The original intention was to go to Austin - try and catch
some country music. So I headed south on Rte 35. Highways here don't have too
many places to pull off and look at the map ("Rest Area 1 mile; Next Rest
Area 110 miles"), so you pretty much have to figure out where you're going
in advance, and stick to it (unless you have a navigator companion). Now I'm
not easily surprised, but as I was looking out the window, I saw a field full
of camels grazing. Whoa! Camels? In Texas? I made a U-turn at the next
available opportunity (about 10 miles), and tried to locate an exit where I
might be able to get a closer look. In the process, I came across a Texas
night club. This was 11am, so it looks fairly sleepy, but I bet the
joint's really jumpin' tonight. Probably can't move for line dancers.
Anyway, I found the farm (sorry, ranch), but the gates were
padlocked. Undeterred, I pulled the car off the road, and walked down the
outside of the fence (next to the highway) to get a photograph - no-one's ever
going to believe me otherwise. On the way, a friendly horse
(whose name was Jenny, I later found out) and her foal followed me along the
fence. As I walked back to the car, the owner pulled up, opened
the gate, got back in his truck, but slowed down as he passed me. I told him I
just had to get a picture of the camels - he invited me in for a closer look.
So ... Ray Mitchell showed me his camels, his baby camels
and his African cow. He also breeds primates, and has just bought a
few hundred acres nearby where he plans to open a wildlife park. I asked him
why the camels were so friendly, when they have a reputation for being the
opposite, and stubborn to boot. He said it's because the ones you usually see
have been teased or maltreated. Anyway, his camels were delightful, and so was
he.
I got back on the road to Austin. On the way you pass
through Waco - you know, where they had all that Branch Davidian trouble a few
years back (I always thought they'd mis-spelt the name and left a "k"
out). It was close to lunchtime, so I stopped at Dock's Riverside, and had
lunch on the deck overlooking the Brazos river. They brought out hush-puppies
as a snack (don't really know what these are, but they're good
as long as you have something to dip them in). Lunch was blackened catfish with
fries and pinto beans (they're big into beans down here, and these are similar
to baked beans (or Boston baked beans) but without the sweet sauce). From the
deck I could look down to see ducks and turtles in the water
below. While I was eating, grackles (black birds that we used to call
chin-chins in Cayman) hovered nearby to pick up anything I might drop.
Since, as you know, I'm of the opinion that most American
cities (with a few notable exceptions) look the same these days, and since I'd
heard that Crawford (the "White House of Texas", where the Bush
family live) was nearby, I decided to forget Austin, and try to find Crawford
instead. And, believe me, it's not easy to find. That probably has something to
do with the fact that (as the sign says) it has a population of some 700
people. Of course, the sign reads "Crawford City Limit". In my
naivety, I supect that's rather a liberal interpretation of the word
"city", but since every one-horse town (and the horse doesn't have to
still be alive, or could be temporarily borrowed from a neighbouring
"city") down here seems to do it, we can let it pass.
When you get to Crawford, there's bugger all there. The main street has a bank, a gas station, a barbershop and several
gift shops (from which I purchased the obligatory fridge magnet!). Actually, I
think the barbershop may have closed down, so I suppose the good folks of
Crawford have taken their custom elsewhere - as long as GWB knows to get a
haircut before he goes home!
I asked the woman in the giftshop where the Bush ranch was.
She told me, but also advised me that there's nothing to see. I should have
listened. There really isn't anything to see - the approach road itself is
closed, and you're not allowed to "stop, stand or park" anywhere
nearby, so the best you can get is a distant glimpse of a few people that may
(or may not) be secret service agents whose job is to make sure nobody knows
what GWB's gate looks like. And here's silly me with images of chatting to CIA
guys, and persuading one of them to take a picture of me in front of George
Dubya's home!
I decided to head home on the back roads, so that the
scenery wouldn't be flashing by quite so fast. There are lots of churches -
Unitarian Universalist Chapel, God of 2nd Chance Church, Christ-Life Church, as
well as the usual - but some of them look more like someone's garage than what
we usually recognise as a church. And the rural towns are full of decrepit
trailer homes (don't know what we call these in England, but they're bigger
than caravans, pre-built, and small enough to tow and install on the plot of
land you've bought). There are also lots of derelict buildings - someone told
me that when Walmart close down a store, or move to larger premises, they won't
sell it, but leave it to decay until, often, the town has to pay to have it
demolished. There's some economic logic to this, but I don't like it. Whenever
I see an abandoned building, it makes me think of what it was like when it was
new, what aspirations for the future the owner had, and I can almost imagine
them standing proudly outside while photographs are taken for posterity. And
that makes me sad.
Anyway, on the way back, I took a picture of a
typical Texas scene : cattle grazing in a field around a watering hole.
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