269 miles to go

I am waking up in a rest area in rural western Florida and see that there is a sign right in front of me that sez "Overnight trailer parking and camping prohibited."  Presumably that doesn't apply to Pirates.  Nor to the other folks who got here at about the same time that I did last night and who are still here.

Finding a place to park last night was tough.  My goal was to get to the Lucky Thirteen truck stop but I guess things haven't been so lucky for them lately 'cause they were out of business!

~~~

The ol' Bluebird is pretty tough to drive.  I am constantly reminded that I have my entire house right behind me and my SUV on a trailer, and that an accident is unthinkable.  As RV's go this one is quite road worthy but it's simply big - bigger than most trucks with the trailer attached. For a variety of reasons it's tough to see out of after dark.  Acceleration should be measured with a calendar rather than a stop watch, and the brakes meet specs but you definitely don't want to have to do a panic stop.  

Consequently a 350 mile day is usually a long day for me.  From what I have heard and seen that's about right for most RVs.  I can cruise around 60mph on level roads but I discover that the folks that pass me in other RVs spend more time on the side of the road resting than I do.  

A couple of days ago I ran into this couple with a newer Bluebird. They passed me three times that day. They were running quicker but stopping more often.

~~~

I am seeing bunches of folks on motorcycles who are carrying luggage and heading eastbound, so I presume that they are all going to Daytona Bike Week.  The Iron Butt Association also has a dinner in Jacksonville tomorrow (Friday) and I expect to see some of my pals riding in for that. (Note: obviously I wrote this a few days ago and for the folks that made it to the IBA dinner I apologize 'cause I missed it!)

Here is a group of Harley riders at the Pensacola rest area just after you cross the bay:

~~~

RV's are like boats.  They are all about maintenance.  The constant pounding and vibration when traveling breaks things and disrupts other things.  Sometimes it gets them working again, however.

The 'bird has three LP gas heaters, supplemented by built in electric heaters and a system that draws heat from the engine coolant when you are on the road.  One of the LP gas heaters quit in Texas.  It must have been some sort of debris in the intake, because it's working just fine now.

Wish that I could say the same for my computers.  I have two tower units, a laptop on a docking station, and a micro Sony that's about the size of two Palm organizers all mounted in or on my desk, and they use a switch so that I control everything with one keyboard, one mouse, and one LCD monitor.  Something must be loose because the computers seem to be booting but are slow to display on the monitor.  Sheesh.  And after the keyboard hit the floor yesterday for the 100th time the Control key doesn't seem to be working.

~~~

I have been showering every morning but after 4 days am getting short on water.  Thankfully I should be at our workshop tonight and I can fill the tank back up.  Still ... hot water and a real shower whilst in a truck stop parking lot or a rest area is pretty civilized.  I pinch myself with how well this stuff is working but when we originally bought the Bluebird the water pressure was low and we had leaks in the system, so it has taken quit a bit of work to get to this point.

~~~

On my first day of travel along coastal Texas I recorded a little bit better than 6.5 miles per gallon, which is considerably better than the 5 mpg that I had been expecting.  The old two stroke Detroits are reliable and powerful for their size but they are thirsty and smoggy.  They also have a reputation for spitting out oil and leaking, but I will have to say that mine is pretty civilized.

I fueled at a small truck fuel stop on the US side of the Progreso crossing and fuel was $1.93 a gallon.  That contrasts with almost $5 a gallon in Florida when we left last summer.  

One of the appeals to the Rio Grande Valley is that Mexico has kept fuel prices stable for years and while the exchange rate has varied quite a bit fuel at the Petro stations in Mexico has generally run about $2.20 a gallon.  I had planned to run across the border and refuel but as luck would have it diesel is actually cheaper right now in the States than it is in Mexico.

