It should be called Magnificent Bend

Good evening, Campers! It’s Silver Cliche’ with you again. Tonight’s report is being filed from Big Bend National Park, Texas. I’ll keep it short and let the park tell it’s own story.

The day broke cold and grey. 48 degrees and overcast in Alpine. For us Floridians that was winter conditions. Several of our neighbors from the trailer hood were out in shorts and tee shirts. What’s wrong with these Texas people? (Anyone with a Biden/Harris sticker still on their car is exempt from answering that rhetorical question about Texans. I was only questioning their attire. They are wonderful people. Patriots, even.)

I was feeling about 25% of the symptoms I was warned about following Moderna #2. Worst for me was “injection site pain”. Maybe a little fever. Not much suffering given the prospect of protection. We hit the grocery on the way out of town and pressed south for Big Bend.

Mrs. C’ resumed photog duties. Here are shots as we rolled along:

We got to our campsite at about 2:00. Tonight we are in a “primitive” site. Specifically, we are about 3 1/2 miles down a gravel road from the main thoroughfare through the park. There is a trailhead at the end of the road and five campsites strewn along the route. It was a 5 MPH journey given the class 6 washboard and its effect on the Airstream. There is another site in this turnout with us. So far, nobody has shown up to occupy it.

When campers put a trailer into a camp spot, it’s customary to back in and leave by shifting into “D”. Of course, most campsites have some sort of concrete or asphalt pad, water, electric and “dump” connections placed strategically and neighbors watching to see if the team of driver and spotter know what they are doing (for us, the spotter gets consistently higher marks than the driver). Here, none of that applies. This is a gravel turnout with no specific place to put the trailer, no water, no electric, no dump. So, I got out, looked at the horizon, picked the direction for the hatch, pulled in nose-first, turned the recliners around to enjoy the view and snapped this pic:

Mrs. C’ took a walk after feeding the dogs and found something with a softer touch.

The high desert is in bloom with shades of yellow, blue and red.

That’s it for tonight! A short jaunt to another part of the park where the campground we will be in is on the Rio Grande and looking across open water at Mexico. Anyone with a MAGA 2020 sticker will be exempt from commenting on that post!

Later...

We needed a good shot in the arm!

Good evening, Campers! It’s Silver Cliche’ with you from beautiful Alpine, Texas!

So, first things first... my COVID vaccination story. I had been trying to get vaccinated in Vero Beach and specifically with the J&J “one and done” shot before we left. I failed. I was able to get the first dose of Moderna. Hey, I figured that gives some immunity and maybe I could pick up the second shot somewhere. I started looking ahead and learning about each state’s vaccination scheme. Since I was tied to Moderna, it looked like Texas was my best bet. My 14 day window of opportunity opened today, so I started looking for a place to get shot somewhere between Del Rio (where we were supposed to be tonight) and El Paso. Bingo... Alpine, Texas. I emailed the Prescription Shop (pharmacies are key to vaccine delivery in Texas) and got a reply from Meredith there. She exuded West Texas hospitality and a hugely helpful (and encouraging... and reassuring) attitude. Of course they would vaccinate me. She offered dates and times. I couldn’t do any of them until we rerouted and I saw a chance to drive hard yesterday and today to get here. Mrs. C’ okayed the plan. I reached the Prescription Shop at 3:40 this afternoon. Ms. Emily hit me with a dose that was quick and painless at 4:04 and I walked out after my compulsory anaphylaxis wait at 4:19. You can add “efficient” to the other accolades above.

So... I want to share the highest thanks and the “Silver Cliche’ aluminum star of hospitality” (this is the first time it has been bestowed) to Meredith, Emily and the team who supports them at the Prescription Shop... that’s 909 E Holland Ave, Alpine, TX 79830... oh, and (432) 837-3498. I’m quite sure they fill prescriptions and sell various things of a pharmaceutical nature. If you are ever in Alpine, Texas and need that stuff, you now know where to go. Tell ‘em a fan of their work sent you.

