So It's Not Campbell's Galveston

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.)

Florida Interlude

February 11-19, 2011. We leave Patchouli in the loving care of fellow RVrs Carol and Richard at Aransas Pass and drive off to San Antonio TX for a next-day flight to Orlando FL. Primary reason--a week-long visit to Walt Disney World and environs with Ken's friends Mark, Lisa, and Mary from southern California.

I've never been to San Antonio, and we enjoy a walk through the downtown area and have dinner at a local "burrito bar" (read: two-fisted burritos made to order) near our hotel.

San Antonio has a river through the city. The current generation has tamed it into a canal loop replete with putter-boat tours, riverside restaurants, two stories of shops, and office/condo space above. It was lovely to stroll on a sunny day. The remains of the Alamo (more story than "remains"), plus a lot of touristy attractions like a wax museum and Ripley's Believe It Or Not museum, are just a few blocks' walk from here.

San Antonio's river--same spot, the other direction.

Ken and I stayed at a two-bedroom timeshare in Orlando (thank you, mom!) that was big and comfortable and only a few miles from the entrance to WDW. Mark, Lisa, and Mary got into another room in the same complex, which made logistics easy for travel.

Any week at a self-contained hotel at WDW must start with a trunkload of food for five people, care of the local Wal-Mart.

Computers remain our constant companions, even at our Orlando hotel.

This was my third trip to Walt Disney World, and likely to be my last. Even in the low season of February, the place was mobbed, especially the Magic Kingdom, an aging duplicate of Disneyland that none of us enjoyed because of the screaming parents, the loose-running kids, the ever-underfoot strollers and guest carts, the horrendously crammed food courts, the sardine-like ride lines, etc. I had also forgotten that this park is so similar to Disneyland, with very little of its own unique flavor. Pirates of the Caribbean (my all time favorite ride at Disneyland) had been completely revamped for the Jack Sparrow/Johnny Depp movie hook, which left the whole thing just too dumb for words. (Our experience wasn't helped much by the half hour we spent wending through the rather nifty "Port Royale" staging area, followed by a not so nifty 35-minute wait for a ride breakdown when we were five minutes from the loading dock.) Clearly that park is only for 50- and 60-somethings who have a mess of grandkids in tow.

Disney Hollywood Studios (formerly MGM Studios) hadn't changed much over 25 years, either, except that it's more crowded, more overpriced (a dinner buffet at $36 a pop--and fully booked for the night!), and somehow more difficult to navigate without a lot of doubling-back and losing my bearings.

The Tower of Terror there remains one of the best rides, as does the Buzz Lightyear arcade ride, which we missed because of the crowds and conflicting FastTrack wait times. The Aerosmith coaster (enjoyable when I went with Tom and Mimi several years ago) was no fun this time with all the blasting rock music and flashing lights; I must be losing my tolerance as I get older.

The park did have a couple of engaging live special effects shows about the first Indiana Jones film and a car chase through an Italian city. Some of those movie tricks look so real on screen! We also took in the Fantasmic light show, which I enjoyed watching for the second time, except that sitting for a couple of hours on concrete slabs isn't the most comfortable way to spend a cold February night. And of course, getting in and out of the show's dead-end venue meant 45 minutes of press and shuffle at both ends of the program until the congestion let up.

My favorite WDW park is still the Animal Kingdom. It has fewer fast rides so is less of a draw for families, and is just more relaxed overall because of the zoo/botanical gardens atmosphere. The Tree of Life with all of its animal carvings still fascinates me and makes an easy landmark for getting around the park's various world "countries." Sadly, I didn't find "D'Vine" this time--a vine-entwined performing artist on stilts who wanders the park and stops, half camouflaged among foliage, for passers-by to interact with...if they notice her!

Mark and Lisa at one of the many perfect photo spots in the Animal Kingdom park...by far the WDW park we all liked best.

Our turn at the same spot.

Ken, me, Lisa, Mark in the caverns beneath the Tree of Life and ready for our 3-D "It's a Bug's Life" show (Mary behind camera). It left us all laughing and sputtering from the sensa-round smells, sprays, and startling seat action.

The fastest ride here is via bobsled on the Expedition Everest coaster. Great fun.

A rare shot of Mary, the gal usually behind the camera. This is on the Safari ride at Animal Kingdom. The antelope and rhinos were closest to the jeep on our run, but we didn't get the giraffes hanging over the top like the last time I was here.

On safari care of Disney.

We spent a lot of time just touring the WDW resorts by boat, bus, and foot. We're waiting here for our next bus after an amble through the rustically posh Fort Wilderness Lodge.

And finally, a morning at Epcot, in the British quarter. This was the last park we went to; it was moderately busy that day, but we managed to walk the whole World Circle and take in a couple of the pavilions. My favorite is the Living Earth boat ride, which floats you through a sustainable food garden that uses hydroponics, organics, special trellising, and other practices to grow crops from pumpkins to runner beans in low-water, poor-soil, small-land conditions.

Mid-week, we took a day away from WDW to drive to Kennedy Space Center (AKA Cape Canaveral). The space shuttle program is ready to make its last flights, and we were lucky enough to see the launch pad in its prep stages for the final takeoff of Discovery. The fuel tanks were already loaded on the pad, which is empty most of the time.

A multi-stop bus tour loops through the complex and offers distance viewing and explanations of the shuttle launch pad, manufacturing buildings, and general shuttle prep and setup. We also enjoyed two fascinating 3-D IMAX films on the space station and Hubble, although I was maxed out on 3-D movies by the end of them.

Under the awe-inspiring rockets at Kennedy Space Center.

