We approached TX from the north side of Port Arthur, slipping into the state between Galveston Bay and Houston. We try to avoid these slice-ways of asphalt, these 6-lane strips of high tension and fast driving. Dragging a travel trailer is not fun in this kind of traffic. But, in order to hug the coast, we must punch our way through this congestion. It’s grey and raining. Again. The landscape is even more dreary with the aftermath of Hurricane Ike. At lunch, our waitress in a little Italian restaurant told us she is still waiting for her apartment complex to be rebuilt, hoping to move home in 60 days. We feel her pain. After 18 months, there is still much work to be done before many folks can move home.
One night we stopped in Bay City, TX, at the town campground and golf course. It was 15 miles from town, but in TX terms, that’s practically in the center of town. The little
park was quiet, even spooky because there are signs of life, but we see no people at all. We drove in, found a note on the door telling us to pick a campsite and they’d catch us later. We set up in the shallowest puddle of a campsight we could find, in the drizzling rain, and went for a walk to work off the road jitters. The Christmas light show was still set up in the park, but there would be no lookers now that the frenzy was over and all the gift wrap is on it’s way to the landfill. And, to tell the truth, after having seen both James Island, SC and Bellingrath Gardens in Mobile, this was a little pathetic. But, their spirit was evident! The only life we saw in that park was the 12 deer grazing, and two trees hosting turkey buzzards bedding down for the night. The next morning, we pulled out, leaving some money stuffed in the door of the office, still having seen no humans. There is a photo of the buzzards in the trees in the last post...
The geography is getting firmer, the farther we get from the bayous. Even this close to Cajun country, the restaurants are completely different, as if they are ignoring their food cousins less than a two hour drive to the east. Now, we’re in cow country. Today, we began to see the land flatten and dry out, changing dramatically from watery, boggy fields of crawfish, rice and cane, to grassy prairies and plowed fields that go all the way to the horizon. When I would ask daddy how he could set a row in the field so perfectly straight, he always answered me with a smile. I guess I’ll never know how they do it. There is water here, but from the three weeks of rain, and the ditches are full.
We landed in Rockport, TX in the mid-afternoon, the sun a welcome stranger hitchhiking with us. You can’t swing a cat without hitting a RV park here! We passed at least a dozen in a couple of miles. There are signs everywhere, welcoming the Winter Texans. Always capitalized. So many retirees, wintering here from Minnesota, Michigan and Iowa. So, here we are, in the Capitol of the Snow Birds, on the edge of some of the best birding in the country. Our semi-destination for this trip!
Our campground is The Ancient Oaks campground, less than a mile from the beach. It’s mired ankle deep in mud, and the old folks are gently picking their way between the low spots. While waiting for Stuart to sign in, I saw a man walking very slowly with two canes. He eventually made his way to his motor home and drove away. Hope he can move more easily from accelerator to brake than he can move while walking. Our host led us through the trees, between campers greased into their spaces between each other, to our spot in the open air. He plunged his hand halfway to his elbow to find the sewer cap, and drained some water from the site. I maneuvered our camper as best I could, next to the 5th wheel to our right. Let’s hope they don’t have some contagious disease, we’re so close we would surely catch what they have. Eleven minutes later, we’re camping!
When we bought our first travel trailer, the one we eventually called the Sunbeam because it resembled a little round Sunbeam toaster (and was not much larger!), we spent the first and second nights in Minnesota. The second night, being the Very Proud Owners of our little home on wheels, we were enjoying a cocktail beside our shiny new home (warm, no rain), hoping someone would recognize that we had something new and fabulous. An older man pulled his big-ass motor home into the space beside us, and we watched as he put the behemoth in park. Then, we heard a faint whirring, and watched the levelers drop down close to the front and back corners. A slight adjustment, whirr-whirr, then the tv antennae rose from the roof like a Phoenix, whirr-whirr. A few more minutes of the diesel motor running, and he turned off the motor. The steps whirred their way into position, and the man exited the bus. He walked around to the opposite side, and in a minute or two came around and went back inside. We’re watching all this with no signs of shyness, from our chairs beside our suddenly tiny little home. In a minute, he came back out, fancy folding chair in one hand, drink in the other. With a snap of his wrist, the chair became a chair, he smiled at us and called out, “NOW I’m camping!”