Thanks so much, ladies!

Alpine... Alpine... I’ll get back to that. Let’s retrace the day.

It was cool and grey in Kerrville this morning. Around 70. Knowing that we had ground to cover, we planned an earlier than usual start. We rolled onto I-10 heading west. Recall that 24 hours earlier we were on Gulf Coast sand. Now we were in Hill Country. We moved up and down a bit but stayed in hills, hardwoods and right around 2,000’ above sea level for an hour or two. It was grey and even got cooler. Slowly, over the course of an hour, everything changed. The sky cleared. The temperature rose. The elevation increased. The stone visible in the road cuts turned to a light cream. The rocks were clearly sedimentary with some soft layers that crumbled into sand. The trees grew shorter and in some places were dead or absent. Signs of civilization, towns and development faded. The posted speed limit was up to 80 MPH. Eventually there was an overhead sign that warned of an upcoming 70 mile stretch with no gas stations. That’s an attention getter if you drive something that burns a gallon every 9 miles at 70 MPH (driving the posted limit out here is simply out of the question for us). The next two exits should have been labeled “Last” and “Chance”. We took “Last” and gassed.

In a little over 24 hours we had moved from coastal humid subtropical to the high desert. One of our readers whose initials are “SC” suggested that a route map once in a while might help. Here is today’s route.

After our gas stop, we rolled to the next I-10 rest area, cracked open the fridge and gave dogs and humans an hour off the road. It looks like this:

Mrs. C’ took on a new role today. I think I forced it on her with the back-to-back long driving days that were needed for me to make my appointment with Meredith and Emily. She is now the official en-route photographer. I thought she was inching up to that decision the other day when I started taking pics to form another “Silver Cliche’ Driving Experience” triptych to share with you. Many of you know Mrs. C’s gentle, subtle forms of expression. It’s a product of her southern upbringing by Catholic nuns, I think. Well, as I wielded the camera with one hand and the wheel of the Tundra with the other she gently offered “If you crash this thing while taking frickin’ pictures and I survive the crash I’m going to beat you bloody with a frickin’ stuck!”. I sensed it was her way of offering to take a stronger role in documenting our journey. Today she did. I love that about her.

Here are the first “Mrs. Cliche’ Passenger Experience” shots. Those of you who are iPhone photographers may recognize the “pano” of the Tundra with the landscape outside. Don’t go all “vertigo” on me. The panorama feature does strange things when part of the scene is stationery and part is whizzing by. I like it.

So... Alpine. First off, I really appreciate the fact that this town was evidently named by someone with a snarky sense of humor who is not quite as witty as he thinks he is... ah... not that I actually know anyone like that. Let’s play word association, ok? When I say “Alpine” you say... class?... right!... “Heidi”. Like this:

(From IMDB.com)

Instead of edelweiss and tall conifers, our Alpine looks like this:

(From “TravelAwaits.com”)

No Heidi... lots of cow hide. No flugelhorn... just train horns. I love it! Alpine!

We made a couple of stops in town before checking in to the Lost Alaskan RV Park (aka, the “trailer hood”... thanks to Toby Keith for that). Our impressions of Alpine were shaped by Meredith’s attitude and supported by the other folks we met. Maybe it’s time to dust off the “Silver Cliche’ Authenticity Test” or SCAT once again. That is a measure of pretentiousness of small towns we visit. The low water mark is (and probably always will be) Jackson, Wyoming. The only town that comes close to that level is Estes Park, Colorado. Any town that could adopt as its motto “Trying to be what you think you should find here” is not authentic. Alpine is authentic. It seems to be a town that is what it wants and needs to be, not a town trying to be what it thinks you want it to be. I like that.

Tomorrow we have the morning free to tour around Alpine and reprovision, then we head into Big Bend National Park. There is a possibility that we won’t have a connection to the outside world tomorrow night, or Friday, or Saturday. If that’s the case, I’ll write anyway and post when I can.

