Jan 30 - We've been here in the Big Bend area for five days, and don't want to leave. Sunny today, and for the past 5 days. Temp in the 70s. Beautiful scenery. And a most friendly camp, out in the desert, outside of Terlingua. Bud and Irene run this little 19 site place, and they are terrific. We've had two nights around the campfire, one night joining the gang to go north of here for a great Mexican meal, and just feel like part of the group here. Almost home. Co-hosts, a couple from Medicine Hat, Larry and Marlene, the latter a very friendly lady with whom we've had lots of nice chats. Lucked out with this place. Originally booked for three days but managed to get two more and then have to leave because it's full.
Big Bend!! One of the most beautiful places we've seen anywhere. Desert, mountains, lowlands, barren wasteland, dry run-offs, hiking that makes your spirit soar. We have a one-week pass to the park, a National Park, so have 'gone back in' twice, and hiked our little feet off, We're located outside of Terlingua, so have to drive back into the park, a considerable distance, to get to hiking sites. But well worth it. We did two hikes each day, one day for 6 miles, yesterday for 8. Up and down, down and up. But the scenery, the mountains, the desert, the vistas....What a treat. A place to come back to. And we ain't leaving yet, as we've booked two more nights in the park itself, so will have hiking, hot springs, the beauty of the environment to enjoy. There's also a Big Bend Ranch State Park adjacent to Big Bend, where we also spent a day, doing some neat hikes, one into Closed Canyon, which was challenging but fun.
Gotta tell you this about the small world thing we've talked a bit about. Today was an r and r day, so we rode our bikes up to the Terlingua Ghost Town, went to the Starlight Tavern/shop up on the hill, after checking out the US Chile Championship taking place lower down. Bought a couple of Terlingua IPA's, and joined a number of others sitting on the porch, drinking their beers, watching the various antics of the local dogs, looking into the mountains to the east. Talked to guy sitting beside me, who, when he learned we were Canadians, said there were quite a few around the area. "Just down there, the guy in the cowboy hat, he's from Toronto, works for a bike shop in a place called Bloom...something." Further quizzing revealed it's Bloomfield Ontario he was talking about.
So I hotfooted it over to introduce myself, and turns out he's an adopted brother to Katie, who with partner Rick run the Bloomfield Bicycle Shop in Prince Edward County. We had a great chat. He told us where we might find Katie, just down the road, so later we did indeed find her there, and had a nice chat. Later, her partner Rick showed up at our campsite and we had a great chat with him. We had known that they always come to Texas for the winter, but had no idea where. Both bikes we are riding we bought from their shop. There's the 'small world of the month' for you.
Can't describe the hikes, the scenery, the desert, the light and shadows, the people that come here on a regular basis. Would take a full chapter, and you'll already be thinking this is far too long. Suffice it to say we love it here, and will be back in future.
One other thing. There's a couple here in the r.v. park from the northern states, in their late 80s. He's a former Vietnam pilot, one who flew in to airlift soldiers out of disaster, she a former military nurse.After the wayr, he became a geologist, and knows this area like the back of his hand. Last year, their family arranged for his grand-son to drive their 5th wheel down here, much to the consternation of Grandpa. Everything was set to go, and grand-son told Grandpa, " I just have to get the car ready for you two to go down south in". He was to drive the 5th wheel, and they were to follow. As he went to get the car, Grandpa said "To hell with that", and took off in the 5th wheel. Grandson had to follow all the way down to Texas in the car. That's gumption.
There's a special type of person who lives here, and comes here. It's a bit of a frontier, even in today's electronic world. We don't have t.v.. and our phone doesn't work. Good wifi, so we can keep in touch with the outside. But if you don't want to, it's easy. Just keep the computer turned off. Go and roam the parched landscape. Forget the problems of the world for awhile. Come to Big Bend. Stay tuned.
Saturday 30 January 2016
Tuesday 26 January 2016
Jan 26 - Son Jeff tells me that Luckenbach Texas is in a song Willie Nelson and Waylen Jennings did a few years ago, and he sent us the lyrics to prove it. And that's where we were, on Saturday. Population 3! A store, selling souvenirs, a hall with bench seats, good for about 300, all sold out by the time we called, and not much more there. That's Luckenbach! A guy had his longhorn steer there at the entrance for people to sit on if they wanted their pictures taken. That's Texas! There are a lot of musical happenings here, so it's become quite famous as a place to do your thing if you're a musician. We parked the rig up on a rise, and paid $20 bucks to get in, rather than $30 early birds paid to sit on a bench inside. There were picnic tables around outside the hall, and places where you could buy food and drinks, of course. Terrific pulled pork sandwiches which were enjoyed by we two. And they stocked our favorite beer, Shiner Bock. Life is good with a Shiner.
The bands started at noon, one per hour until 11 that night. Sit at a picnic table, stand outside the hall and look in, whatever. Good blues music, and quite varied. Bands from all over. So it was fun, until we left late afternoon to make our way on down the road. But a neat thing happened while we were there. We sat in the sun at a table with a couple from San Antonio. Spent most of the afternoon with them. Along came four other folks to our table, one of whom was performing as a drummer later that day. Turned out they were all from Waco, the band guy, his friends and the couple we were with. Even stranger, the drummer had worked for our friend's uncle for 30 years. Even stranger still, the lady of the group had been in our friend's grade 6 class. He didn't recognize her, as he hadn't seen her since then, but when she introduced herself, he nearly fell off his seat. He thinks he might even have kissed her when they were in Grade 6, he later told us. Naturally, they all had a lot of catching up to do. Fun to listen to.
That night, we found a campground along route 90 called Cowboy Capital RV Park at Pipe Creek. It was dark when we pulled in, no reservation, and no-one around. An older fellow staying there came along, and helped us find a site, found someone to check us in, and helped us set up in the dark. We introduced our selves. "My names Carol, C-A-R-O-L,, " he said. "Did the kids give you a hard time about your name when you were young?" the old Guidance Counsellor asked. "You bet they did. Got to the point where I sent away for one of those Charles Atlas body-building programs advertised in the comics. And a friend got a t.v., so I watched the fights every Friday and learned a lot. By the time I got to be 18, I decided I didn't need to change my name after all, cause I could look after myself against 90 per cent of them. And", he finished, " people today just have no idea about bullying, what those poor kids go through. They have no idea. I do!" This from a 74 year old. We shook hands a little later, and off he went to his rig.
We Walmarted in border city Del Rio (lots of Mexican folks were there doing their shopping). We don't like Walmart, but their stores are good for travellers, as the prices are good, and everything you need can be found.there. On to Seminole Canyon State Park. Great campsite, up on a ridge, stars a million in the sky. We just happened to get there before a guided tour was about to set off, so we joined, and down into the canyon we went, to see a whole series of ancient pictographs, They've been there for thousands of years, painted by natives who remain unknown even today. Very interesting to see the images, up on rock walls under overhangs, where the native people could escape the elements and live in protected shelter on the ledges. The longer you stared at the walls, the more images you saw. Images sort of materialized, and were of shapes that are still being interpreted today for meaning. Our guides, a couple from San Antonio, do these tours for a fun retirement project. Great couple. They spent at least 15 minutes with us afterwards giving us hints about what to do in Big Bend National Park.
Yesterday, we did a 7 mile hike, out along the canyon walls of the Pecos River, to where it empties into the Rio Grande. Desert terrain all the way, and some fine views. There's a site across the Pecos that also contains cave drawings, which we could see with binocs and the big lens. We walked along the Rio Grande for a bit, then back to the trailhead on a rather boring road. But a good walk not spoiled.
Today, 5 hours to get to Big Bend. Stopped for a bite in a nice little gas bar/restaurant. (Gas $2,35 per gallon, as opp $1.59 most of the way along through Texas. Remote towns are expensive.) Two guys were chatting with the owner. "Got to do jury duty this time?", asked the owner of one of the guys, a big guy with a black moustache. "Don't know. Not goin' to get my mail." His friend said, "Didn't they fine you for not showing up the last two times?" "Yep, 75 bucks both times. I don't want to do it. Let them find someone else who's interested." "Yeah, but next time, they said they're going to come and get you and throw you in jail if you don't show up." His friend just shrugged, as if to say, 'let 'em come'..
After they left, we asked the owner if it was common for people around here (Marathon, Texas) to get called. "It is", he said, "because there are not many people. They call 100 at a time to get 12 selected, so we get called up a lot. Good for me when I worked for the government, 'cause I got regular pay, and also got money for going to the jury duty. Double pay for me." Friendly man, place clean as a whistle, and good Mexican fare for lunch.
To get to where we are now, in a little camp outside the thriving town of Terlingua, we saw beautiful, big, empty, rugged, desert terrain. If you have agoraphobia, don't come here. But it's truly grand. We drove through Big Bend Park, and it is truly stunning...mountains, badlands, arroyos, gulches, draws, strange yet beautiful in places. We'll drive back in for the next two or three days to hike the trails. Hope it warms up, as there is snow forecast north of here. We should be okay, as we're just far enough south. Stay tuned.