~~~

Folks just joining me on Facebook who commented that they were enjoying reading my travel tales are probably thinkin' "well ... he's going to be home tonight and that will end the series." Wrong Kemo Sabe ... I have a fair amount of material from Mexico yet to be posted.  Be scared!

~~~

Each cat has a different attitude when it comes to traveling.

As soon as the big diesel engine fires the Big Grey Cat dives under the couch and stays there until I stop for the night.  

Coyote sometimes sleeps on the bed but she usually rushes under the couch as soon as I get ready to move and hangs out with Greyness.  She comes out for a snack when I stop.  When we moved the 'bird around locally in Jacksonville she used to snooze on the dashboard but by and large she likes a more secure location when traveling.

The Siamese?  Sheesh.  She has wayyyyyyyyyyyyy too much energy and is fearless.  She walks around, and divides her sleeping time between the passenger seat and the bed.   Whenever I stop she spends her time starring out the window, bird watching.

Here she is, this morning, perched on top of the driver's seat head rest:

~~~

Here is a man that I really feel sorry for.  This is in a Florida rest area somewhere to the west of Tallahassee.

~~~

I got into Jacksonville safe and sound on Thursday night and parked in the large lot behind a friend's bar.  Deb was waiting inside and we just generally had a blast.  The next morning I fired up the 'bird and drove a few miles for a leisurely breakfast, then parked the motorhome and trailer back at my workshop.  

It's good to be home but y'know what?  I'm ready to go again, and I really miss Texas!

More random thoughts on travelin'

Here is a perfectly good example of why truckers and anyone hauling anything on the highway needs to check their straps, ropes, chains, or bubble gum regularly.  This is one of the four straps holding my Land Rover onto my trailer. There was a metal end on that one strap once - 60 minutes earlier when I last checked it.  

Nothing quite like losing your SUV in the middle of I-10 to ruin your day, I always say.

~~~

When I am traveling by RV I stop quite a bit at truck stops.  I used to own a truckin' company and, as a consequence, am painfully aware of the good and the bad of truckstop culture.  One thing that I discovered a long time ago is that the vast majority of truckstop food doesn't agree with me.  I used to know all the truckstops that had decent restaurants nearby.  Last night I walked down the road maybe half a mile to eat at a Chinese place. Hallelujah!  It wasn't great, but it beat the buffet at the Petro by the proverbial mile.

~~~

Truck stops vary widely in quality.  Flying J caters to RV folks and regular motorists, and they tend to be my first choice to stop in.  Some small truck stops are ...well ... just nasty.  There is no way around that.  I wouldn't let my cats eat in some of those places.

~~~

I spent last night (March 3rd) at the Petro in Hammond, LA.  The place gave me sorta bad vibes after dark but I didn't have any problems.  RV'ers there are in a separate lot next to the main parking area, which is a good thing because the main part of the truck stop was absolutely full last night.

Finding a place to stop and spend the night used to be an issue for years with truckers, and from what I can see it hasn't gotten any better.

~~~

You run into some odd people at truck stops.  Normally, I like "different" folks but the odd ones take some understanding.  Like the folks living out of their cars.  Or the guy that I asked to move last night so that I could back into a parking space.  He was probably harmless enough but he was in a pickup truck with all his possessions, and I could see a dog and a cat keeping him company in that cramped little truck.  And he was wayyyyyyyyyyy spaced out, I assume on too much driving and not enough sleep.  Whew.

And over the years I have seen some fights and the cops called out to truck stops in crazy episodes that would shame a biker bar.

With that said, there are some awfully nice folks out there too.  Sort of a brotherhood of the road. A camaraderie of folks that are constantly on the move.  They look out for each other.

~~~

The Hammond Petro has a decent movie theatre and I watched the last half of the latest Batman flick (The Dark Knight) last night.  The ending was a bit weak, I thought, but the late Heath Ledger as the Joker was an excellent and inspired performance, and quite different from all of the other Jokers that we have seen on film or TV.  Well worth watching.

~~~

You see some interesting sights at truck stops.  A flatbed just pulled in and there is a military Hummer on the trailer that is missing the left rear wheel and has quite a bit of rear body damage.  Bomb explosion, perhaps?  Yikes!

~~~

Texas generally has excellent roads.  From Mission to Houston was fine.  But I-10 around Beaumont has been under construction since I owned my truckin' company, and that's been almost 20 years.  That's silly.  