Later... 

Head for the hills!

Good evening Campers! It’s Silver Cliche’ with you again. Tonight’s report is from the Texas Hill Country near Kerrville, Texas.

The day dawned damp and foggy at Matagorda. I felt like Zach and I had walked all the jettys (maybe that should be jetties... oh well, that was this morning, this is now. When Random House publishes my memoirs my editor can straighten that out. I’ve got stories to tell.) and taken all the pictures that Matagorda had to offer us. We slept with the trailer windows open and the fans running. The indoor weather this morning showed 91% humidity. Some of the laundry that felt nearly dry at bedtime felt damper this morning. Given that we live 1/4 mile from the ocean, you’d think we’d be ready to camp successfully 1/4 mile from the ocean. I guess not.

We gave the trailer a good cleaning out including dumping this and refilling that and generally sweeping out the sand and dog fur. We hit the road with some shopping and dining planned for San Antonio, 3 1/2 hours away. If you recall, we stayed in Matagorda two extra days to avoid the heat we expected if we had left Padre Island today and headed for Del Rio. The planned stop for tonight would have been deep in the interior of the southern tip of Texas. During the drive to San Antonio it was cloudy and never reached 80. When we stopped at about 2:00 it was 75 and occasional sprinkles. We picked a spot to land for the night and we haven’t even turned on the AC. What the heck? Had I spent hours replanning for nothing? The Weather Channel app gave me the answer. Here in Kerrville? 74 degrees and cloudy with an overnight low of 67. We have electricity, water,

However, in Cotulla where we had planned to be it was 87 and sunny but it feels like 94 and an overnight low of 76 was forecast. Tomorrow? One hundred and freakin’ two in Cotulla!

I allowed myself an extra ice cream bar as recognition for a job well done. I rewarded myself, you see, because nobody gets recognition for something like this. Telling your traveling companions “The plan I created would have led to major discomfort for you, but I changed the plan. TaDa!” Gets as much appreciation as “Honey, I repaired your family heirloom table... after I broke it.” Sometimes pride is a personal matter.

Anyway... we are in Kerville, Texas and quite comfortable tonight. That’s all that counts. Tomorrow we will head to Alpine and Thursday into Big Bend National Park for three nights.

So... the Hill Country. I’ve heard about it my whole life I think. It’s a big area that starts at Austin and San Antonio (they are about 80 miles apart with Austin to the northeast of San Antonio) and includes between 20 and 30 counties to the west depending on whose definition of “Hill Country” you chose to adopt. We are 100 miles west of Austin and 65 northwest of San Antonio somewhere near the middle of this storied region. My first impression is that Texas Hill Country is almost exactly like the Hill Country in your state. Think Poconos, Catskills, Ozarks, Berkshires, etc.. The road cuts at the tops of hills on I-10 expose sedimentary rock just the same as the road cuts at the tops of interstates in your area. The main state routes wind along valley floors and follow streams and creeks with small towns frozen in time. Vacation homes on hillsides look down on decaying mobile homes and other modest dwellings in the lower elevations. The occasional boat storage area implies people come here to enjoy the water even though no lakes are in sight. You’ve probably seen a place like this if you’ve ventured out even if you haven’t been here to Texas Hill Country.

I can’t make a proper blog post without a picture. Our lunch stop was at the Barbecue Station in San Antonio. It was still looking good when we unwrapped it at the table in the Airstream when we parked. It was good. Mrs. C’ said my own recipes are better. Who am I to disagree? (Especially when I was there before she even spoke up). One day maybe I’ll write a piece on barbecue. The three points of comparison I’d make between my own and the Barbecue Station are: 1. Pork shoulder does not smoke well over oak, although beef brisket does (we have a winner!) 2. The secret ingredients to cole slaw are rice vinegar and celery seeds and 3. pinto beans cooked “cowboy style” need a significant amount of bacon. Pardon the criticism... it was quite good anyway and very photogenic!

