Out Of Texas (By Jim) & From Fears To Tears (By Ginny)

By Jim.

As we left Austin and headed west, there was a Texas-sized surprise waiting for us.

The Texas Hill Country begins west of Austin and continues along U.S. Highway 290. Johnson City, ancestral home of President Lyndon Johnson (the city was named for LBJ’s great-uncle, James Polk Johnson, making him the namesake of the President who annexed Texas into the Union), is the first noteworthy town in the Hill Country. It’s also longhorn country.

Fredericksburg, the largest town in the area, is another 30 miles west of Johnson City. It’s a charming town of about 10,000 people, and it was one of the unexpected delights of our entire trip. It has a vibrant downtown, great nightlife, one of the best World War II museums in the country, a good wine scene (yes, as we learned, Texas wine isn’t an oxymoron) and a unique Germanic flavor to the whole place.

That summary demands some splainin’, so here goes.

Fredericksburg, founded shortly after Texas became a state in the 1840s, is named for Prince Frederick of Prussia. Its Germanic settlers refused to learn English (hmmm) and adopted a dialect called Texas German (no, it doesn’t include “Dawnkershain, Herr Podner”). One of Lyndon Johnson’s first social functions as President was hosting a state visit in the Hill Country for West German Chancellor Ludwig Erhard, including taking him to a Lutheran church in Fredericksburg where the service was read in Texas German and the hymns were sung in native German.

One of the five most important American military leaders of World War II, Chester Nimitz, was born in Fredericksburg. He was the Commander In Chief of the Pacific Fleet (CINCPAC), equal in stature to General Douglas MacArthur in the Pacific Theater. The hotel owned by the Nimitz family (one of Chester’s motivations to join the military was to escape having to work at the hotel) is now the site of a marvelous museum about the war against Japan. Fun Fact I: Nimitz turned down the CINCPAC command when he was first offered it in early 1941, fearing that being promoted over 30 more senior admirals would compromise his effectiveness. That meant another admiral, Husband Kimmel, was in charge of CINCPAC when Pearl Harbor was attacked, resulting in Kimmel being relieved in disgrace and demoted, while his replacement, Nimitz, went on to greatness. Fun Fact II: Nimitz wanted to attend West Point, but the only service academy appointment available when he applied was to Annapolis; Eisenhower wanted to attend Annapolis, but the only appointment available to him was West Point. Fun Fact III: Nimitz was the Navy’s first five-star admiral, promoted by FDR the day after Congress approved legislation creating the rank of Fleet Admiral.

Only a few miles from Nimitz’s home, Lyndon Johnson came of age in and around Johnson City. His daddy, Samual Ealy Johnson, Jr., served in the Texas state legislature and he instilled a passion for politics in his oldest son. Lyndon was the most powerful member of the U.S. Senate in the 1950s, became John Kennedy’s Vice President due to an epic political accident at the 1960 Democratic Convention, and then succeeded JFK as the 36th President of the United States. Few Presidents were (and still are) more enigmatic and controversial. As President, LBJ spearheaded the Great Society, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Voting Rights Act of 1965, Medicare…and the Vietnam War.

The LBJ Ranch is only a few miles east of Fredericksburg. The ranch house was closed due to the Trump shutdown, but I was able to glimpse it from across the Pedernales River (which drivers had to cross via an underwater bridge built by LBJ, to get to the ranch).

All that history is one thing, but the new thing Fredericksburg is getting known for is wine. Dozens of vineyards have started growing grapes and making wine in the last 20 years and, based on the tasting rooms we sampled, the product is pretty darn good.

It was back to longnecks on our final – and favorite – night in Fredericksburg, at a cowboy bar, Hondo’s, where we bellied up next to guys in Stetsons and snakeskin boots and were entertained by a band that had all the locals doing the Texas two-step.

From the Hill Country, we headed west and down…literally.

Sunday, we visited the Sonora Cavern, where we marveled at the subterranean beauty, 155 feet below the surface.

The next day, we leaned a few miles across the northern Texas border into New Mexico (after an almost other-worldly drive through the Permian Basin oil fields to get there)…

…to visit the newly-reopened Carlsbad Caverns National Park. Sonora is cool, but Carlsbad is amazing, due in part to its scale (over 700 feet beneath the surface and caverns the size of gymnasiums). This is one of those times when the pictures need no captions.

Then it was back to Texas for the final leg of our 17-day journey through the Lone Star State. Ginny’s gift for writing from the heart is the perfect description of our visit to El Paso and beyond.

By Ginny.

Tuesday, we crossed the border from El Paso into Mexico via the Paso Del Norte footbridge. It was not an easy decision.  We talked about doing it for a few days, maybe even weeks, before getting to El Paso. And yet when the day came, we were both a bit uncertain as to our “comfort” level in doing so.  Trump was winning.  He had seeped into our otherwise generous, open-hearted view of Mexicans and immigrants. We wondered if they would target us for their anger over Trump’s insults. Fear was winning. Damn you, Trump. 

We drove around – somewhat in circles – not really talking much.  Looking for a parking lot that felt “safe”.  Each of us was looking to the other to make the decision – do we or don’t we? This is one of the few times during our journey when neither of us could really articulate what we were feeling. Why?  Were we weighing risks?  What risks?  Were we worried about something on the other side? 

Thankfully, finally, Jim parked. We each paid 50 cents at the border crossing at what felt like a movie ticket office (where we weren’t required to show any ID or documentation) and walked over the bridge (perhaps a 1/4 of a mile) spanning a highway, railroad tracks and the Rio Grande, from El Paso into Juarez. I will admit, I slipped my arm into Jim’s as we crossed up and over. We looked very white – the only caucasians we saw on the walk. I felt self-conscious, but no one appeared to care about us one bit.  Not one single bit. Men and women of all ages just headed for somewhere on the other side.  They didn’t even laugh at us when we’d stop to take pictures. 

Juarez gave the impression you might think – crowded, a bit run down, bustling with street vendors. But it was harmless.  We didn’t stay long (not knowing the language made us unsure where to go or what to do – that made us think admiringly of the bravery of immigrants who come to our country without being able to speak our language) – so started our trip back into the US. Same drill – this time a turnstile-type machine that charged us 25 cents each to let us through. Again we walked with many Mexicans who paid zero attention to us. No one was threatening.  Once into the US, we showed our passport cards, declared that we had purchased nothing in Mexico and that was the end of our excitement.  It was nothing.  It was harmless. NOTHING TO FEAR!  

Wednesday, crossing other borders brought tears.  We left Texas and passed through southern New Mexico before stopping for the night in Tucson, Arizona.  When I saw the “Welcome To Arizona” sign on Interstate 10, an indescribable feeling came over me and I teared up. The timing wasn’t good – I was driving at the time! – but tears were just streaming down my face. I had this feeling that we’d come full circle, that the end of our journey was near. Last May, Arizona was the first state of our trip that was new and different to us (we’d already done our “training wheels” RV trip to Oregon and California in 2017).  That was nine months ago, only a month into our trip. Now, the “Welcome to Arizona” sign means we’re on our way “home” – to wherever that may be.  It uncorked me.  We’ve traveled the entire country. 

More reflections will come.  Some will come easier than others. But for tonight, like every night, I’m thankful and grateful for Jim and his undeniable love, our family and friends, our two wonderful pups, and our safe journey through our amazing country.