Adventures of Bear & Wren: Abilene

One of the things I like about Texas is that there are so many cities and towns that have managed to work their way into the common psyche outside the state, and even outside of the country. Say the word Texas to just about anyone in Great Britain and they think of Dallas. Mention Texas to a musician and they think of Austin.  Mention Texas and hurricanes and up pops Galveston and Corpus Christi.  And if you grew up in a house that liked country music in the 70s and 80s, you know the words Abilene and Luckenbach.  I'll save Willie, Waylon and the boys for another blog because last week Jamie said, "We need another adventure."  We looked at the gazetteer over and over but nothing seemed to really speak to us as we sat there in Whataburger having a late lunch.  But a few days later the destination became clear while I was pulling mugshots.

"Let's go to Abilene."

"What's there?" Jamie asked from the other room.

"I don't know, " I replied, "but someone wrote a song about it so let's go."

Truth was, I only knew the first two bars of the tune and they went  "Abilene.  Abilene...."  But expeditions have been launched on less and we had the precious commodity of Christmas money from my folks and no job responsibilities.  The only catch was that Abilene is a four hour drive from Austin.  As we still haven't put Jamie through the rigors of getting his license here, it would mean a long, long day of driving for me and just a cursory glance at our destination.  We decided to bite the bullet and make it an overnighter.

Because we wanted to make this a bit of an event, we agreed that we would try to find a b&b rather than a standard hotel.  We never got to have a honeymoon. Our wedding night was spent in Jeff's hovel of an apartment while my parents enjoyed our clean diggs upstairs so we thought maybe we could justify spending the money staying some place nice.  The problem was, every place we contacted was full up.  We were debating postponing the trip when fortune smiled upon us as she so often does.  One kind B&B owner suggested we try phoning a place called The Refuge at Wit's End.  It had not come up in any of our internet searches for lodgings but when we typed it into Google, up came a Facebook page and a travel blog post.  We were immediately enchanted and by the next day had a reservation for a little stone cottage on Riverside Boulevard.  Best of all, it was only 75 bucks. 

The name of the cottage seemed terribly fitting for we were nearly at Wit's End ourselves.  It had been party central at our boisterous neighbors' place during the nights leading up to New Year's day meaning we had not slept well in ages.  Then, we came home from errands on the 2nd to find a squirrel had gnawed its way through the sheetrock in the laundry alcove leaving a hole near the ceiling the size of a tennis ball.  Fortunately, the bugger was not waiting for us when I opened the bi-fold doors.  We taped up the hole and put a call in to the landlord.  Along with having to fix the hole on the apartment side of the wall, poor Alejandro the contractor was going to have to go up through an access spot in one of our closets to repair the outer inside wall.  Also, the facia board on the gable end that had rotted away would have to be replaced to keep the steady stream of birds, bugs and buggers out. Oh what a mess!  We cleaned off shelves, stuffed musical instruments and art supplies in corners. And then the night before Alejandro was to arrive, the squirrel got smart, chewing beyond the taped area, enlarging his handiwork.  Still, lucky for us he didn't come through into the room. We pushed a big frame against the wall, stacked paint cans to keep it from being pushed over, and got the heck out of town early Friday morning. 

(Here's a link to our photo album of the trip on Facebook. I'll just include a few extras here in the blog    http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2101574&id=1143323140&l=670526b2a0)

Breakfast was a stop in Lampasas at the Country Kitchen restaurant where the sign outside announced it was Catfish Friday.  When we walked in, the local sheriff, a man of impressive proportions, was just finishing a story much to the delight of his listeners.  We slipped into a table and enjoyed the ambiance.  Our waitress arrived in her cowgirl boots, short denim skirt with sparkly belt and a rhinestone encrusted top that featured a pair of angel wings on the back.  The walls were covered with an assortment of faded photos of famous Texas outlaws, ancient firearms, farm equipment and old car license plates.  Jamie looked at me and said quietly, "Bloody hell, Wren, I'm in Texas!"  Two plates of eggs, hashbrowns, bacon and toast and we were back on our way.

Another great thing about Texas is its roads.  Once you are away from the major cities, the driving is fantastic.  The state is huge and the roads are well kept.  I don't know how to fully explain what a pleasure it is travel here by car.  (We'll discuss city driving later...not fun!)   For the most part, the roads have paved shoulders that are a lane wide.  It is an unwritten rule that if someone wants to pass you from behind, you move into the break down lane to let them by.  It can be a little disconcerting to be driving 60 mph on the shoulder while you are being overtaken by someone doing 70 in the driving lane who is being overtaken by someone doing 80 in the passing lane.  Jamie's going to have to get used to that one. 

