Day 3-Mustang Island to Galveston

Here comes the hard part.  How do I share all of these places and feelings in a concise, impactful way?  I can’t. 

Each of the places I went (even the hell holes) is mine now. I have to share as much as I can remember.  This won’t work any other way.  Thus, the posts are gonna get really long from here on in.  I’ll do my best to keep it snappy but I ain’t leavin’ anything out.  And so, day 3 from Mustang Island.

Port Aransas and Aransas Pass is really cool. If I sound surprised it’s because before this trip, I’m not sure I knew that they existed.  I’ve lived here almost all of 40 years and I’d never been on most of the coastal Texas roads.  There is real value in a survey trip like this.  Not because you compare one place to another but because you can build a mental mosaic of the region.  Each place, cool or not, becomes an attribute in the personality of the region.  The Gulf coast is everything I thought it would be but I really didn’t know shit about it.

This realization was born on day 1 and by day 3, had really taken root.

Meanwhile, back on Mustang Island…Waking up close to a beach is fantastic.  Before you even open your eyes you know where you are.  The gentle swoosh of wind and waves bring you to consciousness.  It is almost impossible to be in a bad mood when you wake up close to a beach (unless you spent the entire October night (back in 92) in the cab of a two-seater truck with three other people…after digging your buddy’s monte carlo out of the sand 5 times because he just HAD to take out that porta potty...Hell is actually cold by the way, not hot…but that’s a story for another time).  This lovely April evening (and morning), however, was restful and cozy.

Up before dawn.  Up before the seagulls.  Off to take a hot, solitary shower (meaning I was the only one in the bathroom).  Back to camp to eat and pack.  As I walked back to camp, the seagulls saw me.  They said “Oh cool.  Its that asshole with the hot dogs for bait…get him!!!!!”

I began dodging birds and packing gear. Took an hour and a half and I was on the road.

Instead of going back over to Corpus, I decided to stay on the coast and go north.  I ended up in Port Aransas on an unexpected ferry.  It was pretty small and the ride was so fast that I didn’t even really have time to snap pictures.

Image from Maritime-executive.com

On the way over there was a biker in front of me.  Now I saw all kinds of bikers on this trip. From old to young, cruisers to sportbikes to adventure bikes.  One of my favorites was the biker that shared this ferry ride with me.  I only saw her on the bike.  She looked to be in her late teens or early twenties.  Beat up sport bike (which is what you ride when you are that age), a helmet with a plastic green mohawk and silver chains on her belt.  The effect was very cyberpunk.  It made me thing of a character out of one of William Gibson's books.  She is how I looked on the inside when I was that age.

I didn't get the chance to talk to her but I was really interested in the type of biker she was.  It wasn’t an attraction thing.  It’s just rare that you see someone else wearing your personality.

I need to mention the water at this point.  Jade green and clear.  I had to tear my eyes away from the bay and watch the road.  I’m just not used to seeing Texas coast with water this color up against it.  I’ve never really heard anyone talk about this place and it’s beautiful.

I cruised off the ferry and rode up the Aransas Pass main drag. 

  

One of my favorite non-Texas towns is Atchison, Kansas.  Its on the Missouri river which separates Kansas and Missouri.  I could spend pages on Atchison.  My family is from the area and almost every one of them has lived there at some time or another.  My mom was born there and recently moved back.  Towns that remind me of Atchison are instantly on my ‘cool list’.  Aransas Pass reminded me very much of Atchison

It was about two hours past dawn at this point so the light was pretty good.  Still the shady quality of the sun’s low angle and a few well-placed clouds gave the town a kind of sleepy beauty.  The streets were quiet and I felt like I was getting to see an unusually calm version of this town.  Its small, but there was a vibrancy to it that I knew would hit later in the morning.  I was sorry that I couldn’t stay and soak it in. 

I’ll be back to Aransas Pass someday.  It seemed to fit very well.

Up 35 past Rockport and over the LBJ Causeway

LBJ Causeway by JohnnyFulton

I stopped on the north side of the Causeway for gas.  There was a sign for Goose Island State Park.   It was only a few miles away so it seemed like a good place to stop for breakfast.  The problem with using back roads is that its hard to tell how much farther you really have to go.  If you change roads every hour or so, distance signs don’t do you much good and its easy to fool yourself into thinking that you are much further along than you actually are.  Thus, thinking that I was actually making good time (I wasn't), it was totally time to have powdered donuts and Starbucks Frappacino at a State Park.  Why not?  

Checked in at the gate and rolled through.  This is really a boat ramp state park BUT some of the roads through and around the park are really cool.  Lots of shade from big networking live oaks and pretty green undergrowth of Chinese Laurel and wildflowers.  Thinking back, it reminds me a hell of a lot of John Pennekamp state park on Key Largo but we’ll get to that later.

The Camphost told me of a really good breakfast spot by the bay.  I sat among the bluebonnets and ate the least healthy breakfast of the trip.  

The bay was quiet, the breeze was nice and there was no one around.  Walking around the park, I noticed this lonely canal with several houses on it.  This was right up against the state park.  I would like to live here for awhile someday.

