Saddle Sore. Literally.

My body is currently recovering from white-knuckle adventure astride a very fast quarter-horse. More on that shortly.

Recently, I've had some time in San Antonio. Having a few hours at my disposal I zoomed in to see the Alamo. I found it, much like most Texans and non-Texans have described it - small. But I found it to be pretty dang cool! It was once a Spanish mission, later converted into storehouse and fort. It now sits in the middle of busy downtown San Antonio, neighbored by the large Alamodome and River Walk.

The fort is surrounded by an old wall, but the front is open to view from the main drag. The courtyard has oaks providing shade and little channels of water that hold koi 3/4's the length of your arm. Entrance to the fort is free but cameras are prohibited. Once you enter, it feels much like a vault set deep beneath the earth. Years of use had long since worn-away most indications that this ever was a mission and the little antechambers have display cases of artifacts from the battle at the Alamo and other items once owned by such famous characters as Davy Crocket.

I had a tinge of excitement when I first entered. The very idea of what had occurred here and who had been present on these very grounds made this a very significant landmark. Some hold their noses in the air at the concept of this 'cradle of Texas history' but you have to be more objective. After all, think of who spent some of the very last hours of their lives here. This was a mixture of Tejanos and southern and Yankee Americans. In fact, the very first symbols to greet your eyes when cross the threshold are the state flags of New York, Massachusetts and other god-forsaken Yankee realms.

Davy Crocket, once accustomed to stars being the only roof over his head and now as comfortable as could be with his fame and notoriety, headed south, to whatever fate awaited him.

Anyhow, there is something truly American in this motley band, forming together against insurmountable odds. The word Texian once represented a lot more than is given credit to that word now!

After leaving, in fact, running, to get out of the hoard of visitors, I hopped in the car, ready to head back to my lodging to catch the setting sun for a property shoot.

The next day it was back to San Antonio and the Mission Concepcion. This is arguably the coolest mission in the city. There are about six significant missions still standing and this is one of them. Far larger than the Alamo it still maintains its status as a church. The exterior looks much the same it did 200 years ago, though lacks the geometric shapes that once adorned it. Inside is a simple interior with pews, a dome and altar. Much of the artwork present was original. And, while most of the frescoes fell away years ago, you can still see some remnants. One of them was a sun set in the ceiling above, supposed to represent a mestizo (Spanish-Indian).

Back in town I dined at Rosarios, at the fringe of downtown, so parking was not as chaotic. While it was very busy, it was well worth the little wait. The food was very good and had the Mexican staples you hoped would be on the menu.

After a few hours drive north it was into Bandera and true Texas Hill country. This was a shoot on a ranch. In fact, the only ranch to show longhorn cattle to its visitors.

Shortly after arriving, I went out on a trailer and videoed the cattle as they were being fed. News to me, both male and female longhorn cattle have horns. Male horns will tend to grow longer and get that beautiful curl in it. While the correct appearance of a longhorn is scraggly, these were plump and well fed. There was a cute little white calf, born the day before and, appropriately, named Valentine by one of the guests.

That night it was a ranch meal of brisquet, honey glazed sausage and peach cobbler.

Afterwards, I learned how to play Texas Hold 'em. Normally not much of a card-player, I thought there couldn't be a better place to learn! I did pretty good, pretty quick. Of course, I often seem to have difficulty in understanding some pretty basic concepts and, if people really wanted to, they could bend the rules against me. However, I had very good hands at the beginning, bluffed sufficiently the remainder of the game and, just as victory was in my hands, I lost to the only other guy remaining. Oh well! At least I understand the game a little now. And, I must admit, it started me thinking... You see, one of the problems with being a "True man of the North" with a gravity furnace is a $500 gas bill. Even with it set at 58 degrees. Now, if a man were to his cards right... I kid, I kid. I won't be gambling anytime soon.

The next day I did some video, ate a ranch breakfast and got ready to hit the trail. I would be going horseback riding to get some action shots. Putting my camera in my backpack and padding it up, I hopped up on my quarter-horse named Frio. I was with an outdoor group of college students from San Antonio. Some were very experienced riders and some were beginners. I was looking forward to it, but apprehensive at the same time. I had the camera to worry about and my previous boss, who could ride quite well, said it was hell to have a backpack on at a gallop. I'm really poor in the saddle at a gallop to begin with. So, this also played in my mind. When I've had a choice, I tend to pick the large horse or better yet, a Tennessee Walker. Strong, steady and good natured. This wasn't on a plantation, nor the Rocky Mountains, nor New Zealand beaches, this was cowboy land.