But those big wide shoulders mean you can turn around fast if you zoom past something you want to get a second look at.  We do that a lot because out of nowhere you can come across a giant elk made of junk metal or maybe a Thanksgiving turkey made from a big round bale of hay and part of an old windmill for the tail, or perhaps zebras, like the ones we found grazing by an old pullman car in the tiny hamlet of Zephyr as we zoomed up 183.  We've seen camels and emus, even a bison and an albino elk, but zebras were a new find, much to our delight.   Central Texas has a number of wild game ranches and parks.  Our roadside zebras belonged to one such place.  We did two quick turn-arounds and Jamie was out of the car with the cameras blazing.  Fantastic!

The miles clicked by as we headed northwest through Early, Rising Star, Cross Plains, Potosi and into the outskirts of Abilene.  It's beautiful country, large spreads of ranch land and fallow fields of gold.  Many of the ranches feature goats and sheep.  We had come across signs for "show goats" before which quickly got us laughing, picturing goats in spangles and top hats headlining in Vegas, so you can imagine the giggles when I spied the ranch sign advertising "club lambs."  Made sense.  The club lambs go out on a Friday night to see the show goats and do a little partying. Brilliant.  We were in tears.  Texas is so often very funny without even trying.  In truth, the goats and lambs become livestock projects with local 4-H and Future Farmers of America groups.  It's serious business, as anyone who has raised an animal for show and sale will tell you...but it never ceases to make us chuckle.

We came into Abilene from the southeast, past the airport and countless truck, tire and equipment businesses.  I had hastily written down the directions to Wit's End which meant a rather circuitous ride through varied economic neighborhoods before we found The Refuge.  Our host, Bobby Deegan, and Raz the Black Lab, met us in the drive.  Bobby had called earlier in the morning to let us know that the heater in the cottage was acting up but a workman was on the way to look at it.  By the time we arrived, he had come and gone but was coming back again because it still wasn't working.  We assured Bobby we were of hardy northern stock and would be quite fine if the heater couldn't be coaxed to warm things up.  We dropped off our pack and headed into town to catch a couple of museums before they closed.

It was 3:30 on a Friday afternoon and downtown was empty.  In fact, everywhere was empty. I had been wondering if we would be able to find parking but we were the only car on the street.  We parked outside the National Center for Children's Illustrated Literature and stepped into the amazing world of Brian Selznick  http://nccil.org/experience/artists/Selznick/index.htm

Outside the main gallery are large format photographs of children's book illustrators, people whose pictures you don't often see at the back of a storybook.  I recognized Mo Willems, Ashley Bryan, David Weisner, William Joyce.  Inside the gallery were original sketches and paintings from eight or more books that Brian Selznick has done.  The work was amazing and as we were the only visitors in the building we had it all to ourselves.  A copy of each book featured  was on hand at the beginning of its exhibit area allowing you to see the finished work in print and get a feel for its place in the story.  It was a glorious exhibit. The artist's ability with just a pencil was truly magical. We had a peek in the gift shop/bookstore then walked further down North 1st street to The Grace.

The Grace Museum  http://www.thegracemuseum.org/  was formerly a rather grand hotel.  High ceilings, marble floors, a ballroom or two.  It's lovely in that turn of the century way with deep crown moulding and flourishes.  The hotel is now home to several art galleries, a children's museum and a history museum.  Admission for all this is only $6.00 for adults.  Chatting with the docent in the lobby who was taking down the beautiful Christmas three, we learned that Abilene is basically a quiet, small city. 

" We have our 10 minute traffic jam and that's about it.  We'll get a few visitors over the weekend but mostly it's pretty dead in town."

Hopefully it was the time of year that made things quiet and not the signs of a city in decline.  Again, we had the museum nearly to ourselves.  We wandered through the galleries, played in the Children's Museum and marvelled at the 'Tools for Modern Living" exhibit in the history museum which featured things like early washing machines, toasters, adding machines and photography equipment.  In the middle of it stood a young gal checking movie times on her iPhone.  It was a telling juxtaposition.

We left The Grace just at closing, hungry and with no idea where to eat.  Thus began another impromptu tour of Abilene, up one quiet street and down another.  Grain elevators, abandonned warehouses and boarded up buildings  are in abundance in the city, reminders of the past.  Trains regularly rolled through town while we were there but they didn't seem to stop. Abilene is, perhaps, merely on the way to some place else these days.  We did find the pie-making facility for Mrs. Baird's Bakery, a Texas company that makes breads and snack foods, at one end of town and the Mrs. Baird's Bakery outlet at the other end of town but sadly both were closed for the day.  Mrs. Baird's apple pie...mmmmm.