Houston traffic is so aggressive it's unreal.  And Bubba, I'll give you a hint:  When I light up all seven (7) fricken turn signals on the side of the motorhome and trailer that doesn't mean to dive in there and take my spot as I try to change lanes.  It's the law of tonnage - I don't care how cute your Honda is, but if I don't see you and run over you with my 23 ton motorhome that damage won't polish out.  It's nothing personal.  Please use your brain.

And I love Texas' use of flyover ramps.  Some of those things are so tall that you'd swear that the landing pattern at Bush International is below the ramp.

~~~

Louisiana has improved their roads dramatically, but they still have some highways that are so rough as to be unreal when you are in a motorhome.  As someone explained it to me the blocks of concrete paving material have settled in the sand and that's why they are so uneven. Consequently, driving a motorhome or truck across these things gives the vehicle a severe back-and-forth pitching motion.  Even the bridges are rough and it's a bit unnerving to be sawing the steering wheel back and forth, struggling to maintain control,  as you cross some huge bridge across a shipping canal and you realize that the ornamental cast iron guard rail wouldn't even slow down something the size of your vehicle if you were to madly take a stab at plunging 500 ft. down to the river below.  Yikes!

~~~

This is Drifters, one of my all time favorite bars.  It's on old Rt. 90 along the causeway as you cross old Mobile Bay.  The Interstate I-10 bridge pretty well by passes it these days.  

It's rough, it's getting rickitier every time that I go there (I suggested that they put a bottle of tequila at the bottom of the railing so that they can sell shots to fortify first time visitors), and the locals make a point to hang there and ride out hurricanes every time lousy weather passes nearby.  

The place is one of the few liquor bars open 24/7 so you know that the crowd is entertaining.

The cook lives in a travel trailer just to the right of the place.  It's next to the boat ramp and right on Old Mobile Bay so you would think that the fishin' would be excellent.  I swear, if he ever moves away I think that I'll snag his spot and hang out for a few months myself.

 

Traveling March 4th, 2009

Here I am on Sunday, waking up in the morning, with the parking lot at the border crossing to Progreso, TAM, Mexico all to myself:



I really, really enjoy the RV lifestyle. Sure, going from a multi-bedroom house with enough garage space for 5 cars and compressing your world into 320 sq. ft. has its trade offs, but I love the mobility and the adventure.  

FEMA (the US's much maligned Federal disaster relief organization, for those of you outside the USA) sent Deb and me to New Orleans for the Hurricane Gustav Party for what we anticipated would be a three-week stay. Now, almost 6 months later, I am returning "home" to Florida. Hurricane Ike kept us on the road longer than we anticipated. And Deb left Texas to take care of her parents in Tennessee several months ago and then continued on to Florida to take charge of some real estate matters that we had going on.  

I miss you Deb!  

Only ... I'm not sure that Florida is really my home any more. Deb and I had talked about moving to Texas or perhaps California well before this summer's events and our subsequent several months of meandering along the Texas coast.  

New Orleans was great. That city is a party every night, and the food and culture is unique. FEMA sent us on to Austin and finally Houston, Texas.  

Austin is very hip, but the surfing sucks.  

Houston is closer to the ocean (never mind that Galveston, the closest major beach location, was trashed by Hurricane Ike) and is a thriving, bustling metropolitan area with a strong Hispanic influence.  

Deb and I spent many weeks wandering down the coast of Texas, something that I have wanted to do for years. Angleton (where we had a resident alligator), Port Lavaca, Corpus Christi, South Padre Island ... all wonderful experiences!

Here we are camped out in Corpus Christi, TX. Notice how close the salt water is:






We got down to the Mission and McAllen areas, roughly 60 miles inland from Brownsville and right on the Texas/Mexican border and wondered if we had found Paradise. There are over 500 RV parks in that area, and the term "Winter Texan" has come into being to denote those retirees that flock to south Texas during the cold winter months. Unlike the Snowbirds in Florida, which has practically become an insulting term meaning "cheap bastard", the Winter Texans are embraced by the community in South Texas. We expected to stay in the Rio Grande Valley for a week. Then we extended that for a month. Now, three months later, and following a bit of a delay due to chronic refrigerator issues, I am reluctantly on the road back to Florida. McAllen, Texas - such a neat, exciting area.  