Another 300 miles west tomorrow. Stop back to hear about the end of Hill country and the start of the high desert.

Later...

I’m sorry, Bay City is closed today

Good evening, Campers! It’s Silver Cliche’ checking in with you for one more (and probably final) time from Matagorda Bay Nature Center on the Lower Colorado River (of Texas).

The day started early for me today, but it often does. From somewhere around 5:00, Zachary sleeps with his eyes open. His objective is to catch me in any motion or noise that indicates I’m stirring. I’ve been a 6 hour-a-night guy my entire adult life. 5:00 usually signals a time when my body has had enough. That’s nearly assured if crazy dreams or the thoughts of how to manage life on the road and our responsibilities back home invade my brain. Today Zack saw his opening and he pounced. A wagging tail in the face and a lick to an exposed ankle was all it took. We were up.

After coffee, a crossword, a scan of the news and more coffee, the sun was coming up. So I grabbed my phone and camera, harnessed Zack and set out for Red Drum Point. There, two vans and two cars well spaced out in the huge parking lot near the jetty. Thinking of the film “Nomadland”, which won best picture last night, I captured this pic of the real thing.

Zack bravely walked about a half mile out the boardwalk with me. It actually goes over the current surf line to get to a short bridge to the stone jetty. The surf was rough enough at dawn that the bridge was wet and being sprayed by each breaker that crashed beneath us. That seemed far enough.

I posted my first new pics to Flickr (the Yahoo! picture sharing site) today after a four year break. Both were from the boardwalk. The full, hi-res versions are there at: https://www.flickr.com/photos/131457232@N02/ but I’ll share the low-res images here.

Today was laundry day. It’s looking like we are going to press on west tomorrow. It was time to take advantage of full hookups and wash clothes and linens. Mrs. C’ was a bit bemused by my laundry routine. There is a lot of operator involvement in the portable laundry biz. It’s like the difference between driving a stick shift in comparison to the automatic washers we all have at home. In some warped, sick way I like that. Here’s a pic of my nemesis in its operating position in the shower enclosure of the Airstream.

That’s the wash tub on the left and the spin dryer on the right. The tub is filled manually from the shower wand (will that be cold, warm or hot?). Rinse is manual, too, The dryer holds half a washer load and spins the living crap out of it. Nature finishes the job.

So after I amused myself in a laundry way for an hour and a half we sat in the screen room watching the gulls feed in the river. A trawler that I had seen working offshore came up the river. Over 80% of the catch offloaded here is gulf shrimp. Note the freeloading pelicans on the boom lines. We also saw a dolphin in the water.

We decided to venture out. Having explored the crossroads of Matagorda yesterday, we headed to the county seat of Matagorda County today. That’s the gleaming metropolis of Bay City - population 17,000, which is about half of the entire county. We drove through the town, took in both sides of the tracks and did some Google searching for topics of interest. We learned that Bay City is essentially closed on Monday. So we did some grocery shopping at the H-E-B (say the name of each letter... don’t try to pronounce it the way morons from Florida do. Huh! Those know-nothings.). Every part of the country has its own regional tastes and grocery stores offer regional products to satisfy those tastes. Here it’s Mexican-influenced. I though I understood that until I encountered this:

I would have bought one out of curiosity but at the size of a bowling ball I didn’t have room to store it anywhere in our tiny home on wheels. Plus, any food that appears to weigh 6 pounds and only cost $1.19 scares me.

