On my second day in Texas, Hilmar hosted a party at his ranch. Above, the catered food arrives from La Fogata, a great Mexican restaurant in San Antonio.

We hauled it over to El Pescador, a fish camp on a ranch pond, where the feasting would occur, then headed up to a hillside overlooking the ranch, where the drinking would commence.

A friend of Hilmar’s had already delivered vast quantities of beer, wine and spirits to the spot.

Pretty soon people, lots of people, started to arrive — then the fiesta began in earnest as Hilmar’s daughter Jordan and ten of her friends descended on the scene like a dole of doves, an exaltation of Bluebonnet girls.

Hilmar’s son Blake arrived with a portable clay-launcher and a couple of guns, for sporting purposes — a 12-gauge shotgun to fire at the clays and a 22-caliber lever-action rifle for target practice.  I fired both of these weapons, the first guns larger than a BB rifle I had ever fired in my life.

I was shocked to discover how much fun it was.  I couldn’t hit a clay with the shotgun to save my life, but I managed to put a couple of rounds into a distant tree trunk with the rifle — which resembled a lighter version of a 19th-Century lever-action Winchester.  The thud of the bullets into the tree trunk was deeply satisfying and more than a little thrilling.

We drove down the hill for the dinner, then, after most people headed home, moved to The Rock House, the original ranch house, for more beers and conversation hearthside with Jordan and her friend Lauren.  They were both visiting from Brooklyn, where they currently live.

There was a huge mounted buffalo head above the fireplace.  It was taken from a bull which had wandered into a lake during a storm on the ranch of a friend of Hilmar’s, gotten stuck in the mud there and drowned.  Hilmar asked his friend if he could send someone down to the lake the next day with a chainsaw to retrieve the bull’s head.  This was done and Hilmar had it mounted.

His friend was slightly dismayed by the taxidermy job, which made the fearsome beast look almost kindly.  It looked pretty scary to me.  The eyes might seem doe-like to some — to me they looked merely bovine, which is to say stupid, and the horns looked purely lethal.  Stupid and lethal is a terrifying combination.

Hilmar’s family made a lot of money a couple of generations back from oil. Ironically it was from investments in oil fields north of the Mason-Dixon Line. Hilmar’s grandfather used some of his profits to buy a cattle ranch near his hometown of Seguin.

In a further irony, oil was recently discovered on the ranch, which the current price of oil and modern technology make it profitable to extract. What you see in the video is the first well drilled — it’s pumping up some high-grade crude in abundance, and there may be other accessible deposits connected to the same geological substructure on the ranch.

Every motion of the pump produces another ducat for Hilmar, which explains his cheerful demeanor here, and his satisfaction at the texture of the viscous black gold his land is yielding up. The crude oil has a pungent but faintly satisfying odor.

Click on the image to enlarge.

Passing through San Antonio I decided to stop at the Alamo, preserved in a park in the center of the city.  It’s a lovely, haunted monument.

Lieutenant Colonel William Barret Travis, commanding the garrison at the Alamo, wrote the letter below from the old mission complex not long before it was assaulted for the last time on March 6 by about 1,500 Mexican troops, who killed all its 200 or so defenders, including Travis, Jim Bowie and Davy Crockett.  Their gallant stand inspired others to rally in defense of the new Republic Of Texas, resulting in the final defeat of the Mexican army at the Battle of San Jacinto the following month.

Commandancy of the Alamo
Bejar, Feby. 24, 1836

To the People of Texas & All Americans in the World

Fellow citizens & compatriots

I am besieged, by a thousand or more of the Mexicans under Santa Anna I have sustained a continual Bombardment & cannonade for 24 hours & have not lost a man The enemy has demanded a surrender at discretion, otherwise, the garrison are to be put to the sword, if the fort is taken I have answered the demand with a cannon shot, & our flag still waves proudly from the walls I shall never surrender or retreat. Then, I call on you in the name of Liberty, of patriotism & everything dear to the American character, to come to our aid, with all dispatch The enemy is receiving reinforcements daily & will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five days. If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible & die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his own honor & that of his country VICTORY OR DEATH.

William Barret Travis,

Lt. Col. comdt.

P.S. The Lord is on our side. When the enemy appeared in sight we had not three bushels of corn. We have since found in deserted houses 80 or 90 bushels and got into the walls 20 or 30 head of Beeves. Travis

Travis was 26 years-old at the time.

Three 6-8-hour days behind the wheel and two nights in motels gets you from my home in Las Vegas to Seguin, Texas, which is about an hour south of Austin.  You see a lot of spectacular scenery on the drive, wide open and still wild in its way.  It’s an inspiring journey.

Above, I approach Flagstaff, Arizona on the first day, which takes me as far as Phoenix.  Most of Phoenix is over-built and generic, like most of the greater Los Angeles area.  It is not inspiring.

I was really looking forward to hitting Texas the next day.

Click on the image to enlarge.