Go to Big Bend. Camp in the Basin. It will be worth it.
Texas is where the West and the South meet. At this point, the Southwest (which is where you think this would happen) is it's own animal. The desert metros are booming, and the highway signs advertising real estate tell you on the way into Las Vegas, "Welcome to the New Southwest." But the spirits of the West and the South (and throw in Mexico if you want to keep it real) have deep roots in the Lone Star state. It's rugged individualism of the frontier coupled with the kind of cultural pride and rituals that spring from generations.
We came in on the national parks tip. Three words: Big Bend Basin. That's where you go, although the Guadeloupe Mountains were also quite picturesque and led to our first good run of audio. Luke posted some other stuff on this with more photos as well.
Our first stop in civilization was Austin, where I'd gotten us set to stay with my ETW alumni friend Julia Smith. Her and her roommates Zack and Andy were fantastically gracious. We arrived late, around midnight, but we hung out with Julia and Zack for a couple hours and I slept in absent Andy's bed.
On Zack's recommendation we hit the Green Mesquite in Austin with Julia. Best cue we've had yet.
Barton Spring is a natural spring that's been sort of turned into a pool by the city of Austin. The fresh spring water is cool even in the heat of the day.
The next day we hit up the Austin Museum of Art to see the Annie Libowitz exhibition, portraits of great American musicians. Then to the Green Mesquite for some delicious BBQ, and on for a swim at Barton Spring, a natural spring that's been turned into a pool by the city of Austin. It's cool all the time and doesn't need chlorine since the water springs pure from the earth and constantly washes on down.
Julia's an old friend from ETW. She moved to Austin shortly after graduation and found it mightily to her liking.
Then it was back home to shower, get dressed and head out to see some live music. We'd picked The Weary Boys, always a hootin' hollerin' ho-down of a good time. It was a scant $5 and there was an amazingly graceful amazon cocktail waitress who'd parade the room dancing along and holding a tray of beverages above her head and the crowd. Future ex-wife #1 for the Kone Zone? Maybe, friend. May be.
In any event, I slapped my leg so many times I had a healthy bruise the next day, and we left happy and energized to meet Zack at another spot, then off to skinny dip at the elks lodge before finally returning home.
Big D
"Drink. Drive. Go To Jail? Another Government Lie," so sayeth the billboard with the power-suited woman lawyer outside Dallas. The highways are mad, huge soaring overpasses that must reach 75 or 100 feet into the air. The city center is all mirrors -- oil money booming the town out just as architects perfected that technique -- like a cluster of diamonds.
The Wonderful Wunderlichs. Group photo in Paul and Jo's dining room with their daughter Nikki and Los vagabenderosos.
Paul and Jo's place is in a quiet exurb town called Farmer's Branch. The surrounding towns of Dallas are fully integrated into the larger metro area, but maintain their identity via huge water towers and individualized street signs. You know you've left Farmer's Branch and crossed into Addison when the signs go from red to blue and they get a different logo tacked on to the end.
When we got there the scene was set. Paul did us up right, with a bucket of Shiner Bock and Blonde on ice and three truly Texas-sized steaks ready to throw on the fire. By and by Scott and Nikki made it on over and we filled out the spread with some loaded baked potatoes, fresh-cut tomatoes, texas toast and a delicious (yet inexpensive) merlot. It was the finest meal we've had since hitting the road. That's one of the things that's so cool to stay with your friends parents.
Buen provecho!
You can't win a race on cheap gas!
"You can't win a race on cheap gas," he says, so we supped and heard stories from Paul's old days. He helps run the North Texas Food Bank, but as a kid he grew up overseas in Saudi Arabia and Jordan, which is where he met Jo. At that time it was a pretty small community of Americans in that part of the world, mostly the children of a few businessmen and diplomats. I suppose it's mostly the same today, although the populations of both have probably grown.
We also got to hear some dirt on ol' Tommy boy. He was Luke's long-time roommate and fast friend at Reed, but somehow we had to go all the way to Texas to hear about his trip to Mexico. Interesting. That's what happens when you let your friends have dinner with your parents and your sister and you're not around, my man. ;)
In summation, it was a great evening. Paul had to get back to work feeding the hungry in the morning, so we all headed out to that Duke's place, which I mentioned before. Outside their house is a sort of cul-de-sac/roundabout with some grass, a couple trees and a bench in the middle, so we hung out there for a while, having a little guy time, working on a bottle of Rye, enjoying the warm night air. In truth the main thing that got us back in to bed was the thought of Paul waking up for work and seeing us degenerates still awake outside his house.
Rodger holds the North Texas Potato Cannon while Scott loads the firing chamber with fresh hairspray.
So we slept it off for a while, did our laundry, cleaned out the truck then went out for some TexMex, which is sort of the opposite end of the food spectrum from the Steak extravaganza, but unique and delicious in its own right. And then it was over to Scott and Rodger's for all the hilarity you may have heard.
In the morning it was time to blow. We collected ourselves, got some coffee and Kolatchies and then on the road through Oklahoma to Little Rock. After nearly a week we said so long to the Republic of Texas. So long, but see you again.