Back to Matagorda, dinner “at home” and a little chillin’. I wanted to drive on the beach (under Texas law evidently beaches are public thoroughfares). I took the dogs, jumped in the Tundra and headed off. Mrs. C’ declined. I think she believed it was a “boy thing”... you know... like downshifting a washing machine. I got to the sand, put the truck in 4WD high... reconsidered... went to 4 wheel low and crawled across the sand. About 100 feet into a strip of dry, powdery, freshly wind blown sand above the surf line I started to sink. No, I had not brought the compressor or let the air out of the tires. This was a short beach trip with the dogs. I stopped, put it in reverse, and slowly backed onto the slightly damp, coarser sand that had been my dear friend 30 seconds earlier. I went on a different route that led to the jetty forming one side of the channel entrance between the Gulf of Mexico and the Lower Colorado River. The dogs loved jumping block-to-block on these massive pink granite blocks. Each one is about 6’x6’ and 2’ thick. Each must weigh 20 tons. There are thousands of them in the three jettys here.

So, it’s looking like we will head to the Texas Hill Country tomorrow via San Antonio. Say with us, will you?

Later...

It’s more of a concept than an itinerary

Good evening, campers! It’s Silver Cliche’ reporting again tonight and from... well... we’ll get to that in a minute.

When I wrapped up last night I said that we were going to ponder our options. There is very hot weather coming in, although today was comfortable and beautiful. Our plan for the next week included driving south to Padre Island today for two nights then heading west with one-night stops in the middle of nowhere then near Del Rio, Texas then into Big Bend National Park then to Marfa, Texas and finally Hueco Tanks State Park before leaving Texas via El Paso. That would have been 9 straight nights without being plugged in. That means no AC unless we fire up the generators. 

Talking about it over breakfast today we decided that the trailer and truck are ready for that, but the dogs and us are not. So, we checked here at Matagorda Bay Nature Park, they had openings and we moved the trailer to a waterfront site with the Lower Colorado River (of Texas, not the one you may be familiar with that formed the Grand Canyon) out our door. We are set to wait out the heat, or at least position ourselves to take a different route with different stops. At this point we still plan to swing through Big Bend for three nights then Marfa then Hueco Tanks.

Far from being disappointed, this is a part of the process of moving around the country, dealing with the unexpected and keeping the big picture in mind while not sweating the small stuff. Instead of a three hour drive to be on a beach in Texas, we stayed here to be on a beach in Texas. That gave us time to kick back a bit. Part of the day was testing out new gear. Most significantly, we set up the screen tent for the first time. In buggy regions, this is a potential welt-saver for enjoying the outdoors. Coleman says this enclosure can go from storage bag to ready-to-use in 60 seconds. Mrs. C’ decided to time me and photograph the process. I cautioned that the first set-up might take a bit more time. That was especially important since I had not bothered to read the instructions. At the one minute mark Mrs. C’ snapped the following.

With practice, I think I can live up to the advertisement. Here’s the finished product next to the truck and trailer at our new site on the banks of the Lower Colorado River (of Texas).

After whittling away the morning we decided to explore Matagorda and headed to town. It’s about a 10 minute drive. The village is a crossroads with a store/gas station, two beach shops, two fishing outfitters and a few restaurants. Up the road is a marina with a restaurant and a couple of up-scale boutiques. We ate at the marina and visited several of the shops. A much better day than driving three hours to another beach. Matagorda has a smattering of beach cottages and a significant lock for commercial shipping. Mrs. C’ caught a couple of pics as we drove home.

This evening I drove a short distance in the park with the dogs to one of the three jettys that form the mouth of the Lower Colorado River where it meets the Gulf of Mexico.

And tomorrow? We’ll see... and we’ll watch the weather.

Later...

Mata what?

Good evening, Campers! It’s Silver Cliche’ here again. We are checking in with you tonight from Matagorda Bay Nature Center in beautiful Matagorda, Texas. 

