The Adventures of Fric and Frac: Adventure 367: Fredericksburg, Texas/Post E

My Bunny, the sign reader, at Crabapple School.

We tried hard to talk ourselves out of riding this morning. The wind was blowing 15-25 out of the north, it was bringing in a cold front, and if it weren't for the bright sun and pretty hill country clouds, I think we would have waved it all off. But we didn't, even though just as we began the ride, we turned into the heavy North wind, and I said to myself, "This will be too hard." It turned out to be a great ride, a true Texas Hill Country ride. We climbed a few steep (18 percent) grades, but they were short. We rode a little over thirty miles out and back on back road called Lower Crabapple. We stopped at Lower Crabapple School #13, which was put into service in 1859 and continued as an independent until 1957 when it merged with Fredericksburg. There were forty students in 1859, if you can imagine one teacher teaching across ages in one room. I'm pretty sure they didn't pay her (I'm just guessing it was a her) enough. The school is right next to the Lutheran Church, which was built in 1879. Interestingly, though it's still a German immigrant community, it's Lutheran. The Catholics must have dominated the other side of the valley. The ride is sprinkled with ranches, some small, some gentlemanly, and some the continuation of a long heritage. It turned out to be a great ride, and the best news of all is that the wind we bucked going out pushed us all the way home. We got back in time to make it to Cranky Frank's BBQ, and we were even treated to a barb from the famous Cranky Frank. Judy, not noticing the signs behind the sauces, asked what the difference was. Frank intoned, "Maybe you should read the signs." Regardless, the brisket plate was fabulous, and we had enough of the rich, flavorful meat to make it our dinner, too. We enjoyed another night at the pickin circle out at Luchenbach. Every night has been different. Tonight, it was mostly a one man show. He did have a woman beside him who played what I'm calling a bass box. In effect, it was the rhythm section. He covered many Waylon Jennings songs, and he had a voice so much like Waylon's that when I closed my eyes, I could swear I was hearing him. I didn't get his name, only that he lives in Kerrville. No matter, we enjoyed the evening as usual, and we met a young couple (40s) who are traveling for two years in a thirty foot Airstream. They've been in the East mostly, but are heading West. It was fun to chat with a member of the "Airstream Club". This has been a wonderful week, and we're just in the middle. Tomorrow, we hope to drive down to Kerville, which is twice as big as Fredericksburg, and according to Wikipedia, has a few interesting historical sites to view. We'll probably look for their best restaurant as well, so as you can see life is good, especially today, and if we're granted another day, maybe tomorrow as well.

This ranch sits at the crest of a hill. It appears to have been around awhile.

The landscape is dotted with these very cool mesquite and mud cabins.

Then there are what appears to be gentlemanly ranches that are a mixture of modern sandstone and reconstructed old time buildings. Judy thought she could live in this one.