All this took about eleven minutes. We have laughed at this scene since! Camping, with satellite tv, auto-levelers and air-conditioning! I have to tell you, though, we don’t have any mechanical conveniences. But, we do have a system: I back it into place, Stuart puts the leveling boards down with great efficiency. He begins to unhook one side of the leveling bars, I unhook the other. He finishes the unhooking while I plug in the power cord, and the water hose. Then, he’s finished unhooking, and I pull the truck forward, and he levels it front to back. In eleven minutes, we’re camping! If we pull out the awning, it takes both of us, but we don’t pull it out if we’re moving the next day, or if it’s windy. But, that’s another story, for another day.
Here in The Ancient Oaks Campground, there is surely no room for our awning to come down, no matter how long we’re staying. I scanned the newsletter, with the list of events for December, and saw that the Ancient Winter Texans are busy, indeed. Weekly bingo, a Christmas Decoration Contest and a pool tournament are all on the schedule. These folks are busy!
We went into the little harbor, downtown, and toured the very fine Maritime Museum. They have every right to be proud of this. Here, we saw exhibits telling the story of a ship raised from the water after 100 years; learned about the cattle and cattle by-product shipping and the history of Rockport; the shipbuilding industry that supported both the war and the town; and toured the oil industry wing funded with pride by Ken Lay. I learned much about those spindly-looking towers we’ve seen for the past couple of weeks, and more about how the oil is captured and brought to shore.
Stuart loves to look at new travel trailers and dream of the Big One we can neither afford to buy or to pull, so we had to go to the RV lot we’d passed on our way into town, to see the new travel trailers for sale. We spent the rest of the sunny afternoon on the sales lot, Ronnie told us much about the new models. Our little Cottage is 10 years old (thanks, Hurricane Floyd), and not worth much on a trade-in. Of course, we saw a couple we could live in, but thanked him for his time and left without owing any money. Stuart is a happy boy, a fist-full of brochures to dream over. The equivalent of the Sears catalog for a kid at Christmas.
That night, we had dinner at Los Comales, a crowded, noisy restaurant recommended by Ronnie at the RV sales lot. We met a nice local couple, who told us that trying to go to the Aransas Wildlife Refuge was a waste of time. See, there is a full moon now (really beautiful!), and the animals are all feeding at night. When I told them I wanted to see the birds, they said we’d love the place, even though I could tell they didn’t really understand. We laughed together at their clothes for the night: both had on wide striped shirts. I thought they might be jailbirds, which made them laugh even more.
We are close to Padre Island, part of the necklace of islands along the TX coast that hosts enormous bird populations. The day we drove out there began with heavy fog. We stopped to see, through the binoculars, the lighthouse off the coast. It is now owned by the man who owns the huge TX grocery store chain, HEB. He bought it in the 1980’s, renovated both the keepers house and the lighthouse, and now has a full-time care-taker living there. Tours by invitation only, I remind you! We caught the free ferry across the Aransa Pass, and the eleven minute crossing entertainment was provided by about a dozen dolphins fishing for lunch in front of the ferry. Having the front row parking spot was perfect. At Port Aransas, we drove south. This little island is about the width of Wrightsville Island, and probably shorter. Another man-made causeway connects Port A with north Padre Island and Mustang Island State Park. We drove through, turning right and on to Corpus Christi, and back to the Ancient Campground for lunch. By now, the fog had burned off, and it was a beautiful day. Stuart decided to do the laundry, and I took my bike out for a tour of the town.
We’re on the main road, TX 35, which is pretty busy, so I turned off it as soon as possible, and zig-zagged my way to the coast road. There, I pedaled as far south as the road went, past the summer cottages mostly boarded for winter. Then, back-tracking, I pedaled through the little town, walking my bike along the 2 blocks of businesses, window-shopping the little art galleries. In the little town, I found a little birding sanctuary, one that was begun by Mary….in the 1930’s. She was really the start of the eco-tourism business here. The little motor court where she and her husband lived and worked was memorialized with a small park now. Mostly underwater today because of the recent rains, but well preserved in her honor. I pedaled through the little town, and to the end of the public beach. What a nice spot, a little spit of land between the barrier islands and the Copano Bay. A couple of hours later, I returned home, to find Stuart and a load of clean laundry. We cooked a steak on our tiny grill for dinner, all the while swatting the biggest mosquitoes I’ve ever seen. Whooo, they grow ‘em big here!