The Rio Grande Valley has tons of history as the cities along the border were originally part of Mexico. Today you have neat, clean, prosperous communities throughout the area. Living costs are low, and industrial northern Mexico is just a few miles away.  

Were it not for having a garage full of motorcycles and other assorted junk in Florida that need to be organized and, in some cases, repaired, I would have happily stayed in the Rio Grande Valley. As things stand we need to get the workshop packed up and get some of our real estate affairs in order, and the next time that we get an opportunity to head back to Texas the bikes will follow.  

Back to RV'ing ... just like motorcyclists have a whole 'nuther culture (and sometimes you have subcultures within that culture) there is a huge underground culture among RV folks. Most are retirees. Plenty of us folks are decently well off, even if we do count our beer money every so often. Some folks give you the impression that they have moved into travel trailers or modest RVs for economic reasons. Whatever their story, by and large everyone gets along.  

Mission has several RV parks that cater to the over 55 set. I haven't quite passed that marker, but for whatever reason I was still welcomed in an over 55 RV park that had a pool, plenty of space, palms, and a recreation hall where events were held almost every night. That ain't a bad way to retire, let me tell you Brother!  

Life moves at a different pace in the RV parks of the Rio Grande Valley:

Buying, and restoring, our Bluebird Wanderlodge was one of the best decisions that we have ever made. Yours Truly had always wanted to have a bus conversion, but a few years of putting the Bluebird to use have impressed me with how well this vehicle - which was designed from the ground up to be a motorhome for full time living - works. Our 'bird is over 25 years old and like a lot of these things they literally don't make them like this any more. She's not flashy like the newer fiberglass RVs but being made out of solid steel, the classic Bluebird is literally tough like a military vehicle, a quality that you appreciate after several days of pounding along rough highways and towing a trailer that weights almost 5 tons.  

Here I am, sitting in the parking lot at a Petro Truck Stop in Hammond, Louisiana, writing to you. The generator (a 4 cylinder Perkins diesel) is cranking out enough wattage to run the computers, electric heaters (supplemented with LPG gas heat), and, most importantly ... my coffee maker. I've been up for an hour, watching television and writing, and by now there should be plenty of hot water for a shower. In the Great, Galactic Scheme of Things this ain't a bad way to start the morning!  

I need to drag myself over to Pensacola this morning in order to take care of some business. With any luck I will be having a beer in Jacksonville, FL Thursday afternoon.

Here's to more adventures!

Merry Christmas!

Just wanted to wish y'all - readers, family, and friends - a very happy Christmas. 'tis the time to count our blessings, and to step away from this hectic world of ours and to relax for a day or two.
Now would be an excellent time to reach out to that long lost old friend, relative, maybe even former friend that you have been thinking of. Take the time to wish them the best and to wish them a prosperous 2009.

Feliz Navidad!

Progreso and Ancient Guerrero

Nuevo Progreso:

We've been traveling back and forth across the border quite a bit recently. Quite a bit. Enough that we are getting to be pals with some of the border guards.

We did a day trip across the border at Progreso, TX to the sister city of Nuevo Progreso, Tamaulipas. I don't believe that I have ever seen a more gringo-friendly town in Mexico in my life, and that includes Tijuana. Contrary to what most Norte Americanos think, for most of Mexico tourism is a minor part of their economy with industry being where it's at. Nuevo Progreso is the opposite - think in terms of Disneyland's spic and span version of Key West. Progreso is all about a crowded main street that you can walk up and down and enjoy numerous restaurants, bars, beauticians, dentists, MDs, and more curio shops than you can shake a wallet at. You see old gringos everywhere wearing bermuda shorts, and housewives having their nails done. With plenty of English language signs and businesses that quote prices in dollars it's pretty tough to believe that this place is Mexican, except for the low prices (even so, dinner or beer will cost you more in Progreso than if you do a little shopping in Reynosa, for example).

Frankly, I have mixed emotions about Nuevo Progreso. We had a great time and an excellent lunch, chatting with a young American accountant and her date about how silly most gringos are for being so afraid of Mexico. Then again, for a first time traveler to Mexico, Nuevo Progreso is almost too easy. In the rest of Mexico you can NOT expect much in the way of English signage and you'd better know your prices in pesos.

