Monday, 1 February 2021
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| today's route |
Before I left the campground, I saw a news report of someone who'd been driving so fast he'd actually plowed under an 18-wheeler. He was killed, of course. The semi driver was okay, though undoubtedly shaken. The picture of the wreckage was something every teenage driver (and quite a few adult Texas drivers) should be made to look at for its incredible damage.
On the road
I had a long drive planned today, since I was essentially crossing half the state to get from central Texas to far east Texas. I planned a route that kept me off the interstate for most of the way. But I seemed to have little alternative to going through Houston - it's like when you fly Delta Airlines you almost always get routed through Atlanta whether you want to or not - and going through Houston almost requires a spell on the interstate. Still I found a couple of county courthouses on the way.
Near Giddings, I passed a complex of greenhouses covering an area the size of a subdivision, with more in process of being built. I didn't see a sign so have no idea what company is using them.
In Giddings I passed the Lee County Peanut Company. I hadn't known that we grew peanuts in Texas, but apparently so. Their webpage is on Facebook, which I can't access, but I did see that they also sell pecans, which Texas produces plenty of. Maybe sometime when the pandemic is over, a visit to the Peanut Co. would be a good idea.
During a stop I noticed that the RV wash I got in Leander had been too harsh on my paint and decals.
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It's a real shame because there's absolutely nothing I can do to repair the damage. I wanted it clean, but I hadn't intended to pay this high a price for that.
Carmine
Established in 1883, Carmine (pop. 250) bills itself as the Gateway to the Antiques Fair, referring to the extravaganza held in even smaller nearby Round Top (pop. 90) three times a year. I passed a building without any sign other than "Martin bird houses" which suddenly reminded me of Burt's Birdhouses. Every time I passed here, I saw an incredible display of birdhouses handmade by this man. Of course I often thought of stopping to buy one but never seemed to have the time. And today I saw not one birdhouse. In fact, no sign of life, let alone commerce.
It felt like something had been taken from me, because it's always been such a happy display. In fact, when you think about it, a birdhouse is a very happy thing on its own. And today they were gone. I don't know if it's because of the pandemic or if it's because it's winter or if maybe something's happened to Burt (though I certainly hope not). I can't exactly use a birdhouse right now, but if anyone's passing that way and sees them out again, buy one for me. There's always the future to look forward to.
I also noticed that Carmine seemed to have more businesses and the houses were more spruced-up than I remembered. Maybe that's just my faulty memory, but I was glad to see the town looking more prosperous.
Washington County
Washington County, named for George Washington, bills itself as the Birthplace of Texas - for once, a claim with some backing to it. In 1836, while the Alamo was under siege, delegates from each community in Texas met at the town of Washington-on-the-Brazos, where they declared independence from Mexico, wrote a constitution, and organized a government. Pretty heady stuff. Today, about 250 people live in the area.
I came to Brenham, the county seat, which the highway department didn't bother to put up a sign for but I learned has a population of about 17,000. It looked like half those folks had gone to the H-E-B - the parking lot was completely full at 10:30 AM. On a Monday. I have no idea why but decided to postpone my own need for groceries to avoid a crowded store.
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| Washington County Courthouse in Brenham |
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| You can see some of the details a bit better here. |
A short distance from town I came to Chappell Hill, which must be situated away from the highway because I've never seen anything along the roadway that would suggest 600 people live there. This town was part of Stephen F. Austin's original colony. This trip, I noticed for the first time that I was passing the Chappell Hill Sausage Company, apparently a going concern because I saw a couple dozen employee vehicles parked by the building. They say they've got a restaurant and gift shop, so sometime I'll have to stop off and sample the local product.
Houston area
The town of Prairie View didn't have a sign but has an estimated 6,428 residents as of 2018 (how can they estimate so exactly?). What I've always known the town for is Prairie View A&M University, a historically black college. I hadn't realized it's also the 2nd oldest public university in Texas, founded in 1876, and one of 2 land-grant colleges in the state - Texas A&M University being the other.
This is information I found online, and I was confused because I'd always heard the University of Texas was a land-grant college too. Turns out that's right - but UT got its grant of land from a different source. The A&M schools got their land grants from Congress in 1862, but the state legislature hemmed and hawed for nearly 20 years before actually doing something about it (shows that nothing's changed in the Texas Legislature). While it was pulling itself together to deal with the A&M land grants from Congress, the state Leg did its own land granting to establish UT. Famously, the land that got granted was wasteland out in west Texas. In 1923, the Santa Rita No. 1 well came in a gusher, and Texas's universities have been spending money ever since.
