50 Things Every Texan Should Do
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36. Pick your own peaches at Whitworth Orchard in Stonewall. Except for first love, nothing is quite as intoxicating as the smell of ripe peaches warmed by the Hill Country sun; even germophobes can’t resist plucking a fat, fuzzy little fruit, polishing it on a pants leg, and biting into it right then and there. Gillespie County’s most ambrosial crop ripens in June and July, and this orchard two and a half miles west of town on Jenschke Road, off U.S. 290, has long welcomed locals and city folks alike to pick treetop treasure. a.d.
37. Ride the Bolivar Ferry and take a loaf of bread to feed the seagulls. This day trip from the east end of Galveston Island to Port Bolivar is a great way to absorb the feel and fun of the Texas coast. Sure, we adults know that seagulls are the avian equivalent of squirrels, but children adore tossing crusts to the cawing horde (actually, what works best is wadding up whole slices of white into balls, which fly higher). The breeze is bracing enough to balance the sun’s ferocity, and then there’s the salty, evocative tang of the bay (with just a soupçon of rotting shrimp). a.d.
38. Swim in the 68-degree waters of Austin’s Barton Springs with the Polar Bear Club on New Year’s Day. It doesn’t require that much stamina or determination—in the winter, 68 degrees actually feels warm. Come to think of it, a scorching day in August would do just fine too—the water feels downright therapeutic then. So jump in: The fact that you can swim in a clean, clear natural spring within sight of skyscrapers anywhere on earth, much less in Texas, is nothing short of a miracle. j.n.p.
39. Buy a Resistol at the company’s outlet store in Garland. The Stetson may be more famous, but the Resistol, manufactured here since 1938, has been the headgear of choice for any Texan who does more than tip his hat to tradition. (The name refers to its sweat-resistant interior headband.) LBJ wore a Resistol and that’s a fact; so did fictional fat cat J. R. Ewing, whose hat is now in the Smithsonian. The outlet, at 721 Marion, is just down the street from the factory. a.d.
40. Attend a South Texas pachanga. One of the great social rituals of Mexican American life in the Rio Grande Valley, the pachanga, originally a hunting camp feast, evolved into a political event in the 1890’s. Held on Sundays across South Texas in the weeks preceding an election, these festivities are better than polls at gauging how a campaign will fare—the more popular the candidate, the better the pachanga—and are a bonding experience for the entire community. Savor pan de campo, a crusty hand-made bread that was originally baked in a pit in the ground. And the barbecue is pretty good too. j.n.p.
41. Go to Muster on the Texas A&M campus on San Jacinto Day. Aggie customs and quirks abound, but for both students and alumni no rite reveals the depth of the collegiate bond more powerfully than Muster, an April 21 ceremony in which Aggies old and new and their family members gather to remember classmates who have died. Although a mini-Muster can take place anywhere—legend has it there was one on Corregidor—the massive Muster at Reed Arena on the College Station campus is standing room only, with as many as 12,500 people in attendance. At the end of the evening, a speaker reads the roll call of the dead, and when each name is called, a friend or relative says “Here.” Compared with the solidarity of the A&M family, the rest of us may feel emotionally, well, marooned. a.d.
42. Ride the wooden Judge Roy Scream roller coaster at Arlington’s Six Flags Over Texas and then have a Pink Thing to calm your nerves. This classic coaster may not have the rep or the stature of the amusement park’s Texas Giant, but it is a knockoff of the grand old Comet at the State Fair of Texas, which was the epitome of wild thrills hereabouts until it was torn down in 1989. As for the Pink Thing, it’s a gloppy, artificially flavored, artificially colored frozen concoction that’s an addictive, cheap respite from the heat. j.n.p.
43. Sit in the Country Store in Cotulla on the first weekend of deer season and listen to hunters talk about their day. Regardless of how you feel about hunting, for generations it was a necessity of Texas life, and the tradition continues today, though primarily for pleasure. Cotulla, a town of four thousand in the brush country southwest of San Antonio, is a mecca for hunters seeking dove, quail, javelina, feral hogs, and especially whitetail deer, which are in season November through January. At this combination cafe, convenience store, and bar (Interstate 35 access road, one mile north of the FM 468 intersection), you can thrill to tales of the kill as camouflage-clad hunters use mysterious lingo like “B&C points” and “mass.” Tourists who drop in off-season can scope out the dozens of photos and souvenirs adorning the walls. a.d.
44. Kiss someone you love on Scenic Drive in El Paso after dark. This road at the southern base of the Franklin Mountains overlooks most of the city, the pass that gave it its name, and the even larger city of Juárez beyond. At dusk, the dusty streets and crooked roads in Mexico and the entire border magically disappear—this is the largest metropolitan area on any international border anywhere—and the twinkling lights of the two cities in the vast bowl of the Rio Grande Basin melt together, making for the most romantic nighttime panorama in Texas. j.n.p.
45. Watch the sun set and sailboats glide under the causeway from the Wahoo Saloon in the town of South Padre Island.This vacation hotspot is the closest thing Texas has to a tropical paradise, and after a tiring day of sun, sand, and surf, natives and tourists alike coast into this local Margaritaville on the bay side (201 W. Ling) for some (sun)downtime. The complete experience includes cold drinks and exceptional people-watching, savored to the smell of sunscreen and, later, the sound of live music. Dress down, way down—tank tops, cutoffs, and thongs (the foot-related kind, that is). Or install yourself at Dolphin Cove Oyster Bar in Isla Blanca Park at the island’s southern tip to gulp down oysters and brewskis while watching the fishing boats come in at day’s end. a.d.
46. Stroll through the forest of some forty oil derricks in downtown Kilgore. Start at the corner of Main and Commerce streets, in what was once known as the World’s Richest Acre. The rigs went dry decades ago, but at the height of the boom, in the thirties, there were more than 1,100 derricks erected within the Kilgore city limits, the greatest concentration of oil in the East Texas field. Get the full story at the East Texas Oil Museum (U.S. 259 at Ross Street), which pays tribute to independent oilmen and wildcatters like Columbus Marion “Dad” Joiner, whose Daisy Bradford Number 3 gusher started the boom in 1930. j.n.p.
47. Take the hand-pulled ferry to Mexico at Los Ebanos, about fifteen miles southwest of Mission in the Rio Grande Valley. This historic river ford shaded by ebony trees was first used in the 1740’s by explorers and colonists from the José de Escandón expedition, the first European colonization of what is now South Texas, and operated steadily during the Civil War, the Mexican Revolution, and Prohibition. With a maximum capacity of three cars, the ferry runs every day from eight to four. The nearest Mexican town, Ciudad Díaz Ordaz, two miles from the river, has little to offer tourists. It’s the ride that matters. Noted Tex-Mex composer Wally Gonzales (“El Taco Kid en CB”) hangs out at the crossing and sometimes takes requests. j.n.p.
48. Consume rice balls, shrimp étouffée, and a heaping platter of Cajun culture at the Texas Rice Festival in Winnie. On the first weekend in October, one of the biggest harvest festivals in the state pays tribute to the oldest cultivated grain in the world, and the side benefit is total immersion in rural Cajun life, right down to the bayou bands and the red beans and rice. There are other Cajun extravaganzas—notably ShrimpFest on Port Arthur’s Pleasure Island in August and Spring’s Texas Crawfish Festival in May—but in Winnie you’ll experience how real country folks interpret laissez les bon temps rouler. j.n.p.
49. Listen to Willie Nelson sing “Stay All Night”—anywhere. No one epitomizes the Lone Star State like Abbott’s favorite son, the only person who can transform even the most sterile performance venue into a real Texas honky-tonk simply by strumming his guitar and opening his mouth. j.n.p.
50. Pass my Texas cultural literacy quiz. a.d.
