Goliad, Texas - A Day Trip, Nov. '09

On a warm, clear Saturday morning I donned my riding gear and set off for the historic town of Goliad in SW Texas, a little over 150miles (240kms) from Houston. I had first come across Goliad in James Mitchener's epic "Texas." It was a town with an infamous past as well as some important historical buildings. And to be honest, I needed an excuse to get on my Trumpie and go for a ride. Gayle was well into her first seminar of her Masters program, and a quiet house without me rattling around allowed her to put in some valuable study time.

59 South is a big, fast freeway out through Sugarland, Richmond and Rosenberg before getting into farming country. Crossing an overpass on the southern outskirts of Rosenberg I saw a beautiful sight, a reasonably good sized cemetery in full floral colour, every grave stone adorned with flowers. From a distance, it was something to behold. Unfortunately, I was travelling a bit too quick to stop and as there was no where to turn around the opportunity to take what would have been a wonderful photo was lost. I had no idea what the flowers were all about until I stopped for gas and a bite to eat at the country town of El Campo - what a brilliant name. There at the Shell gas station two WWII veterans were selling raffle tickets to raise funds for their association. How could I resist these cheery old men, I bought $5 worth, feeling sure I'd be riding out to the town in a week or so to claim my prize/s. Alas, no luck. But it dawned on me that later in the week was Veterans Day, or as I grew up knowing it, Armistice Day, the 11th Nov.

From El Campo it's an easy and interesting ride to Goliad through flat cultivated land, with some wonderful old and abandoned farm houses and buildings. Whenever I see these places I wonder, who built that? Who lived there? Where are those families now and what are their stories? As with much of modern agriculture, the small family farms have become unsustainable, swallowed up by larger operations. The tragedy of economics - history, tradition, and family connections to the land mean nothing unless a profit is being made.

Earlier this year along with Gayle, my son Tristan and his girlfriend, Beth, I had visited The Alamo in San Antonio, a low point in the state's military history. As brave as the Texans may have been, they were completely out-numbered and out-gunned at The Alamo. It was a disaster for Texan's aspirations for a nation free of Mexican control, nothing less, but it became a symbol of heroism, defiance and independence that has to this day characterised Texas and her people. The bumper sticker seen on nearly every second vehicle in the state, "Don't Mess With Texas" seems to say it all.

Goliad, another defeat at the hands of the Mexican army, was even more tragic. At The Battle of Coleto the Texans, under the command of Col. James Fannin had, in the face of over whelming odds, laid down their arms and surrendered. For nearly a week they were held captive within the walls of Presidio La Bahia before orders came from Santa Ana that the Texans were not prisoners of war but pirates, to be treated as such and executed immediately. Although he had beaten the Texans at The Alamo his victory had been a costly one, now he would exact his revenge. Despite fervent pleadings from Gen. Jose De Urrea to spare the lives of his prisoners, on the 27th Mar. 1836 over 340 Texan revolutionaries were marched out of the Presidio and shot. It thus became known as The Goliad Massacre. Less than a month later Santa Ana would be defeated at San Jacinto by Gen. Sam Houston. After years of struggle Texas was at last a free independent nation.

I rode into the historic district of Goliad a little after mid day, it was time for a meal. Thank goodness there are no fast-food places or chain restaurants in the square. I did a walk around to see what my options were, finally settling on The Empressario. A full restaurant is a dead give away, the food must be good and servings must be generous, country folk are sure to know the best place in town. I was not disappointed, for less than $10 I had a hearty meal, more than enough to keep this ol' soldier marching for the rest of the day. In a recent edition of Ride Texas (Jan. 2010), the Empressario was recommended as a good place to eat, I fully concur.

Dominating the square since 1894 is the Goliad County Courthouse, an impressive building by any standard. Swift and often harsh justice was dispensed within the Courthouse, many a poor soul went to meet their Maker at the end of a rope swinging from the Hanging Tree just outside. Times were tough back then, the Texas Rangers, sent to establish law and order during the Cart War of 1857, were ruthless in carrying out their duties. Life in the early days of Texas was not for the faint hearted, especially if you got on the wrong side of the law. Today Texas has this great and colourful legacy, an independent spirit that seems to say to the world "We're doing it our way, keep your nose out of our affairs."