The bands started at noon, one per hour until 11 that night. Sit at a picnic table, stand outside the hall and look in, whatever. Good blues music, and quite varied. Bands from all over. So it was fun, until we left late afternoon to make our way on down the road. But a neat thing happened while we were there. We sat in the sun at a table with a couple from San Antonio. Spent most of the afternoon with them. Along came four other folks to our table, one of whom was performing as a drummer later that day. Turned out they were all from Waco, the band guy, his friends and the couple we were with. Even stranger, the drummer had worked for our friend's uncle for 30 years. Even stranger still, the lady of the group had been in our friend's grade 6 class. He didn't recognize her, as he hadn't seen her since then, but when she introduced herself, he nearly fell off his seat. He thinks he might even have kissed her when they were in Grade 6, he later told us. Naturally, they all had a lot of catching up to do. Fun to listen to.
That night, we found a campground along route 90 called Cowboy Capital RV Park at Pipe Creek. It was dark when we pulled in, no reservation, and no-one around. An older fellow staying there came along, and helped us find a site, found someone to check us in, and helped us set up in the dark. We introduced our selves. "My names Carol, C-A-R-O-L,, " he said. "Did the kids give you a hard time about your name when you were young?" the old Guidance Counsellor asked. "You bet they did. Got to the point where I sent away for one of those Charles Atlas body-building programs advertised in the comics. And a friend got a t.v., so I watched the fights every Friday and learned a lot. By the time I got to be 18, I decided I didn't need to change my name after all, cause I could look after myself against 90 per cent of them. And", he finished, " people today just have no idea about bullying, what those poor kids go through. They have no idea. I do!" This from a 74 year old. We shook hands a little later, and off he went to his rig.
We Walmarted in border city Del Rio (lots of Mexican folks were there doing their shopping). We don't like Walmart, but their stores are good for travellers, as the prices are good, and everything you need can be found.there. On to Seminole Canyon State Park. Great campsite, up on a ridge, stars a million in the sky. We just happened to get there before a guided tour was about to set off, so we joined, and down into the canyon we went, to see a whole series of ancient pictographs, They've been there for thousands of years, painted by natives who remain unknown even today. Very interesting to see the images, up on rock walls under overhangs, where the native people could escape the elements and live in protected shelter on the ledges. The longer you stared at the walls, the more images you saw. Images sort of materialized, and were of shapes that are still being interpreted today for meaning. Our guides, a couple from San Antonio, do these tours for a fun retirement project. Great couple. They spent at least 15 minutes with us afterwards giving us hints about what to do in Big Bend National Park.
Yesterday, we did a 7 mile hike, out along the canyon walls of the Pecos River, to where it empties into the Rio Grande. Desert terrain all the way, and some fine views. There's a site across the Pecos that also contains cave drawings, which we could see with binocs and the big lens. We walked along the Rio Grande for a bit, then back to the trailhead on a rather boring road. But a good walk not spoiled.
Today, 5 hours to get to Big Bend. Stopped for a bite in a nice little gas bar/restaurant. (Gas $2,35 per gallon, as opp $1.59 most of the way along through Texas. Remote towns are expensive.) Two guys were chatting with the owner. "Got to do jury duty this time?", asked the owner of one of the guys, a big guy with a black moustache. "Don't know. Not goin' to get my mail." His friend said, "Didn't they fine you for not showing up the last two times?" "Yep, 75 bucks both times. I don't want to do it. Let them find someone else who's interested." "Yeah, but next time, they said they're going to come and get you and throw you in jail if you don't show up." His friend just shrugged, as if to say, 'let 'em come'..
After they left, we asked the owner if it was common for people around here (Marathon, Texas) to get called. "It is", he said, "because there are not many people. They call 100 at a time to get 12 selected, so we get called up a lot. Good for me when I worked for the government, 'cause I got regular pay, and also got money for going to the jury duty. Double pay for me." Friendly man, place clean as a whistle, and good Mexican fare for lunch.
To get to where we are now, in a little camp outside the thriving town of Terlingua, we saw beautiful, big, empty, rugged, desert terrain. If you have agoraphobia, don't come here. But it's truly grand. We drove through Big Bend Park, and it is truly stunning...mountains, badlands, arroyos, gulches, draws, strange yet beautiful in places. We'll drive back in for the next two or three days to hike the trails. Hope it warms up, as there is snow forecast north of here. We should be okay, as we're just far enough south. Stay tuned.
Saturday 23 January 2016
Jan 23 - We've been in Fredericksburg Texas for the past three days. It's only about an hour from Austin, but we came here because I found an r.v. repair guy here who could fix a little problem. We have two cables under the slide-out that had been hanging, and dangerously so. Joe the fix-it guy came to our r.v. park, crawled under the van, figured out what to do, and soon had it done. Nice to have those cables secured, as they're feeds for our propane. Would have been bad news if they'd caught on something and been ripped off. Only problem so far with the van.
Before we left Austin, we hit the Whole Foods market. Could have spent a fortune, but restrained ourselves. What a great store for the new wave in foods. Free samples. Could have stayed for hours.
Now then, why did we stay in this little town of ten thousand for three days? Turns out Fredericksburg has a strong German history, having been settled in the 1840s by a large contingent of people escaping the trials and tribulations of the German states of the time. The town has German restaurants, nearly 70 wineries in the area, and a well preserved German-flavored history proudly displayed around the town. So with our Germany days so much a part of us, it was neat to be in an American town that has such a different flavor.
The Main Street is loaded with upscale stores...antiques, dress shops, souvenirs (but upscale, not honky tonk), and excellent Art stores, as there are many very well regarded artists in the area. As well, there is the Lady Bird Park (the Johnson name pervades), the LBJ ranch not far away, and the hills, which are very scenic. So there's a lot to do and see here for two or three days. There's also a Museum of the Pacific, with two parts, one named for Admiral Nimitz, who spent his youth here with his grand-parents, and the other named for George Bush Senior. The focus of both is the Pacific component of WWII..
I was sitting on a bench on Main Street waiting for Gail to 'do' a store, and a heavy-set guy plunked down beside me as his wife went into the store. We got talking football, and it turned out he played 7 years for the Denver Broncos years ago. The base salary for any first year signed player in those days was $5,000. for the season. He got $15,000., so was pretty well paid. Today, he told me, the base rate is $550,000. He could only shake his head. It was his birthday, so many happy returns to him.
Fifteen miles north of here is a park called Enchanted Rock State Natural Area. The rock rises about 450 feet above the hills below, and consists of solid pink granite, bald, bare and beautiful. Naturally, despite the fact Gail had a bad head cold, we had to climb it. It's not a tough climb, although steep in spots. But the wind was howling, making it hard to stand still at the top. A beautiful 360 degree view of the hill country was the reward. Coming down was much easier, so I did an hour hike along the base while Gail had a rest in the van. It was a very nice outing.
Today we will attend a Blues Festival being held at a place called Luckenbach. This is not even a hamlet, this place. Maybe half a dozen people live here. But they have music periodically, and it just happens that there's an all-day thing happening today. So we'll check it out. I've googled all of the scheduled acts, and there's quite a variety of blues groups. So if it's good, we'll stay, and if not, we'll head on to Del Rio on the Mexican border. Stay tuned. Comments appreciated. Thanks, Marilyn and Ron, and Mick. Good to hear from you. By the way, there are two Robert Morrows, one an old guy who had CIA involvement in the Bay of Pigs, and our guy, who we think is an out-and-out nut. Interesting to research both. Are they father and son? Can't trace the lineage, but working on it.
Before we left Austin, we hit the Whole Foods market. Could have spent a fortune, but restrained ourselves. What a great store for the new wave in foods. Free samples. Could have stayed for hours.
Now then, why did we stay in this little town of ten thousand for three days? Turns out Fredericksburg has a strong German history, having been settled in the 1840s by a large contingent of people escaping the trials and tribulations of the German states of the time. The town has German restaurants, nearly 70 wineries in the area, and a well preserved German-flavored history proudly displayed around the town. So with our Germany days so much a part of us, it was neat to be in an American town that has such a different flavor.
The Main Street is loaded with upscale stores...antiques, dress shops, souvenirs (but upscale, not honky tonk), and excellent Art stores, as there are many very well regarded artists in the area. As well, there is the Lady Bird Park (the Johnson name pervades), the LBJ ranch not far away, and the hills, which are very scenic. So there's a lot to do and see here for two or three days. There's also a Museum of the Pacific, with two parts, one named for Admiral Nimitz, who spent his youth here with his grand-parents, and the other named for George Bush Senior. The focus of both is the Pacific component of WWII..
I was sitting on a bench on Main Street waiting for Gail to 'do' a store, and a heavy-set guy plunked down beside me as his wife went into the store. We got talking football, and it turned out he played 7 years for the Denver Broncos years ago. The base salary for any first year signed player in those days was $5,000. for the season. He got $15,000., so was pretty well paid. Today, he told me, the base rate is $550,000. He could only shake his head. It was his birthday, so many happy returns to him.
Fifteen miles north of here is a park called Enchanted Rock State Natural Area. The rock rises about 450 feet above the hills below, and consists of solid pink granite, bald, bare and beautiful. Naturally, despite the fact Gail had a bad head cold, we had to climb it. It's not a tough climb, although steep in spots. But the wind was howling, making it hard to stand still at the top. A beautiful 360 degree view of the hill country was the reward. Coming down was much easier, so I did an hour hike along the base while Gail had a rest in the van. It was a very nice outing.