First off, if the Houston police come to your door and ask if you know me or my whereabouts, say “never heard of him nor have I been reading his blog”. Thanks... I’d do the same for you... depending on what they said you had done, of course. I guess that condition in my support requires a confession. Fair enough. I’m a scofflaw in Harris County and suspect it’s only a matter of time before they ‘cuff me and drag me in. While driving on some combination of I-10, I-65, I-45, I-610, State Road 288 and Alt US 90 through Houston, I missed an exit that the GPS wanted me to take. It could happen to anyone driving a 50’ long 7 ton rig that’s 8 1/2 feet wide in a 9’ lane in traffic in a strange city while debating the true meaning of “I’m going to brush the dog”. I think you understand what I’m saying. I missed a left exit no less. So, the GPS first asked me why I did not do what she told me to do. Thanks, Google... that helped! Then she said she had a plan and I damn well better follow it this time because if I didn’t she might just quit bailing my ass out of my mistakes. I followed it precisely including going under a sign that said “EZ Tag Only - No Cash”. Did I obey that? No I did not. Was I deliberately ignoring the law? No I was not. How could that be? Well, in addition to the EZ Tag requirement there was a sign that showed the current cost and it said “No Toll” so I applied logic. Whether I had an EZ Tag or not the result was the same. Therefore, at that moment I did not need one. The prohibition was null and void and I proceeded. About a mile down the road another sign said “Toll $1.45”. I had fallen for the oldest trick in the book... the “Texas Gotcha”. Now I’m sure there is a picture of my face and the Airstream in the hands of every Texas Ranger whether they are moving by car, boat, helicopter or pony. But I think we have given them the slip. We’re hiding out in Matagorda in a campground with about 80 rigs including at least five Airstreams. It’s hard to find a needle in a stack of needles. Your move, lawman!

So, most of this trip has been unseasonably cool given the latitudes we’ve traveled. That changed at 12:58 AM. The four of us were asleep in the Airstream at Sea Rim State Park in Sabine Pass, TX. That’s right, the same place that warns you about crabbing when alligators can hear you. The sleeping order was the one we’ve settled into. Here’s a pic of the new bed arrangement that I took before the trip started. 

That’s our new queen-sized Nectar mattress as viewed looking forward in the trailer. Our heads are toward the window and, beyond that, the truck. To the right is the custom 11” thick foam dog bed cut to fit the curve of the trailer’s wall. The plan was to have Mrs. Cliche’ on the left (it has space to dangle her feet over the bedside), me on the other side, Romeo in his 18” round nest bed on the dog bed next to my shoulders and Zachary in the rest of the dog bed. As in war, plans like that last until the first shot is fired, then the pieces start moving on their own. The above plan is implemented nightly when we turn in and I kick the dogs out of my side of the bed and into their assigned positions. Within minutes of the time I fall asleep (Mrs. Cliche’ has been monitoring this nightly), Zachary leaves his assigned position and takes the watch for all of us in the center of the queen bed with the tip of his snout aligned with the foot of the bed. This puts his powerful hind legs somewhere near my waist and his tail near my nose. Working with the skill of an orthodontist, or a boa constrictor, he applies mild continuous pressure to my midsection to slowly move me from “my side” of the queen onto the dog bed. This strategy is more or less successful for him depending on the length and depth of the first phase of my sleep. Last night at 12:58 AM an amazing lightning strike hit somewhere near the trailer. It was accompanied by strong wind and intense rain. It was also accompanied by Romeo leaping from his nest and across my shoulders to dive under the covers on Mrs. Cliche’s side of the bed. Most surprised of all was Zachary (who doesn’t share Romeos fear of thunder) who was interrupted mid-plan. By 3 AM the storm had passed but so had our prospects for more cool weather. I awoke at about 6:00 with my legs in the dog bed.

The morning was densely foggy. I got none of the pics I wanted. I do have one to share that I took during a brief clearing. It’s an iPhone 12 panorama. I used to do lots of panoramas with my Canon EOS, but Cannon dropped the software that stitches individual pics into panoramas. Hopefully I’ll have a substitute soon.

If you want more of the “Sea Rim in the morning” experience just stare at the side of an elephant or the hull of a battleship. There... that saved you a trip to Sabine Pass.

