Due to my ongoing commitments to my parents, the 254 country adventure is broken up into ten big chunks of time, with a dozen or so counties left over for day trips – out and back all on the same day. This is the day trip story.
Day Trip 1 – 10 April – Lampasas, San Saba, Llano, Johnson City
My first day trip on 10 April introduced two new elements to the formula – a co-conspirator, and a different bike – in this case, the Harley-Davidson. Here’s the itinerary:
The co-conspirator was my old and dear friend for at least 50 years, Bobby Joe Sebastian, who recently moved back to Texas. Bobby Joe had ridden his Harley down to Wimberley from Waco to overnight at my place. The following morning, we set off together to ride part-way to Waco.
Here’s the two of us ready for take-off from my home:
We headed west on the back road (32) to Highway 281, and then took 281 north to Marble Falls, where we had a sumptuous breakfast at the legendary Bluebonnet Cafe, which has been there as long as I can remember. We then followed 281 further north to where the Hill Country starts to flatten out as the roads head to North Texas. We stopped for the courthouse photo in Lampasas:
From Lampasas, Bobby Joe headed toward Waco, while I headed northwest toward San Saba, the self-appointed “Pecan Capital of the World”. It was a beautiful drive through the open country and abundant Texas spring wildflowers, culminating in…a construction site. The San Saba courthouse is undergoing a major renovation project.
Old San Saba must have been a wild place. A plaque near the courthouse describes what was called the “San Saba Mob”, AKA “The Assembly”. The Assembly had started out as a means of vigilante justice in a largely lawless area, but it turned into a crime mob, offing settlers, religious leaders, and (perish the thought) ELECTED OFFICIALS! The trademark of an Assembly hit was a corpse with nine bullet holes. The locals brought in the Texas Rangers, who over time were able to put an end to the Assembly’s actions, though apparently without bringing many, or any, of the Assembly members to justice. I suppose the ex-Assembly members became the seedlings for the present-day ELECTED OFFICIALS…
As best I could tell, Armadillo Iron is a weight-lifting place, which would seem to be substantiated by the trucks parked out in front.
Next door to Armadillo Iron, and also facing the courthouse, is the Estep-Burleson building, constructed in 1870 of native Texas limestone, still the building material of choice for all of Central Texas, especially the Hill Country. This building has been restored, and now includes a very Japanese-looking entry-way. You never know what you’ll come across in Texas…
From San Saba, I pointed the HD due south to what is a home base of sorts, Llano County, named for the Llano River that runs through it. My family has owned property in Llano County since the mid-70’s (Sunrise Beach, on Lake LBJ). A few years back I was helping my parents research a property title mess, and commuted each day from Sunrise Beach to this very courthouse. It is a beautiful one, though nowadays even Llano is beginning to get gentrification and artsy-craftsy (like my current hometown of Wimberley). Still one of the better places to be in the Hill Country, though – it still has much of the last-century charm intact.
After toodling around some of the back roads of Llano county, I made my way on to Johnson City, stopping along the way for a pin-up picture of the HD clad only in matching wildflowers…
Now Johnson City is the county seat of Blanco County. There is, however, a town in Blanco County that is also named Blanco. The county naming convention seems to be that if there’s a town by the same name as the county, then that town is the county seat. Well, Johnson City was the boyhood (and adulthood) home of none other than Lyndon B. Johnson, so I assumed that the Johnson influence caused the county seat to be moved from Blanco to Johnson City.
WRONG! I’m ashamed of my cynicism (about this and only this issue). In fact Blanco HAD originally been the county seat, but with county boundary changes, it was no longer near the center of the county (another important criterion for county seat selection). So the county seat had moved from Blanco town to Johnson City by the 1890’s – or 70+ years before LBJ became President. Here’s LBJ’s boyhood home in Johnson City – the family also had a good-sized ranch just out of town to the west – it is now a National Park.
And then a fine afternoon ride via the Henly Loop back to Wimberley. Four more county courthouses and another 279 miles…and my first guest cameo appearance (but not the last…)
Day Trip 2 – 12 April – Burnet, Goldthwaite, Brady, Mason, Fredericksburg
The second day trip, two days later – the weather remained gorgeous – also includes a guest appearance of an old friend. But whereas the previous trip BEGAN with the cameo, on this one you’ll have to wait until the end.
