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...
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