Aransas National Wildlife Refuge is just north of Rockport, and covers the entire peninsula between Matagorda Island and northern Copana Bay. It’s one of the biggest wildlife refuges in the country, and home of a wonderfully diverse winter bird population. Snow birds in the real sense of the word. ANWR is particularly proud of the migratory whooping crane population that call this place their winter home. There are about 450 whooping cranes in the entire world, and more than 240 of them winter here. I hope to see at least one today! It’s a cold, clear day. I have a wool hat, gloves, heavy coat with lots of pockets, and a good pair of binoculars. And, a picnic lunch on the seat beside me. With a map provided by the visitor center, I hit the first trail. Two hours later, I emerged from the half-mile long trail, dazed and happy. What things I have seen! The biggest ‘gator I’ve ever seen: this dude is about the size of our trailer. Lots of ducks, both dabblers and divers and a flock of roseate spoonbills. And, lots of white pelicans. Now, we have brown pelicans on our lovely coast, but I’ve never seen white pelicans. They are larger in both size and numbers than our endangered brown pelicans, and vocal. I also saw my first kiskadee, id’d by a woman from Corpus Christi, and I saw lots of egrets and cranes. Oh, and a few armadillos up close. After a short, late lunch break, I walked the oak trail, and climbed the steps to the observation tower at the south end of the preserve. There, after a while, I saw the pair of whooping cranes in the marsh. They were graceful and big, wading through the shallow water, eating and looking around. They shared the scene with some deer, behind them in the marsh, and lots of white pelicans. The daylight was dwindling, so I headed home, chilled but happy with the sights of the day. This was a highlight of the trip for me.
We’re on the road again, driving through enormous ranches and not much else. There is a huge ranch here, the King Ranch (no relationship, unfortunately), that is not measured in acres, but in Rhode Islands. Three of them, to be exact. It has it’s own post office and zip code. According to AAA, the population of Kingsville is 290 people, none of whom are visible. Folks sure like their privacy here. How a cow lives on this dry land is beyond me. We don’t even see many cattle, but see the fences and the local feed/seed stores every hour or so. Wait, there is a herd now…they have very long horns, sweeping straight towards their tails. And, a few of the long-horns, with their horns growing impossibly far to each side of their heads.
The signs we see are increasingly in Spanish, and English is disappearing. The radio stations are also mostly Spanish. By the time we get to Brownsville, TX, English has almost disappeared. No one has asked for my passport yet, but I feel like there will be a border agent in my face any minute, asking for ID. Our campground is on the southwest side of town, Breezelake Campground. I learned that the Winter Texans have been coming here for more than 25 years. In a few casual conversations with some of the local ‘citizens’, it’s obvious they don’t have much use for anyone who doesn’t speak the way they do. And, the suggestion of crossing the border brings looks of distrust and comtempt. But, the schedule of events in the campground excuses them from any outside contact: bingo, pool tournaments and ‘the girls with their beads’ meet daily, keeping everyone busy and connected. And, there’s the activity of watching for new arrivals, too. We’re gated in, so there is no danger of crime here in the mobile home park.
This area has been under 7 flags since Europeans began invading. It’s no wonder there is confusion as to their nationality. But, Brownsville, TX is one of the busiest international ports in the country. The Valley, as this lower Rio Grande River Valley is called, offers much for big ships, and to the large plants that have sprung up in northern Mexico in the past few years. Brownsville’s population is about 150,000 people, and they ALL drive a pick-up truck or huge SUV. No gas worries here.
We drove down to Port Isabel, to see the lighthouse. This is the only lighthouse in TX open to the public. We climbed to the top, and admired the view of the South Bay and Gulf. This lighthouse guides ships to the Port of Brownsville, which is not on the Rio Grande River, but in the bay. Afterwards, we drove across the bridge to South Padre Island, and admired the McMansions before heading back to the mainland, and some lunch. It’s cold and cloudy, but there is no rain.
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