Anyway, Prairie View A&M was established when Texas A&M was, as a sort of early separate-but-equal situation. Prairie View finally got its share of the oil wealth beginning in 1983 when the Leg gave it beneficiary status to the land-grant proceeds. There's a moderately interesting discussion of the origins of the state schools at this website. https://texasalmanac.com/beginnings-universities
I tried my hardest to avoid driving in or through Houston, to no avail. The highway signs didn't say what Google said they'd say. For instance, Google said I should turn onto I-610 E(ast). Except there was no I-610 E. There was an I-610 W, which is where I'd come from, and an I-610 S(outh). Of course I turned S, which was wrong. I figured that out when it became clear the road wasn't going to swing east away from town but instead was getting closer and closer to the main part of town. Instead of finding Exit 24, as Google had promised, I finally gave up when I got to Exit 6. Then I had a heck of a time trying to find someplace - anyplace - to stop on those city streets long enough to pull out a map and reorient myself. Thank heavens for AAA maps, because I was able to find exactly where I was right away (and I'll bet it was faster than anybody could have done online, too) and figure out where I should be going. When I got back to where I'd started this mess, I found an I-610 N(orth) that I hadn't seen before, and that finally got me back where I needed to go. I never did find I-610 E.
But then, of course, the next turn Google said to take didn't do what it claimed either, and I went the wrong way yet again. (Grrr.) But I did finally get on US 90 heading east.
Dayton, TX, and Cleveland, TX, are about 30 miles apart. I assumed their names came from Ohio, and I was wrong. The name of Dayton seems to have just come up as a railroad stop, and Cleveland was named for the man who donated the land for a railroad stop (everything's about railroads in this country's history).
Liberty
This town, established in 1831, claims its location halfway between Houston and Beaumont as a selling point, which I guess it is. The town had no sign, but its population was estimated in 2018 as 9,349. And it's the county seat.
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| Liberty County Courthouse in Liberty |
The nearby town of Ames has a population of 1,003, according to the highway sign coming into the town from the west. But it has a population of 1,079, according to the highway sign coming into the town from the east. The first is the result of the 2010 census. I don't know where the 2nd came from because the 2018 estimate is 1,154. Maybe it's a Twilight Zone kind of thing.
A little farther down the road
Soon after Ames I came to Nome. Ames being in Iowa and Nome being in Alaska, I felt a little disoriented, especially coming so soon after Dayton and Cleveland. In the case of Nome, I wasn't wrong: in the early 1900s, the town was inundated with oil field workers, much as Nome, AK, was being taken over by would-be gold miners, and the Texas town changed its name to match the well-known Alaska one. (That's apparently a true story.)
What I saw at Nome, pop. 588, were large flat fields, which I supposed were for raising the cows and turf I also saw. But I now know that Nome, and the nearby town of China (seriously), were and still are a center for the Texas rice farming industry. So there's 3 reasons for the large flat fields I saw. None of that accounts for the half a herd of cows I saw that were all running across a field. Actual running. Weird sight.
Another short distance and I came to the town of Sour Lake, named for the sulfur springs nearby. It has 1,813 residents and, when I was there, a "Missing: Red German Shepherd." I'd never heard of a red German Shepherd before, but they're apparently like regular German Shepherds with a distinctly red tint to the usual tan and black coloring. At any rate, I always worry about missing dogs and wished I could be of help.
And finally I came to the town of Lumberton, pop. 11,943, where tonight's state park is. I guessed that the town's name came from the timber harvesting industry, which was extremely active in all but eliminating the Big Thicket that used to cover this part of the state. And my guess was right, insofar as the original post office serviced the local sawmills and lumber camps.
I can't quite tell why Lumberton is as large as it is, let alone why it continues to grow rapidly. I didn't see any particular industry in town, but it's a fairly short drive to Beaumont and seems to be developing as a sort of suburb. Not having been to Beaumont, I can't say whether I'd make that decision to live here instead of there, but I wasn't wildly impressed with Lumberton. It looked like a dusty hodgepodge of chain and local stores with schools and ordinary houses all crammed together. It definitely looked much smaller than the 12,000 people it claims as residents.
On the other hand, I met a very nice woman who gave me perfect directions to get to the state park, once Google's directions had failed me (for the 3rd time today). Really, I've never had such accurate directions to anywhere by anyone.
And so to Village Creek State Park, where I have a reservation for the next 4 nights.
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