After a browse through a couple of antique shops and an art/craft shop it was on to the Mission and the Presidio, both located a few minutes out of town. First stop was the Mission Nuestra Senora Del Espiritu Santo De Zuniga, built in 1749. Quite a mouthful for a church, but what stunning building it is, recently re-whitewashed, it almost shone in the afternoon sun, a gleaming white contrasted against the rich green of the nearby oaks. I read in a brochure, I now cannot find, that this Mission is the last remaining fully intact building of its kind in Texas. The interior, while very Catholic with its religious icons and symbolism, is beautifully preserved.

Just a little further up the road is the Presidio La Bahia. I arrived to watch the last 30 mins. of a military re-enactment, about 20 or so participants in full uniforms, guns and cannons, camps, etc. It gave me a perspective of the nearby Battle of Coleto where Fannin and his Texan troops were defeated and surrendered to the Mexican Army led by De Urrea. The Presidio has a small but extremely interesting museum as well as a mini theatre showing a film that tells the story of the events that put Goliad into the annuls of Texas history.

It was time to start thinking about getting on home. After topping up the gas tank I headed north on Hwy 183, through some rolling cattle country to Cuero, Hallettsville then up to Schulenburg on 77. A very nice strawberry milkshake at the local Dairy Queen and it was on to I10 East for home.

Total Distance: 345 miles (552kms)

Gainesville, Florida, Sept. 2009

Late last year I rode down 59South to Cycle Gear, a motorcycle clothing and accessories shop. Right next door there just happened to be Eximports, a motorcycle dealership selling Ducati's, Aprilia's, BMW's and Triumphs, each a European marque. Curiosity got the better of me I have to admit, Cycle Gear could wait for another day, there were new bikes that needed checking out. It was there that I saw it, my new bike, a shining gunmetal grey Triumph Sprint ST, calling to me, "I am meant to be yours, buy me". So I did as any responsible man would do, I walked to the door.................and along the way I found the salesman to get the low down on this dream machine. All was going well until the matter of the trade-in value for my Buell was brought up. Seems that pre-owned bikes don't have much value, especially at Eximports. So for the time being the Triumph would remain a dream.

That rebuff, however, gave me time to do some research on the Sprint, to see whether ol' Dennis the salesman was being fair dinkum or just giving me the spiel. I Googled bike reviews from both the US, Australia and Europe, all were glowing in their assessment of the bike, shortcomings were very minor, all praised the handling, power, comfort and, above all, the value for money. I was hooked, this was the one I wanted. BMW's are way too expensive, at least another $6k more than the Sprint, but are they $6K better? Perhaps, but I don't have $20K plus to spend on a bike anyway. The Kawasaki Concours 14 and the Yamaha FJR1300R both cost more than the Sprint and didn't offer anything much more than larger cc 4 cylinder engines.

With the trade-in value of my Buell an important consideration I started looking at pre-owned Sprints online. Interestingly, there were very few for sale, especially when one considers the size of population of this country. Maybe there haven't been many sold, but that didn't make sense, there are several Triumph dealerships in every state. Furthermore, magazine write-ups seem to suggest that there are plenty out there who've bought them. I found several reviews from Sprint owners who just loved their bikes. Maybe the reason why there were so few for sale was that people who had one actually liked the bike so much they felt on need to replace it.

It was to Ebay that I finally turned. Again, very few for sale, some months only a couple, other times more, but never more than 5 or 6. Now I acknowledge that the sellers want to sell, and some of their comments need to be taken with a grain of salt, but without exception all raved about their Sprint's, they couldn't all be outright liars, surely. For various reasons some had to sell their bikes, loss of a job, getting married and the wife-to-be didn't like motorcycles (then why marry her?), wanting another style of bike but couldn't have two, and so on. Others had circumstances change and a bike was no longer a part of it, still some had just had enough of riding.

