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HILL
COUNTRY 2025
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Knowing
I have a bit of a long day for back roads, I'm up early hoping to find breakfast
somewhere along the way. As I make my way through downtown Natchez, I am
always amazed at the contrasts of the buildings from an old abandoned shop
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to a
magnificent cathedral undergoing renovation ... |
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to restored
old downtown shops and houses. |
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Soon
I cross the might Mississippi River and enter into Louisiana. |
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There are lot of interestingly
named communities in the state, but this one - Frogmore - always makes
me smile. The history is quite fascinating -
Frogmore,
Louisiana, is named for the historic Frogmore Cotton Plantation. The Frogmore
Plantation was named after Frogmore, a royal estate at Windsor, England.
Daniel Morris, an Englishman who established the plantation in the early
1800s, named it after the English residence which was a favorite of the
British royals. The plantation grew into a massive operation, and its
location along a major wagon trail made it a key part of the regional
cotton trade.
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When I get to Alexandria,
I see this place and figure what a great name - Y Not Stop. I figure it's
pretty good advice so I do. |
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Fortunately for
me, they have some really great biscuits just like I like them - with hen
fruit and pig meat between the halves. |
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Once again, with
a proper breakfast dispatched, I'm off to follow the back roads on my way
to Texas. |
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The roads here are
pretty straight but at least I have them mostly to myself. |
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Soon I cross the
Sabine River ... |
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and I enter into
Texas proper. |
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Before long SweetTreat
is in need of a refill and I am in need of an emptying. |
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While I am taking
a short break I see this monster rig pass by and figure I will encounter
it somewhere along the way. |
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And sure enough
not too far down the road I do but I am able to get around it in reasonable
safe fashion. |
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As the day wears
on, I encounter way more towns and way more traffic than I had anticipated.
It seems there are a thousand towns and each one has a thousand cars and
a thousand traffic lights. As the sun goes down I know I'm fixing to get
into some serious trouble. |
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I know I have very
little time before I will be in complete darkness so I give up my plan on
just riding back roads. I delete my route and set my GPS to get me to the
motel in Kerrville as quickly as possible. |
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But it seems the
only way there is through the heart of deer country. The posted speed limit
is 60-75 mph but I am only doing 30-40 mph as I have to be vigilant for
whatever might be standing at the roadside contemplating a crossing. |
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After several hours
of this sort of travel, I see no less that four different sets of deer attempting
to cross the road in front of me. Between yelling and honking my horn, fortunately
only one set crosses the road. By the time I get to the interstate I am
wound as tight as G-string on a banjo. I finally pull into the motel, unload
and thank my Good Lord that I did not suffer another deer strike as I did
on June 1. I immediately decide that going back I will slab it to as close
as Natchez as I can so I get there before the sun sets. |
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