The Adventures of Fric and Frac: Adventure 98: Fredericksburg RV Park/Post D

Great Hill Country Ride

Except for a shaky start in which the wily cager skunked me to get right back in the Fredericksburg Open, today was fabulously full. The weather was "normal", which meant pure blue sky refracting a bright seventy degree sun through the live oaks, which meant the shadows danced here and there all day. This is the weather Y' all been waiting for. We hopped on the tandem and rode Ranch Road 1631 via 2721 via Route 1 to the Texas White House. Round trip was 45.5 miles (Which we call 50 here in Texas). Lyndon Johnson's ranch was somewhere around 2,000 acres when he lived there. It's now a National Historical Site of just under 900 acres. The family still owns the land surrounding the core of the ranch, which includes the house, the airstrip, the airplane hanger, a few out buildings, and the show barn for LBJ's Herefords. You're not allowed to take pictures inside the house, but it's a snapshot in time (1963), and everything in the house is as it was when Johnson became President. He spent about a quarter of his time as President at the ranch. We watched a video of an interview he gave, and he said his roots gave him the clarity and strength to meet the challenges facing America. The ranch has a serenity about it and a beauty that is easy to embrace. It was by far the highlight of our day. While we rested, we cheered the Seahawks to victory over the Saints. Sadly, we had no special food today. We had to subsist on home made thin gruel, none of which was worthy of photographic documentation (Or I just forgot). For entertainment, we made our way out to Luchenbach to hear a band called Sol Patch. Two members of the band (Melissa Weatherly and Bryan Maldanado) showed up at the picking circle on Thursday. We liked them so much, we decided to return. It was, again, well worth it, and not just because it was free. Melissa, who clearly loves to sing, also has a Gospel Band she plays with called Any Given Sunday. Tonight, she belted out a couple of praise songs including Swing Low Sweet Chariot. It was magnificent, even as it was juxtaposed against some hard livin', hard drinkin' folk in the bar. There was an authenticity to her plea, which somehow didn't feel out of place. The rest of what we heard included countrified versions of Neil Young's Harvest Moon, Grateful Dead's Friend of the Devil, a Fleetwood Mac song, a Dylan song, a Pete Seeger song, some others I can't recall, and a host of originals. The background players included a fabulous fiddler, an exquisite lead guitar, and a quiet, effective bass. Bryan played rhythm guitar and accompanied Melissa on vocals. It was a very pleasant way to end the live music portion of our Texas stay, and I must say today life was especially good. There were even some witticisms thrown about that are worthy of remembering. When we got to Luchenbach, a crusty old story teller and songster named Jimmy Lee Jones was playing. At one point a gal came over to request a song. She put her hand on his shoulder to which he replied, "If I were a puppy dog, my tail would be wagging." And then he cracked a joke, "What's the difference between a beer and a booger?" The beer goes on top of the bar! Crudeness is appreciated, but rudeness is not. Late in the evening, a very drunk amateur girl took the stage to sing. She didn't fare well, and in her introduction dropped an F-Bomb. The crowd instantly booed her use of coarse language. There is an interestingly strong sense of genteel behavior among the Texans, even the rowdiest of them. So let that be a lesson: Y' all watch your language because it's behaving that makes life good, especially today.

Texas ain't flat.

Ranch Roads carve the Central texan Hills.

Funny?

Two of the oldest structures still standing from when the Germans settled the area in the 1840s. In Texas, bragging rights come from how many generations your 'folk' have been here.

A side view of the Texas White House.

LBJ used to move his office out under this live oak and conduct matters of State from there.

The pool out back, which was put in so LBJ would exercise. To the end he kept smoking and drinking: basically doing as he damn well pleased. He died of heart failure at age 64.