For the next 10 months I kept an eye on Ebay and a couple of used bike websites, watching the comings and goings of the Sprint market. I got a fairly good idea of the prices for any given year model, what accessories and modifications different owners were installing, seeing the whole range of colours available. It was a valuable time of learning for me. I even had a dabble at bidding for a couple, never really being too committed however.

Early Sept. I found her, a cool looking silver '06 model with burnt orange trim and a few important extras. The starting price was low and better still, the bike was in northern Florida, an easy round trip from Houston. Nine days later after some negotiating with the seller she was mine.

So it was early on a Saturday morning that I flew to Gainesville, Florida, via Atlanta, to take delivery of the Sprint. A little after midday I was on my way back to Houston on board an '06 Triumph Sprint ST, with a 1050cc 3 cylinder engine purring away. The bike was smooth, I mean really smooth, effortless acceleration through a 6 speed box that was just too easy to use. My biggest issue was going to stay on the right side of the law, this baby could fly.

Gainesville is the hometown for the Florida Gators, the Sat. I arrived was game day. I was advised to stay well away from the downtown area to avoid the inevitable traffic congestion, and as I planned to be back in Houston the next afternoon I had no wish to get caught up in the football crowd. I was directed to I75 by going around Gainesville rather than through it, a few extra miles, but on this particular day a lot less time. So I saw very little of the city, just the outskirts, but that's ok, it'll still be there for a future trip.

I75 is a good road north through Florida, traffic was light, I guess everyone was at the game, so I made good time. To tell the truth I took very little notice of the Florida countryside, I was more concentrated on the Sprint. It had a totally different feel to my Buell, riding position, clutch action, throttle. Before long I'd turned west on to my old favourite, I10, Houston in my sights. My plan was to make Mobile, Alabama, stop there for the night and Houston early Sunday afternoon. All good plans go astray somewhere, mine was no exception. Late afternoon I began feeling the cold, I stopped for gas and put on everything I had including thermals. But I think the damage was done, by the time I neared Pensacola I was extremely cold, shivering uncontrollably. I rolled into the nearest Motel 6, signed in, unloaded my gear and ran a bath. Where's the hot water? I could only get warm. Where's the complimentary soap and shampoo? For $37 I guess you can't expect too much. After a wild night of what was perhaps hypothermia followed by a fever, I awoke early Sunday feeling like new, well almost.

Thank goodness for McDonald's, we all know there's better food out there, and there's worse, but Macca's is consistent, neither really good nor really bad, the same everywhere, kind of comforting, safe and dependable. Anyway, I don't care, I like Macca's, always have done, I know all the foodies turn their noses up at the mere sight of the "golden arches", but for me it's all good. After a "big breakfast" and a couple of cups of pretty good coffee I was on the road right at 6.30, a warm sun on my back. The Sprint felt even better as I sped west.

The home ward journey was uneventful, traffic was relatively light. No matter what they say in Washington DC, this is still a Christian country if church car parks are anything to go by. All that I saw along the way through northern Florida, Alabama and Mississippi were full. I10 winds through some beautiful country, magnificent trees rise above the road like towering green barriers protecting the land beyond from the ceaseless procession of east and west bound travellers. If I'd had more time I would have stayed on I10 down through New Orleans, and maybe taken the big bridge over Lake Pontchartrain, but that's for another day.

Crossing the mighty Mississippi at Baton Rouge is always a thrill for me, this iconic river that has played such a vital role in the history of this nation, the boundary between East and West, the main artery into the vast interior. It was losing control the river that spelled the end of the Confederacy during the Civil War. The Mississippi is everywhere, music, literature, art, cuisine, folklore, politics, history. As a boy I'd read Mark Twain, seen the movies of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn and dreamt of one day seeing this place for myself. It was in 2004 that I first saw and experienced the River, at Hannibal, Missouri, where Twain wrote his classic stories. I've revisited the Mississippi many times, as far north as Quad Cities, Illinois, where I put my feet into the waters and collected a couple of stones, New Orleans, Natchez, and of course several times while on I10. I never tire of looking out at the great body of slow moving water. A road trip planned for the future is to follow the great river from New Orleans to it's source. I'll need a month or so but it'll be an amazing journey through the heart of America.