Today we will attend a Blues Festival being held at a place called Luckenbach. This is not even a hamlet, this place. Maybe half a dozen people live here. But they have music periodically, and it just happens that there's an all-day thing happening today. So we'll check it out. I've googled all of the scheduled acts, and there's quite a variety of blues groups. So if it's good, we'll stay, and if not, we'll head on to Del Rio on the Mexican border. Stay tuned. Comments appreciated. Thanks, Marilyn and Ron, and Mick. Good to hear from you. By the way, there are two Robert Morrows, one an old guy who had CIA involvement in the Bay of Pigs, and our guy, who we think is an out-and-out nut. Interesting to research both. Are they father and son? Can't trace the lineage, but working on it.
Wednesday 20 January 2016
Jan 20 - Austin. We walked your streets until our feet fell off.
But before we got here, we spent a day in such a way that no-one of my acquaintances will believe. The biggest Outlet Mall in the world (this is Texas, after all) is located just outside of San Marcos. I'm saying it's the biggest in the world because I've never seen one that came close to this one in size. Every outlet store you've ever heard of, and many unknowns as well. Located halfway between Austin and San Antonio, it draws loads of people. This particular Sunday, the entire parking lot was full. Hard to believe we're facing economic tough times. Or maybe this is part of the reason we are. People spend away like there's no tomorrow.
Bargains? Probably, if you look for them. And allow for the 3 to 2 factor of our dollar, which is quite inhibiting. We weren't looking for much, so managed to find good deals on a couple of items. But it was more interesting to wander about and drink in the American dream for an afternoon. Bountiful supplies of everything you don't really need.
Enough of that. Austin was next.. We were lucky, and got an r.v. park right near the downtown area. This meant we could walk everywhere in the central area..to the State Capital, which is magnificent; to 6th street, heart of the bar/music scene; to Lady Bird Lake, which is part of the Colorado River that was rejuvenated thanks to the leadership of said lady; and to a great bar, the Saxon Arms, where we paid $10 bucks for standing room to listen to a band called 'Lonelyland', led by a most charismatic guy named Bob Schneider. They were terrific.
We biked around the lake yesterday, which took about two hours. A wonderful trail, urban but not crowded, with wide trails, loaded with walkers, runners, bikers, relaxers. Austin must have the highest proportion of joggers per capita in the nation. There seems to be a requirement that if you live here, ye shall joggeth. Almost a religion. It was a great ride. And right after, we set out on foot for the center of the city, and walked for hours. We went to the Whole Foods Market, a huge and wonderful store, the headquarters store, as this 'movement' started in Austin. We're going back on our way out of the city today.
We had it in mind to have BBQ at Franklin's, as our friend Rick Dunn had told us it was a must-do. So we walked and walked, under route 35, to the corner where it is located. And nothing doing. Couldn't even find it. Then a young guy came along, and pointed the restaurant out, right across from where we were standing. Dark. Closed. What gives? They only serve at noon hour. People line up for 1-2 hours just to get in. Crazy, but that's how it works with Franklin's. So we trudged back down to 6th street, honkey tonk alley, found a place called "Jackelope" and enjoyed everything at half price. Tuesday deal. So all was not lost.
There's a bar on the main drag called 'The Elephant Room' that I thought would be good. So after dinner we trundled past a number of noisy bars featuring music we weren't really in to, and found The Elephant Room. Guess what! The opening gig had just ended, and the feature band wouldn't be on for another hour and a half. Some days just don't work out, despite all of the planning and research you do. So we trudged home, footsore and weary. Still a good day overall, so we're not whining.
Last item! We did the tour of the State Capital. We had a very nice guide, earnest, full of info. There were four of us in our little group, we two and a big Texan accompanied by a petite young woman with long blond hair, dressed in a tight blue sheath, great figure, wearing three inch sparkly heels. The Texan took over the tour. The poor guide didn't know what to do with him. When we got to the Senate Room, the Texan put the guide on the spot by asking him "How many people did President Johnson have killed?" And to his delight, the guide admitted that "I won't say how many, but it was more than none." The big guy was delighted. "Finally someone in this capital is admitting to what Johnson did."
Turns out the Texan has written a book about the wrong-doings of the Clintons, and he is convinced the Kennedy assassination was engineered by Johnson. He's going to write a book about it, but is still gathering information. A person, an independent tour guide, who had overheard this conversation came over and said his granddaddy of 98 years old could tell a thing or two about all this, as he knew the Johnsons, and could confirm some of the stories. So the big guy got all excited, got his info, and plans to go see the old guy.
Meanwhile, the little lady, looking like she'd just stepped out of Vogue magazine, turned out to be an Australian working on her Ph.D in Politics. Big guy is working actively on the Rand Paul campaign, and she's been shadowing him as part of her research for her thesis. She was very nice, but why she was dressed the way she was for a tour of the Capital we couldn't figure out. By the way, the tour guide bailed out, as he had another place he had to be, despite the fact we were only half way through the tour. So big guy took us around for the rest of it. His name is Robert Morrow. Google him (haven't had time yet), and you may find him interesting.
But before we got here, we spent a day in such a way that no-one of my acquaintances will believe. The biggest Outlet Mall in the world (this is Texas, after all) is located just outside of San Marcos. I'm saying it's the biggest in the world because I've never seen one that came close to this one in size. Every outlet store you've ever heard of, and many unknowns as well. Located halfway between Austin and San Antonio, it draws loads of people. This particular Sunday, the entire parking lot was full. Hard to believe we're facing economic tough times. Or maybe this is part of the reason we are. People spend away like there's no tomorrow.
Bargains? Probably, if you look for them. And allow for the 3 to 2 factor of our dollar, which is quite inhibiting. We weren't looking for much, so managed to find good deals on a couple of items. But it was more interesting to wander about and drink in the American dream for an afternoon. Bountiful supplies of everything you don't really need.
Enough of that. Austin was next.. We were lucky, and got an r.v. park right near the downtown area. This meant we could walk everywhere in the central area..to the State Capital, which is magnificent; to 6th street, heart of the bar/music scene; to Lady Bird Lake, which is part of the Colorado River that was rejuvenated thanks to the leadership of said lady; and to a great bar, the Saxon Arms, where we paid $10 bucks for standing room to listen to a band called 'Lonelyland', led by a most charismatic guy named Bob Schneider. They were terrific.
We biked around the lake yesterday, which took about two hours. A wonderful trail, urban but not crowded, with wide trails, loaded with walkers, runners, bikers, relaxers. Austin must have the highest proportion of joggers per capita in the nation. There seems to be a requirement that if you live here, ye shall joggeth. Almost a religion. It was a great ride. And right after, we set out on foot for the center of the city, and walked for hours. We went to the Whole Foods Market, a huge and wonderful store, the headquarters store, as this 'movement' started in Austin. We're going back on our way out of the city today.
We had it in mind to have BBQ at Franklin's, as our friend Rick Dunn had told us it was a must-do. So we walked and walked, under route 35, to the corner where it is located. And nothing doing. Couldn't even find it. Then a young guy came along, and pointed the restaurant out, right across from where we were standing. Dark. Closed. What gives? They only serve at noon hour. People line up for 1-2 hours just to get in. Crazy, but that's how it works with Franklin's. So we trudged back down to 6th street, honkey tonk alley, found a place called "Jackelope" and enjoyed everything at half price. Tuesday deal. So all was not lost.
There's a bar on the main drag called 'The Elephant Room' that I thought would be good. So after dinner we trundled past a number of noisy bars featuring music we weren't really in to, and found The Elephant Room. Guess what! The opening gig had just ended, and the feature band wouldn't be on for another hour and a half. Some days just don't work out, despite all of the planning and research you do. So we trudged home, footsore and weary. Still a good day overall, so we're not whining.
Last item! We did the tour of the State Capital. We had a very nice guide, earnest, full of info. There were four of us in our little group, we two and a big Texan accompanied by a petite young woman with long blond hair, dressed in a tight blue sheath, great figure, wearing three inch sparkly heels. The Texan took over the tour. The poor guide didn't know what to do with him. When we got to the Senate Room, the Texan put the guide on the spot by asking him "How many people did President Johnson have killed?" And to his delight, the guide admitted that "I won't say how many, but it was more than none." The big guy was delighted. "Finally someone in this capital is admitting to what Johnson did."
Turns out the Texan has written a book about the wrong-doings of the Clintons, and he is convinced the Kennedy assassination was engineered by Johnson. He's going to write a book about it, but is still gathering information. A person, an independent tour guide, who had overheard this conversation came over and said his granddaddy of 98 years old could tell a thing or two about all this, as he knew the Johnsons, and could confirm some of the stories. So the big guy got all excited, got his info, and plans to go see the old guy.
Meanwhile, the little lady, looking like she'd just stepped out of Vogue magazine, turned out to be an Australian working on her Ph.D in Politics. Big guy is working actively on the Rand Paul campaign, and she's been shadowing him as part of her research for her thesis. She was very nice, but why she was dressed the way she was for a tour of the Capital we couldn't figure out. By the way, the tour guide bailed out, as he had another place he had to be, despite the fact we were only half way through the tour. So big guy took us around for the rest of it. His name is Robert Morrow. Google him (haven't had time yet), and you may find him interesting.
