Our Wednesday

Another package dropped over the fence Tuesday morning. It was dented on one side, making me wonder if the contents had been damaged somewhere along the way. We carried it back to the bus and opened it, glad to see that the inner box was fine.

This was a gift from Deb to me, recognizing both Father’s Day on Sunday and my birthday a couple of weeks off. See, she’d watched me ogling the drone our hosts have, and she up and decided that we oughta have one, too, to record aerial perspectives along our journey.

Truth is, I’d never really lusted for a drone, but I am something of a gadget geek. As I always do with such things, I set aside a full day to charge the batteries (drone and controller) and to consume the confounding instructions. Once the little bird was ready to fly, getting the hang of it yesterday took me a while, but eventually I got the thing airborne and launched it on its maiden flight.

Yeah, it’s cool. Thanks, Deb.

I managed to grab a little over a minute of video while the drone hovered over and circled Ernie’s site here on the ridge — nothing spectacular, simply a demonstration that it works very well for what it is. It’s a safe bet that the images it captures will appear on Ubi Libertas Blog in the future.


Venturing back into Bandera yesterday afternoon, we began with Tex-Mex at Don Chepe’s Restaurant & Bar before returning to The Cowboy Store, the place where I’d bought my Stetson the other day. Deb, not to be outdone, came out wearing a straw Stetson of her own. That look really suits her.

Oh, and she picked up a horse-hair hat band. And a spiffy pair of boots — check.

Afterward we dropped by the Bandera Chamber of Commerce and Visitors Center, where every Saturday they re-enact a Wild West shootout befitting The Cowboy Capital of the World. Maybe we’ll stay to see the skit this week, maybe we won’t, but we did stroll around the quaint little “Rattle Snake Ridge” set where it takes place.

Just off Main Street is the 11th Street Cowboy Bar. It doesn’t look like much from the sidewalk, but behind the cramped original barroom (and its mad décor) is an enormous shaded patio with a big stage to accommodate live entertainment. We grabbed a beer — Shiner Bock for me — and relaxed under the trees a while, leaving before the weekly Wednesday Steak Night (bring your own meat) got underway.


Before we crossed back over 11th Street to where our friends’ truck was parked, an older fellow approaching along the boards touched the brim of his straw hat, nodded to me and said, “And how are you?”

“I’m well, sir,” I replied. “How are you?”

He smiled. “Just right.”

Man, if that ain’t Texas…

Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.

#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath

(Taking in the Hill Country vista from our hosts’ deck, Deb caught a hummingbird.)