Crossing the huge Achafalaya Basin and the Henderson Swamp is the other highlight as I make my way on I10. It seems an eerie and foreboding wilderness, an unwelcoming place where the laws of nature appear to take precedence over anything man may attempt to impose. The vastness of this wetland is none the less captivating, almost daring us to enter it's forbidden world. The fact that there is supposed to be an "unknown" number of people, the Cajuns, who have for generations made this region their home, survived and prospered in this watery realm only adds to the mystery. I can see a Swamp Tour happening one day.

From Lafayette, Louisiana, it's pretty much a straight run to Houston, more traffic the further west I go. By now I'm feeling very much one with the Sprint, I've had a taste of the powerful potential this machine has, it is a delight to ride. But, as it would be on any bike, 450 miles is hard on the bum, and mine was no exception, another Buell experience. A short rest somewhere west of Beaumont gave the nerve endings some relief, then it was one last push for Houston. I rode into 503 Roy St at 4.00pm, 520 miles for the day, to be met by two excited corgis and my wonderful wife. It doesn't get much better than that.

The Triumph Sprint ST is a brilliant bike purposely designed for touring, with power, comfort, great ergonomics, excellent fuel economy, good sized panniers, all put together in pretty smart looking package. I was delighted with my "Trumpie". This is the bike I will see North America on, it's that good. Now I have two bikes, for how long is any ones guess. Maybe Gayle could get her motorcycle licence?

Top speed: 102mph (163kph)

Ave. speed: 63mph (101kph)

Ave. fuel consumption 44.5mpg

Riding time: 12.3 hrs

Total distance: 830miles (1328kms)

ps. the best bumper sticker I saw: "Jesus is Coming, look busy"

Christmas in Alabama, 2008

Our trip to Alabama to spend Christmas with the Haynes family was a last minute decision. We had planned to have a quiet time at home doing not much, but with Gayle's Mum being in such poor health we thought it wise to drive back to Wedowee to visit her, who knows how many more Christmas's she may have.

The decision was made, we would drive, leaving Christmas Eve straight after work. Personally, I would rather drive any day as opposed to flying, and Gayle was glad to relax in the passengers seat, surrounded by pillows and blankets. We loaded the Jeep and hit the road just after 6.30pm, missing most of the east bound traffic on I10 out of Houston. This trip was going to be special, we had our two girls, Maggie and Millie, with us. Maggie had not up to this point been a good traveller, she would be in an agitated state just going to the bark-park, going to Alabama was going to be a test for all. Millie, on the other hand, was relaxed and almost asleep by the time we turned off Nth Shepherd Dr on to I10, she wasn't going to be a worry. Maggie resigned herself to the fact that this wasn't another trip to the bark-park and all the huffing and puffing wasn't going to change her situation. By the time we reached the outskirts of Houston she'd pretty much given up and was dozing away with Millie. We had no issues with them for the whole journey, they were glad to get out for a walk and toilet break when we stopped, but just as glad to get back in the car.

Our drive was uneventful, stopping often to stretch our legs, once for an hour sleep, Gayle had packed food so we didn't have to worry about finding places open to eat at. We arrived in Wedowee late morning Christmas day, tired but happy to be with Gayle's family.

The Haynes farm is now 42 acres of rolling pasture. The girls took an instant liking to the wide open spaces, running, chasing each other, rolling around, enjoying the freedom that only the country can give. I took many walks with them up hill and down dale, they seemed to have boundless energy, exploring everything as corgis will do. It was a delight to watch two happy dogs at play. Once back at the farmhouse they would crash on the floor and sleep for hours.

Four days of happy and sad times with the family. Gayle's mum, Nel Haynes, was not at all well. We spent time each day with her, doing what we could to give her some cheer. I observed the love of a daughter for her mother, as Gayle tried to make a frail woman's life a little more comfortable - rearranging the pillows, getting an extra blanket, placing flowers in a vase, bringing strawberry thickshakes from the local Burger King. Life for the elderly in a nursing home isn't easy, but Gayle demonstrated her deep love and affection for her mother in both word and deed. I saw a beautiful part of Gayle's character in action, she is a fine woman.