Sunday 17 January 2016
Jan 17 - Day 58, and we're still in Texas. Sunny, but only 30F when we woke up. Will go to the high 50s later today, and a little warmer tomorrow. Not bad. Beats snow squalls and tornados.
Before leaving San Antonio yesterday, we saw the skies clear, after ominous morning clouds, so decided to ride the northern part of the River Trail. It was completely different, as it was urban as opposed to rural, with narrow paths and a lot of people. But amazing to see what has been done to make this city so appealing to the locals and visitors. There is artwork along the route, places to sit out, parks the trail runs through, and lots of info boards to explain what you see. We did about 7 miles, and although it was busy, which required passing people carefully so as not to fall into the river, it was very enjoyable.
We started our ride at the Breakenridge Park golf club which is now the home of the Texas Golf Hall of Fame. There they have created a Walk of Fame, which has been established outside the clubhouse, and consists of a series of mounted stone placards listing the names of those inducted, one for each year since it was started in 1978. Ben Hogan, Babe Zaharias, Lee Trevino, Byron Nelson, Jimmy Demaret, Lanny Wadkins, Tom Kite, and so many others have been honored with membership. The odd thing is that the Hall has been moved twice, and for several years was defunct until revived by interested golfers. There have been so many greats out of this state. Hopefully it will now have a permanent home.
Up interstate 35, a tight and very busy 6 lane route that joins San Antonio and the state capital, Austin. We were headed for San Marcos, midway betwixt. Our new site is very near the San Marcos River, which became rather famous last year when flooding hit this part of Texas. We got an impression of the extent of the flooding when we walked over to the river, and saw huge trees that had been uprooted, presumably as a result of the flood. Some research on the internet revealed the extent of the flooding, and our r.v. park shows some of the results as well, although it's been pretty much restored.
Turns out San Marcos is the fastest growing city in the U.S., three years in a row. And this whole area, including San Antonio, 7th largest city in the U.S., depends on a huge aquifer that lies underground over several hundred square miles. This aquifer is supplied principally by run-off, so if there is good rainfall, it can maintain its capacity. But watch out if there's a serious drought. With the expansion of population in the last number of years, there are strong concerns about the potential of the aquifer to supply the needs of these communities. Sounds like California. Yet still they build, and still they come.
Finally, our busy day of discovery was capped off with a concert. As mentioned in the previous blog, we had learned that Guy Forsyth would be in San Marcos to do an acoustic concert. We bought tickets online, figured out where to go, and were all set. When we got there, up in the higher reaches of residential San Marcos, we arrived in front of a large house, with people chatting out on the balcony. This concert was in a house, not a concert hall or a club, owned by the musician who was opening the show, a guitarist-singer-songwriter. It was like a large house party. Food and drinks were included, and were abundant. Lots of delicious finger foods, and drinks, including a jug of Moscow Mule, which was quite tasty . We were welcomed by a young woman who happened to be Canadian, from Ottawa, a friend of the host couple, and soon encountered an older woman from northern Ontario who now lives in Austin, who had a great chat with Gail during the course of the evening. Most of the people there were friends of the host couple. This type of concert is something they organize periodically, so that the host can perform, and share the talents of a regular professional they invite to perform. Musicians love the format, being so close to the audience.
The music was in the living room, where folding chairs had been set up to add to the regular seating arrangement. About 40 people were in attendance. And the music was great. Guy Forsyth in particular was very strong: voice, guitar, ukelele, harmonica and even singing saw, which he learned to play while busking in Holland. He can do it all. He has a blues band which has a very busy schedule, and will be in Scandinavia soon for a one month tour. And here he was, a few feet away doing his thing. Intense, strong energy, and a good variety of music, not all blues by any means.
We spoke to him afterwards, to tell him how we happened to be there, and he was very appreciative that we'd made the effort. Have to say, it wasn't something you do every day. A neat experience.
Before leaving San Antonio yesterday, we saw the skies clear, after ominous morning clouds, so decided to ride the northern part of the River Trail. It was completely different, as it was urban as opposed to rural, with narrow paths and a lot of people. But amazing to see what has been done to make this city so appealing to the locals and visitors. There is artwork along the route, places to sit out, parks the trail runs through, and lots of info boards to explain what you see. We did about 7 miles, and although it was busy, which required passing people carefully so as not to fall into the river, it was very enjoyable.
We started our ride at the Breakenridge Park golf club which is now the home of the Texas Golf Hall of Fame. There they have created a Walk of Fame, which has been established outside the clubhouse, and consists of a series of mounted stone placards listing the names of those inducted, one for each year since it was started in 1978. Ben Hogan, Babe Zaharias, Lee Trevino, Byron Nelson, Jimmy Demaret, Lanny Wadkins, Tom Kite, and so many others have been honored with membership. The odd thing is that the Hall has been moved twice, and for several years was defunct until revived by interested golfers. There have been so many greats out of this state. Hopefully it will now have a permanent home.
Up interstate 35, a tight and very busy 6 lane route that joins San Antonio and the state capital, Austin. We were headed for San Marcos, midway betwixt. Our new site is very near the San Marcos River, which became rather famous last year when flooding hit this part of Texas. We got an impression of the extent of the flooding when we walked over to the river, and saw huge trees that had been uprooted, presumably as a result of the flood. Some research on the internet revealed the extent of the flooding, and our r.v. park shows some of the results as well, although it's been pretty much restored.
Turns out San Marcos is the fastest growing city in the U.S., three years in a row. And this whole area, including San Antonio, 7th largest city in the U.S., depends on a huge aquifer that lies underground over several hundred square miles. This aquifer is supplied principally by run-off, so if there is good rainfall, it can maintain its capacity. But watch out if there's a serious drought. With the expansion of population in the last number of years, there are strong concerns about the potential of the aquifer to supply the needs of these communities. Sounds like California. Yet still they build, and still they come.
Finally, our busy day of discovery was capped off with a concert. As mentioned in the previous blog, we had learned that Guy Forsyth would be in San Marcos to do an acoustic concert. We bought tickets online, figured out where to go, and were all set. When we got there, up in the higher reaches of residential San Marcos, we arrived in front of a large house, with people chatting out on the balcony. This concert was in a house, not a concert hall or a club, owned by the musician who was opening the show, a guitarist-singer-songwriter. It was like a large house party. Food and drinks were included, and were abundant. Lots of delicious finger foods, and drinks, including a jug of Moscow Mule, which was quite tasty . We were welcomed by a young woman who happened to be Canadian, from Ottawa, a friend of the host couple, and soon encountered an older woman from northern Ontario who now lives in Austin, who had a great chat with Gail during the course of the evening. Most of the people there were friends of the host couple. This type of concert is something they organize periodically, so that the host can perform, and share the talents of a regular professional they invite to perform. Musicians love the format, being so close to the audience.
The music was in the living room, where folding chairs had been set up to add to the regular seating arrangement. About 40 people were in attendance. And the music was great. Guy Forsyth in particular was very strong: voice, guitar, ukelele, harmonica and even singing saw, which he learned to play while busking in Holland. He can do it all. He has a blues band which has a very busy schedule, and will be in Scandinavia soon for a one month tour. And here he was, a few feet away doing his thing. Intense, strong energy, and a good variety of music, not all blues by any means.
We spoke to him afterwards, to tell him how we happened to be there, and he was very appreciative that we'd made the effort. Have to say, it wasn't something you do every day. A neat experience.
Friday 15 January 2016
Jan 15 - Had a note from Mick Chalmers about my idea for Picton Port to become a cruise ship site. He and Dave MacKay and I are going to start a transfer business, looking after the cruise ship guests while they visit the County. Mick figures we can make millions. Can't beat 'em, may as well join 'em.
On Wednesday we had a very nice drive along the backroads (once we escaped the clutches of onandon Houston suburbs) to San Antonio. Towns like Eagle Lake, Halletsville and Shiner, finally Gonzales. All have unique histories, which I won't bore you with. In Halletsville, we found a little garage where two great young guys did an oil change for the rig. We'd checked with an rv service near Galveston, who wanted $200. for a simple oil change. My buddies in Halletsville did it for $41. And the shop owner gave us some great tips for restaurants in San Antonio. That was too cool!!
Shiner is famous for it's specialty beer house. So what did we do when we got to a pub along the river walk? Had a Shiner. And it was great. As for Gonzales, about 30 of their fighting men ended up trying to help stave off the Mexican Army at the Alamo. You know the sad result. None of this excitement would have been ours had we done the I-10, which would have been faster but boring.
Weather here has been terrific, near 70 both days, and sunny. We'd been to the Alamo before, but couldn't resist, and spent quite awhile there, as there are displays that we hadn't seen last time. Lots of interesting info, and a good video, so we're tuned into that part of Texas history. The other thing we had to do was the River Walk, as the last time we were here the weather was cold and not pleasant. This time we walked all of the interior portion, and it was great. That's where we had our Shiner. Then a walk up to the big Mexican market, the Mercado, to go to the restaurant our friend in Halletsville had told us was a must-do. And it was! Musicians wandering through the restaurant, a million colorful decorative lights, and female servers in traditional costume. Food was great. It's called Mi Tierra, and was started in the Depression by a young Mexican who came to San Antonio to start a new life. Married a hard-working young lady, and they built a great business that their kids and grand-kids now operate. Only in 'Merica.
