The Hook Of Texas 10: The Old Gringo

At the top of Hancock Hill in Alpine is a heavy, old metal desk and I hiked 2 miles to locate the famed piece of furniture and give it a sit.  It's loaded with graffiti, stickers, declarations of love, and several RIP's.  The plastic chair is broken, but it still sat fine, my lunch view was insane.  Losing the path at one point on the way up, it was solo off trail hiking, but I had water, I had electrolytes, I had my directional wits, I was calm, it was quiet and colorful.  The brush was full of thorns, cacti of numerous versions made the terrain seem almost lush, especially far off, and I could see far off in every direction.

After a rocky decent, I took a needed rest to rejuvenate my eyes and clear my mind of the vast scenes.  The trip north to the Davis Mountains the following day would light up my senses once again.  Then it's south to Terlingua for a night to observe border realities and the darkest of dark skies.  From there, back up north to mystical and colorful Marfa for two days of bands, art, and freelancing.  This is a roadtrip of smaller roadtrips with the El Viejo Adobe serving as a peaceful home base, initially.

The afternoon was for beers and tunes.  Dropped in on Harry's Tinaja, recorded several tunes at The American Legion, then ended up at The Old Gringo Biker Hotel to hit the stage for a few songs.  Opened with Dark Sky, then the anti-classic rock classic, Neil Young And His Needles, and finally, Only A Woman to clarify the national gender debate.  The response was positive, a harmonica player and drummer jumped in quick, some in the audience were shook, there were hoots, there were hollars, everyone listened, an accordian player told me he really dug my stuff.  It was a wakeup call, an announcement of proceedings, moaning vocals, lingering notes, violent strums, booming tamborine foot stomps amplified the hollowed stage, it was time to get it on.