February 26 – “Hiking home”

Remember all that talk about the Last Hike from yesterday?  Yeah.  No.  I should have known we weren’t done yet.  We did make the long drive all the way to San Antonio before crashing for the night.  And then we woke up rarin’ to go, so we had to find someplace TO go.  We settled on the San Antonio mission tour.  We have been to the Alamo many, many times before, so we skipped that one and went straight to the other four.  They are included on the National Parks list, so there were stamps to be had, and Chris was absolutely on a mission. 

Here are the names.  I get them confused with specifics, so some of the tales that follow might be a bit jumbled.  Concepcion, San Jose, San Juan, and Espeda.  At the first one oi noticed from the parking lot that a tiny little old man in a ranger costume was watching us from the visitor center door.  He had us pegged as his next converts.  Sure enough, as we approached, so did he.  And as it turned out, we were glad he did.  He took us on a personal tour of the mission, sharing little tidbits here and there about the renovations that he had personally seen.  Remember that ghost that we missed seeing up at Fort Davis?  I think this was his cousin.  He was a friendly ghost, anyway, so we didn’t complain.  He even explained how to get to the rest of the missions.  Oh, the mission itself was remarkably well-preserved.  Fascinating.  Just not as fascinating as the little old man.

The other three kind of blur together in my mind.  I do remember that at one of them a gigantic teepee was set in the common area.  As I understand it, a race of giant twelve and a half foot tall Indians used to live on the grounds of the mission in peaceful harmony with the monks.  Their descendants (who all are remarkably short compared to their forefathers) are given permission once a year to set up a rare replica of one of the huge teepees used by their relatives so long ago.  They are even allowed to camp inside the monstrosity.  Just amazing.  Now Chris insists that she heard the story a bit differently, but I assure you mine is a lot more interesting.  Oh, and at one of the others we found the fifth and final member of our touring band … a roadrunner.  We are struggling with a name here.  Rufus was his initial designation, but Rudy has strong support from the siblings. 

I must have had food on my mind at some point in our journey, because my notes included these fine eating establishments: Tink-a-taco and Pollacks Sawsage Farm Restaurant.  We had lunch at Firehouse Subs, as I recall.  Gotta keep it in the family.

Now, I have to confess at this point that I did apparently fall asleep on the job as navigator.  I am not completely convinced though.  A more reasonable explanation is that Chris’ ongoing feud with Google Siri led the electronic mastermind to engineer a short cut sleight of hand that neither of us noticed until it was too late.  See, we were heading for the historical site at Goliad.  Somehow we ended up in Yorktown.  Isn’t that in Virginia?  Chris and Google Siri had a heart to heart talk.  GS finally relented and took us on a strange short cut, but all ended up well.  Except Chris had the last word.  “I still don’t trust her short cuts.”

We finally found Goliad and toured both Goliad Mission and the Presidio Bahia, the Fort by the Bay.  No bay around anywhere, but the San Antonio River was nearby.  The Texas history is way too involved to summarize here, but I will say that any foray into the Republic of Texas must start at the Alamo and swing through here on the way to San Jacinto.  Fascinating place, but you must see both to fully appreciate the experience.

We also stopped in Fannin at the battlefield memorial of where Fannin and his men surrendered to the vastly superior Mexican army.  They were taken into custody and held at the Presidio Bahia before eventually being executed as pirates (Santa Anna gave the execution order against the recommendation of his generals), giving Texans a second rallying cry for revolution.  Remember the Alamo.  Remember Goliad. 

And finally we headed for home.  The sand between our toes was really calling, and around 8 p.m. we pulled into our driveway.  1,911 miles.  Happy to sleep in our own bed.  Home. 

Psalms 34:15 says, “The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their cry.”

Father, thank you for grand adventures, but thank you as well for home.  Amen.