Trip to Hico (Delayed)

The search for the stone


Finally.

About two months ago, my mom and dad came by for a visit. In a "neat" kind of moment, I showed my dad the Hico farm on google earth.

I go to the site all the time, but while my Dad was here I wanted to ask him just exactly where is the piece of land we own that I've never seen.

I've walked around the farm enough that I take it as a point of pride that I'm rarely surpised by what I find. Still, there was one place I'd never been.

The highway that joins Hico to Fairy cuts off a sliver of our land from the rest of the farm. I'd heard about it, but no one was really specific as to where it was and dad was pretty indifferent about making it over there.

So, when I had the chance I quized him about it, and he also told me one thing that I'd heard a long time ago but had forgotten. The area is also the location of the original 1869 Segrist homestead, and my Grandpa, who was kind of monument crazy, set up a stone at the site decades ago.

I now had my plan for my next hike -- find the stone and map out the area as best as I could.

Then, many things happened. (See most recent posts.)

Finally, last Friday my wife was off of work and nothing else was going on. I loaded the dog in the new car (heh) along with some clothes and took off.

First off -- yes, there is a town in Texas called Fairy. It's more a hamlet, though, in a nice little spot between a gap in a couple of hills.

Anyway, I got to the farm, got out, put my clothes up, put on my serious jeans, serious hiking boots and set out.


The day was perfect -- cool and sunny -- for a hike through the underbrush. We walked down the road to the farm gate and walked across the highway. The first thing I noticed was that this property of ours was much bigger than I had thought. I was climbing up a slope and couldn't see a fence.

Then I realized that I was apparently trespassing on someone else's land, and made my way back to the fence before I got shot by someone defending their rights.

There's not much of anything on this small sliver that we own. A lot of cactus, cedar and rock, mainly. I made my way south, looking, then looking some more. Until ...

Aha!

The marker was sitting in a surprisingly open area of land, considering all of the brush and cactus I'd spent the last half-hour crawling through.

Note that Ginger, bottom, is showing an interest in history.

I don't know about 1869. Growing up I'd heard 1868. But I imagine several things could have led to the confusion. I suppose the correct date is written somewhere, in some county's hall of records.

There is virtually nothing left that tells you that humans lived here. Plenty of old tin cans are around, flattened by rust and gravity. I also saw several stones stacked on top of each other, usually collapsing in the shape of a circle. And that's about it.

It's hard to see in the picture, but this looked to me like an old gate. The heavier post needed the added support of some struts and rock at the base.

After that I mapped out the place in my head the best I could. Later, I was talking to my sister Susan, who happened to stop by the farm that night, about the place. She told me she could never understand why our great-great grandfather picked the spot. It's barren, doesn't really have a good view and doesn't look very green.

But, thinking about it, I kind of guessed a few reasons why:

• The place was about 200 yards from the original Hico village. Far enough for privacy and to keep your animals separated, close enough to cry for help if outlaws came by.
• You'd want to build your house on rock. You don't dig a foundation for a log cabin, so you don't want it sinking in the mud when it rains.
• And it's a dry spot, but a creek is about 100 yards away, so the mosquitos wouldn't be too bad and getting water wouldn't be too much of a hassle for someone willing to live in log cabin.

I now have a picture in my head of a hard-scrabble kind of place, animals wondering around and in the house, worn footpaths serving as the primary roads. A tough life, but they were tough people.

I eventually left the spot, made my way back to the house, went to town for tacos and got back in time for the season finale of "Friday Night Lights."

The irony was not lost on me.