The drive was a bit long and somewhat tedious despite passing through the center of America’s 4th most populous city. It rises quickly and fades fast from an almost featureless coastal plain. Mrs. C’ did catch a few more pics of the booming energy economy of Texas. We figured we ought to record it before it is extinguished. Ask a coal miner.

So, where exactly are we? Matagorda, Texas. Don’t feel bad, I never heard of it either until I saw it on a map of campgrounds. Evidently, no recent hurricane has hit precisely here. Lucky them. It’s probably easier to show you with two Google map screen shots. The blue dot is us about halfway between Galveston and Corpus Christi.

And a close-up shows this park, the Gulf of Mexico and a huge amount of outdoor recreation. I’m a bit concerned about our proximity to Red Drum point. I saw “ The Shining”. I see the similarity between Red Drum and redrum. If we don’t return, tell the authorities to drag Jack Nicholson in for questioning. 

Anyhow, tomorrow we are supposed to press south. We may just not do that. Looking ahead, the weather is about to turn wicked hot in the southern tip of Texas. For the next several days we have no specific reservations and anywhere we might land would not have electricity. The one feature we can’t support with the spiffy new batteries is air conditioning. But we have power here... and they have space... and we may lay low until the heat moves through and we can either do without AC or make a plan that keeps us comfortable as we move around America.

Tune in tomorrow to see how that worked out!

Later...

Don’t bother us, we’ve got s#!t to do!

Good evening, Campers! It’s Silver Cliche’ with you again. Tonight I’m writing from a very windy Sea Rim State Park in Sabine Pass, Texas.

In the past week I’ve talked about the beauty of being closer to the country and it’s people when traveling on anything other than an interstate and I’ve talked about the rhythm of the road. Today (and tomorrow... and Sunday...) was a travel day. We had about 2 1/2 hours and 130 miles to cover. That’s an easy day in this business. So, we proceeded to kill the morning and part of the afternoon lounging around the Airstream. Eventually, even the dogs started pointing at the clock and shrugging their shoulders. Speaking of dogs, we have been having a challenge keeping up with the accumulation of fur around the trailer. You see, Zach in 50% golden retriever but his coat is 200% golden retriever and this is shedding season. Airstreamers have adopted the pink flamingo as their unofficial mascot. You can get pink flamingo this and pink flamingo that accessories for your Airstream. I’m sure many other animals were considered and rejected. I want to reaffirm that rejecting the golden retriever — especially during the spring shedding season — in favor of the pink flamingo was a very wise decision indeed.

Mrs. Cliche’ and I will celebrate our 39th wedding anniversary on the trip... provided we are still speaking to each other on day 92. Coincidentally, it will be the day we camp in our 48th state... Delaware. Don’t get all misty on me. I didn’t plan it that way. But don’t tell Mrs. Cliche’ I said that. I might need to play that card as a wild card to cover some other transgression that I don’t yet realize I’m going to commit between Texas and Delaware. Anyway, golden retrievers and Airstreams. I shared that part about about 39 years because I should know when I’m being played, but I don’t. For the past several days in response to the fur menace Mrs. Cliche’ has mentioned that she was going to brush Zachary. I said “capital idea!”. She said that she didn’t know where I had stowed his deshedding brush. “Why, it’s right here my dear” I said as I produced it for her. During our off time this morning I decided that the brush needed to be used or re-stowed, so I used it. Then I looked to the ceiling, froze in that position for several seconds and said “wait a minute” and I got out my well worn copy of the “Husband’s guide to effective communication”. I have the Diamond Jubilee edition. I turned to chapter 6, “translating wife-speak”. I looked up “I’m going to brush the dog”. OMG! That translates to “You’re going to brush the dog”. I had been duped. It was a productive session nonetheless. Ten minutes of brushing removed a sizable pile of fur. We measure fur piles in a unit of measure called the “Romeo” in honor of our 12 pound chihuahua/pug mix. Today’s haul was estimated to be 1.2 Romeos

