The Republic of Texas

East of the Pecos

February 16-20, 2003


 

I always knew in my head that Texas was big, but it never really sunk in until we crossed the Louisiana line and the first sign we saw said "El Paso 898 miles". Wow, to an Easterner, that's a long way.

What you see above is our first sunset in Big Bend National Park; after lots of towns and cities, our first off-the-beaten-track experience. And what a place, as you will see later. But let's start with our brief stop in Houston.

    Our goal was San Antonio, but one jump from Breaux Bridge was too much, so we stopped for Sunday night in Houston. Since it was to be only one night, Mary had he brilliant idea (she has lots of them) of foregoing the backing in and hooking up stuff and just stay in a motel. We only had two criteria--easy off, easy on the highway and an indoor heated pool. (Most of the RV Parks we'd stayed at advertised heated pools; none of them were).  So it was the west Houston Holiday Inn and a night of room service, movie on demand, and unlimited hot water.




Houston traffic, end of the day; driving a 40' bus towing a car on this kind road requires close attention. You just have to remember that everyone can see you and that you'd better plan lane changes a half a mile ahead (literally). Actually, while I wouldn't seek roads like this out, I've gotten considerably more comfortable in these situations; at least you have great visibility.


                                                                                   

               Here are the guys enjoying the latest Jackie Chan movie on pay-per-view. I wish I could say this was their only TV on the trip, but we have satellite in the RV and have seen every Lizzie McGuire and Even Stevens Disney ever made. 







The next day, we got to San Antonio, a neat city whose special character flows (couldn't resist) from the river that meanders through it's heart. It's a perfect example of how something the planner-types call "an amenity" (and hard-nosed, but short-sighted, business people sometimes call a frill) can have enormous economic, social, and cultural consequences.  Texas as a whole takes in about $6 billion a year on tourism; San Antonio alone represents $4 billion of that total. And the River Walk, along with the Alamo, are what make it happen.




Another shot of the River Walk--it took ten years for the Ladies Conservation Council to persuade the (all male) city council is was a good idea. The boys favored alternative? Covering it over like a drainage ditch. Later came Hemisfair in 1968, and the city came to life--around the Walk.



The historical center of San Antonio (and all of Texas), of course, is the Alamo--where a group of Americans from all over the country crossed the line Col. Travis drew in the sand and died for independence from Mexico. They lost the battle, but the thirteen days they delayed Santa Anna's march was long enough to give Sam Houston time to build a sufficient force to finish the job a few weeks later.


 
    The building isn't all that impressive, and it's set right in the middle of the city, but the message it conveys is very powerful. There is a short movie at the nearby IMAX (is having an IMAX a sign of having arrived as a tourist destination?) on the battle which provides some background on what Travis, Crockett (yes, Davey--Molly insisted on a coonskin cap), Jim Bowie and the few score others accomplished.

 Visiting the Alamo is a moving experience; I was particularly affected by the list of the men who died there for an idea. The atmosphere is almost religious (the building was, after all, a Spanish mission); men took their hats off inside and voices were muted. A true shrine of the American experience.



The latest thing in urban landscapes is painted fiberglass animals--in San Antonio, as you can see, it's cows. Of course, in Maine, we have the bears in Belfast and lobsters in Rockland. No flies on us.









We stayed at a KOA in San Antonio ( the heated pool was even heated). KOA is sort of the Holiday Inn of camping--no surprises, but consistent in quality. If only they didn't get so carried away by the "K" thing; you know, stuff like "the Kampers Konnection", "kleen sweep", and "Kabins and tents". K'mon.

Here are Ben and Molly tooling around the Kamp on the pedal rods rented at the kamp store. Sorry, it's got me.


From San Antonio, we headed south and west--for Big Bend National Park. Here are some shots from the road.



Rainbow after a terrific storm, just west of Del Rio, on the Mexican border. We left Interstate 10 west of San Antonio--good choice. (Did you know even numbered interstates all run east and west while the odd numbers run north and south? Or that Eisenhower invented them under the guise of national defense and every so many miles on any interstate is a straight stretch long enough to land a jet airplane?)

    Anyway, off the big highway, the countryside is more interesting and you just feel closer to it. There's something about interstates that seems to homogenize the views--it's as if the engineers build not only the road itself, but the  adjoining half mile on each side. Yeah, you have to slow down for the little towns, but in west Texas, that's not a big problem. Besides, we would have missed this sign--"Go ahead and blink! Knippa is bigger than you think!" It was. Barely.



Small town in Texas; note the fuzzy dice on the windshield, a going-away present from the Sugarloaf Ambassadors. Who says this isn't a class operation?














So what's with this? This is the fourth time we've seen this sign since Florida. Is there an epidemic of vasectomy remorse across the south?




Beard watch; how could a guy so young have such a white beard? Was it the governorship or the kids? We're moving slowly from Willie Nelson (don't you love Willie's commercial for H&R Block?) to Kenny Rogers. Not Santa Claus, Rose.







The road west; does this give you some idea why we're doing this?
Next stop, the Big Bend of the Rio Grande river. Stay with us!