We picked up Texas Route 80 in Luling. We chose that town in honor of Lulu and it did not do justice to her. Windmills, cattle and fireworks stands. The oil wells pumped like prehistoric metal creatures and the smell of crude oil took me back to Sutton Vermont when dad was station master for the Portland Pipeline and we lived next to the pump station... 2 miles to our nearest neighbor and 10 miles to town. Good times.
The sign identified State 80 as the Texas Independence Trail and we wound our way into the Texas hill country. Distinctive iron gates along the highway announced this or that ranch; Eagles Peak Ranch, Rancho Mirado, Longhorn Ranch. Some were decorated with cattle skulls or eye catching wrought iron art. One billboard announced "Cowboys for Jesus". Another proclaimed the "Ron Paul Revolution". Through the sleepy town of Fentress and on to the college town of San Marcos. We picked up sandwiches and were looking for spot to picnic when we stumbled upon a football game being played in a used car parking lot. The Uni-Psychos and Team Krug were engaged in a serious contest complete with 3 scantily clad cheerleaders, 2 long haired referees wearing tie dye and a bearded announcer in sandals with a bull horn.
Nothing terrible unusual... except that all the players were riding unicycles.
We crossed TX 32 on the Texas Hill Country Trail past Purgatory Road, cactus and barbed wire, cattle guards and dirt roads... we were off the beaten path for awhile. North on TX 281 to Johnson City, quickly past LBJ and Ladybirds ranch, now an historic site, parking lots and guided tours, and down TX 290 (the Pearl Harbor Memorial Highway...??) into Fredericksburg for the night at a Super 8.
Most motels will allow small pets for a $10 fee which we feel is an absolute insult to our well behaved canines.They are better behaved than most humans... or at least we think so (are we biased?) Where the situation allows, we bend the rules and smuggle them into the room (they are finally getting comfortable with being stuffed into a bag), but when we do pay the fee we typically only pay for one and do the Sampson Shuffle (only one dog outside the room at a time... no one can tell them apart anyhow).
Moon writes about Fredericksberg and the memorial to native son Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, Commander and Chief of the US Naval Pacific Fleet in WWII. Central Texas seems like an odd place to hail from for such a man. And he was quite a man. The story goes that his grandfather, a former German seaman inspired his career path. He wrote, "The sea - like life itself - is a stern taskmaster. The best way to get along with either is to learn all you can, then do your best and don't worry - especially about things over which you have no control". Smart guy.
The State Historic Site on Main Street is five stories high and built to resemble the superstructure of a battleship, another oddity in the hill country of Central Texas. That night we walked Main Street and watched a blazing sunset over the courthouse. Connie's comment was
"Red sky at night,sailors delight... a good day tomorrow." I'm sure Admiral Nimitz was smiling .
On our way out of town the next morning, Connie hunted down a local shop known for their amber jewelry looking for a special birthday present for Kate. The shop is named Grace's Antiques (Connie is all about grace. She doesn't miss the small things...) and the owner, Price Larson, spent an hour telling us about the town, his life and the shop which amazingly enough is the actual birthplace of the Admiral. He let us wander around and showed us the loft where the 11 Nimitz children lived with their widowed mother. Price was interested and supportive of our journey and told us he was about to retire from retail to pursue his art... painting. Good luck Price and thanks for the beautiful green amber pendant. Kate loves it.
It's all about the people.
1 comment:
Hello Loves,
After reading this bit of writing I am missing you both more than ever. I feel as though I am sitting in the bucket seat of the Blue Bullet, I can hear the creaking metal oil wells, I can even smell the cow dung. Thank you Glen Dog for the visual journey through rural Texas. Fabulous !!!
Anna
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