The Adventures of Fric and Frac: Adventure 66: Goliad State Park, TX/Post A

Site of Cold Blooded Killings

Sadly, I left Corpus Christi with my tail between my legs as my Hunny Bunny slapped me with my own pegs to win the Corpus Christi Open by one game. Happy I am, though, because I've bounced back for a two game lead here in Goliad. Our drive was uneventful and nicely short, though we did drive straight into the wind for seventy miles. After setting up under the first sunny skies in recent memory, we walked the Trail of Angels into town. Though it was barely above forty, the sun warmed our hearts and the trail wound through the forest into the city square of Goliad, a town with the kind of history we'd hoped to find. We read every plaque, took pictures of the hanging tree, squirmed a little when we read that the ranchers returning from the Civil War found their spreads in shambles, their cattle scattered, and squatters all over the place. The home boys put together a vigilante squad of fifty men and not so gently escorted the pretenders out. The word was, "You've got ten days to leave Texas, or we'll shoot you dead." On a Sunday morning in 1902, a tornado destroyed several blocks of town, killing a complete congregation of African American Methodists and a total of 114 people. We also stood under the same oak tree that was the location of Goliad's first First Baptist service in 1849. We toured the County Court House, peeking into empty court rooms, and climbing all the stairs. We even saw a real live Texas ranger, but I was unable to get a picture of him. He wore a ten gallon hat, a long sleeve starched white shirt, a Texas Longhorn colored tie neatly pinned with a small ranger star, and pressed khaki colored trousers. On his left breast plate, he wore a shiny Ranger star, and his neatly appointed leather pouches each had a small ranger star emblazoned on them. He was about six foot three atop his polished boots, and he had a smile as wide as Texas. What could possibly be more historically romantic than a Texas Ranger? Judy even exclaimed, "Que guapo." On the way back, we stepped into the mission church at the campground, which is classic Spanish, but sadly, the museum is closed for renovation. The camp ground itself is well kept, and while the Texas' state parks don't quite measure up to Utah's standard, they are proving to be very pleasant indeed. We're camping under another freeze warning (28), but tomorrow (I promise) we will get on the bike because the weather is supposed to soar into the high fifties. If not, we can always tour the area in Fric. We have yet to see the Presidio (An Alamo like fortress) and the local battlefield that became famous during the Mexican-American war. Besides, we never know what adventure we might experience. All we know is that life is good, especially today.

Sweet, sweet sunshine-the view from our living room.

The Mission Espiritu Santo, a magnificent presence on the highest point around. One hundred years ago it was in disrepair. At that time, townspeople used the stones from the wall to build their own houses. Notice the sway back in the stone wall. It was once over eight feet all around.

The sanctuary is not regularly used for Mass.

Brutally realistic Christ on the Cross; the altar close up.

The Christ figure bound with a crown of thorns. The cannon may be a Spanish tithing technique??

A window display on the soon to be restored Impresario Restaurant. It has a very cool dining layout, and tempted me to go into the restaurant business until I remembered the 24/7 work schedule.