Knowing that I had a 400-mile day ahead of me, I actually set the alarm for this fourth and final day of this trip. Here’s the itinerary:
First stop, Emory, seat of Rains county. Both reflecting glory on Mr. Emory Rains, an early “Texas patriot”. More creative name-giving at work.
I met the county judge coming out of the courthouse, and he, having coming to Emory later in life, was enthusiastic about it as a place to live. It kind of seemed that way – how could it be otherwise with this establishment of fine dining right on the courthouse square…
Too bad for me, the Bigmouth wasn’t yet open, so I had to push on westward toward Greenville, seat of Hunt county. This is still quintessential horse country, as illustrated by these happy fellows…
Greenville is actually a little town, complete with overpass over the railroad lines. The courthouse is a pretty thing, located smack in the center of town. It is the 7th one since the county was established (the first being a log cabin), and was opened in 1929 (just in time for the Depression).
An attractive wine bar across from the courthouse, though no place I could spot that sold guns and ammo. I would think a town of this size could provide sufficient custom for a gun and tactical enterprise of some sort. (Note: potential business opportunity…)
Wasting no time, now headed (with trepidation) into the urbanized fringes of Dallas and Fort Worth. First stop, McKinney, seat of Collin county. This place was the biggest positive shock of this trip. The center of town is beautiful, tasteful, and prosperous looking, with gorgeous homes, shaded boulevards, and fine buildings. Also sidewalk cafes, at one of which I broke my fast.
This building is now the Performing Arts Center, though I think it may have at one time been the courthouse.
Now the courthouse is out in the edge of town in what looks like a small city (or mausoleum).
Continuing the Westward Ho! trip, next stop Denton, seat of…Denton county. Now this was another surprise. Denton is a college town, hosting the University of North Texas and Texas Woman’s University. The University of North Texas is noted for its music school, and from that school came the band Midlake, who produced the intriguing song called “Roscoe”. More on that later.
Denton felt to me the same way that Austin did in the 70’s. In the same way as being in Yangon (Burma) in the 2000’s felt just like being in Orissa (India) in the early 70’s. If I were looking for a new place to settle into for the end-of-life glide path (or crash-and-burn), I’d give this little place consideration.
The courthouse is a stunner, and you can’t help but wonder whether the extensive and beautiful stone-work inspired the afore-mentioned Midlake to begin their song with
“Stonecutters made them from stones
Chosen specially for you and I”
OK, it’s not grammatically correct, but it’s a fairly evocative way of beginning a song, and it delights the mind by taking quite a few additional twists and turns before it reaches the end. We’ll return to this song one more time before the end of this leg…
I had no time to tarry in Denton, mindful of the fact that I still had hundreds of miles yet to go in order to get back to Wimberley before dark. I did find time, however, to come to another screeching halt at the Scalco Bucking Bulls operation. From here came the thematic image for this trip (perhaps for my whole life):
I put that second picture on FaceBook, and was amazed at how many people found appeal in the idea of me getting kicked in the head by a bucking bull. There was widespread disappointment when the realization set in that it was a sculpture, not a real bull….
Here, however, is what it looks like in real life, taken a few weeks ago at the Marble Falls rodeo:
There were also real bulls being raised for the rodeo, and they reminded me of my childhood when I lived in terror of the 1-ton Santa Gertrudis bulls my grandfather had on his ranch.
These are all young bulls, not yet in their prime for rodeo work, but impressive enough to remind you of what they are capable.
Well, not a mile down the road I came across a herd of the fabled Texas longhorns (cattle, not university students).
And on to the little town to which the old geezer had alerted me two days earlier, Decatur, seat of Wise County. And he was well-advised to do so:
This courthouse for the obscure (to me) little town of Decatur eclipses those of many more sizeable metropoli. As I was photographing it, a guy drives by in a low-rider car and yells “Photograph it good, I’ve had a lot of problems come out of that place!” I laughed, and yelled back “I might too, before the day’s over…”.