We had our choice of fast food and a few hole in the wall spots but nothing was really appealing to us.  As night descended, it was clear that we had missed a portion of town where eateries and shops resided but I was hesitant to drive too far in directions unknown being tired and unsure of just how to get back to Wit's End.  Jamie started chuckling and said we could go to the Touch of Class Nightclub we had just passed.  He said we shouldn't let the peeling paint, the faded sign and the old homeless guy with his bin bags out front put us off it.  It was with a bit of hysterical relief that we saw a glittery new-looking  Chinese restaurant just uphead with a banner proclaiming "Voted Best Oriental Food in Abilene".  Szechuan it was and soon we were up to ears in egg rolls and Tsing Tao, though it was touch and go as we pulled into the parking lot.

Jamie said, "I thought that was a horse standing there on the grass but it's just a man."

I chalked it up to low blood sugar.

Full of crispy duck and crab rangoon, we found our way back to Wit's End, a very chilly Wit's End.  Raz greeted us at the gate and we should have just brought him inside with us because his breath was ten times warmer that the feeble little breeze that was coming out of the heater.  Happily, the bed had a thick down comforter and a faux fur throw.  We spent a little time exploring the tiny place, examining the art on the walls and the decorations through out.  It is a little treasure house of color and humor, a true refuge.  We slipped off to sleep warm, cozy and happy.

Morning brought with it a cold front that arrived overnight.  The mexican terracotta tiles were chilly under foot.  Using the loo was a teeth chattering experience and we giggled from the cold, hopping back under the duvet until we absolutely had to get up.  A bath was out of the question, despite the presence of a tiny space heater.  The cold mass of the cast iron tub would have taken all the heat out of the hottest water.  Jamie made coffee and we breakfasted on leftover Chinese and homemade protein bars.  Fortified, we spent a bit more time exploring the cottage and taking photos.  Then we paid our hostess, Cynthia, and were off back into town in search of Frontier Texas.

We had seen the tourist information center the previous afternoon, having stopped to take photos of the wonderful statute just outside that depicts a scene from the book Santa Calls by William Joyce.  It sits just across the street from the Children's Illustrated Lit museum. We went back hoping to get direction to the frontier museum and stood dumbstruck at the locked door.  The only information we got was that Tourist Information in Abilene is not open on the weekends!  Fortunately,  the museum was just half a mile down the street.  And what a museum it is.

Frontier Texas!  http://www.frontiertexas.com/  combines  interactive exhibits, cool technology, extensive primary source materials and personal narrative to lead the visitor through life on the frontier.  Utilizing the life stories of eight people who helped shape the American West in their own way,  history becomes an exciting adventure and not just dates on a placard.  Actor portrayals presented through innovative technology make every turn in the museum exciting.  As had been the case in the other museums, there were only a few of us in the building so we had time to really look at displays and listen to the characters we met.  A small theatre with a 360 degree film screen treats you to a fascinating and fast moving experience of life on the frontier.  We came out of the last exhibit blown away by just how good the museum was.  There is a definite flow to the museum and I imagine that if it was full of school groups, the place could be quite loud and congested so try to visit outside of school hours would be my suggestion.  Also, when you first enter the lobby, stop at the Abilene Visitors kiosk, an electronic unit that is mounted on the wall.  It offers tourist info on Abilene and you can print off coupons for saving on admission to all the attractions in Abilene, including Frontier Texas.  We discovered this when Jamie, who can't resist anything with buttons to push,  started having a go with the machine.  You will save two dollars off per admission for up to six people.

We walked around the neighborhood of the museum, photographing the remnant buildings from years past, then began our trip home.  Stopping just outside town for gas and lottery tickets, we left Abilene feeling very glad we had come.  After three years in Austin, Abilene felt like a place where real Texans lived.  It struck us as a place where people worked hard with their bodies and the land.  It is not a city of luxury and frivolity and yet it has no shortage of museums and cultural events.   In 1982, Abilene became the first city in Texas to create a downtown reinvestment zone. It is home to seven colleges. In short, it's worth the drive!

We decided to take a different route for part of the journey home and set off east on the access road along Highway 20.  Knowing we had a couple of postcards to mail, we stopped in the town of Baird, yet another of those places where time seems to have stood still or simply up and left.  It was rural America in the early 70s.  A grain depot by the railroad tracks.  Signs and store fronts from businesses long since gone.  Dusty antique shops with dead wasps in the window and great Aunt Ethel's cut glass parfait glasses lined up for $4.00 each.  Jamie has only to say hello and anyone in hearing distance latches on to his accent.  Soon the stories are flowing and an hour later we are stepping out the door laughing and bidding happy farewells.  England loves Texans and Texans love a British accent.  For all the times that we are cut off, pushed about or ignored in Austin, a stop in a small Texas town never fails to produce kind people who stay in our memories.