Along the River Walk, we met a young woman who told us about a bike trail along the river. We got info and that's what we did today...38 kilometers along the San Antonio River, which parallels the Mission Trail. It was a great ride, with lots of ups and downs. We huffed and puffed at times, but knowing our van was parked in a specialty brewery parking lot, we persevered. We visited two of the missions, San Juan and Concepcion, both of which were very interesting in terms of structure and what went into their creation. Imagine landing in uncharted territory as a Franciscan brother, no one but you, and having to win over the local natives, change their way of life, build a mission, get into the trading business, draw maps of the area, all for the glory of the Spanish Crown and the Catholic Church. Quite an assignment! They had no damned business being here, but that's the way it was then. Still going on today in lots of places! Things change but stay the same.
Tomorrow we move on to San Marcos, a small city halfway between here and Austin. Gail and our dear friend Beryl in Ottawa love a Blues singer named Guy Forsyth. He's from Austin, so we looked him up on the internet, and lo and what do you know, he's performing acoustically tomorrow night in San Marcos. So we've ordered tickets, set up our r.v. park for tomorrow night, and will be moving on. Impulses! Short term planning! Makes this kind of trip fun. Stay tuned.
On Wednesday we had a very nice drive along the backroads (once we escaped the clutches of onandon Houston suburbs) to San Antonio. Towns like Eagle Lake, Halletsville and Shiner, finally Gonzales. All have unique histories, which I won't bore you with. In Halletsville, we found a little garage where two great young guys did an oil change for the rig. We'd checked with an rv service near Galveston, who wanted $200. for a simple oil change. My buddies in Halletsville did it for $41. And the shop owner gave us some great tips for restaurants in San Antonio. That was too cool!!
Shiner is famous for it's specialty beer house. So what did we do when we got to a pub along the river walk? Had a Shiner. And it was great. As for Gonzales, about 30 of their fighting men ended up trying to help stave off the Mexican Army at the Alamo. You know the sad result. None of this excitement would have been ours had we done the I-10, which would have been faster but boring.
Weather here has been terrific, near 70 both days, and sunny. We'd been to the Alamo before, but couldn't resist, and spent quite awhile there, as there are displays that we hadn't seen last time. Lots of interesting info, and a good video, so we're tuned into that part of Texas history. The other thing we had to do was the River Walk, as the last time we were here the weather was cold and not pleasant. This time we walked all of the interior portion, and it was great. That's where we had our Shiner. Then a walk up to the big Mexican market, the Mercado, to go to the restaurant our friend in Halletsville had told us was a must-do. And it was! Musicians wandering through the restaurant, a million colorful decorative lights, and female servers in traditional costume. Food was great. It's called Mi Tierra, and was started in the Depression by a young Mexican who came to San Antonio to start a new life. Married a hard-working young lady, and they built a great business that their kids and grand-kids now operate. Only in 'Merica.
Along the River Walk, we met a young woman who told us about a bike trail along the river. We got info and that's what we did today...38 kilometers along the San Antonio River, which parallels the Mission Trail. It was a great ride, with lots of ups and downs. We huffed and puffed at times, but knowing our van was parked in a specialty brewery parking lot, we persevered. We visited two of the missions, San Juan and Concepcion, both of which were very interesting in terms of structure and what went into their creation. Imagine landing in uncharted territory as a Franciscan brother, no one but you, and having to win over the local natives, change their way of life, build a mission, get into the trading business, draw maps of the area, all for the glory of the Spanish Crown and the Catholic Church. Quite an assignment! They had no damned business being here, but that's the way it was then. Still going on today in lots of places! Things change but stay the same.
Tomorrow we move on to San Marcos, a small city halfway between here and Austin. Gail and our dear friend Beryl in Ottawa love a Blues singer named Guy Forsyth. He's from Austin, so we looked him up on the internet, and lo and what do you know, he's performing acoustically tomorrow night in San Marcos. So we've ordered tickets, set up our r.v. park for tomorrow night, and will be moving on. Impulses! Short term planning! Makes this kind of trip fun. Stay tuned.
Wednesday 13 January 2016
Jan. 13 - Here we are in San Antonio. Rather, in the area, in a very good r.v. park. Wifi, t.v., concrete pad, swimming pool, spa, and other stuff. We drove across from Galveston today, where we'd spent the last three nights. We like to do secondary routes, so did our best to find a two lane route. After going through half the suburbs in western Houston, we finally found route 90, which we followed for the day, through rice fields for the first part, then ranches for the balance. :Lovely rolling countryside, for the most part, with some interesting little towns along the way: Eagle Lake, Sublime, Halletsville, Gonzales, Seguin.
Speaking of Halletsville, we needed an oil change. Checked with an r.v. dealer near Galveston, and he wanted $200. for an oil change. No to that! Found a little shop in Halletsville, not unlike my buddy Chris Jones place, and got the job done for $41. Gotta love that! All it took was a young lad willing to climb under the r.v. on his back. No problem. And what a great group of guys in the shop. The owner came along and gave us tips as to where to eat in San Antonio. Fun stuff.
We enjoyed our drive from Eunice to Galveston, first of all through the rice fields of Western Louisiana, and then down a narrow little road to the Gulf, where we were practically on the beach for miles. Across marsh areas to get there, full of ducks, and along the shore, where we saw drilling platforms a mile or two away. We'd been tipped by a fellow from Colorado we met that we should take this route, as there's a neat little ferry that we had to take. Fun it was. Cost a buck. The neat thing was the way it worked. The ferry does a 360, and by the time it completes the turn, we're on the other side. Three minutes max!
As we moved towards Port Arthur, Texas, we passed through more evidence of one of the soft underbellies of the American economy. Propane processors, gas processors, oil refineries, wall to wall. Blow all of that up, and it would bring America to a standstill. For awhile, anyway. Hope it never happens. We needed another ferry as we proceeded along route 87, across Galveston Bay. The harbour at Galveston has now become a cruise ship harbour. Two of the big liners come here to start their cruises, and we were lucky enough to see one of them in harbour. Made me think about our new port in Picton. Maybe in addition to bringing in salt and bauxite, they could become a cruise harbour. Wouldn't that be good for Picton?
We enjoyed Galveston again, finding some big changes sine we were here a dozen years ago. Hurricane Ike came through 7 years ago, and flooded most of the city. Nothing like the storm in 1900 that wrecked the city and claimed 6,000 lives. Only two died because of Ike. We wandered about downtown, went to the film depicting the big storm, thoroughly enjoyed an afternoon in the newly revised Tropical Rainforest display, and enjoyed a 20 mile bike ride along the seafront. We had a great r.v. park right on the waterfront, which included a hot tub that we enjoyed.
Went to a bar called Hemingways, and met a neat guy there. Aaron, who was behind the bar, has a Masters degree in Biomedical Technology. After several years in the industry, he counted up 320 nights in one year spent in hotels, and decided enough was enough. Now he owns a seasonal restaurant, is about to open a second, and is off to a new career. He's the second young guy we've met who reached burn-out and made a distinct change. Good for them, I say, having enough nerve to bail out and try something different.
Speaking of Halletsville, we needed an oil change. Checked with an r.v. dealer near Galveston, and he wanted $200. for an oil change. No to that! Found a little shop in Halletsville, not unlike my buddy Chris Jones place, and got the job done for $41. Gotta love that! All it took was a young lad willing to climb under the r.v. on his back. No problem. And what a great group of guys in the shop. The owner came along and gave us tips as to where to eat in San Antonio. Fun stuff.
We enjoyed our drive from Eunice to Galveston, first of all through the rice fields of Western Louisiana, and then down a narrow little road to the Gulf, where we were practically on the beach for miles. Across marsh areas to get there, full of ducks, and along the shore, where we saw drilling platforms a mile or two away. We'd been tipped by a fellow from Colorado we met that we should take this route, as there's a neat little ferry that we had to take. Fun it was. Cost a buck. The neat thing was the way it worked. The ferry does a 360, and by the time it completes the turn, we're on the other side. Three minutes max!
As we moved towards Port Arthur, Texas, we passed through more evidence of one of the soft underbellies of the American economy. Propane processors, gas processors, oil refineries, wall to wall. Blow all of that up, and it would bring America to a standstill. For awhile, anyway. Hope it never happens. We needed another ferry as we proceeded along route 87, across Galveston Bay. The harbour at Galveston has now become a cruise ship harbour. Two of the big liners come here to start their cruises, and we were lucky enough to see one of them in harbour. Made me think about our new port in Picton. Maybe in addition to bringing in salt and bauxite, they could become a cruise harbour. Wouldn't that be good for Picton?
We enjoyed Galveston again, finding some big changes sine we were here a dozen years ago. Hurricane Ike came through 7 years ago, and flooded most of the city. Nothing like the storm in 1900 that wrecked the city and claimed 6,000 lives. Only two died because of Ike. We wandered about downtown, went to the film depicting the big storm, thoroughly enjoyed an afternoon in the newly revised Tropical Rainforest display, and enjoyed a 20 mile bike ride along the seafront. We had a great r.v. park right on the waterfront, which included a hot tub that we enjoyed.
Went to a bar called Hemingways, and met a neat guy there. Aaron, who was behind the bar, has a Masters degree in Biomedical Technology. After several years in the industry, he counted up 320 nights in one year spent in hotels, and decided enough was enough. Now he owns a seasonal restaurant, is about to open a second, and is off to a new career. He's the second young guy we've met who reached burn-out and made a distinct change. Good for them, I say, having enough nerve to bail out and try something different.