We made our way across the hard, limestone beds and through the scrub brush. The clop, clop of the horse hooves on that worn rock beneath us sounded like chalk against a blackboard. It has been a year of drought for hill country. The rain Bandera had seen was 7 inches in August. As many know, a hard rain in dry country is an especially bad thing, as it runs off and away. This helped to make our route particularly dry and dusty.

Whenever any open stretch appeared, the horses and lead cowgirl would set off at a gallop. I had only one horse behind me, put there because it was a bully to all the other horses. This factor plays into the next occurrence. I also had the cowboy guide back with me. A cool guy, with a big ol' cowboy mustache and a lifetime of experience 'cuttin' horses. That is, teaching horses to cut out cows. More on that a different time, maybe.

The cowboy told me that he picked Frio for me because I had the camera and that he was nice and slow. But in almost the same breath says, "Frio is the fastest horse here. So, don't let him get away from ya," in a very serious tone. He confirmed that he was slow but really fast at the same time. I could see where this was headed.

In the past, when I've come to obstacles on a horse, I was used to them taking a slow and purposeful approach. But the rule of the land here was for the horses to charged up and through. When there was a steep climb up a rocky cliff, they ran up it. When there was a gully, they ran through it. Initially, this was no big thing to me, as I knew they would need to stop eventually, unlike open stretches, when who knows when you'd stop!? And I know I'm good on a horse up a hill. You lean forward. I knew I was good on a horse when in dropped down. You lean back.

Then we came to a gully. Horse after horse ran down and out. Then mine dropped in. All of a sudden, my mind and body were in primate survival mode. I did not know what was happening at the time, but the horse was flipping out! I just felt it pitch forward and back and forward and back, and my thoughts were subsequently clouded with the camera in my backpack cracking against the back of my skull. I held onto the saddle horn and rode it out.

"I've NEVER seen him do that before! I've NEVER seen him do that before," exclaimed the cowboy. You handled that real well bud! I've never seen him do that before. Well, you can say you rode a bucking horse. Those weren't small bucks either, those were three full bucks!"

Yay. Only two more hours to go.

The ride continued with no more bucking. But we had plenty of full out gallops. At the beginning of some of these stretches the horses would weave in and out of trees and drop down into a gully, then leap up to an open stretch. It sometimes felt quite thrilling, dropping your heals, raising your butt off the saddle and dropping lower near the the horse's mane. At times, I even got my rythym and went along well.

But, the bag also slapped out of rythm at my back and, usually, my crotch receive the baseball bat blows from the saddle. That was one thing, but when you start to feel as though you are off balance and just floating out of your stirrups, it gives rise to 'whoaing' that horse down! At least, it did for me. How was I going to explain if anything happenings to the equipment? That in my backpack, that is.

Man, on those open stretches, I understand what the cowboy was talking about! My horse would be at full gallop. But, you know how it is in the movies, when people kick or whip or say something to their horse to go even faster? My horse would get whipping along, where its head would do the very rapid back and forth thing, I've only beforehand seen at that part of a movie. And I felt like an ass, getting to a part where I was whoaing it down and I knew that it was the last thing that this horse wanted to do.

Well, at least 1/5 of that 2.5 hour trip was at a gallop! And at the end he let us know that everyone had been very, very fortunate. He said they only allow people that had been with them for 3 to 4 days ride like that.

Well, I'm all about getting to the top of that mountain and taking a look around. No real desire to see it again, but I sure as hell know what it's like to be there.

Though, as excited as I was to be done, I was a little bummed that the next people to ride had showed up. The cowboy had wanted to ride with me and the other cowpokes into town, to catch a beer. Now that is more up my alley! Riding into the cowboy capital of the world to grab a beer! I suppose I would have gone with a Sarsparilla...

After finishing my shots (oh yes, at one part my and the cowboy did ride up ahead, charging through brush and rock to get a good video shot of the coming group) I bid my farewells and head began my drive up to Fredericksburg. Glad that the camera was in good shape and nursing a bloody bump that was concealed under my cap, I head out to more Hill Country.

On my way I was forced to stop and ask some friendly fire fighters for directions. Ah, I see, right on 16, left on Eckert, right on Crabapple! I always like stopping for directions when not in a hurry. You get to see some folks you normally would never interact with.

