My journey discovering the Texas Forts Trail Region
I grew up in Louisiana, behind the Pine Curtain, where tall pines framed just about every view. Seeing beyond the trees wasn’t something I ever thought much about. That changed when I left home to attend Abilene Christian University.
I still remember my first trip west. As we passed through the Dallas Fort Worth area and continued toward Weatherford, the landscape began to change. Before long the trees gave way to open country and a horizon that seemed to stretch forever. There wasn’t much between Weatherford and Abilene in those days. I remember one gas station in particular called Last Chance Gas. It wasn’t much, but for some reason I’ve never forgotten it. What I do remember clearly is seeing the sky open up for the first time. The sunsets, the changing light, and the colors across the prairie were unlike anything I had experienced growing up in Louisiana.
Abilene was a much different town then. When classes were over there wasn’t a long list of things to do. I’d find myself looking toward the horizon and wondering what was out there. One afternoon I got in my first car and started driving. There were no maps on my phone because there weren’t any phones to carry. No GPS. Just a few cassettes, a full tank of gas, and a lot of curiosity. I never gave much thought to breaking down somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. I just wanted to see what was out there.
One of those drives led me to Fort Phantom Hill. Walking among the old stone chimneys, I tried to imagine what life had been like when the fort was active. It was quiet, and other than the wind, there wasn’t much to interrupt the moment. A few years later I discovered something I never expected. Members of my family were buried in the cemetery there. They had lived in the area during the years when the fort changed from a military post to a stop along the Butterfield Overland Mail route. Some of my relatives arrived in the region before Abilene was even established.
That discovery stayed with me. From that point on, I made a habit of setting aside one day each month to explore. I’d pick a direction, fill the car with gas, and head out without much of a plan. Some weekends I’d drive north. Other times I’d head west or south. I wasn’t trying to visit every historic site or check places off a list. I was simply curious about the part of Texas that existed beyond the next town.
As the years passed, those drives became part of who I was. Photography gave me another reason to be on the road, and client work introduced me to museums, historic sites, and communities throughout Central and West Texas. Every project became an opportunity to spend a little more time in places I might have otherwise driven through. I met people who had dedicated their lives to preserving local history and sharing it with anyone willing to stop and listen.
It wasn’t until much later that I realized many of the places I had been visiting were connected through the Texas Forts Trail Region. The forts, museums, historic downtowns, and Texas Historical Commission sites that had captured my attention over the years were all part of a region working together to preserve and promote the history of this part of the state. Looking back, it made perfect sense. I had been exploring the Texas Forts Trail for years without ever knowing it.
Today I’m proud to serve on the Board of Directors for the Texas Forts Trail Region. It’s an opportunity to give something back to the places that have given me so much over the years. Through my work in design, photography, and tourism, I’ve been fortunate to help tell some of these stories, meet remarkable people, and see firsthand the effort that goes into preserving Texas history for future generations.
Heritage tourism means something different to me today than it did when I first drove west from Louisiana. It has become part of my work, part of my photography, and part of my life. Along the way, I’ve gained a real appreciation for the people who dedicate themselves to preserving Texas history and making sure those stories continue to be shared.
I still find myself looking down a county road I’ve never traveled before. Old habits are hard to break.