Here are some US motorcyclists in downtown Nuevo Progreso:

~~

We decided to head into Mexico for a few days of exploring. Well ... best laid plans, etc.

I had wanted to check out the ghost town to end all ghost towns, the old city of Guerrero, or "Ancient Guerrero," since the entire town was rebuilt maybe 15 miles away from the site of the original city. Today the very clean and pretty town of Nuevo (new) Guerrero sits at the base of the Falcon Dam, which is a relatively unknown border crossing.

A little history: Once upon a time almost all of Texas belonged to Mexico under Spanish control. Guerrero was a major port city on the Rio Grande (Rio Bravo) River and located where the Salado River empties into the Rio Grande.

During the Indian wars in the fledgling United States several Indian tribes were chased so far south that Guerrero found it necessary to fortify the city in order to resist Indian attacks. As late as the 1900's Guerrero enjoyed an international (mostly European) reputation as a resort city.

In the 1950's, when Guerrero had a population of almost 50,000, the USA and Mexico jointly decided to dam the Rio Grande River. Several communities went underwater, including much of Guerrero.

According to several sources that I have, the relocation of Guerrero wasn't pretty, and families were forced off of their properties, particularly those properties that dated back to Spanish land grants. There are a few books out there that claim that, despite initial promises to do so, neither the USA nor Mexico compensated the families for properties that were flooded by Falcon Reservoir, and that the Mexican Army eventually came in and forced the last families out at gunpoint. Buildings were reportedly stripped of their elaborate stone work (much of this going to New York City to reappear on buildings there, I heard) and bulldozers were called in to destroy some of the buildings.

That was then, and this is now. Because the water level of Falcon Lake has dropped dramatically in recent years, Ancient Guerrero is back. And since Mexico has a much kinder, gentler government than in the bad old days, the state of Tamaulipas has even put up signs directing tourists to the site.

That's the good news. The bad news is that the place is still a bit of a bear to find. If you don't look in the right place, that is. I was following some directions from gringos and and using my gringo maps and managed to waste an entire day when, duh ... I discovered that the old city was right there on my Guia Roji atlas that I bought a few years ago on another Mexican trip. Talk about the frickin' obvious.

Day 1. We headed towards Laredo on the US side and crossed into Mexico at the "Smugglers Crossing" at Camargo. This is the last crossing between the USA and Mexico that is a small, cable-operated ferry and is pretty surreal. It's tiny! There is really nothing much on the Mexican side that is nearby to attract gringos, although there is a perfectly nice small Mexican farm town a few miles inland. An older US couple on the ferry told me that the big thing was to buy smokes and such at the duty-free store on the US side and then to ride the ferry to Mexico and back, just to comply with the letter of the law. We saw a couple of Border Patrol guys who looked bored as hell and didn't want to be photographed. Welcome to America!

We had a fine time exploring Mexican Route 2 along the border. The only problem was that we got a late start and discovered that Falcon Lake and Ancient Guerrero were further west than we expected and that Rt. 2 was pretty slow going, much slower than the US equivalent. This part of Mexico was fairly rural and we didn't see any motels in the smaller towns, so we decided that the best course of action was to return to the USA along the Falcon Bridge and head back home to our RV.

Day2: We got up early the next morning, drove for an hour or two, and recrossed the Falcon Bridge. Beautiful view, and a magnificent structure.

We then drove maybe 20 miles down Rt. 2 past where we were the night before, and found the hand-painted sign for the turn off to the old city of Guerrero:

To say that the road was a bit rough is to be kind. We did the better part of an hour on this surface, at times crossing cattle crossings and opening and closing several fences. It's hard-packed rock, dusty and rough, and would be perfect for motorcycling on a BMW GS.

Driving along this road puts you up close and personal with several head of cattle and more than a few goats. This might have been the main road to Guerrero in the 50's but today it's open range and long horn cattle roam.

We cruised along and finally ran into this, which threatened to stop our trip just before we got to the ghost town:

This wasn't just a little water or a mud puddle, this was the freakin' lake beginning to cover the road for maybe an 1/8 of a mile as the water level had gone up following Hurricane Ike!

