March 6-10. Our time in Galveston, TX, was mostly spent hanging around the beachfront RV park, wringing humidity out of our clothes, and touring the town by car and a little by foot. Oh, and did I mention wringing the humidity out of everything?We arrived during the last days of Mardi Gras, which Galveston apparently celebrates with as much fervor as New Orleans. The road to (and through) town hugs the coastline, and on our first day here the tides were so high there was no beach along the miles-long seawall. Instead there were parked cars. Lots of them. And dogs. Lots of them. And people. Lots of them, too. Most folks were draped with scads of mardi gras necklaces--plastic beads in shiny metallic purple, blue, red, pink, gold, silver. A carnival had taken over the west side of the street and was alive with flashing lights and whirling, barf-0-matic rides. Children and hot dogs and cotton candy and coke cups everywhere. Half the population was negro, the other white or Asian. Traffic crawled along from light to light as drivers looked for parking on the ocean side of the road. The historic center of Galveston was closed off to cars for the party...and the city was charging $15 for parking plus a whopping $15 per person just to walk past the barriers into the heart of the street fair (which wasn't going all that strong mid-day on the last Sunday of the festival). Forget that, bub!
Our two rigs near the shore at Galveston Island State Park. Ken bought his Big White with no paint or vinyl artwork, and we immediately stripped off all the identifying logos and model info that Carriage slaps on by default. In a world where fifth wheels now sport full-body paint jobs and full-length swooshes like their motorhome cousins, this clean version is a head-turner. At least one person at every park stops by to ask, "What kind of rig you got there? Custom?"
You'd think there was a sign, "One Gull Per Post, Please."
Gulf of Mexico on a windy March morning. A mile of beach was less than a minute's walk from the rigs...and that's only because we had to go half the length of the park to get to an opening in the fence line in the photo above.
This same flock of pelicans repeatedly flew the beachline. Patchouli didn't much like the ocean roar and wave action, but he discovered the joys of soft dune sand for a litterbox. Imagine having to carry poop bags when walking a cat.Like so many Gulf coast spots, Galveston is an oil rig town, so of course we toured the Ocean Star Offshore Drilling Rig Museum. It's a small rig by today's standards but, aside from the expected pro-oil PR that abounds throughout, is interesting to tour. Four floors, lots of fascinating rig models and drilling exhibits, and the chance to stand underneath the derrick and stare up into a narrowing channel of metal braces to the top of the drill post. Sort of like being beneath the Eiffel Tower on a tiny scale...only it reeks of diesel and oil. No photos from that day, but you can check it out at http://www.oceanstaroec.com.
I was most fascinated by the range of Galveston's homes. 99% of them were on stilts to survive hurricanes. This neighborhood is built to weave through a bunch of inlets, giving most residents waterfront access to canals that lead to bays all around the island.
Homes on canals have their own docks, usually covered. From back door to moored fishing boat in ten steps.
Another coastline neighborhood. It seems impossible to plop homes of this size onto stilts, but it works. Some homes are grand enough to rival those in La Jolla and Lake Washington. Sweeping exterior staircases, botanical-garden landscaping, stonework facing, full-surround windows, octagonal turrets...everything you'd expect in multi-million dollar homes, except with all the living space standing one story above the ground.
And then there was this abandoned gem along the main highway into town...
Perhaps the theory is that it would just bob away in a hurricane.
I loved the pastels and fresh whites that are so popular here. This is a new neighborhood, with Gulf views and a big lagoon in the center of the community...plus multi-storied homes to take it all in. Half the lots were still unsold and no one seemed to be home in the ones that were here, although many looked lived in. A few were probably model homes.
A typical older home right on the Gulf. Many had For Rent signs on their balconies. That's beach sand for the frontage road.
And this is their view of an abandoned house across from their front yard. This one showed some severe hurricane damage, probably from the devastating 2009 season that left most of Galveston under water.
OK, so beachfront property isn't all it's cracked up to be. This one's foundation is nearly gone.
Leaving Galveston Island from the north end means a free 20-minute ferry ride...but we ended up on separate boats! That's Ken's rig sailing away at the very tail end of the ferry, just to the left of that center post. (Foolishly, he waited for me at the other side. Now he's really and truly stuck with me and Patchouli.)
