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Ghost Ride
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Ghost Ride into History
Don Bouchard
10/01/2005
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Don Bouchard
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The wonderful Texas FM (farm-to-market) roads provide scenic, winding,
rolling, delightful paths for our journey back in time. The famed Texas
wildflowers—bluebonnets, Indian paintbrush, black-eyed Susans, poppies,
primrose, and countless other varieties—color the roadside. Rivers, creeks, and
lakes provide scenic photo ops. As we easily cross water, markers of the old
ferry crossings remind us of the difficulty of 19th-century travel. By late
afternoon, we roll into Goliad, having almost doubled the mileage a
turn-and-burn route would have required.
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| (Click image to enlarge) |
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We ride the short distance from
Goliad to the prairie near Coleto Creek. Fannin’s Texas troops, making their
belated escape from the area and hoping to rendezvous with Sam Houston, were
caught here in the wide open prairie by Mexican troops. We park the bikes and
walk the grassy flats where Texans made their stand and—though fully exposed
without cover or water—held off the Mexican army for a full day before
inevitable surrender. Believing they would be treated fairly as prisoners of war
and repatriated to the United States, the Texans marched back to the Presidio at
Goliad, where they were held captive for a week before their massacre.
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Real or imaginary, the ghosts of the past
permeate this special
place. (Click image to enlarge) |
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When
we arrive at the Presidio la Bahia, the last tourists are leaving, and we see it
waving the nine flags that have flown over the presidio since its founding in
1749: those of Spain, France, Mexico, the Republic of Texas, the Confederate
States of America, the United States of America, and three Texas revolutionary
flags. At our check-in we receive the key, everyone else leaves, and we lock
ourselves in and the rest of the world out. The 250-year-old Spanish mission and
fort are ours for the next 14 hours. Perched on the highest ground, the fort’s
three acres include a parade ground, the mission chapel, and the several
buildings that form the presidio complex. Our rooms, formerly officers’
quarters, have tile floors, thick hewn rock walls, wooden beams, and slat
ceilings, which lend an air of authentic age and history. Only discreet
electrical fixtures and air conditioning remind us that we are in the 21st
century. Through a thick oak door we exit directly into the courtyard where the
drama of Fannin’s execution had taken place. At a corner turret, we mount the
walls, and, in the lingering light of sunset, imagine the enemy camped outside,
and the tense and frantic activity within to resist a siege.
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