We checked for an alternative route but could find none. Nearby farmers' fields had their gates locked and their access roads were flooded as well. We were fearing that we might have gotten this close to Ancient Guerrero and failed in our journey, but refusing to take "no" (or "common sense") for an answer Yours Truly went wading to the other side of the lake to test the depth.

The conclusion? The water never got up to my knees, and we'd put the Land Rover to a test. I wouldn't say that there weren't some sphincter-tightening moments as the SS Discovery II set sail in some of the deeper waters, but we made it!

And over on the other side of the water, we found the remains of Ancient Guerrero:

The metal structure in the foreground is the old town windmill. I don't think that this part of town was ever completely covered with water from the lake:



Notice the town's grand hotel, today and in it's heyday in the 50's:

And finally, the centerpiece of Ancient Guerrero, the local cathedral, the Nuestra Señora del Refugio Church. The church has never been completely underwater and in recent years was dry enough that a restoration effort took place where the local believers restored the church interior and repainted the exterior. Alas, with the water levels high again, the church has partially gone back underwater:

As you can see from some photos that I found online, it hasn't been too long ago that the church was completely high and dry:

This aerial view of Ancient Guerrero is fascinating. The church is in the foreground. Out there somewhere there is a large stone bridge that crossed the Salado River. In this photo the lake is slightly lower than it is today:

All and all, a fascinating trip and a fascinating learning experience. While we were in Ancient Guerrero we ran across a gentleman from the Chamber of Commerce in nearby Roma, Texas and his photographer who were working up materials for the tourist trade, but otherwise it was pretty lonely. The one caretaker at the entrance was gone the entire day and no other tourists showed up. So this place is pretty isolated, although there are some large ranches nearby and two or three farmhouses within walking distance of the town. If you go there in the summer then take plenty of bottled water. Don't expect to find a 7-11 nearby.

And the photographer was wearing snake-proof pants, which I thought was a pretty prudent idea.

Hey, Disney this ain't! This is a real ghost town, and in Mexico, to boot.

For more information on Ancient Guerrero may I suggest that y'all check out the sites at

http://www.rice.edu/armadillo/Past/Book/Part5/part5.html

and at

http://jessmerrill-photography.com/images/ViejoGuerrero/vg.html


Next post: Nuevo Laredo and Monterrey.

We've been having a great time. I just wish that I'd be able to find the time to write about it.

Time. There is never enough.

I was doing OK blogging until about two weeks ago. When I blogged about being at Indianola, Texas we were actually set up down the road in Corpus Christi. Move on to the next locations, Organize those photos, reflect, and take the time to write. That's how it's supposed to work.

Corpus Christi was wonderful. We were on a small island just outside the downtown area proper. There were a handful of bars, a nature park, the USS Lexington aircraft carrier, and little else. And the salt water was maybe 20 ft. in front of our bumper. Deb was up fishing at 4 and 5AM several days in a row. As a side trip we ran over to Mustang Island and took the ferry to the legendary Port Aransas. Just beautiful!

Since our stay in Corpus Christi we moved on to Port Isabel, Texas for a few days. Port Isabel and nearby South Padre Beach were also beautiful.

Now we are in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas, about 60 miles inland and down on the Mexico border. We'll be here for about a month.

In the meantime we have been exploring the Mexican border areas at a furious pace and deciding where to go and what to do next. Budget willing, of course.

We ran over to the modern-day Playa Bagdad, an area that I have wanted to explore for years. Historically the last Confederate port open during the Civil War, the Bagdad of old was perhaps 7 miles from the Playa Bagdad of today due to the shifting sands of the Rio Bravo River. We discovered a delightful fishing village built right on the ocean, along with a small tourist village. If there was ever a good place for a gringo to go and hide and to get away from it all then the Playa Bagdad is the place to go.

Near McAllen, Texas we found the perfect RV park, right on the Rio Bravo River. You could literally look across the river and into Mexico. The border patrol was in attendance, and so were numerous fishermen from the RV park. I'm not sure what the bag limit was, but I suspect that you had to throw back anything under 95 lbs.

