Simon made some eggs this morning that when mixed with the beans produced a color that was, but shouldn't have been, gray. Next to it is the seasoning that Jessica puts on everything to make everything taste awsome. Before we left, Simon told Matt the story of his VW Fox that he drove into the ground. He went to change the oil, but set it on fire instead. Sitting on the hood shorted the battery, and started both the engine and an engine fire. It was already in first, so it started rolling. He had to chase after it to stop it from hitting a house! He broke the dash open with an axe to spray it down with a garden hose. Oddly, this is the 6th or 7th car death story we've heard on this trip... One has to wonder if we'll be adding our own soon.

I nearly spoke too soon. As we pulled away from Simon's place, we heard a funny sound from the rear wheel... that is, the one that didn't fall off before our trip. We pulled over and examined the sound. It sounded alot more like brakes than the bearing. Nothing to worry about. But if it falls off later, we'll know why.

Grey eggs?	James and Simon	Simon not paying attention to the dogs	"The battery of my VW Fox shorted..."
"I took an axe to the dashboard to put the fire out..."	Checking the brakes	Does that bearing sound alright?	Rain from blue sky

We made it to San Antonio by early afternoon, and walked around a bit. Here's some pictures of The Alamo. Matt didn't know the story, so we listened to the microphone guy for a while. It was hard to understand, because he overemphasized every single sentance. It's hard to explain with text, so I wont. But just imagine William Shatner announcing a rodeo on coccaine. Some parts of The Alamo are still considered a shrine, so they asked us to remove our hats, and not to take photographs. Strangely, that included the gift shop as well. A guard tapped me on the shoulder and stopped me from taking a picture of the "Alamo Refrigerator Magnets," "Alamo Shaped Pencil Sharpeners," and the "Alamo Golf Balls." I suppose I wasn't showing enough respect to the soldiers who lost their lives here.

Crocket Hotel	Kid	Alamo vending machines	The Alamo fish pond
Huge fish	Our guide needed a course in public speaking	Broken Wall	Some of Davey Crocket's stuff
Ready... Aim...	Matt at The Alamo	Me	And there's a mall across the street
Huge tree in the Alamo courtyard

Directly across the street from The Alamo, where part of it used to be, is now a gigantic shopping mall. They built it all along a sub-street-level river. It seems like a cross between Venice and New Orleans, though I've never been to either. A string of expensive restaurants with cast iron balconies overlook the river walkway shaded with trees of every color and a unique style of brickwork and concrete. The color of the water dropped our opinions of the place, and when a boat full of tourists motored by we thought it looked more like Disneyworld than San Antonio. In all fairness, it was pretty, and I'd probably hang out there all the time if I lived nearby.

Riverwalk entrance	Fountain	Mr Pacman	The Riverwalk
Expensive restaurants	Looking down from street level	The same bridge	Ozzy on his Segway
Gate

We went straight north from San Antonio through "Hill Country," on advice from Simon and Jessica who'd just gotten back from a camping trip. They didn't steer us wrong, because it was a beautiful drive. We found a place called Enchanted Rock State Park with camping and hiking. But the sun was setting as we finally pulled in. There was no one at the ranger station, so we checked ourselves in. We stumbled our way through the trails in the dark, carrying all our gear and food, learning the hard way to avoid the trail-side cactus needles. Those things sting! I had one nearly a quarter inch into my ankle, and it burned like a bee-sting. It was pitch black by the time we had our tent set up, guided only by a small book light to find firewood to cook our dinner on. We'd watched the rain storm pass by earlier in the day, so our chances of finding dry firewood was slim. But we tried anyway, failing proudly, though we were somewhat ashamed of our wimpy campfire. Even the paper kindling just smoldered in the dampness. We had soup and smoked sausages and everything ready for an awsome campfire dinner, but ultimately gave in to peanut butter and jelly once again.

Windmill

Really old town

Entering Hill Country

We tried our best to sleep but were up against the rock-hard ground, an annoying group of hyper-pseodo-christain-campers armed with loud voices and an acoustic guitar, and a stream of ants after the orange juice and peanut butter Matt had spilled.

Our lame little fire

Matt makes a mess in the tent