After Goose Island (there were no Geese and the damn thing seemed pretty connected to the mainland to me) it was really just country roads up to Freeport.  Most of the roads were just cut through farmland.  The only remarkable places were the river bridges.  Each creek whether it was big or small had the same jade green semi-clear water as the Guadalupe river.  It was a nice change from our chocolate milk bayous around here.

Freeport.  Ah Freeport, you confusing motherfucker.  

I got kind of lost in Freeport.  My sense of direction is not great, my phone was throwing a tantrum and the street signs were designed by a schizophrenic meth-addled monkey.  After 30 really angry minutes, I found the bloody bridge to Surfside.  Finally, back on the coast.

My mother and father-in-law rented a beach house for July and they asked me to take a look at it.  Took a little while to find it but I was pretty impressed.  Many of the houses along this part of the coast are pretty damn big.  Big and painted in pastel colors.  I took a break and walked around the house.  I had planned on taking a picture of a bare slab and sending to my father in law with the caption “How will this sleep 18 people” but I couldn’t find a slab.  Oh well, I was crazy late anyways.  Back on the road.

I had been really looking forward to this part.  I love coming at familiar towns from unfamiliar directions. 

I would get to ride the whole length of the Bluewater highway up into Galveston.  This is the road that connects the Surfside and Galveston barrier islands.  I made my way north up to lands end.

The San Luis toll bridge was one of my favorite bridges along the trip.  First of all, it is a beautiful ride.  You can see both the Gulf side and the Bay side.  The sand is a khaki brown and sometimes, you can actually see the scary ass currents that swirl around this treacherous bitch.  Dozens of people die in this pass every year.  The rip currents and undertow are really strong.  On a cloudy day though, the water looks pretty and harmless. I wouldn't let my kids swim anywhere near here.

The bridge goes over the north shore of the San Luis cut.  There are always 4x4 trucks under the bridge.  The people that fish here are hardcore and they often pull in 30lb+ fish of several different species (including sharks). 

I rode over the bridge onto Galveston island.  One thing is for certain...The southernmost tip of Galveston island is about to be a swanky sumbitch.

There are dozens of multimillion dollar homes in various stages of completion all along the coast.

I’m glad to see it and surprised that it hasn’t happened before now. This section of coast and the Northern Florida coast have a primitive, open water quality that is hard to explain.  The scrubby coastline and (usually) calm waters are very conducive to Pirate fantasies.  When I was younger, I used to have this great image of a group of Karankawas (Native American tribe indigenous to the Texas Gulf coast) standing on the beach, arguing over which cut of ‘Long Pig’ they would get when the Pirates rowed ashore.

Up through Jamaica Beach into very familiar territory.  Past the State Park and into Galveston proper.  Much to my surprise, I didn't ride the seawall all the way to the Strand harborside.  Instead, I took a shortcut down 61^st and across Broadway.  I’ve driven the Seawall literally hundreds of times and people don’t always exhibit the best driving habits.  I was pretty tired at this point and I knew that I wouldn’t be as sharp along that dangerous stretch.  So I took the back way past the huge cruise ships to the Harborside Hotel. 

I didn’t care about a damn thing except connecting with my family once again.  J and the kids were having an ice cream lunch so I grabbed my gear and headed up to the room.  The hotel was beautiful and the view from the room was really cool.

Cruise ship: "If I'm really still, they won't see me."

J and the kids got back.  This was a little weird. It felt so good to see them but I had this ongoing anxiety about leaving them again for 5 more days.  It really gave me the blues and I had a hard time shaking it.  I regret that I was moody and sullen for the first couple of hours. 

The other problem was the unrelenting mental fatigue that would be my constant companion for the rest of the trip.  I’m in fairly good shape.  I’ve never been crazy athletic but I’ve always stayed fit.  The physical aspects weren’t bad at all.  Eat right, drink fluids, listen to your body, all of that worked out fine.

It’s the mile-after-mile, eyes on the road, constant attention that wears you down.  I’ll talk more about this later but I was really starting to feel it in Galveston.

Still, we had a great afternoon.  We ate at Joe’s Crab shack and walked around the Strand.  At this point, I felt like I was home.

There was a life size chess board in one of the Strand town squares.  A and A played chess with help from a couple of teenagers.  J and I watched in total confusion as rules were made up.  I think the game was really more about the trash talking among siblings.  I don’t know who won.  They probably don’t either…such is the way.

We then took the Bolivar ferry.  We hit it right at sunset.

Regardless of who you are or how you feel about Galveston…do this.

When we got back, I really wanted to go by the Shriner’s Hospital and drop off a donation.  It was Sunday night though and I was totally shattered.  Instead, we went back to the hotel and crashed. 

Soon, the sun would rise, J and the kids would head North and I would continue east.  My path would take me across the Ferry again but I knew the ride wouldn’t be nearly as beautiful as the night before. 

This day, like all the others, on the trip had been many days in one.  The days to come however, would not have evenings filled with giggling, lost pink flip-flops, sea-gull teasing and hugs.  As such, they would all pale in comparison to this one.