New Years eve we packed our gear, loaded up the Jeep, let the girls have one last run in the field and hit the road for home. Houston may not be the most picturesque city, but it's home for Gayle and I, we're happy here. It was great to see the downtown high-rises come into view as we came along I10, we glad to be home, tired and ready for our own bed. A New Year awaited us, filled with challenge and promise, '09 was going to be a good one.

Alabama on a Buell - Oct. 2008

I did it because it was there to be done, Houston, Texas, to Wedowee, Alabama, in a day, on a bike that was primarily designed for city riding. The Buell XB9SX Lightning does not lack in power, it has so much it's almost a lethal weapon, brilliant handling, agile, smooth, aggressive, with acceleration that will give many a Jap rice-burner a run. What it does lack is a comfortable seat, especially when one is planning on riding 780miles (1250kms) in a day. She never missed a beat, ate up the miles hour after hour. I sat on 80-90mph for most of the journey, so easy to do with a hot 984cc twin-V roaring below. The hardest thing at times was keeping the speed down, the ton comes up real quick, so would the State Troopers I should imagine.

I set out from Roy St at just after 4.00am, a cold dark Texas morning. I was warm in my riding gear so the temp. was never an issue but I soon realised that while I was warm, the clothing I had on wasn't comfortable, it was too tight and restrictive. I think one of the main causes for my sore, and later, numb bum was the wrong choice of pants. From this experience I've learnt that specially designed riding clothes are worth every penny. Anything that can be done to the seat, be it gel pads, sheep skin and/or replacing it with a purpose design touring seat is well advised.


However, the experience of racing east on I10 was worth every bit of discomfort. On a bike you see things differently than when travelling in a car, the scenery seems larger, the trees taller, the rivers wider, the bridges longer, the skies bluer. This is a beautiful country, on a bike it's even more so.


Unfortunately by the time I rode through Alabama it was getting dark, the east central region is spectacular, forested rolling hill country. I missed it all as I headed north on I65 from Mobile to Montgomery, then east on I85 to Auburn, Gayle's college town. At this point my bum was seriously numb, I was feeling cold and very tired. But Wedowee was only an hour away and I wasn't about to give up. My final stop was at a McDonalds restaurant in Roanoke, another pit stop, mere minutes from the Haynes family farm house.


Fifteen hours on the road, 780 miles on the clock, I turned into the stone driveway at the farm to be met by my dear wife - Gayle had flown over during the day - she was so glad to see me. I think I was her hero at last. Gloria, Gayle's elder sister, on the other hand just stood there and said, "You're crazy, I never thought you'd actually attempt it". I went to bed that night sore, tired, my ears ringing from the ride, but with a little smile of satisfaction, I'd done something special.


Next morning I was up early for a short drive in the family car to Roanoke. I had been asked to be at Eagle 102.3 WELR, the regional country music radio station at 6.3o, where Al Haynes, Gayle's elder brother, is the news anchor and sometimes breakfast host. Several years ago Al was hugely popular in the east Alabama west Georgia area, his is a wonderful story. This particular morning Al wanted to interview me live on air, so I had my first experience of being on the radio, it was a lot of fun.


Four days later I was once again on the road, west on I20. I overnighted in Shreveport, Louisiana, no need to prove again just how tough my bum was. Kind of like climbing Everest a second time, why? Just west of Shreveport I left I20 and made a diagonal for Carthage, Texas. From there it was an easy run south on 59 to Houston. I pulled into the driveway just on midday.


The Buell was running better than ever, the 1600 miles (2550kms) had done her good. Not a rattle or a squeak, not a hint of trouble, a great machine, I love that bike. I determined, however, that if I want to tour this continent on two wheels I had better get a bike designed for touring. With that in mind I set about finding one, but that's another story for another day.

Natchez, Miss.

Day 2: The weather is beautiful, warm, a few white puffs of cloud in the sky. We spend the day walking, browsing, learning, dreaming.

Following the advice of one of the cocktail party guests we made our way to the First Presbyterian Church, where in the rear, is an amazing collection of post-Civil War black and white photographs. They depict the social and economic life of Natchez from the 1860's through to the 1920's, giving an insight into a way of life that has for the large part been lost. How the photographic plates were discovered, quite by accident, is a story in itself. The surprises that the images reveal are worth the time taken to look and learn. The integration of the races was well established early in Natchez, wealth was not confined to whites alone, both blacks and whites had thriving societies, slave ownership was not just by white planters and merchants, many blacks owned slaves as well.

A quiet lunch with a cool drink at a local institution, Fat Mama's Tamales. The food was good, the Margarita was, according to Gayle, outstanding, and the beer, well it was a Bud Lite.

Another pleasant walk through the town to the African American Museum, again, a recommendation by the cocktail party guest. Still in it's early stages, the museum was none the less well worth the stop, many excellent exhibits tell of the life, progress and contributions made to the Natchez area by the local black population, from slavery to more modern times.

We ended our day in more formal surroundings at The Castle, a beautiful restaurant inside the old livery on the huge Dunleith estate. Here we celebrated our not so recent wedding. It was great way to bring our visit to this wonderful Mississippi town to a close.

Natchez is a place we will certainly revisit, there are many more historic buildings and places to see, interesting people to meet and food to taste. Natchez needs time, it is an unhurried town, rich in history with a Southern charm that is itself in no rush to change. To take Natchez at anything but a slow and easy pace is to do an injustice to the town and its people, but more especially to yourself. Something that has been lost in so many other places can still be found in Natchez. Like the big river that flows below the bluffs, let us hope it goes on forever.

The final part of our trip was to Alabama, Gayle's home state. Our route was on the Natchez Trace, said to be one of the oldest roads in North America. The Trace winds its way from Nashville, Tennessee, south to Natchez through some beautiful forested country. It also winds its way through some very colorful history, and for me it was a thrill to drive along a section of it north to I20.

Natchez, Miss.

Home for the next two days was Pleasant Hill, a charming Bed and Breakfast in the heart of Natchez, a beautiful antebellum home authentically restored. We experienced some true "Southern hospitality"-- our gracious hosts treated us to a warm welcome upon arrival, although our timing brought us to our destination during the middle of a cocktail party. We were dressed in our "travel attire," weary from the long drive. Yet, they ushered us into a sitting room that was lavishly decorated in antebellum-period style, introduced us to all their guests, offered us wine and an array of genuine Southern appetizers, and absorbed us into the lively conversation during which we were given much helpful advice about the town and it's many sights.

Natchez really is an historic town, dating back to the late 1700's. But it's real character is reflected in the numerous great homes throughout the town. They tell the story of wealth and privilege when "cotton was King". Each home is unique, Dunleith, Rosalie, Glen Auburn to name just three, each built, as if to display the wealth and power of those who lived within.

The town actually has over 6oo antebellum buildings, ranging from stables, warehouses, shops, workers cottages, modest homes through to the grand stately houses. Some of the buildings are in various stages of disrepair, others in the process of renovation, but many are in apparent origional condition, as if somehow there ia a timeless capture of their beauty and character. One has only to walk the gentle streets to see this was once a place of serious money. Along the top of the bluffs, a row of houses have panoramic views of the Mississippi River and the Louisianna farmlands beyond.

Natchez, Mississippi, Aug. 2007

This was our honeymoon, the one we couldn't take when we got married. The immigration process gave us only a 30 day window of opportunity in which to get married, so Sat. 26th May was chosen. Gayle's work schedule didn't allow for any time off, it was back to the office on Monday for her, back to the greenhouse for me. We were husband and wife, a trip away could wait until later.

We chose Natchez for a couple of reasons -- it wasn't too far from Houston and it was full of history. I'd first read about Natchez in James Mitchener's epic "Texas", a town of two parts, the wealthy part above the bluffs overlooking the Mississippi River with many beautiful antebellum homes. Below the wild and rough river port, one the river's busiest when cotton was king. Today the amazing homes are still there, unlike many towns and cities in The South, the Union army left Natchez alone. Seems there was a lot of Northern money tied up in the town and surrounding plantations. The port has been restored to it's former "glory", giving an idea of how hard life must have been for those worked on the river.