The road that isn't as traveled as much upon as the other road

This is a late post. I've had these pictures on my computer for more than two weeks, but never got around to posting them because of the move/job search/nearness of Braum's/etc.

The story is that I spent my last Sunday in Hico looking for some of the area's touristy stuff that I'd always planned on stopping by to see, but of course never got around to it. My overall goal was to go to Clifton, the Norwegian Capitol of Texas, or something. It's about half an hour away from Hico on Highway 6, but the idea was to get there via the backroads.

I started off going South, then made a turn at Hamilton. This is a direction familiar to everyone in the area, as it's the quickest route to beer and whiskey. I had always seen the sign in the picture above while making my beer runs, and was curious as to what a Lutheran Church out in the middle of nowhere would look like.

Basically like this:
That the thing is still active is pretty cool. People were coming in, and there was a pretty good mix of old folks and children. Had I thought about what the picture would look like, I'd have gotten more of the area around it. Nothing else is out there. It's a sentimental image I've always liked: The church in the middle of nowhere. Buy my photography skillz were on display for this trip, unfortunately. I shot about four churches, all at the same damn angle.


The primary direction-finding device I used was strange names for the old hamlets that are all over the area. (Best name I saw all day: "Pancake.")

This sign was a doozy. Ohio, or the mysterious confines of Purmela?

Purmela. Obviously.

There wasn't much there, but I got another shot of a church. Yes, fascinating.

After some more stumbling around some more country roads, I eventually came into Gatesville. It's a town I'd heard of before, but had no idea where it was or how to get to it. I still don't, come to think of it.

But it had some interesting stuff.

This is a bridge built in 1904 over the Leon river. Wooden slats make up the surface. This pass over the river featured heavily in the old Georgetown trade route, which was established in 1854. Neat.

And this is a detail from the courthouse in the middle of town. They were pretty ornate with this thing, I can only figure someone in this place had some serious money at some point. The statuary on the other side was for Liberty. It was a pretty good illustration of two symbols I'd never bothered to put together. Justice has the scales, a sword, and wears a blindfold. Liberty carries a torch. And maybe some other stuff, but she was high up.

Also, both women tend to wear greek robes and look really hot, so long as they're appearing in an illustration for a story in Maxim. Those are the rules, generally.

On to Clifton. (I was beginning to get bored.) But before I got there I reached the highlight of my trip. Following a small road, I noticed a sign for "St. Olaf's Kirke". I eventually came across this:

It was built in 1878 by Norwegian immigrants, out of hand hewed-rock. No services were going on, so I drove up for a closer look:
The yard was empty. No cars were moving on the road in front of the place. The only house I could see looked deserted. So I tested the door for the hell of it: Unlocked.

There was nothing modern about the place. The wood floor was rough cut, and the pews looked like they were made out of the same material. I walked around for a bit, nervous that someone was about to show up and arrest me.
This was the church's sole source of temperature control.

After enough of looksee, I grabbed a donation envelope and took off, finally arriving in Clifton about 20 minutes later. And sorry, no more pictures. The camera was full and I was bored with taking them.

Anyway, Clifton was bit of a disappointment. I did manage to find the Bosque County Museum, where they have a 10,000-year-old man on display. And a whole lot of early ninteenth century Norwegian stuff. I just happened to walk in on a Sunday when they happened to be open. It was random, because they usually aren't.

But the most interesting thing at the museum was the guy who ran the place. He was obviously of Norwegian descent. Stocky build, pale complexion and this shock of ultra blond hair. I was tempted to ask him about his Norwegianness (Norwegiannicity? Swedish?) background but never did. In my experience Nordish folks are friendly but get way sarcastic with the "Where y'all from?" questions.

I thought about looking for authentic Norway food but stumbled upon a recipe book at the museum. The first dish I thumbed to was called "Asparagus Sauce." So I bought a T-shirt with the word "Bosque" on it and headed for home.