Sunday 10 January 2016
Sunday, January 10 - We've been in Cajun country for 5 days, and have gained a great deal of appreciation for the local culture. New Iberia, Breaux Bridge, Opelousas, Eunice, Mamou...if you come here some day, plan to spend a few days. Visit the museums or displays or events each town holds proud. Make sure you have a Saturday morning available in either Mamou or Eunice. Drive into the countryside and get a sense of the sugar growing area around New Iberia, and the rice growing area to the north, where we are now.
Think of the history. Kicked out of Nova Scotia in a most cruel way by the Brits in 1755, families torn apart as mother, father or children were placed on different ships going to different places. Ending up in France, or Haiti, or New England or the Carolinas, where they weren't welcomed. Many eventually ending up in Louisiana, then under Spanish control, coming in 1765 and for the next three decades, this before the Purchase in the early 1800s. Here they were welcomed, given land, and a chance under difficult conditions to start a new life.
Today, many of the people living here are true descendents of the early settlers. They are proud of their communities, proud of their heritage, and happy to share it with anyone who comes along. The small cities have excellent museum displays that outline their history, and must be visited. Their music captures the spirit, the language, the customs, and still serves as a central factor in family and community. Not unlike our Maritimes, music seems to be instilled in the individual from an early age. Last night at the local theatre, where we went to see a live radio broadcast being produced, people went to the front and danced. We went to a free cajun music performance in the afternoon, featuring a 16 year old accordian player and his band. And people danced. Same at the restaurant in Breaux Bridges. And get this. Yesterday morning we went to Fred's, a little bar in Mamou, where music starts at 9 on Saturday morning and goes til 1 p.m. The place was already full when we got there, the band going full tilt, drinks being served, and you guessed it...people dancing. Saturday morning.!!! Packed with people!!
For the outsider, the music eventually blends into similar form. One tune may be a waltz, another the two step or the one step, but without being familiar with the tunes, they start to sound the same after awhile. For the locals, they know the tunes, and welcome their favorites. And they dance, especially the older folks, some of whom hobbled to the front of the theatre but immediately got the two step going. Even the little kids were dancing at the front of the theatre last night.
The Saturday morning thing, by the way, occurs in this area in two little bars where the owners persist in providing a place for music. In Mamou, when Fred died, his kids kept the place going by opening it on Saturday morning, because they worked during the week. It was packed with locals, Canadians, even a couple from New Zealand. The other venue, just outside of Eunice, is less party and more performance, we were later told. But I suspect there was lots of dancing as well, just not as much of a party atmosphere.
No doubt there is change happening. For a lot of younger folks, work must be found in larger centers, and that's no different than where we live. However, the strength of the culture and the family unit remains strongly intact. No doubt departed children come back to Mother's and Grandmother's cooking and to the music and the dancing. The language still exists as well, for many of the older folks. Some don't speak French, like the lady in the museum whose mother wouldn't teach her the language, because she wanted to be able to talk to her friends without her kids knowing what she was saying. But the 85 year old darlin' hosting in the Cajun Hall of Fame speaks both French and English, because each parent spoke one of the two languages. French was suppressed in Louisiana in the 1900s, until the 1970s, and there were no French schools. Kids were punished if caught speaking French on school property. That's changed, Now speaking French is being encouraged. All of the music is sung in French, old French mostly, I think. Parisians would probably look down their noses at the language used here, much as they would in Quebec or New Brunswick.
We didn't get a chance to hear Zydeco. Breaux Bridge is the center of that music form, as well as Lafayette, but there wasn't anything going on locally, and we didn't want to go into Lafayette to a show that started at 10:00 p.m. We'll save that for another time. Today, we move on. We have still been debating whether or not to proceed west, as the weather is very cool, in many places below normal. It's tempting to go back to Florida where we know we'll have warm days. But we'll likely push on into Texas today. Stay tuned!!
Think of the history. Kicked out of Nova Scotia in a most cruel way by the Brits in 1755, families torn apart as mother, father or children were placed on different ships going to different places. Ending up in France, or Haiti, or New England or the Carolinas, where they weren't welcomed. Many eventually ending up in Louisiana, then under Spanish control, coming in 1765 and for the next three decades, this before the Purchase in the early 1800s. Here they were welcomed, given land, and a chance under difficult conditions to start a new life.
Today, many of the people living here are true descendents of the early settlers. They are proud of their communities, proud of their heritage, and happy to share it with anyone who comes along. The small cities have excellent museum displays that outline their history, and must be visited. Their music captures the spirit, the language, the customs, and still serves as a central factor in family and community. Not unlike our Maritimes, music seems to be instilled in the individual from an early age. Last night at the local theatre, where we went to see a live radio broadcast being produced, people went to the front and danced. We went to a free cajun music performance in the afternoon, featuring a 16 year old accordian player and his band. And people danced. Same at the restaurant in Breaux Bridges. And get this. Yesterday morning we went to Fred's, a little bar in Mamou, where music starts at 9 on Saturday morning and goes til 1 p.m. The place was already full when we got there, the band going full tilt, drinks being served, and you guessed it...people dancing. Saturday morning.!!! Packed with people!!
For the outsider, the music eventually blends into similar form. One tune may be a waltz, another the two step or the one step, but without being familiar with the tunes, they start to sound the same after awhile. For the locals, they know the tunes, and welcome their favorites. And they dance, especially the older folks, some of whom hobbled to the front of the theatre but immediately got the two step going. Even the little kids were dancing at the front of the theatre last night.
The Saturday morning thing, by the way, occurs in this area in two little bars where the owners persist in providing a place for music. In Mamou, when Fred died, his kids kept the place going by opening it on Saturday morning, because they worked during the week. It was packed with locals, Canadians, even a couple from New Zealand. The other venue, just outside of Eunice, is less party and more performance, we were later told. But I suspect there was lots of dancing as well, just not as much of a party atmosphere.
No doubt there is change happening. For a lot of younger folks, work must be found in larger centers, and that's no different than where we live. However, the strength of the culture and the family unit remains strongly intact. No doubt departed children come back to Mother's and Grandmother's cooking and to the music and the dancing. The language still exists as well, for many of the older folks. Some don't speak French, like the lady in the museum whose mother wouldn't teach her the language, because she wanted to be able to talk to her friends without her kids knowing what she was saying. But the 85 year old darlin' hosting in the Cajun Hall of Fame speaks both French and English, because each parent spoke one of the two languages. French was suppressed in Louisiana in the 1900s, until the 1970s, and there were no French schools. Kids were punished if caught speaking French on school property. That's changed, Now speaking French is being encouraged. All of the music is sung in French, old French mostly, I think. Parisians would probably look down their noses at the language used here, much as they would in Quebec or New Brunswick.
We didn't get a chance to hear Zydeco. Breaux Bridge is the center of that music form, as well as Lafayette, but there wasn't anything going on locally, and we didn't want to go into Lafayette to a show that started at 10:00 p.m. We'll save that for another time. Today, we move on. We have still been debating whether or not to proceed west, as the weather is very cool, in many places below normal. It's tempting to go back to Florida where we know we'll have warm days. But we'll likely push on into Texas today. Stay tuned!!
Thursday 7 January 2016
Jan 7 - Deep in Cajun Country are we! Tough roads, man! Most are made of concrete, and they ripple, so it's bumpbumpbump down the highway, dishes and pots rattling as we go. Heaven when you find a smooth stretch. We're talking local highways, not the interstate, so you get what the locals get. Land is flat as a pancake, used now in this area for growing cane sugar. Rice is grown north and west of here, where the soil and conditions are more favorable. Cotton? Not much around here, meaning New Iberia, St. Martinville, and Breaux Bridges, where we are now. Sugar, baby! Grows tall, up to 12 feet, and is being harvested now, far as we can tell.
The land is flat but for a series of 5 salt domes that were pushed up millenia ago, forming 'islands' in a straight line south and east of New Iberia. We visited two of them, one formerly owned by Joseph Jefferson, probably the most famous American actor of the 1800s. He portrayed Rip Van Winkle for decades, performing a play he created many hundreds of times all over the country, in England, even in Australia, making him a rich man. One of his homes was built on Jefferson Island, and now is open for tours. Madeleine, a southern belle if ever there was one, guided us through the house, and provided a great narrative. Surrounding the house is a wonderful garden with a Balinese theme, which we also enjoyed.
Being a salt dome, a mine was developed, producing some of the purest salt in the world, which was shipped to a wide market. The mine was adjacent to a small lake near the Jefferson House, as well as to a house that his grandson had built. Shell Oil was drilling nearby about twenty-five years ago, pierced the wall of the mine, and caused a huge collapse of the underground structure. Eight barges, most of the lake, the grand-son's house, even the kitchen of the master house, and a good part of the garden, were sucked down into the abyss. There remains a hole under the lake of several hundred feet in depth. The lake is considerably larger than before, and only a few feet deep except for the hole. Six of the barges popped back up to the surface, but two were never found. And not a soul lost his life.