By the time we reached Cisco, our right hand turn that would take us south to home, we were getting a bit peckish.  We cruised down the main street, hoping to find a little restaurant for some BBQ or home cooking but to no avail.  As we both needed a bathroom break, we pulled into the local grocery store for relief and a snack to get us back to Early where we had seen plenty of restaurants the day before.  Clutching our chocolate milk, acai juice and a bag of potato chips, as we stood in line at the cash register I pointed out the copies of The Star and The Enquirer as we had been talking about British and US tabloid papers earlier.  As I started to say something to Jamie, the young cashier interrupted, finishing my sentence by asking if these were papers I liked to make fun of.

I said, "No, no.  I was pointing out that this is our equivalent of the papers he has in England."

"You're both from Britain?" she asked, almost incredulous, her cheeks going from pale pink to scarlet.

"No, just me." Jamie said pleasantly but that evidently was enough to render her mute, as she couldn't manage to say another word.  She just got redder and redder.  The gal bagging simply stared at us.  We managed to get our change and thanked them both. The cashier could barely look at us by this point, sort of wiggling away in that way you do when you've met someone so incredibly cool and you just want to jump around and hoot in excitement the minute they are out of earshot.  Needless to say, I think January 8th, 2011 will forever be the day the Englishman stopped at  Brookshire's in Cisco, Texas. 

 We chuckled all the way to Rising Star but there we met a chilling sight that left us cold. All at once, the trees on the opposite side of the road were full of vultures. Close to a hundred of the big, black birds sat hunched on branches, their backs to the road, with a few still circling overhead.  At first it didn't seem real. 

I turned around at the first side road I found, one which eerily enough had a sign for the Rising Star Cemetery, and rolled to a stop alongside the bird-infested trees.  The vultures were stone quiet.  A few flapped their wings as they settled into position.  Jamie wondered if perhaps there was something dead further in the trees but with everyone being so still, that seemed odd.  Given as it was near dusk, it seemed more likely that the birds were simply roosted up for the night.  We checked online when we got home and sure enough, while vultures are fairly solitary during the day, they do roost in large groups at night.  I drove past after Jamie snapped some photos, turned around and slowed again for one more look.  A man was sitting on his small porch watching the birds while a black puppy danced about in the yard.  The whole scene was incredibly creepy.  I gave the man a slight nod as we passed.  He returned the gesture then turned his gaze back to the birds as we drifted away. 

Even as we reached Early and the bright signs for hotels and restaurants, we were still a bit subdued by the strange sight back up the road.  But an empty stomach knows no bounds and we were anxious to find Underwoods, a BBQ place we had seen advertised on a big, hokey billboard outside of town.  Travelling down a strip far busier than we had seen in all of Abilene, we kept a fierce look out for the big fella in the cowboy hat waving the dinner bell.  As we passed a place called Humphrey Pete's, Jamie read the sign and started laughing.

"That place says it's pig lickin' good, Wren."  I wasn't sure just how or what constituted pig lickin' good.  Pulling in at Underwood's, their sign said "Best eatin' in town."  I told Jamie he was going to have to make the tough choice--pig lickin' good or best eatin' in town.  He chose best eatin' and in we went to a cafeteria style bbq place that has been in business since 1946.  The decor was classic Western family with guns on the walls and high chairs for wailing toddlers, old carpet on the floor and big booths and tables with plenty of room for burgeoning bellies. Jamie had bbq steak with mashed potato, pink potato salad, hot rolls and apple cobbler.  I had ribs with green beans, cole slaw and cobbler.  There were atleast 10 other sides you could have if you wanted, two other cobblers, refills on your soda or sweet tea and all the coffee you could drink.  Young waitresses went around with carts asking if you wanted drink refills or whipped creme or hot rolls.  The food was down home and pretty good eatin' but by far the best part of the meal was listening to two of the high school age waitresses while they cleared the table behind us.

"I had this guy who was stalking me."

             "Oh my god, that is so cool. I've always wanted a stalker."

"Yeah, he used to follow me home and try to talk to me."

               "You are so lucky."

"Yeah, he gave me a rose once."

              "Oh my god, that is so sweet."

"Yeah.  It was Valentine's Day."

              "I would love a stalker."

"He was in my math class.  I think his name was Pedro."

             "Wow."

"He was kind of creepy though."

              "Oh, I love creepy guys."

"Yeah, but he wasn't attractive."

              "Oh, I don't like unattractive creepy guys...."


Full to the brim and smiling, we set off for the last hundred miles home.  In Lampasas, the livestock auction we had caught a glimpse of Friday morning was still going on.  A massive pick up pulled up beside us at a stop light and an equally massive German Shepherd in the back was barking at every vehicle in sight. He was a dog in a truck on a Saturday night and he was loving it.

Back home, we were relieved to find Alejandro had patched up the holes, the squirrel was quiet and the neighbors were off getting drunk somewhere else.  We climbed into bed as the heavens opened up. 

God bless Texas and thank you,  Abilene.  We won nine dollars on the lottery!