No island, no geese, but lots of mosquitos.
With so much of Texas under water, it was hard to find a state park or campground that was still open. The one state park unaffected by recent storms (see Texas-Sized Weather) was Goose Island, down on the Gulf Coast near Corpus Christi. So Beth and Don (my sister and brother-in-law) drove their little Airstream there from Sugar Land, and we met them.
Vampire Attack
I guess it’s not accurate to say the park was unaffected by recent weather. It might not have flooded, but the rains had turned the park into one big mosquito larvae petri dish. And any time we stepped foot outside our RVs we were swarmed by ravenous newly hatched little skeeters who drank from us like an oasis pond in the middle of the Sahara. No wonder this campground was nearly empty. (At least the campsite loops in the trees. Those camping along the sea wall had it easier.)
We fended off mosquitos with the screen tent.
First thing we did after hooking Bessie up was to pull out a screen shelter I’d bought Kate for her birthday last year. Most of Oregon isn’t bothered much by mosquitos and we’d only used it once before, but we were sure grateful for it here. We set up chairs and tables inside it and lounged about with iPads, games, and snacks, taking turns swatting at interlopers with our bug zapper racket. We could have just moved the party into Bessie, but we were determined to do some actual “camping” together here in the woods, even though it was a muggy 93.
Heron with a catfish.
Beth and Don set up dinner to cook in a Dutch Oven with charcoal briquettes, and we all smeared ourselves with Deet for a pre-dinner walk to gulf. Bailey was disappointed to discover that there was no beach, only sea walls that startled her with splashing waves and a boat ramp scattered with catfish heads. But we still enjoyed seeing the gulf, the surrounding wetlands, and some beautiful birds. We must have sweated off the Deet by the time we returned to the trees, because the skeeters gave us a 10 star welcome, and Beth did an arm-waving, leg-kicking skeeter dance all the way back to our site.
Early the next morning, while the temps were still in the 80s, I donned long sleeves and pants and rode my bike back to the gulf and wetlands. On a bike, I was less of a target for the mosquitos, and I got to see some beautiful birds fishing in the green marshes that have recently been restored by naturalists. I rode out to the long pier built for fishers, and watched people casting nets into the marshes to catch bait.
Fawn in flowers.
Rockport for Lunch
It really wasn’t so fun hanging around the buzzing campsite, so we left Bailey in Bessie and piled into the CRV for a drive. We stopped at a few sights Beth and Don had discovered on an earlier visit: a tiny Catholic Church with a garden shed confessional, an old cemetery, a 1,000-year-old oak tree, and we spotted what we think was a rare-for-these-parts black and white hawk eagle in a tree. We also stopped to try to help a tiny fawn who couldn’t follow its mother over a chain-link fence.
In Rockport, we found a fun restaurant on the water: Moondog Seaside Eatery. It had good Yelp reviews, and it was a casual place with great food. I had my first taste of fresh grouper, and it was delicious.
Movie Time
Outdoor movie time.
Beth and Don had brought their favorite movie, “The Long, Long Trailer” with them. It’s a 1960s film with Lucille Ball and Dezi Arnez, about traveling and living in a 48-foot trailer. We all thought it would be fun to watch on the outside TV that came with Bessie. (A feature I found ridiculous when we got her, but kind of fun in the right circumstances.)
We moved the screen shelter right up to the TV and I brought out steamed artichokes for an appetizer. We plugged in a fan we’d bought recently, sprayed ourselves with a spray bottle (another Texas purchase) and managed to be just cool enough to enjoy the movie. Until a thunderstorm whipped up and we scrambled to get everything put away. We got inside Bessie just in time for the thunderous downpour.
Stop at Wharton
Beth and Don packed up early the next morning and high-tailed it home to put their Bambi back in storage and prep their driveway for Bessie. Kate and I dawdled in Bessie, and on the drive home, we stopped at a little town named Wharton for a break.
Wharton County Courthouse.
Two things put Wharton on the map: It’s the home town of Horton Foote, author of “Trip to Bountiful,” which was written about a woman’s return to Wharton, and it’s the place of a Bonnie and Clyde shootout.
Wharton has a beautiful County Courthouse in the middle of its town square, but that’s about all that’s left of its heyday. It was Sunday, and what was left of the town was shut down. Most of the storefronts were empty anyway. Some had been turned into folding chair churches. One tiny coffee shop had a permanent sign on the door that said, “Customers, please call me at… and I’ll be here in 10 minutes or so.” Kind of spooky and sad.