Here’s the itinerary:
This day trip started out the same way as the other one – 281 North, but this time I stopped off in the town of Burnet, county seat of Burnet county. I have long exposure to Burnet, though somehow I had never seen the courthouse or the center of town. In summer of ’78, while recovering from an exhausting two years up-country in Mali by lounging around the Sunrise Beach lake house, my wife Farida bought me a “learn to fly” coupon for $5. That’s all it took to get me into the embrace of JK Aviation, where the former F-4 pilot Rusty Preston taught me to fly a Cessna 152, while regaling me with tales of flying the F-4 fifty feet off the ground over the trails in Vietnam (and who knows where else). The war was by then in the rear-view mirror (the US lost, in case you’ve forgotten), so though I was still opposed to that intervention (and all subsequent ones, with the possible exception of GWH Bush’s brief intrusion on behalf of Kuwait), that did not dampen my enthusiasm for the incredible tales I heard from Rusty.
Even though we were only flying a C-152 at barely a hundred miles an hour, being in control of that little insect plane at 5,000 feet was often terrifying, especially when we were practicing stalls and spins. Rusty would let me get the plane into what seemed to me to be a SUDDEN AND CERTAIN DEATH mode, and then he’d quietly say “I’ve got the plane” and, with no drama, put it back into straight and level flight. Very reassuring. I hope the years were kind to Rusty…
But back to Burnet. What I had not realized all those years ago is that Burnet has a beautiful town center. Here’s the courthouse:
I’m not sure what all the carving is supposed to symbolize (I’d have preferred some inspiration from Khajuraho), but the building material is locally-quarried granite. IMHO, it makes better gravestones than courthouses, but opinions vary.
Here on the square you’ll find the old Burnet County Jail, with statue of Sheriff Riddell, Texas’s longest-serving Sheriff, for over 39 years.
And this inimitable perspective…
While there’s still nominal separation of Church and State in Texas, it’s not by too many degrees. The churches are usually within a stone’s throw of the courthouse, and they usually seem to be on the better end of the economic stick…
Back on the road heading northwest to Goldthwaite, county seat of Mills County. I had been looking for two days for a good batch of bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes, and finally found this, north of Burnet on 281. True Texas in spring…
Driving across this part of Texas is a reminder that all of this land once belonged to the Native Americans who got here before we did. Most of this kind of central area was known – rightly so – as “Indian country”, and that part of history feels very close out here.
So does another part of Texas history. Here’s the HD and me at the Mills County courthouse in Goldthwaite:
I thought I’d meander around the courthouse and see what the statues were all about. I had previously established that 26 of Texas’s 254 counties are named after someone from the Confederacy. I understand that that was history, though I’ll politely opine that certain kinds of “history” serve better to propagate what that history was about rather than to objectively educate. Here at the center of Mills County, however, I found a Rubicon that I would not have expected to cross:
What you are seeing in the photo above is not only a commemorative statue of the Confederate States of America (1861-65), but the original 7-star Confederate flag flying over state property. I had thought that Texas was kind of a marginal player in the Confederacy, but I have learned that in fact Texas was one of the seven original states to secede from the Union – it is one of those stars. Sorry, but flying this flag on government property seems to parallel what it would be like to see a “historical” Nazi flag flying on German government property. What kind of message is that sending? I’ll answer that question: It is an unrepentant affirmation of the same mindset that drove the Confederacy, the foundational principle of which was that it is OK for white people to own black people as property. No, actually, it is not OK.
I’m not singling out the little ville of Goldthwaite under the magnifying glass, though it’s true that it’s the only place on these travels where I’ve seen the Confederate flag flying on government property. Other than that (!), I’ve seen no evidence that Goldthwaite is any better or worse than any other place in Texas, but then again my whiteness is not really all that catalytic, is it?
I don’t intend to spoil the motorcycle story further with a continued rant on this topic, but I submit that if you are a Texan, you should think about why it is appropriate to be flying the Confederate flag on modern-day state government property.
