Excerpt from the Diary of Col. Wm. Fairfax Gray:

Thursday, February 11, 1836
"Rose early and saddle for a start by sunrise, intending to reach Sims’ to breakfast, sixteen miles. Crossed a watercourse called Bidais (pronounced Beedeyes, and so written by many of the illiterate country people); the rain of yesterday had swollen it very much. Arriving at the cabin of Eduardo Ariola, a Mexican, was informed that it was so full that we should have to swim. Met here Dr. Field, who left Nacogdoches on Saturday, returning, who said he could not cross. But we prevailed on a young Mexican, who called his own name Dolores Ariola, to show us the ford, which he readily undertook. Coming to a creek which had flowed out beyond its banks upwards of 100 yards, he manfully waded in and sounded the bottom to point out to us a safe path. We took our saddle bags on our shoulders and followed him, our Texas fellow traveler, Whitely, first, and I next. It took the poor Mexican up to his arms. He was dressed only in shirt and cotton trousers and shoes, I got over with only one foot a little wet; the water came over my boot and ran down, which would not have happened had I not lent my leggings to the Captain, who improvidently had taken the road in his best military pants, without leggings. About one-half a mile further on we came to another branch of the same watercourse, within steep, narrow banks. Our young Mexican friend ran on with us in his wet clothes, to show us across that, and on the way very obligingly instructed me in the Spanish vocabulary, as far as there was time to make inquiries. The second stream presented greater difficulties than the first. We stripped our horses and carried our saddles and baggage across on a log road. The difficulty then was to get our horses over. We attempted to drive them, but they bolted, and were with difficulty caught and brought back. The Mexican then stript (sic) and mounted Dr. H.’s mare, which he swam across; the others were than driven in and followed, but Capt. Sherman’s mare went too low down the stream, and striking a steep bank, among drift wood, was near drowning before she could be got over. The obliging alactrity of the young Mexican in serving us, and the exposure he underwent, called for our commendation and liberal reward, with which he seemed much gratified.

The delay in crossing these streams prevented our reaching Sims’ until 11 o’clock. We found the house kept by a Mexican named Antonio Rios, a native of Nacogdoches, who spoke the English language well, and gave his name as Rivers, but his Gipsy-like visage betrayed his origin. He is a smart, obliging fellow, who has rented the place of Sims, a rude house of two rooms and an open passage: the common style. Here we found a company of eleven men from Tennessee, going to join the army. Having to wait for them to be served, and to rest our horses, we did not leave Rios’ until 2 o’clock, designing to reach the Widow Anderson’s, twelve miles. We did not reach the widow’s until dark, and then found the house to consist of one small room, and no food of any kind for the horses. We got a good supper of the coarse kind usually found on the road, but no sugar for the coffee.

Soon after our arrival a foot traveler, young man from Georgia, who is going to join a volunteer company from that State now in Texas, came in and partook of our supper. He left Nacogdoches about the time we did, and kept up with us, generally sleeping and eating with us. His baggage consists of a surtout coat and saddle bags. These we occasionally relieve him of by carrying for him. He stops for nothing, but pushes right ahead, through rain, mud and watercourses. Today he swam the stream that our horses waded. He did not know the ford that the Mexican showed us. He will make a fine soldier if he lives to reach the army. (Fare and lodging at Larrison’s, 75 cents; dinner and horse feed at Rios’, 75 cents; paid the Mexican 50 cents.) We gave the only spare bed the widow had to the foot passenger, who complained of a little fever, and we slept on the floor. Our poor horses were tied in the woods.

Friday, February 12, 1836
Rose at daylight, wishing to reach Boatwright’s to breakfast, fourteen miles, the only place where we could get food for our horses. A gloomy, drizzling morning, threatening rain. Five miles from Mr. Anderson’s reached the Uagalote, or Turkey Creek, which was so much swollen as to be past fording. We found a log by which we could cross, but our horses must swim. While preparing to do this, a very heavy storm of thunder and rain came on, which wet all our baggage and clothes. We passed our baggage over with difficulty in the midst of the storm. The foot traveler came up at the instant and assisted us. The log was difficult, and we took stations on it, and passed the baggage from one to the other. In driving the horses over one of my overshoes was pulled off by the mud, but for which I should have preserved dry feet. Reached Boatwright’s at 11 o’clock, where we breakfasted, and got corn for our horses. At half past 12 remounted and set out, but found the Caney Creek so much swollen that it could not be passed without swimming. The log was under water, and to cross we could not avoid getting wet, and no chance of entertainment short of Washington, seventeen miles. So we resolved to return and wait for the creek to subside, which we were assured would be the case by morning, if it did not rain again. In the evening another heavy thunder cloud came up…"

ACTIVITY:
Read these entries and write a short paragraph (6-8 sentences) describing the difficulties experienced in traveling in Texas in 1866. How has travel changed today?