Alas, the perfect RV park was next to a flood wall that was under construction, and we didn't think that it was prudent to try and get a 40 ft. motorhome over that steep embankment with a tight turn and a sheer dropoff.


So we checked into another, very nice RV park that caters to "Winter Texans," i.e. the generally-retired snowbirds that flock to Texas as the weather gets cold. We may be a bit younger than most of the folks here but we are having a great time!

We have also made several trips up and down the border around Reynosa. We've checked out a couple of points that we could see from the USA side and which just scream "future development!" all over them.

The only real fly in the ointment is that our rear air conditioner finally went caput. Long-time readers of this blog may recall that we replaced the front "basement" A/C unit with an overhead unit in the Spring while we were still in Florida, and we were considering installing a similar rear unit. The rear A/C unit was getting weak when we were doing disaster relief work. We actually scheduled an appointment weeks in advance to do the replacement with an RV dealer in Houston. Alas, the rear basement unit stopped completely a number of days ago. I had a replacement overhead unit shipped in, and the next day a roving RV maintenance guy and I removed the overhead vent and put the A/C unit into the existing spot (I had wanted to cut another hole in the roof but after we started it became obvious that we'd have to cut through a major structural beam and that put the kabosh on that plan). Mercifully the temps have been cool so we haven't really missed the defunct A/C unit.


What does the future hold? Well ... I am organizing a small group to go and (don't laugh too hard here) check out a supposed UFO crash site in Mexico, not too far from el Paso. We'll likely move the motorhome to Del Rio, Texas so that Deb can hit the casino there for a few days while I explore in rural Mexico.


Wish me luck, and if you don't hear from me again then let's just hope that those alien abductions are merciful.

Could the next Margaritaville be a ghost town?

Indianola, Texas in its prime:

And what is left of Indianola, Texas today:

Often called the Queen of Texas Ghost Towns, little remains of the port of Indianola other than that marker, the town cistern in the background, and what is left of the town grave yard on the other side of that marsh.

What happened to a major Texas city which at one time was rivaled only by Galveston?

The short answer is two hurricanes and disease, all of which wiped out the settlers in what was once Texas' second largest port, and which had luxury motels and was quite the place to be. The grand mansions of Old Indianola were either torn down or moved to nearby towns. And the foundations of the original municipal buildings are now underwater.

Founded in 1846 by German immigrants, Indianola was twice occupied by Union troops during the Civil War.

In 1869 the first shipment of mechanically refrigerated beef left Indianola aboard a ship bound for New Orleans, pioneering the technologies of both beef processing and commercial refrigeration.

The census of 1875 revealed that Indianola had a population of 5,000. In September of the same year a hurricane struck, almost completely destroying the town and killing between 150 and 300. An epidemic soon followed.

Indianola rebuilt. and in 1886 another crippling hurricane struck. Rather than rebuild Indianola the county seat moved to Port Lavaca.

What does remain is a charming, somewhat remote fishing village. Fifteen miles out of Port Lavaca, you'd better make sure that you have enough gasoline to get out there and back because the only service station in the area is up for sale.

For that matter, the only place currently selling beer (by the can) and serving food (on paper plates) is the local bait shop at the end of the road. So if they aren't open, or you don't like the beer selection, then you had better stock up in Port Lavaca and bring it with you.

This is fishin' and RV country. We had a great time hanging out at the bait store (the store closes around 10PM but they invite folks to fish on their deck as late as folks want to).

We found an excellent, small RV campground ...

With an excellent view of the beach and Matagorda Bay:

The owner of the RV campground pointed out that many, many snowbirds came down and camp right on the beach:

So this entire area is very laid back. Very. Laid. Back.

If you have an RV, or can rent one of the cabins along the coast, Indianola is very reminiscent of what Key West and the Florida Keys would have been like before the mass of tourists showed up. Just don't expect to find any chain motels out here.

And should Indianola not be your cup of fish chowder, consider wandering over to the nearby town of Port O'Connor. A bit bigger than Indianola and a bit more upscale, Port O'Connor is also on Matagorda Bay (although the "other side") and actually claims a service station, a couple of restaurants, and a bar or two. No overnight camping on the beach, but once again the fishin' promises to be excellent: