Along the Texas Independence Trail -- Last Part

Planning is key to success. A failure to plan is a plan to fail.

We know the aphorisms by now, and they do embody truth, though not all the truth that might apply to a particular situation.

Take vacations, for example.

On a previous weekend jaunt we serendipitously discovered that Texas parks were celebrating the 175th anniversary of the war for independence and that they had a commemorative "passport" you could collect stamps in by visiting certain historical sites.

We decided that the Memorial Day weekend would be a good time to collect some more stamps.

Accordingly, I hopped online and looked up Goliad and Gonzales. I discovered, as I thought at the time, that candlelight tours of Presidio La Bahia would be held on Saturday, and a re-enactment of the Goliad massacre would take place on Sunday and then figured out a route that would take us to Gonzales on the way home, where we could see the cannon that sparked the "Come and Take It" flag.

All well and good, except that the date for the re-enactment was in March, not May, and the Memorial Day weekend stretches from Saturday to Monday, not Friday to Sunday, as I thought at the time. So much for plans.

Missing the re-enactment and tour wasn't such a bad thing. We spent plenty of time at Goliad and gathered the appropriate stamp.

But when we arose Sunday morning, we had hopes of seeing the cannon and receiving another stamp.

At breakfast, we had the dining area to ourselves, with plenty of freshly prepared food. One of the women working the area began a conversation with Sharon, whom she recognized from the day before. I didn't recognize the woman as one of the ladies working Saturday because she was so relaxed and happy and smiling. She called the kids from the day before "those children from hell."

We set out for Gonzales, just a short hop away, and arrived at the memorial museum where the cannon is. Only problem: This was Monday, and the museum is closed on Monday. And being Memorial Day weekend, the chamber of commerce was closed, so we couldn't have our passport stamped.

The city is also home to the Pioneer Living History Museum, which is also closed on Mondays, but as we drove by, Sharon saw that the gate was open, and a sign seemed to indicate the place was open.

We turned around, parked and walked down a winding pathway, across a couple of wooden bridges and into the main area. No one was there, so we spent time wandering about, taking photos and poking our noses inside when doors were unlocked.

A sundial inspired me to see if the time would be correct, and if I could take a picture when the clouds parted. Turns out, the dial's time was correct if you account for daylight saving time, and I snapped a shot.

We may have missed the cannon, but in Luling we are treated to the sight of a water tower painted like a watermelon. I'm sad to report we did not take a picture of it, but if you want to see it you can go here: www.agilitynut.com/food/fruit.html. Scroll down to the watermelon section. The annual festival in Luling is called the "Watermelon Thump."

Then we're off to Lockhart, famous for its courthouse and its barbecue. I vaguely remember that one Lockhart barbecue place was in Texas Monthly, and when we hit town, I pull over, fire up the iPod and discover that, indeed, Black's Barbecue is one of the mag's top 50 barbecue joints.

It being noonish, we park on the courthouse square, where the citizenry seems to have just finished a Memorial Day event, and walk the three blocks to Black's.

Its reputation is deserved. We think the food is wonderful -- though I'd quibble a bit about the potato salad. Everything is individually priced, but when we check out, the total is less than what we'd pay for the equivalent at one of the restaurants at home.

While we're waiting in line, one woman tells an employee that her friend is from England, and they've brought her to the restaurant to experience Texas barbecue. He introduces himself and chats with the pair for awhile, making sure they know how welcome they are and giving them instructions.

Having satisfied our barbecue RDA -- it's on the food pyramid, right? -- we return to downtown to take pics of the courthouse, which is supposed to be Empire II style, whatever that means. We also hike down to the town's library, the original building for which is built in Greek cross and Classical Revival style, according to the library website, although the sign in front of the building described it as French Revival. I don't know the difference in architectural styles, so it matters not. It's a cool-looking building, though.

Another of my plans goes awry when I wind up on I-35 sooner than I planned. I expect it to be a zoo because of holiday traffic, and I'm right. Still, like other plans gone wrong, the traffic only means we'll arrive home a bit later than expected.

Browning wrote that our best-laid plans often go awry, leaving grief and pain for the promised joy, but we found the joy of the unexpected discovery instead.

Along the Independence Trail, Part the Oneth

Memorial Day weekend. Three days to try to put some stamps in our Texas Independence 175th anniversary passport.

After a bit of research, I decide we need to visit Goliad and Gonzales. We'll stay in Victoria because they have more choices, and it's close to several stops we'll make on Sunday.

We rise late -- when did I come to believe that 7:30 is late? -- but still manage to hit the road by mid-morning, pretty good for me nowadays. I used to have the traveling thing down. Knew exactly what needed to be packed.

Now, I pack most of the needed items, then remember I forget something, then remember I forgot something else, and finally remember I forgot one last thing. Then, after we leave the house, I'm likely to remember something else and have to go back.

But not this time. We manage to pack everything with limited remembering and don't have to return for anything. Won't have to buy anything on the road, either.

The wind blew strongly from the south, and I fought it the whole way. One of the bad parts of owning a square car, I suppose. After leaving the Interstate behind at Waco, the adventure began.

Sharon's dad and I used to occasionally have a discussion about the best way to travel. I used to favor Interstates and U.S. Highways with bypasses. He like to travel the state highways and farm-to-market roads. The trip was the thing, not the arrival. I've come to appreciate that point of view.

Like traveling through the town of Rosebud, where a painted sign at the city's edge proclaimed, "We call it home."

Now, I'm sure they meant that in a positive way, but as we drove through the town, I was reminded of the phrase, "It's not much, but we call it home." That's usually uttered ironical when referring to spectacular digs, or honestly when the home really isn't much. Rosebud fits the latter category.

On the Interstate we would have missed the road sign in LaGrange that showed a nearly vertical truck on a steep incline on the left and a wavy line on the right -- not the usual "curves ahead" wavy line, with a couple of curves, but multiple curves.

"What does that mean?" I asked Sharon. She didn't know for sure. A short way later, we see an exit for trucks, so we figure this incline is pretty steep, but still aren't sure about the wavy line.

Turns out the steep incline has multiple switch backs to enable vehicles to climb the hill -- as I'm sure you've already figured out. A road that could have been at home in San Francisco.

And of course, we're behind a large truck that's lumbering up the hill, straining to do 20 mph.

In Halletsville, we pass a Cobra attack helicopter near the side of the road raised about 10 feet in the air. We have to turn around and find out what that's about. Can't do that nearly as easily on the Interstate.

Turns out the helicopter is part of a memorial to Vietnam veterans from Lavaca County, with a fairly large number of names listed.

And almost all the towns have cool houses, like the green Victorian we saw in Cameron, or a spectacular structure like the courthouse in Giddings that's being restored.

You just don't see those sights from the Interstate.

The day ends in Victoria. While driving to a restaurant for supper, we pass a large field nearly covered with flags, a relatively recent Memorial Day event apparently created as a fund-raiser/Memorial Day tribute by a local soldier. Residents can purchase a flag in memory or in honor of a soldier, or buy a POW/MIA flag, and the profits are used for Warriors Weekend, which provides wounded veterans from the war on terror with a fishing weekend each year.

A book that lists the placement of each flag along with the donor and the soldier being honored lies on a stand at one end of the field, and each flagstand bears a ribbon with the name of the honoree attached. One lists a soldier from the Revolutionary War.

The road alongside the field is under construction. Had I known that ahead of time, I probably would have given into to the old urge to find the better, faster route.

I'm learning.