Luckily that did not happen (since I had gotten the 128 mph stuff out of my system several days earlier), so I pointed the Beemer south and headed home. My original plan was that Decatur was the last photo stop on this trip, but since I had some time to spare, and could/would pass through some additional county seats, I added on Weatherford, Granbury, Glen Rose, and Hamilton.
Weatherford first. I’m driving into town and at the end of this long boulevard-like road I see something looming on the horizon looking like Jagganath temple in Puri, or a Shiva temple in south India. That turns out to be the Weatherford courthouse. It was under renovation and there was no way to get all that close to it (it is ringed by a traffic circle), so I parked the bike under the construction scaffolding, placed the camera on a traffic median, and dodged traffic to get back to the bike before a) a car came, or b) the shutter went off. This is the result:
Weatherford deserved more attention than I had time to give it, but I was now in homing pigeon mode, and continued southward to Granbury, seat of Hood county. Another very pleasant little town – I like the open-ness and dry air of these towns to the west of DFW. It looks like the architect of the Granbury courthouse may have been the same as the one in Weatherford, or at least copied that style.
Perhaps one could be forgiven for wondering about that thing on top of the courthouse that looks like it came from a retired battleship. It looks like an afterthought, and something that could (or should) fall off in a strong wind.
Between Granbury and Glen Rose, seat of Somervell county, is a historical marker for a Squaw Creek Indian fight. Form your own conclusions from the story. Also note that the sign has been singled out for more vehicular marksmanship attention. 😀
Glen Rose looks like it could have been located in the Shire, only lacking hobbits. The courthouse is like a stone dollhouse, perfect in proportion.
In addition, it calls itself the Dinosaur Capital of Texas, I guess vying with Seymour for that honor. What seems to give Glen Rose the edge, though, is that it hosts the Creation Evidence Museum, which, in the town’s own words, allows you to “explore the scientific evidence that the earth and universe were created by special design.” I did not get to go there, otherwise perhaps I’d have found the evidence for the co-existence of humans and dinosaurs that I could not find in Seymour. In addition, this museum has a 25′ long replica, 1/20th scale, of Noah’s Ark. I had not realized that his blueprints were still around, but I hope to check that out on the next run up north.
Glen Rose is also situated on the banks of the Brazos River before it turns into the big, red, muddy thing we see down on the Gulf Coast. There were lots of little old-fashioned looking cabins and campgrounds along the river road leading to town. A fascinating little place, and already on the Revisit List.
More incredible vistas on the road through cattle country toward the last stop, Hamilton, seat of…how could it be otherwise…Hamilton county.
These cows, to their credit, do have sense enough to get out of the sun, though that tree “don’t give a lot of shade”. It’s not as if, though, they have too many alternatives.
And finally, a great way to end a great trip: this beautiful little Hamilton courthouse. How could it get any prettier?
So, sun baking down, I saddled back up for the long haul down 281 for the turn-off that leads me to Wimberley. A final anecdote…
You may remember that I mentioned the Midlake song “Roscoe” earlier. It contains the following lines:
Whenever I was a child I wondered what if my name had changed into something more productive like Roscoe
Been born in 1891
Waiting with my Aunt Rosaline
Driving thousands of miles gives you a lot of time for thought. As I see these places I wonder, like “Roscoe”, what my life would have been like if I had been born in one of these places, each one offering a unique and random variation for an opportunity to live this one lifetime. What would I have believed? What kind of man would I have turned out to be?
And, for a nomad like myself: What would it be like to go live there now? Who would I have for friends? What would be my passions?
It is wonder, not wistfulness – I cannot imagine living a life that I’d prefer to the one that I’ve been lucky to have, but there are infinite other ways it could have been. It’s fun to think about them while riding a beautiful motorcycle down that seam of the always present from the always past to the always future.
Next trip: Dallas, Fort Worth, and more of the Piney Woods of East Texas.
Thanks for riding along…
End of the Red River Trip