The other 'island' we visited is called Avery Island. It is home to the Tabasco factory, the original sauce invented there by Edmund McIlhenny in 1868. The family still owns the business, and takes an active part in the process of growing, selecting and processing their special peppers. Now there are all sorts of offshoots of the original, as well as a whole line of other products and souvenirs for the consuming public. It's a big operation, so provides a lot of local employment. This salt mound also houses a wonderful garden, the Jungle Garden, developed by a McIlhenny successor, Edward, who was an avid horticulturalist, We did the walkabout, logging about 5 miles in an effort to see the entire property. Azaleas and camellias (over 600 varieties on the property) are the main feature, as well as a rookery for herons and egrets which houses hundreds of birds in mating season. The live oaks here are also spectacular, which is true all over this area. There's even a thousand year old Chinese Buddha on the property.
We mentioned rice earlier. We visited the oldest rice factory in the U.S., the Konriko Rice Factory in New Iberia. They still employ some of the original equipment used a hundred years ago, and have modernized only in small ways. They produce a product that is gluten free, as close to organic as you can get, and they successfully send their product all over the States and to Canada and Europe. The factory is ancient in appearance, but 15 people, including the owners, make it work.
We stopped in St. Martinville today, to see the Acadian Memorial. Included: a replica of the Deportation Cross; an eternal flame dedicated to those who were forced to leave Nova Scotia in 1755; a wonderful mural depicting about 50 people who were among those who arrived in Louisiana, descendants doing some of the modelling; two wonderful display rooms, one outlining the Acadian Expulsion, and one the movement of African slaves to the U.S. and elsewhere. Finally, there is the huge Live Oak adjacent to the Bayou Teche, which was the actual meeting place of the sadly reunited couple depicted in Longfellow's poem, "Evangeline".
To cap off these two fun-filled days, we found a great Cajun restaurant tonight. Tried our hand at shuckin' crawfish. Enjoyed gumbo, hush puppies, and bread pudding. Great dinner. There was also a four piece band doin' Cajun. Good music! An older party of 8 were there to celebrate a birthday, and were up and dancing nearly every number. They did the Cajun two-step, so we screwed up our courage and gave it a whirl. Awkward at first, but a lovely woman came over and gave us a little lesson. We did quite a lot better after that. More practice needed, as we were no match for the local regulars.
The land is flat but for a series of 5 salt domes that were pushed up millenia ago, forming 'islands' in a straight line south and east of New Iberia. We visited two of them, one formerly owned by Joseph Jefferson, probably the most famous American actor of the 1800s. He portrayed Rip Van Winkle for decades, performing a play he created many hundreds of times all over the country, in England, even in Australia, making him a rich man. One of his homes was built on Jefferson Island, and now is open for tours. Madeleine, a southern belle if ever there was one, guided us through the house, and provided a great narrative. Surrounding the house is a wonderful garden with a Balinese theme, which we also enjoyed.
Being a salt dome, a mine was developed, producing some of the purest salt in the world, which was shipped to a wide market. The mine was adjacent to a small lake near the Jefferson House, as well as to a house that his grandson had built. Shell Oil was drilling nearby about twenty-five years ago, pierced the wall of the mine, and caused a huge collapse of the underground structure. Eight barges, most of the lake, the grand-son's house, even the kitchen of the master house, and a good part of the garden, were sucked down into the abyss. There remains a hole under the lake of several hundred feet in depth. The lake is considerably larger than before, and only a few feet deep except for the hole. Six of the barges popped back up to the surface, but two were never found. And not a soul lost his life.
The other 'island' we visited is called Avery Island. It is home to the Tabasco factory, the original sauce invented there by Edmund McIlhenny in 1868. The family still owns the business, and takes an active part in the process of growing, selecting and processing their special peppers. Now there are all sorts of offshoots of the original, as well as a whole line of other products and souvenirs for the consuming public. It's a big operation, so provides a lot of local employment. This salt mound also houses a wonderful garden, the Jungle Garden, developed by a McIlhenny successor, Edward, who was an avid horticulturalist, We did the walkabout, logging about 5 miles in an effort to see the entire property. Azaleas and camellias (over 600 varieties on the property) are the main feature, as well as a rookery for herons and egrets which houses hundreds of birds in mating season. The live oaks here are also spectacular, which is true all over this area. There's even a thousand year old Chinese Buddha on the property.
We mentioned rice earlier. We visited the oldest rice factory in the U.S., the Konriko Rice Factory in New Iberia. They still employ some of the original equipment used a hundred years ago, and have modernized only in small ways. They produce a product that is gluten free, as close to organic as you can get, and they successfully send their product all over the States and to Canada and Europe. The factory is ancient in appearance, but 15 people, including the owners, make it work.
We stopped in St. Martinville today, to see the Acadian Memorial. Included: a replica of the Deportation Cross; an eternal flame dedicated to those who were forced to leave Nova Scotia in 1755; a wonderful mural depicting about 50 people who were among those who arrived in Louisiana, descendants doing some of the modelling; two wonderful display rooms, one outlining the Acadian Expulsion, and one the movement of African slaves to the U.S. and elsewhere. Finally, there is the huge Live Oak adjacent to the Bayou Teche, which was the actual meeting place of the sadly reunited couple depicted in Longfellow's poem, "Evangeline".
To cap off these two fun-filled days, we found a great Cajun restaurant tonight. Tried our hand at shuckin' crawfish. Enjoyed gumbo, hush puppies, and bread pudding. Great dinner. There was also a four piece band doin' Cajun. Good music! An older party of 8 were there to celebrate a birthday, and were up and dancing nearly every number. They did the Cajun two-step, so we screwed up our courage and gave it a whirl. Awkward at first, but a lovely woman came over and gave us a little lesson. We did quite a lot better after that. More practice needed, as we were no match for the local regulars.
Tuesday 5 January 2016
Jan 5 - The sun actually has made an appearance. Hooray! But it's quite cool, down into the 30's last night with a chilly wind. Today is moving day, so it'll be great to have another sunny day for our rather short move. We're on to New Iberia (home of James Lee Burke's character, Dave Robicheaux) one of the main towns in Cajun/Creole country. We hope to taste a little true local food, and maybe catch a band doing some Cajun/Zydeco music. If we aren't successful in New Iberia, we'll move on to Lafayette or Opelousas, the latter claiming to be the Cajun Capital of the World.
Yesterday and the day before were spent prowling the city, eating the local food, enjoying the local characters, who are mixed in with a goodly sprinkling of tourists. There are a lot of street people here, but they tend to collect in small groups, sit on the sidewalks or up along the waterfront, sharing stories, booze, the odd joint, looking after their dogs, but not really bothering the passersby. We've been hit on for hand-outs rarely. One guy up on the riverfront wanted to bet me he could tell me where my shoes are from. The punch line was "I ain't saying where you got them, or bought them, they's from on your feet". Then of course he wanted to clean them for money. Enterprising! Heard younger guys around the square trying the same line. Must have been his apprentices.
Music in the streets. Jackson Square, there is one huge man who sits and invites tourists to get their picture taken with him and whoever else joins him...tuba player, trombone player, drummer, what ever. He plays trumpet, and belts out tunes like 'St. James Infirmary" with great gusto. Down the way there may be a young man playing beautiful violin. Or last night as we headed for the streetcar there was a group of young guys near Canal Street blasting out irregular music with drums, two tubas and a variety of other instruments. Yesterday morning, as we waited for the Charles Street streetcar, a woman was driving a customized golf cart down the Canal Street sidewalk blaring out good r and b music. Two ladies walking by started to dance. This was at around noon.
And of course, along Bourbon Street, the music starts in mid-afternoon, and roars on until the wee hours. The street has been pretty much taken over by hustle joints, but there can still be found the odd place worth going to. We had dinner yesterday at Pat O'Briens, good N'Orleans food, and enjoyed a beer at Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, a little bar with lots of atmosphere. But we much prefer Frenchmen's Street, where there are 6 or 7 clubs that feature good music, and the atmosphere along the street is much more subdued and comfortable.
We did the Garden District yesterday, enjoying a look at the wonderful old houses. Places owned by famous people, like Ann Rice, and the house where Jefferson Davis lived his final year. The old Lafayette Cemetery number 1 was also worth a wander and a wonder. Later, we climbed back on the streetcar and went as far as Audubon Park, where the zoo is located, opposite Tulane and Loyola Universities. The day before, I also toured the Cabildo while Gail shopped (she'd gone through it two years ago), to learn more of the history of Louisiana. Well worth the two hours. My brain was crammed...couldn't finish the whole thing, there was so much information. We also had to have cafe au lait and beignets (deep fried doughnuts covered with icing sugar) at The Cafe du Monde.
So over the three days we have done pretty much all we wanted. Generally, three days of touring in almost any city we've visited over the years is enough. Time to move on. Cajun country awaits.
Yesterday and the day before were spent prowling the city, eating the local food, enjoying the local characters, who are mixed in with a goodly sprinkling of tourists. There are a lot of street people here, but they tend to collect in small groups, sit on the sidewalks or up along the waterfront, sharing stories, booze, the odd joint, looking after their dogs, but not really bothering the passersby. We've been hit on for hand-outs rarely. One guy up on the riverfront wanted to bet me he could tell me where my shoes are from. The punch line was "I ain't saying where you got them, or bought them, they's from on your feet". Then of course he wanted to clean them for money. Enterprising! Heard younger guys around the square trying the same line. Must have been his apprentices.