This was in the neighborhood of Enchanted Rock. That cool rocky dome that I climbed earlier this year!. After passing the unmarked entrance to the property once, I began the climb. Already I could tell this was something cool. The drive was a tan, textured surface, that must be concrete, dyed and scoured to make it look cracked and Tuscan. It wove up the hill and soon, I entered a completely different world. It was a road that weaved through a village, like a blend of southwest American and Italy. The doors were different collections of Indonesian and European and the conglomeration of styles and cultures made it difficult to pinpoint exactly where I was. Somewhere completely different. I've never been to a place like this before!

Here's the short of it. A former musican artist and a chef banded together to create their own private village. They searched the whole US until they found this precise place, atop a hill and with a view of Enchanted Rock. They began with their own home. It was a series of large tunnels, dome-arched shaped and constructed of brick. But there were strategically placed arch-shaped windows that allowed natural light in quite well. More on this unbelievable home later.

The village that they created became their resort. Almost akin to the Winchester mansion, where the widow kept building on to the property in a never-ceasing mission to keep building, building, building, this property just went on and on in the most imaginative way. The main structure was a square that surrounded an inner court yard. one side of the square was Italian fine dining. After all she was a chef and since it was an 'Italian' theme just about everyone you saw in or out of the restaurant had a glass of red wine in their hands. One side looked in at the courtyard, one side looked out at Enchanted Rock. Also built within the square were some of the guest rooms, including the one I was staying in. And, like most of the rooms, there was no lock, just a long L-shaped bolt that you slid into place. To open the wooden door you pulled at the ring hanging from the the bronzed greenman's mouth. Inside the room was cozy, with vaulted brick ceiling, antiqued wood bed, table and ornately carved dresser, housing a Sony flat screen. The shower chamber had a stone textured floor and walls the color of red rock.

Many of the other rooms, some inside the main building, some housed in separate outbuildings, had similar antiqued but artistic furnishings and most had simple latches on the doors. Atop the main building was a covered porch area with mosaic floors, iron furniture and a view out to the rock. The inner courtyard was flanked by hanging bull skulls.

There was almost no titling, no numbers denoting what anything was. It forced you to explore! As I had a whole day and a half to roam, that is exactly what I did. Working ones way down the curving drives from the restaurant you come to one of the few buildings with a sign, the Prisidio. It has a large church bell in a adobe-like bell tower and is topped with a statue of Mary. Opening up the narrow, double wooden doors, you enter see a statue of Mary and Jesus to your left, and a beautiful brick canopy, making a tunnel that drops down stairs into an altar-room. Here are rose petals covering the floor and pews facing the Christian/Pagan fireplace at the alter. The acoustics were just fabulous in the chamber! And, as you tip-toe around the petals, approach the alter and take the tunnel to your left you come to another wooden door, damp and sweating. Inside you hear the trickle trackle of a little waterfalls. Pulling open the door and voila! You are in the grotto. In this dark, humid cave, there is a pool to your left, some feet below you and stalagtites hanging from the ceiling. Here is your very own cave pool!

Now, retreating back through the chapel, lets go out and explore some more! In one off-building, you open a side door and what should it be, but a dinner theater. In actuality, it is a replication of a stage saloon in Deadwood, SD. There is a full wooden bar, with a collection of authentic spurs hanging above it, real percussion cap revolver chandaliers, giant old Western movie posters, Civil War flags, a stage and balcony area on either side. It feels like a saloon through and through and upon closer examination you realize everything is authentic. I had to stop and look at the faded flags in their frames and touch the guns that were now simple ornaments. Let's go! There's more to explore.

After passing through the small spa, the adobe-like rooms that rise up the curve of the driveway and passing a simple little shack named office, you walk on top of an underground tunnel and up the stairs to an exposed metal arch structure. You are now on top of the owner's home. You can look down into their courtyard, with its running water pond and see the arch-shaped windows that barely give you an idea of what it must look like inside. But your eyes immediately see the patter. The arch of the windows, arch of the chimneys, arch of the tunnels, arch of this giant metal structure, all mirroring the arch of the enchanted rock in the distance! There is a large spinning metal fan in this structure. You gaze at this and then back at the full-size windmill at the top of the hill. Still, more to see.

Back up to the top of the property and there is a enormous garage. You slide back another metal bar and push in the unmarked door into a room the size of a dance hall. What should be inside, you ask? The largest cap-gun collection in the world! Literally. There is stained wood and glass display case after display case housing full kits, chaps and holster sets that must have been from the 50's and before. It just goes on and on and on! You look into one little case holding dozens and dozens and imagine at the value. Here are guns with their original boxes in pristine condition. Most chaps are splayed out in museum fashion on the back of the case with their complete kits. It would be magical for a child raised in the 50's! Cowboys and girls galore.