So... back to the trip. Google Maps gave me three options to get from Welsh, Louisiana to Sabine Pass, Texas. The fastest was mostly I-10. The slowest was a route that included a ferry crossing of the Lake Charles ship channel. The intermediate option used a bit of I-10 to avoid the ferry. Fortunately, I looked deeper into the ferry before picking that route. It is currently in dry dock. C’mon Google! My odds of seeing my next wedding anniversary would have plunged if I had talked up that route only to have me arrive at an empty ferry dock and backtrack 45 minutes!

So we popped on I-10 for 20 minutes. It is clear that Southwest Louisiana is all about getting things done. The businesses visible from I-10 were gritty. There were agriculture equipment businesses, oil and gas services businesses, welding, crane, steel, compressor, generator and diesel repair businesses. Most of them included an active business and a history of past work displayed as a debris trail being overcome by more and taller weeds. You see, there isn’t time for sweeping up the detritus here... that unproductive task takes away from producing food and energy that the rest of the country covets.

In addition to the unabashed display of American work ethic, this region wears a display of scars from recent battles. These wounds are still open and probably raw. Hurricane Laura hit this region in late August of last year as a Category 4 and the strongest storm to hit the state since 1856. You may recall a storm named Katrina that hit Louisiana, Laura was stronger. My first clue and reminder came as we approached Lake Charles (the city, not the lake itself) on I-10. I saw a tall, glass building with a curious mosaic pattern of green and tan. It turns out that the tan were plywood panels that have replaced glass on the Capitol One tower until new panels are made to replace what Laura removed.

Shortly after that we turned south to head toward the Gulf. The evidence of destruction increased as we rolled the 30 miles or so from I-10 to the Gulf. So did the beauty of the landscape. We spent over 30 minutes on a two lane state road surrounded by reed marshes. The birds were plentiful. So were buildings covered with blue tarps, buildings missing siding, large debris (including a complete vending machine in a bayou)m debris in piles (clearly house parts and household possessions), temporary neighborhoods of travel trailers in parking lots and other public displays of pain.

This area is far more spectacular than I imagined. Despite deteriorating weather, we could see the beauty and the potential this area has for outdoor life and sporting. As we continued along the Gulf toward the Texas state line the economic activity increased. This is first and foremost energy country. Port Arthur’s waterfront includes refineries, shipyards, chemical processing plants and God knows what else. If a business makes smoke, smell or open flames, this is where it thrives! If you captured the air from Port Arthur in a peanut butter jar and returned it to the store shelf it would have to be labeled “chunky”.

So, 20 minutes southwest from Port Arthur we reached Sea Rim State Park. The campground is right on the beach with only a dune line and some scrub separating us from the surf. The wind report in 18 MPH off the ocean and gusting to 37 MPH, it’s hitting us broadside and rocking the trailer (no... I am not lowering the stabilizers to increase comfort... I’m telling my trailer-mates that this reminds us that boating is also in our blood). Here’s a pic of us this evening taken from the boardwalk that leads from the campground to the beach. That’s us in the center with the tacky map on the back window.

Longtime readers of this blog know that I like to offer education whenever possible. Tonight is just such a time. I walked the dogs and took the above pic before it got dark. In the parking lot I noticed a sign whose wisdom was worth sharing with you. When I asked a Ranger why this was necessary he told me the story of John Francesca (for whom the ranger station building is named). The Ranger explained that John stood in that very parking lot complaining about how the alligators in the area were driving away the fish which he had driven all the way from Dallas to catch. He was insisting that something must be done about the alligators or he was going to call the Governor in Austin to demand action. Evidently the alligators overheard John and offered their feedback in a way that alligators are known to do.

Tomorrow we have a similar trip south to Matagorda, then Sunday to Padre Island National Seashore. I hope you’ll come along with us!

Later...