The highlight of the center is a Shuttle Takeoff Simulator that was designed with the help of shuttle astronauts for absolute accuracy of all roars, rattles, and cheek-flapping G forces. Seats tilt vertically, rocket-thunder rumbles through your ribcage, thrust vies with Gs to pin you to the chair, and you can feel the breakaway shudder of the fuel tanks. Orbit arrives with an instant shutdown of sound and vibration, a queasy float in the belly, and viewing doors that open to display black space filled with the Earth arching across the horizon. This was one cool ride--and no extra charge.

By Friday, we had been to all four Disney parks, toured the nicest of the Disney resorts, and been to Downtown Disney and the Disney Boardwalk more times than we needed to. We were ready for a visit to something completely different--Orlando's Gatorland.

This place has been around since the 1940s and turned out to be a surprisingly good choice despite our initial expectations of an aging, podunk attraction. The park is long and narrow, with several lagoons for alligators and crocodiles. A round of family-focused animal shows (corny jokes, audience participation, cheering competitions, etc.) was still fun to watch because of the stuff you learn about gators, pythons, and tarantulas. Unfortunately, the back side of the park was closed for renovation. They're installing a zipline ride--um, right alongside the saltwater gator/croc ponds. Go figure.

Mr. (Ms.?) Gator on the planks.

Guests can buy hotdogs to feed the gators. Most looked too bloated to want more (or perhaps they deemed our bitty, rationed bites as unworthy of their attention), but the dogs were a hit with the local egrets and other birds. Warnings were up everywhere that the birds would swoop in to steal out of careless hands. One unhappy child lost half a dog to a sneaky bird, and Mark was squirting water from his bottle to keep them from poking at him for more.

On a leisurely boardwalk jaunt through a swamp (thankfully, sans mosquitoes this time of year). This time Lisa's taking the photo, so Mary's in it!

One of the many big boys that were nearly beneath our feet at the breeding lagoon boardwalk. The lagoon has a couple hundred gators.

Egrets nest on both sides of the huge gator breeding lagoon. Some were close enough to the boardwalk to almost see into the nests.

Egret.

Hitching a ride is common.

Back home, caretaker Carol takes Patchouli on a walk. The winds at Southern Oaks RV Park were pretty brutal some days.

A Walk in the Park

RV Park, that is. In Aransas Pass, Texas, where we spent a month at Southern Oaks Resort, a newly constructed RV park where people can buy lots to build out (with cabanas, landscaping, patios, etc.) and live on with their RVs. We loved our rental spots...brand new at the end of the row, with no neighbors to the south to obstruct the view toward a lovely bit of woods that Patchouli took to like--well--like a cat to a tree. He was begging for daily walks in all that grass and sand, and he managed to explore every building and oak on the property by the time we left.

Our rigs at the end of a half-completed rental row (Ken's white truck, my red truck beyond). The owners know how to build for RVs--generously sized sites and double-wide roads for maneuverability, with plans for a pool, spa, etc. later. Our sites were so new that the electric meters still read zero. The price was exceptional--about $400/month, plus whatever electricity we used (at the not-so-cheap Texas rates).

Clubhouse construction was barely past the framing and siding stage, but they were still able to use it for weekly open houses (to sell RV lots), daily coffee klatches, and 24-hour laundry access. There's a big walled area beyond the building where a huge loop of RV lots are for sale. About 25% were already sold and built out with pads, landscaping, and outbuildings amid a very relaxing, park-like setting dotted with ponds and a creek-looking surface water control system.

Aransas Pass is 40 miles north of Corpus Christi (a typical major port city), and ten miles from the quaint and pastel-colored Gulf Coast towns of Rockport and Port Aransas. Port Aransas is at the north end of a 60-mile long string of barrier islands. Getting to it requires a ferry--a free, five-minute ride aboard one of four bitty boats that hold about 20 vehicles each. They continuously cross an intracoastal waterway that the big oil tankers use to get to Corpus Christi.

The waterway is much too narrow for a bridge, so the ferries do the job of moving residents and tourists all day long, pausing service long enough for ginormous barges and tankers to pass through. The channel is also subject to tides, which means that certain ferry runs can't take heavy vehicles like semis and RVs. The day we wanted to move to Aransas Pass was a low-tide day, and RVs were prohibited. It took us a 40-mile roundabout drive through Corpus Christi to get to a place 10 miles away by ferry.

While in the area, we toured the USS Lexington aircraft carrier in Corpus Christi, drove the posh shoreline neighborhoods in C.C. and Port Aransas, and poked around a couple of wildlife sanctuaries that proliferate here on the Gulf Coast. We also took a week-long Florida Interlude (photos in follow-up entry) during the month.

The whole region is Oil Rig Central. You can see platforms standing out in the ocean and watch the tankers coming and going with their loads. You can drive around and stumble onto an oil rig building facility and practically drive up to their front door to get a semi-close view of construction on the shore (these newer rigs are HUGE). You can also aimlessly come upon a graveyard of hulking rigs rusting on a beach across the street from a field of tanks holding fresh oil for processing at the neighboring plant.

Weather was humid so near the gulf, and extremely windy and somewhat cold on most days during our February stay. We were also caught by the south tail of those winter storms that crossed the US, waking up one morning to almost half an inch of ice coating the rigs, trucks, and ground. This little jaunt with Patchouli, below, was on one of the warmer, less windy days we had.

Patchouli's favorite woods, just beyond my rig.

Patchouli on his new retractable, lightweight, ribbon leash that we bought in Corpus Christi. It's much easier for him to drag around than his nylon lead.

Cat-scratch heaven.

OK, what to do next...

Oh, that's right.

Checking in with papa.

Viewing the Serengeti.

Ah, now the tricky bit...

Safe again.

Ground is good.

Climbing gear maintenance.

Blech. Sandy toe jam.

Let's see now...

...maybe another trip?

Nah, this'll do.

Sharing an apple with papa is the best part.