We are not even close to being done. But I'll give you the quick to this quick version. One last room is the reception hall. Push open the door and what's inside? It's an arch-shaped hangar larger than a basketball court. It's what's on the walls that catches your eyes! Endless collections of animal heads. I should preface this by saying these people are not hunters. But, every animal you can possibly think of. And its real! Boars and crocodiles and lions and snakes and walrus and water bison and on the far wall, a complete elephant head!

Did I tell you that these people are artists and collectors? Collections of everything. Everything! And what was on the surface was a small fraction of what was below...

So, I stayed that first, through the day the next and then stayed for another night. Pampered, I was. Mostly it was the wife that I interacted with. She'd be there one moment and then disappear the next. I'd wander, get some shots, get lost, open doors I wasn't sure I was supposed to open and peak inside. And you'd see the random couple doing the same thing. Slowly sliding a latch, looking in apprehensively and then the child-like wonder pulling you inside. Everyone there was either a couple, a worker or some odd collector with a scraggly beard and tan leather cowboy hat and glasses.

I dined the first night, had lunch with the family on the second and then dinner the last night. She created a lobster-crab ravioli, wrapped in a red-green banded pasta, serving it up with a South African Shiraz. Needless to say, they knew a lot about wine too.

OK, backing up to the final and most interesting chapter. I asked her if she would like to do a little interview and she was more than willing. "Oh,let's go in the house!" I was excited at this proposition, not knowing what could lie inside.

Down we went, past a chamber of whiskey casks, and continuing down the arching tunnel and up to a giant iron door, that just made you wonder from what castle they got that! Passing through, she continued on and quite merrily told me a was free to shoot anything I'd like and take a look around. Here are a bunch of my husband's collections and through there is the Civl War room. So, instead of being rushed to go do the interview, I was left in a place dreams could seldom conjure. The room was a mixture of collections behind old, glass museum quality display cases and much of the items on top of the cases and piled in different places. There were collections of everything you could possibly imagine! To my right was a stack of spears and lances leaning in the corner, a case of chinese armor and plains Indians clothing and weapons. And the more I looked the more I realized, that this was real stuff. Heck, most of this I knew to be authentic! I tried to quicken myself but was sure to capture footage, meant only for myself and friends. No one else should see these secrets, he he! There was a stack of .58 Civil War guns, a flint lock trading rifle, mummified items from tombs, old period toys and as I kept pulling myself along I was passing along and I see a full set of armor on the floor. I knew that it was Conquistador and must be a reproduction, but still, priceless! The son came out and I talked to him about it being Conquistador and how many of Cortez's soldiers fell from their horses running away from the Aztecs and drowned in the river, wearing that very same armor. Then we passed from the room, passing a whole case of toys, WWII Nazi soldiers. A major collector item. I hadn't seen those since Greece!

After chatting with their kids, their mother took me out into further chambers of the house. I passed tons of artwork. Gieger-esque screaming mouths surrounded with feathers, fanciful paintings of circuses with floating Dodge Ramchargers, and full size face-casts. Walking into the dining room, she points at the chairs, all hide and horns and said, 'these were Teddy Roosevelts!" She then brought over a scrapbook of her sons artwork. Wonderfully detailed work of armored soldiers and ninjas and gryphons. Just as we were about to get to the interview. The cool, artist, soccer-playing kid, comes around the corner and has on the suit of armor! "Mom, isn't this awesome!" It was a site to see, how articulated the joints of that armor was. In a half question I exclaimed, "That must be a reproduction, huh?" "Oh no, we don't buy anything that is a reproduction." My gosh! That was real conquistador armor!

So, we had our interview. It was very much full of spiritual talk and dreaminess and what you think you might find on the West Coast. But fun and friendly. And, I'll tell you this, you need a belief in magic to make the things that I saw. It is the purest manifestation of dreams I had ever, ever seen. Their hearts and minds were made manifest in that world.

After a quick discussion with the husband, he was gone.

So, that was that place. Sorry for the length, but I cannot begin to explain what an incredible place this is. Absolutely, incredible!

Now, I'm back in San Antonio after a morning drive through rain and fog. I got to see quite a bit of the Riverwalk, have a burger and am staying in a posh place. Just a few hours ago I was in J-Lo's favorite room. There is quite a list of celebrity's that have stayed here! Bill Cosby, Carole Burnett, Ja Rule, Tool, Jonas Brothers and the list goes on.