Remember the Alamo

Guess where I finally went? I teared up, since I've been aching to see the Alamo ever since John Wayne was Davy Crockett. It was the one place I wanted to visit since arriving in Austin last June, and I feared I'd have only a drive-by with BC on the way out of town.

But my departure date was delayed, so along with gal-pal Vickie we headed for San Antonio during what turned out to be the anniversary-weekend of the final battle on March 6, 1836.

The Alamo was much more beautiful than I'd expected. I thought only the facade existed, but thanks to the Daughters of the Republic of Texas a large portion was saved from developers until the government stepped up to the plate.

After strolling the grounds to the sounds of a Fiddle Fest, we had a reasonably-priced lunch on the River Walk, which despite this photo is packed with people but pretty nevertheless.

I've always found the courage of the defenders of the Alamo so extraordinary.  I rented the more historically accurate remake when I got home, but I thought it paled to John Wayne's version.

Perhaps it's fortuitous I depart on this date; but it's been awhile since I've had a long drive, and 2000 miles seems a bit daunting this morning.

So I'll just remind myself of the Duke's advice at the top of my page, pull up my big-girl panties and go to it.

See you down the road!