Music in the streets. Jackson Square, there is one huge man who sits and invites tourists to get their picture taken with him and whoever else joins him...tuba player, trombone player, drummer, what ever. He plays trumpet, and belts out tunes like 'St. James Infirmary" with great gusto. Down the way there may be a young man playing beautiful violin. Or last night as we headed for the streetcar there was a group of young guys near Canal Street blasting out irregular music with drums, two tubas and a variety of other instruments. Yesterday morning, as we waited for the Charles Street streetcar, a woman was driving a customized golf cart down the Canal Street sidewalk blaring out good r and b music. Two ladies walking by started to dance. This was at around noon.
And of course, along Bourbon Street, the music starts in mid-afternoon, and roars on until the wee hours. The street has been pretty much taken over by hustle joints, but there can still be found the odd place worth going to. We had dinner yesterday at Pat O'Briens, good N'Orleans food, and enjoyed a beer at Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, a little bar with lots of atmosphere. But we much prefer Frenchmen's Street, where there are 6 or 7 clubs that feature good music, and the atmosphere along the street is much more subdued and comfortable.
We did the Garden District yesterday, enjoying a look at the wonderful old houses. Places owned by famous people, like Ann Rice, and the house where Jefferson Davis lived his final year. The old Lafayette Cemetery number 1 was also worth a wander and a wonder. Later, we climbed back on the streetcar and went as far as Audubon Park, where the zoo is located, opposite Tulane and Loyola Universities. The day before, I also toured the Cabildo while Gail shopped (she'd gone through it two years ago), to learn more of the history of Louisiana. Well worth the two hours. My brain was crammed...couldn't finish the whole thing, there was so much information. We also had to have cafe au lait and beignets (deep fried doughnuts covered with icing sugar) at The Cafe du Monde.
So over the three days we have done pretty much all we wanted. Generally, three days of touring in almost any city we've visited over the years is enough. Time to move on. Cajun country awaits.
Sunday 3 January 2016
January 3 - Happy New Year to all. We are in New Orleans, the Big Easy, the Crescent City, looking at grey skies once again. It's been the case for several days now, cloudy, rainy, cool, not overly southern in that regard. Soggy is the word. Almost got my mitts and scarf out yesterday, but soldiered on without.
Bay St. Louis was the same. Only soggier. We were told that after a major drought all summer, with the earth actually cracking in places, they have had nothing but rain for the past month. Our park was soggy, and there was a bit of flooding along roadways, ditches full, medians full in places. However, the hosts of the campground were really nice, so we had a good stay there despite the elements. We only stayed two nights, and spent part of our one full day touring around Bay St. Louis, dropping in at the Silver Slipper Casino down the road on the way. Half an hour in the casino, with the clanging and clatter of hundreds of money gobblers reminded us of why we aren't casino people. Reminded me of pachinko parlors in Japan, which are even worse. Enjoyed a walk around the town, which is a nice mix of large homes and tourist shops, with a few good eateries near the water front. We had lunch at the Blind Tiger, and watched some football on a big screen. Hadn't seen such a big screen for awhile.
This is hurricane country, being as close to New Orleans as it is. The area was devastated by Katrina, which is still referenced by folks you talk to because of the terrible impact it had. Our owner, Joe, told us of the wall of water that came to his property, despite the fact it's about 4 miles from the Gulf shoreline. And it went another couple of miles past his place. His campground was taken over by the government for more than two years to provide refuge to folks displaced by the storm. He was shrewd enough to work out a special contract with the gov't people, so maintained control of his property and was able to keep it safe and orderly.
We had a nice New Year's Eve with the people staying there, organized by Joe and his wife in their pavilion. Everyone brought food, and as each hour was struck, we would celebrate the area of the world starting their 2016. We even made lots of noise at 9:30 to celebrate with Newfoundland. There was also a neat coincidence. As soon as we walked in to the party, Debbie Zschuppe from Belleville let out a whoop, and we had a big hug. She worked at one of the schools in Belleville in the office, and I had gotten to know her quite well through my work with the International Student Program. We knew she and her husband were somewhere in the south, but had no idea where. And there she was.. She and her husband are doing a trip somewhat like ours. So it was great to have some time with them, and we'll keep in touch as we go our various ways.
On to New Orleans on New Year's Day. We found our 'park', which has everything we need. Wifi, t.v., full services. It's in a rather basic area the size of a good parking lot, but it serves our purposes, as the facilities are clean, and it's run by a really nice young guy named Dave. He filled us in on how to get downtown, which is about an hour by bus and streetcar, and we managed very well yesterday. We were the only white guys on the bus, all the way to Canal street, but that was no problem.
We had a good day in the city, revisiting our old haunts, and adding a few new ones. The city was busy, as always, especially since the Sugar Bowl was played here on New Year's Day. Lots of happy Ole Miss fans were on the streets. Lunch in the French Market; a free big band concert at the Mint, which also houses three very good exhibitions, one focusing on Louis Armstrong, who was born into poverty here, and rose to become an honorary citizen. The other two were also very good: a collection of artworks done by very unschooled artists, mostly from Louisiana, and a photo exhibit displaying winners of an international contest judging the world's best photos across a variety of categories. They were amazing.
We then headed to Frenchmen's Street, and got into several clubs that do really good music, as opposed to the Bourbon Street general fare. We enjoyed a little quartet led by a pretty blond trumpet player/singer, their specialty being tunes from the early eras of jazz. We also found a very good blues band, after we caught the tail end of a group featuring a terrific older guy who sang up a storm, especially doing Cohen's "Hallelulia" as well as I've ever heard it. Pulled pork sandwich and a beer, and life is good. Caught the street car, connected with the bus, and home with no problem by 10:30. We'll do it again today, and probably tomorrow, with hopes the sun comes out today.
Bay St. Louis was the same. Only soggier. We were told that after a major drought all summer, with the earth actually cracking in places, they have had nothing but rain for the past month. Our park was soggy, and there was a bit of flooding along roadways, ditches full, medians full in places. However, the hosts of the campground were really nice, so we had a good stay there despite the elements. We only stayed two nights, and spent part of our one full day touring around Bay St. Louis, dropping in at the Silver Slipper Casino down the road on the way. Half an hour in the casino, with the clanging and clatter of hundreds of money gobblers reminded us of why we aren't casino people. Reminded me of pachinko parlors in Japan, which are even worse. Enjoyed a walk around the town, which is a nice mix of large homes and tourist shops, with a few good eateries near the water front. We had lunch at the Blind Tiger, and watched some football on a big screen. Hadn't seen such a big screen for awhile.
This is hurricane country, being as close to New Orleans as it is. The area was devastated by Katrina, which is still referenced by folks you talk to because of the terrible impact it had. Our owner, Joe, told us of the wall of water that came to his property, despite the fact it's about 4 miles from the Gulf shoreline. And it went another couple of miles past his place. His campground was taken over by the government for more than two years to provide refuge to folks displaced by the storm. He was shrewd enough to work out a special contract with the gov't people, so maintained control of his property and was able to keep it safe and orderly.
We had a nice New Year's Eve with the people staying there, organized by Joe and his wife in their pavilion. Everyone brought food, and as each hour was struck, we would celebrate the area of the world starting their 2016. We even made lots of noise at 9:30 to celebrate with Newfoundland. There was also a neat coincidence. As soon as we walked in to the party, Debbie Zschuppe from Belleville let out a whoop, and we had a big hug. She worked at one of the schools in Belleville in the office, and I had gotten to know her quite well through my work with the International Student Program. We knew she and her husband were somewhere in the south, but had no idea where. And there she was.. She and her husband are doing a trip somewhat like ours. So it was great to have some time with them, and we'll keep in touch as we go our various ways.
On to New Orleans on New Year's Day. We found our 'park', which has everything we need. Wifi, t.v., full services. It's in a rather basic area the size of a good parking lot, but it serves our purposes, as the facilities are clean, and it's run by a really nice young guy named Dave. He filled us in on how to get downtown, which is about an hour by bus and streetcar, and we managed very well yesterday. We were the only white guys on the bus, all the way to Canal street, but that was no problem.
We had a good day in the city, revisiting our old haunts, and adding a few new ones. The city was busy, as always, especially since the Sugar Bowl was played here on New Year's Day. Lots of happy Ole Miss fans were on the streets. Lunch in the French Market; a free big band concert at the Mint, which also houses three very good exhibitions, one focusing on Louis Armstrong, who was born into poverty here, and rose to become an honorary citizen. The other two were also very good: a collection of artworks done by very unschooled artists, mostly from Louisiana, and a photo exhibit displaying winners of an international contest judging the world's best photos across a variety of categories. They were amazing.
We then headed to Frenchmen's Street, and got into several clubs that do really good music, as opposed to the Bourbon Street general fare. We enjoyed a little quartet led by a pretty blond trumpet player/singer, their specialty being tunes from the early eras of jazz. We also found a very good blues band, after we caught the tail end of a group featuring a terrific older guy who sang up a storm, especially doing Cohen's "Hallelulia" as well as I've ever heard it. Pulled pork sandwich and a beer, and life is good. Caught the street car, connected with the bus, and home with no problem by 10:30. We'll do it again today, and probably tomorrow, with hopes the sun comes out today.
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