t鈥檚 a miracle that millions of gallons of water is coming out of the ground that we can still drink,鈥� he adds. 鈥淚t鈥檚 up to us to notice that and appreciate it.鈥�

Editor鈥檚 note: This story has been updated to clarify both steps David Baker has taken with his Jacob鈥檚 Well property and the timeline of his efforts.