One more view below – note that there’s no Texas flag, just the US and the Confederate flags…
From Goldthwaite, due west out to goat and sheep country – McCulloch County, town of Brady. Along the way, I pass right back through the town of San Saba where I had been two days earlier. THIS day, however, it was at lunchtime. I had been enjoined by one of my sons to scout out the good BBQ joints along my trips, and I’ve dutifully attempted to comply. Every place I’ve stopped so far has put me in mind of the old saying I grew up with: “If you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all…” Well, on the assumption that the more modest it looks, the better it might be, I stopped off in San Saba at this place:
I pulled off my helmet and strode inside, grateful that I was on the Harley and not on that girly BMW. Noticed the traditional Texas decor – bare 1/4″ plywood, worn linoleum, pine picnic tables – I ordered a pulled pork taco, loaded up on insulin, and had the best pulled pork I’ve ever had. Then, while eating, a local couple, spying transient prey (I don’t know how they could tell), struck up a conversation with me, during which they said that “the pulled pork ain’t nothin’, you oughta try the babyback ribs”. The lady then said, “…in fact, that’s what I’m eating, and I’m full – if you don’t might eating off my plate, you can have what I couldn’t eat and see for yourself”. Quickly putting on my best Anthony Bourdain act, before the opportunity could disappear, I avowed that “…however good them ribs mighta been off the grill, they’d probly be better coming offa her plate”. The ribs were duly transported over to my table, where I ate the TRULY best small ribs I’ve ever eaten. Meaty, but dissolved in your mouth. (Note to Self: In a couple more years, you’ll be able to gum them ribs…) They had a slight taste of dill, or something like that. The “chef” laughingly told me that he’d had some guy through recently doing an article on the “Fifty Best BBQ Joints in Texas”, and that his place had not made the cut. Well, I’m here to tell you, that I’ve now got some expertise on the “Fifty WORST BBQ Joints in Texas”, and Young’s of San Saba ain’t on that list… Highly recommended.
Heading towards Brady, I came upon a local livestock auction ring like the ones I had frequented with my grandfather 60+ years earlier, though he was shopping for cows or occasionally horses. This one was offering sheep and goats, and the place was packed. With customers, I mean…
Still on the theme of “there’s no telling what you’ll see in Texas”, as I’m wheeling into Brady I spot this mural on the main road. Of a Turkish-looking edifice with monkeys on the rail, and Om-like signs pointing the wrong way. Welcome to Brady. Open, sesame… (Where y’all hidin’ them monkeys?)
Many interesting sights to see on the Brady town square. Monkeys on the way in, geese on the square…
Bikes…
And then there’s this: A ratty old rusted Texas pickup. Nice wheels, admittedly, but obviously a dog of a truck. NOT. When you see what is nestled under the hood, you’ve gotta believe that this old truck has made it’s owner a shitload of money greasing young bucks with duallies. (Note to non-Texans: a “dually” is a pick-up truck with two (dual, get it?) tires on each side of the rear axle. Or, a total of FOUR rear tires! Good for pulling trailers loaded with sheep and goats, or travel trailers…)
Well, if it’s monkeys on the way in, it’s deer and turkey on the way out… Grammarians note: “Welcome’s you…”
From Brady, southeast to Mason, true cowboy country here.
Last stop today…and the appearance of the mystery guests…on to Fredericksburg, where I am greeted at the courthouse – both the old and the new, actually, by former Gillespie County Judge Jay Weinheimer and his incandescent wife, my graduating classmate from high school, Anne McBirney Weinheimer. Anne and I had not seen each other since the last reunion, so after our photo op at the courthouses, we got to spend the afternoon downing beer and wine and actually catching up with each other, something that’s really not possible at the hub-bub of a reunion. Jay’s family grew up around the Johnsons, and he had tales galore about both pre- and post-presidency interactions with the Johnson family. Thanks Anne and Jay for a great afternoon.
And the GRAND FINALE…Anne on the Harley! She’s from Oklahoma! Get yoself a motorcycle, dudes!
340 more miles, 5 more counties for a total of 87 as of 12 April 2018. Next stop: Lower Panhandle.
Here’s the map inclusive of both day trips in hot pink:
