campground – Page 2 – Veness Travel Media

Baton Rouge Round Two

Louisiana was proving to be a state of surprises and contrasts. Human-made refineries amid raw, natural wetlands; the humblest of homes just steps from mini-mansions; and, as we meandered its riverside roads, the undeniable elegance of antebellum plantations, timeless and serene and evoking a certain nostalgia even though neither one of us ever lived that life, but with the specter of their past impossible not to feel.

We’ve seen several plantations that still stand in Georgia, so we were eager to see how Louisiana’s compared. With that goal in mind, each time we toured within Baton Rouge and beyond its borders we looked for plantation homes. Some remain private residences, and some are open for tours or function as B&Bs.

Carter Plantation is a bit of an anomaly. It now sits in the middle of an upscale residential community, and while it would have been considered a relatively large home in the 1800s, it’s fairly small by today’s standards, and certainly in comparison to its immediate neighbors. But it boasts the status of being on the National Register of Historic Places, and is set apart from other plantations because it’s the first in the county to be owned by a free “person of color,” African-American Thomas Freeman. Freeman and his slaves (!) worked its 2,000 acres until 1838.

Built in the style of an English cottage in 1790, Butler Greenwood Plantation is also relatively small by Georgia standards, but it was a thriving agricultural concern back in the mid-1800s, when nearly 100 enslaved people worked the cotton, sugarcane, and indigo fields. It’s a private residence, largely unchanged since the 1850s.

Nottoway Plantation, on the other hand, is exactly the sort of plantation home that drips with the style of its time. You could easily imagine Scarlet O’Hara sitting on the porch with the Tarleton twins complaining about “war talk,” though frankly, my dear, Tara was nowhere near this grand.

Today, it’s the South’s “largest remaining antebellum mansion,” and it’s hard to wrap your head around the size of this place. At one time it held 176 people in enslavement, doing the brutal work of sugarcane production on the owner’s 7,000+ acres. Now, it’s a hotel that also does tours.

Oak Alley doesn’t shy away from its history of enslavement, and it includes an exhibit that tells the stories of the human beings forced into labor in the plantation’s sugarcane fields. Tours of the slave quarters and the Big House are offered, but we arrived too late to take one.

We passed several more over the course of our final week in the areas surrounding Baton Rouge, including the magnificent Whitney plantation, setting for scenes in the movies Django Unchained and 12 Years A Slave. Its history includes some of the most brutal aspects of slavery, but its modern face is turned toward telling that story through the voices and experiences of the enslaved. It is marked out as a designated “Site of Memory,” (in this instance, a location in which a significant point in history, held in collective memory, is contained) as well as being on the National Register of Historic Places.

*If Georgia’s fictional Twelve Oaks and Louisiana had a baby, it would be the Whitney.*

We didn’t discover the names of the following plantation homes along the scenic Great River Road, but they gave us a fairly clear idea of what neighboring homes of wealthy land-owners would have looked like, pre-Civil War.

Over the course of this trip we’ve been so appreciative of the places that look the uglier aspects of their past straight in the eye, call it what it is, and strive to educate toward an understanding of those events, unfiltered by bias.

Louisiana is, of course, far more than its past. Our tour of the downtown area turned up lots of interesting sights, including Louisiana’s Old State Capital, the WWII destroyer USS Kidd, Red Stick Market farmer’s market, and the fascinating Sing the River Sculpture, which reminded us of The Bean in Chicago.

Bluebonnet Swamp Nature Center made for another easy drive and gave us the chance for some fresh air in natural surroundings.

*You can take the kid out of the jungle, but…*

Susan still wasn’t up for much cooking, so we decided to grab lunch at Raising Cane’s Chicken Fingers, which started in Baton Rouge in 1996. We’re not big fast-food people, but we had to agree, these were some pretty terrific chicken fingers, and one order was enough to split (3 for Simon, 1 for Susan).

As our time in Baton Rouge wrapped up, we decided the only area we hadn’t really seen yet was to the north of the city, and a day-trip found us in Natchez, Mississippi, just across the Mississippi River. So often during our travels we’re led to something special, and this road trip was no exception.

We grabbed lunch at Pig Out Inn BBQ solely based on its funny name, splitting a scrummy chopped brisket sandwich with sides of potato salad and baked beans. It was all delicious, but those beans…Susan could easily have made a meal just of those (which would be a bad idea later that night in a 36-foot space, so she didn’t).

The unexpected highlight of the day, however, was the Natchez Powwow, which we stumbled upon as we walked along the riverside, celebrating culture through dance, music, food, and camaraderie. Everyone was welcome to join some of the dances, but we stayed off to the side, since we had Ruthie with us. We did check in advance to make sure photos were acceptable, and were told we were welcome to take photos and video.

Dances circled a tent in the center of the ring, where drummers and singers were located, and people moved along the dance route in whatever way moved them. Some shuffled, some danced alone, some danced shoulder-to-shoulder, and it was so beautiful we forgave ourselves for getting a bit misty-eyed.

Baton Rouge and its surrounding areas surprised and delighted us, and it’s certainly an area to which we’ll return. We are reminded again and again how blessed we are to experience the events and meet the people that make this country so diverse and compelling.

Striking A Balance With The Big “Red Stick”

In 1699, a French-Canadian expedition led by Pierre Le Moyne d’Iberville made its way along the Mississippi River, and came upon bloody cypress sticks driven into the ground, with fish and the heads of sacrificial bears attached at their pointy tops. These markers signified the Houma Indian and Bayou Goula tribes’ hunting borders, and spawned the name Baton Rouge, or “red stick,” which was the next destination in our Year on the Road journey.

The drive between Lafayette and Baton Rouge turned out to be an adventure in itself, and we were delighted by the scenery on both sides of the 18-mile-long Atchafalaya Basin Bridge. This was real Louisiana stuff; bayou all the way, with people fishing from boats right there along the split highway. Fantastic!

*A long, long bridge with a great view!*

*We missed getting the photo, but there are people fishing in small boats in that waterway.*

Our first week combined lots of rest for Susan, who was still testing Covid positive, with as much touring (and her fully masked up) as we could possibly do. Tiger’s Trail RV Park proved to be blissfully quiet, with lots of open space that made staying “home” scenic and comfortable.

*Isn’t this peaceful? Lots of space around us. That’s the casino in the background.*

We had earmarked several Scenic Byways, and because Tunica Trace Scenic Byway was the shortest, we made it our first drive. But this is us, so if you’ve been reading the blog from the start, you already know it won’t be as simple as getting in the car, ambling along joyfully, and ending with happy memories of a relaxing excursion.

We try to find a balance between research and allowing for discovery when we choose the places we’ll tour, so we knew we’d be on a designated Byway (Highway 66) through the Tunica Hills Wildlife Management Area, featuring rolling, forested hills. What we didn’t know was that Highway 66 isn’t paved, it’s only wide enough for one-and-a-half cars, and no one will come to your aid if you break down or blow a tire because there’s no cell phone service in the forest. Plus, there’s bees. Hundreds and hundreds of giant bees, who follow your car for the entire 20-mile trip.

*It’s like something straight out of a Bob Ross painting.*

*All we could think of was blowing a tire and having to change it with a thousand of these angry bees swarming around in a murder rage.*

Poor little Nippy lurched and pounded and battled her way through, and we were incredibly relieved when we finally reached the end of the Byway and hit solid pavement.

We were slightly less relieved when we came to the end of the pavement and were face-to-face with the notorious Louisiana State Penitentiary, also known as Angola Prison, home to what the locals call “the real bad boys.”

But we’re glad to have the story, since we lived. If not for having to watch the road every moment for massive potholes and downed trees, it would truly be one of the most wild and beautiful drives we’ve done so close to a major city.

We drove on to St. Francisville for a glimpse of The Myrtles antebellum plantation, whose current owners call it one of America’s most haunted houses. Up to ten people are said to have been murdered at this former slave-owning plantation, but documentation indicates it was really only one.

That one person isn’t the ghost most people agree haunts the place, though. Instead, Chloe, a former slave hung by her neck until dead for the poisoning of a former owner’s three children, still walks the grounds. Problem is, it seems none of the plantation’s records include a slave named Chloe, two of the children actually died from Yellow Fever, and the third lived a long-ish life. Even so, hauntings are fun when no one gets hurt.

*A caretaker named William* *Winter took a bullet on one of the house’s side porches, but doesn’t seem to spend any time in the house now that he’s enjoying the afterlife.*

Susan was still testing Covid positive, so we were finding a balance between touring and napping, and a quieter day was on the cards. Louisiana State University wasn’t far away, so we popped over to see the Indian Mounds and pose with a statue of the university’s mascot, Mike the Tiger.

What we didn’t realize was that Mike (at least, the seventh incarnation of the original Mike, who died in 1956) has his own habitat right there on campus grounds. We had thoughts about that particular brand of captivity, but it was still incredible to see such a glorious cat as he sunbathed, yawned, stretched, and found a nice rock to flop down on, to the delight of all onlookers.

We had a good, long drive around the campus’s lake area, where huge homes enjoyed one of LSU’s prettiest views. And that’s saying something. Of course, Michigan State University is the most beautiful campus in the country, but LSU is certainly right up there. Simply gorgeous, and those Live Oak trees…!

*One of our lasting memories of Louisiana, and especially Baton Rouge, will be these gorgeous Live Oak trees. They’re everywhere, and they’re just stunning.*

There were several Scenic Byways we hoped to explore, and Southern Swamp Byway was next on our list. Our first stop along the byway was Cajun Village, a small collection of restored Acadian dwellings made into boutique shops with a distinctly “bayou” flair.

Simon went into the Coffee House and came out with two hot drinks and a bag steaming with three fresh-made beignets, those crispy-soft, fried delights absolutely drowning in powdered sugar. And since he bought them, there was nothing to do but eat them. So we did.

Bayou Francois wasn’t far away, so we brushed the powdered sugar off our jeans (and our phones, and our seats, and the floor) and made the trek out into the wilderness. The bayou’s big appeal is fishing and kayaking, but those were off the cards for us. Even so, the drive to the bayou was punctuated by gator sightings, hundreds of birds, and an up-close view of an Exxon Mobile Pipeline plant surrounded by hundreds of acres of swampland.

*A rocky road runs through swampland on both sides.*

*Most of this isn’t solid ground. So many creatures live in there.*

*Giant gator alert! There were several biggies here, as well as a few smaller ones.*

*A stark contrast between natural wetlands and burn-off from Exxon Mobile’s plant.*

After a few days of touring, we needed a quiet day (and by “we” I mean “Susan”), so one of us slept much of the next day away and the other (Simon) went to see Dune 2 at a nearby movie theater (fully masked, of course, and with only three other people in the theater), then checked out the casino that supports Tiger’s Trail campground.

*The casino and hotel are quite elegant, and are situated right off the Mississippi River.*

At that point we had a decision to make. We had planned to move on to New Orleans after a week, but there was so much to do in Baton Rouge, and we felt we hadn’t done the area justice yet. True to the very best of Southern hospitality, the staff at Tiger’s Trail were absolutely brilliant in extending our stay, and their kindness was, without a doubt, the key to a better recovery for Susan and more time in a wonderful city for both of us.

The Bayous Beckon

Hello, Louisiana! Home to vast acres of rice fields and crawfish farms, and weird, sticky-uppy stalks that we discovered were sugar cane, one of the state’s primary crops. Hello, Covid, too, which put a major damper on our touring, with its ferocious exhaustion and coughing that had Susan bedridden for four days straight.

*These fields are everywhere. Some are rice fields, some are crawfish ponds, and some are both.*

The virus’s nasty symptoms hit the night before we moved from Beaumont, Texas to the peaceful oasis of Parkside RV Resort in Broussard, Louisiana, but at that point we thought it was a bad cold, or maybe allergies. We’d been so careful; didn’t dine in restaurants, our touring was all outside and just the two of us (plus Ruthie), so Covid wasn’t at the top of our minds. It was only two days later, when Susan said, “I’d better test to rule it out,” that we knew the awful truth.

During our pre-test time of innocence we took a little drive around Broussard, exploring the downtown area by car. It’s a cute city center, very compact and approachable, and we liked the small-town feel in a place we thought would be much, much bigger. It also offered a hint at the transition Lafayette seems to be going through.

*The historic area is going through a change, but certainly retains its small-town charm.*

Two features really stood out for us as we drove around: the Giant Live Oak trees and the above-ground cemeteries. We’d seen this sort of cemetery during a visit to New Orleans years ago, but they still stand out as curiosities, especially as so many of them seem to be in the back end of nowhere, or smack in the middle of the city.

*The Live Oaks are so dramatic, and incredibly beautiful.*

Susan had a little rally five days into it, so, with her fully masked up in an N95, we hit the road for the Bayou Teche National Byway to Morgan City. We had been wondering exactly what “bayou” meant, since we thought it meant a big, swampy waterway with cypress trees in and around it, but very back-woodsy, dark, and mysterious due to all the trees. The kind of place Huckleberry Finn would have been born and grown up, where ‘possum and squirrel were always on the menu.

Instead, it’s a French version of the Choctaw word “bayuk,” meaning (roughly) a creek or small river, which was what we were seeing every time we saw a marker for a bayou, including Bayou Teche (literally, river snake, or “snaking river”), which was once the original course of the mighty Mississippi River a few thousand years ago.

There may be those among you who have unexpectedly encountered the transfer of illegal goods from one car to another, as we have seen on occasion, but only in Louisiana would that transfer of goods involve crawfish and shrimp. And that’s exactly what we saw while waiting to gas up Fati at a Walmart. These two fellas negotiated the sale of crustation packages tucked in a cooler full of ice for quite some time, while holding up everyone in line behind them waiting to get gas.

The next day, Susan was free from the feeling of having been kicked in the face by a donkey, but still coughing and incredibly tired, so we opted for a drive along the Cajun Corridor Byway that runs between Delcambre and Kaplan, south of Lafayette.

*This is how Susan did most of our touring, when she wasn’t flat-out asleep in the rig.*

Simon’s appetite made up for Susan having none at all, so a visit to Suire’s Cajun Restaurant and Grocery Store for lunch was in order, being somewhat of a local institution. We knew before we even started the trip that Louisiana would be a non-starter for Susan, food-wise, due to a rather nasty shellfish allergy, so having no desire to eat was a blessing in disguise.

*Some of the best food we’ve had has come from some of the humblest places.*

Simon had no such restrictions, and went for the Boudin Plate, a homey assemblage of Boudin sausage, rice, gravy, a dinner roll, slaw, beans, and a brownie. Delicious perfection!

*The kind of food you scarf down, then sop up the tattered remains with a biscuit.*

We detoured further south for a drive along the White Lake Birding Trail after lunch, and while we couldn’t do any of the walking trails, the road through it rewarded us with wildlife sightings and reminded us of our beloved Apopka Wildlife Drive in Florida. We saw lots of gators, some deer, hundreds of birds, and a mammal that was either a muskrat, a beaver, or a woodchuck. Probably a beaver, possibly a woodchuck, but we’ll never know for sure.

Cooking dinner was out of the question, so we made a quick stop at Hebert’s Meats for pre-made Etouffee and sausages, which Simon could dine on for the next couple of days. Somehow, we only have one photo of the outside of the store, and none of the fine offerings within.

Susan’s rally was short-lived. The next morning her oximeter was showing some worrying numbers, so it was off to Urgent Care, just a quarter-mile from our campground. Two chest X-rays later (mercifully, both clear), we were sent home with a six-day course of steroids, an antibiotic for a brewing secondary infection, and a coupon from the doctor to help us afford a $500 inhaler.

While Susan slept the rest of the day away, Simon went back to St. Martinville to see the Evangeline Monument and the Acadian Museum. The monument is a plaque in front of a massive Live Oak tree, the fourth representative of the original tree made famous in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s tragic poem, Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie about the exile of Acadians from Nova Scotia in 1755.

When we set out on this year-long adventure, our perception of Louisiana was that it was a less prosperous state, but as we drove around we began to see a pattern. Big houses and mini-mansions were rising up right next door to the most humble of homes, mobile homes, and RVs being used as homes, both in the towns and perhaps especially in the more rural areas. Something was clearly happening (gentrification; it’s gentrification), and when we arrived in Baton Rouge a week later, our curiosity about this trend kicked into high gear.

Our week in Broussard and Lafayette was far too short, especially given the days “wasted” by sleep, but we thoroughly enjoyed what we did see. Louisiana’s southern coast had definitely impressed us so far, as did the Southern kindness and generosity we’d encountered, and we were eager to see more.

Galveston, Oh Galveston

We have never had to pay to enter a city before, so the $2 toll to get into Galveston was a first for us. Passing through the tollway looks straightforward when you’re in a car, but less so in Fati. Is the lane wide enough? Will we hit the top of the toll booth? Is that barrier curb on the right too close? Was taking the coastal road instead of the highway a bad idea? How much does RV paint cost if we get a massive scrape down one side? A million thoughts went through our brains, except for the one that did catch us out.

The issue we hadn’t factored in as we were approaching the tollbooth was that we had to put our two dollar bills under a rock in the booth’s sliding tray. There was no hand to reach up and meet Simon half-way, so this was my view while he tried to get the job done.

In the end, the toll booth attendant (who had done this before) came out of the booth to take our money. And yes, we did fit through that narrow lane without a scratch.

On our way to the campground, we passed massive homes along the Gulf side of the road, and it was obvious there was money in Galveston. Whether it was due to familiarity with the more city-like setting or just the glorious views of the Gulf of Mexico all along our right-hand side, we immediately felt comfortable, and took a real shine to our temporary island home.

Once settled at the lovely Dellanera RV Resort, so close to the water we only had a 30-second walk to the beach, we took advantage of the nice weather and had a stroll. Like Galveston, the RV park felt comfortable right from the start, and we were delighted to have a full week to enjoy its seaside amenities. We could easily understand why “Winter Texans” made Dellanera their season-long stay.

*The walkway in the distance connects our campground to the beach.*

*Galveston’s beaches go on for miles and miles and miles. We’re pretty sure you could walk around nearly the entire island using the beaches.*

Ruthie now has her own vehicle. She can still take her walks for as long as she’s comfortable, then we drop the tailgate on her wagon and she can cozy down on a blanket and have a ride while we get more exercise. It’s been a boon for us – lots more walking! – and she’s getting used to it, though the movement feels a little bit odd at first.

Galveston is the world’s ninth busiest cruise port, and there were two Carnival ships and one Royal Caribbean ship in port when we took a drive to the downtown area on our first full day.

We also aimed to visit the area’s three wildlife reserves, but that term means something slightly different here to what we’ve come to expect. Here, it’s wetlands along the sides of some road, or, in one case, ponds in the middle of a brand new, upscale housing development, where we saw Roseate Spoonbills, lots of interesting ducks, some Snow Geese, and some sort of goose bird we’d never seen before, which turned out to be Black-bellied Whistling-Ducks. Who knew?

The next day, Royal Caribbean’s mega-ship, Harmony of the Seas, was just heading out of port as we were touring around, so we made a bee-line to Fort San Jacinto Point, where we joined lots of other spectators who were there to wave her off.

The people fishing in the foreground and the giant tankers in the channel in the following photo gives you some idea of how absolutely enormous Harmony is. We’ve sailed on her sister ships, Oasis of the Seas and Allure of the Seas, each during their media previews prior to their maiden voyages. They’re whompin’ great ships, so enormous it feels more like you’re in a shopping mall than on a cruise ship. Harmony is even bigger, with capacity for 7,084 guests and a crew of 2,369.

Our next two days were taken up with work while we waited for delivery of a new motor for our tilt bed. We’re not going to go into this story – at all – other than to say we’d been sleeping with the head of our bed semi-upright for nearly two weeks, and we both felt like we’d been thrown from a high building.

*Mattress blocking the whole kitchen, but it’ll be back on the bed frame by lunchtime, right? Yeah…no.*

This little high-torque motor is the replacement for the rotten bastard of a motor under our great huge heavy bed frame that decided to stop communicating with the controllers that move the bed up and down. We appreciated the service it had given us, but couldn’t it go for just another 2.5 months? I mean, really!

*Cell phone shown here to give you an idea of size. How can something so small cause such a big problem?*

We expected the motor to take about half an hour to replace, and the mobile tech expected that, too. Again, we’ll say no more than the final result was, the entire bed foundation had to be removed, as did part of the frame. The single set screw that was supposed to be all that held the motor in, wasn’t. Some damned fool put another screw in while the rig was being build, under a metal box that can’t be reached without dismantling much of the frame. It took the poor technician nearly four hours to complete the job.

Some RVs have storage under the bed frame. Ours has a billion wires. And yes, that green thing on the floor on the right is soap. It’s supposed to help keep mice out, but probably only results in fragrant green mouse poop.

But we won’t talk about that. Because it’s awful and upsetting and we hated the world while it was going on. We hated the Lippert tech support people even more, when the first one said, “Yes, it’s just one set screw” and the second call resulted in, “I don’t know how you’ll reach the second screw. You’ll have to figure it out.”

But no more. It’s not something we’ll talk about. Because we’re not complainers.

Tonight, it’s “blowing a hooley,” (which is a British saying that sounds dirty but isn’t) and our rig is shaking with every massive gust of wind, but we’re going to be sleeping flat, so life is still worth living.

We don’t yet know what we’ll do with the last of our time in Galveston. We promised each other we’d get a really great steak while we’re here, which is a stupid idea after the expense of our repair but a great idea as a reward for all the heavy lifting we’d done and the massive amount of encouragement we gave our mobile tech when it all went to hell in a handbasket.

The Fire At Night

Our next port of call was Port Lavaca, nestled along the Gulf Coast’s Lavaca Bay. The area’s history picks up three threads we’ve been writing about: The Spanish holding of territory that later became Texas; Native Americans being driven from their lands (in this case, Comanche who survived a raid in what is now a town to the north, and came to the port area for refuge); and the names people use for bison, which, in Spanish, is La Vaca, even though la vaca actually means “the cow.” But we were mainly there for the scenery.

Most small county parks can’t accommodate big rigs, but Texas is no slouch, and the beautiful Lighthouse Beach RV Resort had no problem with 36-foot Fati. Our site looked out on the bay, and on a wonderful boardwalk over the water that was perfect for our evening strolls as the sun went down and the sky lit up like fire.

Fishing and birding are the big draws here, and it’s easy to slow right down to the point where a glass of wine and the view are all the excitement you need. Want more? Ramp it up with a walk along the pier and meet the fisherpersons, peer over the water through binoculars to see what’s flying and floating around, and marvel at the mad rush of the so-called “Formosa Five Hundred” that takes place along the State Highway 35 causeway during each shift change for Formosa Plastics Corporation, situated directly across Lavaca Bay from our campground, along with Alcoa and DuPont.

Now, those of you who’ve been following us from the beginning will likely have noticed we never drive Fati at night. Like, ever. It simply isn’t done. But circumstances dictated otherwise this time, and we found ourselves heading over the causeway as darkness fell.

*This level of visibility is why we try never to drive at night.*

Approaching and then passing Formosa, producers of resins and other chemically things, was like driving into the unsettling opening scene of the movie Blade Runner. A true dystopian setting right there in ironically named Port Comfort, minus the flying spacecraft.

The rest of the journey east ambled along dark roads through empty countryside, and ended with an overnight stay at a Walmart right off a busy road, with trains and their blaring whistles barreling past every half hour, all night long.

We were truly exhausted when we reached Oyster Creek the next day, and were somewhat dismayed to see our campground was just on the boundary of miles and miles of refineries.

But it was a peaceful little haven, mainly populated by refinery workers who put in such labor-intensive days that they were all asleep by 8 p.m. Silence reigned, even as the belching discharge from the refineries’ chimneys lit up the sky with fire, this time not of the natural variety.

*Those super-bright orange spots are fire blasting out of the chimneys.*

Everybody knows cars and machinery don’t run on daffodils and the laughter of unicorns. We all know there is a process of refinement. Seeing it in person when you haven’t grown up with it in your home town is both horrifying and fascinating. It’s like looking at a city comprised of the bare bones of enormous building complexes, but with no people, and we were filled with discomfort with the process and admiration for the people who work there.

Like so many things we’ve experienced during this trip, we were pulled in two directions, mentally. Years ago, seeing fish farming in Chilean Patagonia first-hand completely put us off from eating farm-raised fish, ever again. It was a simple decision. But not everything is that straightforward.

We had been told Surfside, a little town right on the water, was worth seeing, so at least that decision was straightforward. Surfside Beach was hit by Hurricane Nicholas in 2021, and many if not most of the homes there are new.

*Heading down a massive bridge, with Surfside and the Bay at the end of the road. Some of the dots in the water are tankers, some are oil rigs.*

All of them are high up on stilts, creating a hodge-podge neighborhood of houses that look like they were brought in and propped up on stilts wherever the moving truck happened to stop. There is none of the formal layout – or similarity in architecture – of the neighborhoods we’re used to, and we drove around pointing and commenting and being fascinated by the whole thing.

Freeport Channel seems to be the place where locals gather on balmy evenings to do some fishing and to watch the gigantic freighters that harbor there, presumably to fill up with whatever the refineries are pumping out.

Unexpected as it was, Oyster Bay made a good two-day base to decompress before we headed to Galveston, and when we learned the original Buc-ee’s was less than 10 minutes away, we headed over and grabbed a couple of bags of Buc-ee’s Nugg-ees, just because we could. We felt the circle from the beginning of our journey to the not-so-distant end of our adventure starting to close.

*How our relationship with Buc-ees started.*

Chillin’ on the Texas Riviera

Texas has two Rivieras. One is the conceptual “Riviera” claimed by towns along the Gulf Coast’s Padre and Mustang Islands, and the other is the actual burg of Riviera, our next destination as we started our eastward bounce along the coast toward Florida.

We chose Riviera purely because of its location, a half-way point on the drive from Donna to Corpus Christi. We’d have three days on the inlet to Baffin Bay, get our minds onto “island time,” and maybe take advantage of the campground’s activities.

All activities were cancelled during our stay because Covid, RSV, and flu were going around the campground, which is not what you want to hear, but one of the benefits of this lifestyle is that most socializing takes place outdoors. Most of the campers were seasonal “Winter Texans,” (like Florida’s “snowbirds,” who come from Northern states and spend the winter in a warmer climate), including our neighbors on both sides (Hi Linda and Erik and Linda!), and we enjoyed several happy chats with them, hearing about their travels and telling them about ours.

We also took advantage of the good (if chilly) weather and took Ruthie for a walk out the pier. Now, anyone who shares a home with a rescue dog probably has moments when they recognize their pup’s former life is showing up. For Ruthie, there seems to be something about being on a pier over salt water that gives her tremendous joy. She was found along Florida’s Gulf Coast, and our Riviera adventure must have felt like home to her. It was lovely to see her scamper and dance like a puppy!

If you’ve been following along on Facebook (SimonSusanVeness), you already know we had fun with “Caption This” for the following photo, and we had a good laugh about the fantastic captions people came up with.

The real story behind it is, when we arrived at the campground we were told the nearest grocery store was a 40-mile round-trip to Kingman (where we’d Wallydocked the night before we arrived in Donna ((Hi Karin and Darren! Hi Gary and Mary!))), or we could drive eight miles to the local Dollar General, which carried basic foodstuffs. We were happy with soup and a short drive, and I only took the photo to remind us that we actually shopped for comestibles at a Dollar store. Simon’s facial expression, though; priceless!

Anyway, our time in Riviera was short, so this blog will be short, too. We strolled the pier just outside the campground, did a little bit of writing, and enjoyed the fabulous view outside our front window, which included sightings of what we were told were Nilgai, the massive, pointy-horned animals that look like big-barreled deer but are really related to antelope.

They were brought to the area by King Ranch as game for the ranch’s hunting expeditions, but, happily, at least some of their descendants are living a free life. We were so thrilled by these unexpected sightings, and when our time in Riveria came to an end, we felt it had been something truly special.

Okay, But He’s Still A Jerk

We only had four days on South Padre Island, so we packed in as much as we could. We knew one of our outings would involve the work of someone we consider a five-star jerk, but we didn’t know there was another total git who had a big impact on what would become Texas, and on the country as a whole.

If you’ve been following our blog or follow us on Facebook, you know we’ve mentioned having Starlink as our internet system. For RVers, it’s the only fully reliable connection, and that’s something we are not able to take risks with; we have to have internet powerful enough to deal with large files being transferred, because we’re working as we’re traveling.

*Starlink and Simon, both hard at work.*

You might also know who owns Starlink. And if you do, you know Elon Musk is a controversial character, to say the very least. Perhaps he’s nice to dogs and babies, but we absolutely cannot stand his attitudes or behaviors. It was a huge moral dilemma when we had to decide how to deal with internet on the road.

All of that is a long tirade leading up to us saying we made the trip to Starbase, about 40 miles from our campground (by car; maybe 5 if there wasn’t a gigantic ocean inlet in the way), out in the boonies of Boca Chica.

If Elon ever convinces more than one human being to implant a microchip in their brain, he might enclose his Starbase compound and carry out whatever plan he’s working on, but for now you can drive right up to it, and we did. We were impressed by what we saw, in the same way we were impressed by the Reichstag in Berlin – with a mix of admiration for the building and fear of its owner.

*This long road goes straight to the beach, past Starbase and the Starlink compound.*

Starbase consists of an area that features rockets and big, mysterious buildings; an area where small, pre-fab homes are stored, presumably for future employees who want to live onsite; the Starlink center; and a launch pad. A massive amount of empty land and the sea surround the compound.

*It’s possible these giant…um…rockets…reminded us of their creator in more ways than one.*

A few hundred feet past the Starlink base is Boca Chica Beach, which, for now, is the reason you can drive right past Elon’s private property. You can also drive on the beach, because of course you can; this is Texas, and it won’t be messed with by paltry safety rules. Admittedly, Florida has a driveable beach where accidents happen every year, but…well…Florida.

We were actually glad we saw Starbase. There’s no question the place – and the ambition – is impressive. But we’re never going to agree to having microchipped brains or treating people as expendable.

*We didn’t expect to be able to get this close to the rockets.*

The next day we drove to Brownsville, in part because we were supposed to spend three days camping there and we honestly weren’t sure we wanted to, and in part because we wanted to see Palo Alto, where the first battle of the Mexican War took place when President Polk decided, in 1846, that part of Mexico was now his.

I (Susan, obviously) am going to go even more preachy on you than usual, so skip this paragraph if you don’t want to hear it. I won’t be offended, and you’re probably making the right call. But the fact is, I cannot for the life of me understand most wars. Nazi Germany and other wars whose goal was a land grab with a massive side order of genocide is something completely different. That’s a war that needs fighting. Inciting war against people living peacefully just because you want what they have, that’s not how young lives should be lost. Getting along and sharing billions of acres is an option. If you have absolutely no self-control whatsoever and cannot live one more minute without taking someone else’s territory, set up a big speaker and…I dunno…maybe yodel at them without ceasing until they relent. It all ends in negotiation anyway, so skip the murder and get straight to the talking.

Okay, done. Mostly.

Palo Alto Battlefield National Historical Park features a battlefield marked with U.S. flags and Mexican flags, to show the front lines where the armies faced off as Mexico insisted its territory was its own and the U.S. said, “Nuh-uh. Ours now.” It also has a small interpretive center. We’re here to say it’s one of the best little museums we’ve seen on this trip, and that’s saying something.

Jeager, one of the park rangers, was the right man to answer our question: Didn’t this land come with the Louisiana Purchase? The short answer is, “No.” The long answer is, “Nooooooooooooo.” And the reason it’s “No” is because Mexico’s territory extended up into what is now southern Oregon, while the Brits still held what is now northern Oregon, Idaho, and Washington (state, not D.C.).

Part of what is now Texas was annexed as its own republic, but Polk wanted more. So why not lose a bunch of lives and make the Rio Grande the new U.S./Mexico border? What a jerk.

At the same time as the U.S. was deep in the two-year war for Mexican land, the British decided they weren’t interested in a long fight that would probably end in the loss of their territory below the 49th parallel, so they signed the Oregon Treaty and, at the end of the Mexican War, the continental U.S. enjoyed the boundaries we now know.

General Zachary Taylor, a non-political General who didn’t think the war was justified but ultimately led the successful campaign, became a national hero, and then the 12th President of the United States. Fascinating.

Simon was captivated by how well defined the Palo Alto battlefield was, and by the clarity of the interpretive center’s exhibits, which made it easy to see what had happened there. Susan was drawn in by the human side, and by the way researchers unearthed buttons torn from the soldiers’ uniforms during the violence of the battle, and used them to track the troops’ movements, even down to individual soldiers at times.

For us, the ripples and ramifications we’re encountering on this trip explain so much about what is wonderful and heroic and admirable and outrageously generous about this great country, and they also bring into stark focus the events that stand as lessons about the past and warnings for the future, and the decisions that do not represent our better selves.

A Year On The Road in The Independent (Parts 1-5)

Catching up on the first five months of our Ultimate American Road Trip, being serialized in The Independent

Keen readers of our road-trip blog will know we are also serializing the whole trip, month by month, in The Independent newspaper in the UK, and you might like to see the story so far, Months 1 through 5.

It all started back on May 14 with our departure from Orlando and then a month heading north as far as Minnesota…

https://www.independent.co.uk/travel/north-america/usa/american-road-trip-usa-florida-minnesota-b2369256.html

Part Two saw us travel from Minnesota west to the Big Sky state of Montana, where the magnificent scenery REALLY kicked in…

*The astounding Earthquake Lake in Montana*

https://www.independent.co.uk/travel/north-america/usa/american-road-trip-usa-minnesota-montana-rv-b2398864.html

After arriving in Montana, Part Three of our year-long epic saw us focus on Yellowstone National Park and Glacier National Park for two of the undoubted highlights of the trip…

*Taking time for the geothermal marvel of West Thumb Geyser Basin in Yellowstone*

https://www.independent.co.uk/travel/north-america/usa/american-road-trip-usa-yellowstone-glacier-national-parks-b2415050.html

Part Four of our big RV adventure took us back through Montana and Wyoming to soak up more of those epic views and vast, open spaces…

*Mountains – big, dramatic mountains – were a constant feature of this leg of the journey*

https://www.independent.co.uk/travel/north-america/usa/american-road-trip-usa-montana-wyoming-b2438975.html

Once we reached Idaho and Utah, we were always in sight of spectacular scenery, and it gave us plenty of material for Part Five…

*Utah served up the mind-boggling views of Arches National Park*

https://www.independent.co.uk/travel/north-america/usa/american-road-trip-usa-idaho-utah-b2467275.html

In Part Six, we’ll be writing about the wilds of Nevada and Southern California, but also including Las Vegas and Palm Springs. Stay tuned….!

A Year On The Road – The 8-Month Map

Here we are at the two-thirds mark of our grand ‘A Year On The Road’ RV adventure, and we have reached deep south Texas. We are currently in Donna, TX, and we have traveled a full 928 miles in the last month from our December base in Las Cruces, New Mexico.

Our route from Las Cruces took us down through El Paso to Van Horn, and then on to Alpine (for the magnificent Big Bend National Park), before heading further south to Del Rio and then Castroville for Christmas (just outside San Antonio). The New Year then took us southwest to Donna via Kingsville.

*All safely set up at our RV resort in Donna, Texas. We could end up being here a whole month!*

Our total RV mileage since we left home is now 8,242 and Texas is our 20th state (not counting Florida). That 928 miles probably doesn’t sound like much, but it is more than the total for months 6 and 7 combined, as we had started a significant slow-down in favor of being longer in one place and exploring further by car.

*The story so far. The full track of our trip in Fati is in yellow, and our multiple side-trips in Nippy are shown in pink. We still have another 1,500 miles or so to get home!*

Our little Ford Fiesta, Nippy, has put in an additional 1,558 miles in the past month, giving her a total to date of 19,708. Combined with Fati, we have driven a grand total of 27,825 miles, or basically enough to have gone right the way round the world, plus an extra 2,924 miles!

*We had to make sure we didn’t arrive too early at our Donna campground, so we paid a call to the local Post Office (which had a nice empty parking lot!)*

In all honesty, we are not looking to break any long-distance records at this stage. We knew we had to get some miles under our belt by January as the weather becomes a major factor at this time of year, and we need to stay as far south as possible. RVs are not built to travel far during the depths of winter and, even being this far south has had its challenges, with temps dropping below freezing several times this month. Including the wind-chill, we hit 15F/-9.5C at its coldest and, living in what amounts to a glorified tin can, that gets REALLY cold, really quickly!

Our route from here will hug the Texas coast all the way to Louisiana in March, and we should just be warming up again by then!

Simon, Susan & Ruthie

Merry Christmas! Enjoy The Gift!

Two things inspired us to make campground reservations more than a year in advance when we were planning our Year on the Road: popularity, and the holidays. Yellowstone wins for popularity, and Christmas wins for tough-to-get holiday reservations in warm climates, so those dates were at the top of our list, more than a year in advance.

Susan was up at midnight hitting “Reserve” the moment our dates for Yellowstone opened, and she got one of the last two available sites, just minutes after the booking window opened. She did the same for our Christmas 2023 campground in Castroville, Texas, just outside San Antonio. When our schedule changed after dropping Washington and Oregon, we re-worked it around that booking, and on December 23, 2023, we arrived at Alsatian RV Resort, 16 months after the reservation was made.

But first we Wallydocked in a Walmart parking lot just outside Amistad National Recreation Area in Del Rio, Texas on the way south, to break up the long journey. Evenings at Walmart are a spectator sport. Nights are a study in tiny-home living with no conveniences; no jacks down for stabilization, no slides out for a flat bed, no water from the faucets, and no heat. It got down to 34F that night.

*Simon can sleep anywhere, so it’s the sofa for him, wrapped up like a burrito.*

*Susan gets the folded-up bed, which sounds comfy but isn’t.* *Everything that rides on it during travel stays on it at night. There’s nowhere else for stuff to go.*

We had a supercharged itinerary during our stay in Castroville, thanks to Visit San Antonio, who searched out all the best things to do and places to eat in the city, with us and Ruthie in mind. Susan’s allergies were in high gear due to all the cedar pollen, but she chose to power through and venture out amongst the people. Allergies aren’t contagious.

*Simon’s Christmas decorating masterpiece.*

Christmas Eve morning, we were off to Pearl Farmer’s Market at San Antonio’s swish Pearl lifestyle center filled with shops and restaurants, where we could pick up loads of fresh produce for dinner that night and for Christmas Day.

But wait. This being Christmas Eve, the farmers were all home getting ready for friends and family, and didn’t show up. No market today. Still, we had a reservation for brunch at Southerleigh, with patio seating for maximum pre-holiday people watching.

Simon opted for a craft beer and the Southern Fried Chicken, featuring what looked like half a chicken nestled on the most pillowy, fluffy, feather-light biscuit you could imagine, and served with crispy potatoes. In our house, it would feed two. In San Antonio it fed one, with a few sad potatoes left straggling on the plate.

Susan went for a mimosa and the Heirloom Tomato Salad with fresh ricotta, basil oil, and sweet balsamic mustard seeds, which doesn’t sound like much but was pure magic when you’re craving vegetables.

The Alamo (yes, that Alamo) was on our schedule for later in the week, but with time to spare today, we headed a few blocks over for a visit. Now, if you’re like us, you picture the Alamo out in the boonies somewhere, far away from anyone who might have been able to come to the rescue of those poor Texas soldiers and save them from a thirteen-day siege and inevitable death at the hands of the Mexican army.

But boonies grow into towns, and towns grow into cities, and the former Spanish mission is now in the very heart of San Antonio. The Alamo is, obviously, on Texan land, having been surrendered by Mexico after further battles, bloodshed, and loss of lives. A courtyard remembers characters from that awful time, some of whom became legends in U.S. history.

*John William Smith, San Antonio’s first mayor, who fought in the Texas war for independence.*

*Emily West, a free woman of color who was kidnapped by the Mexican cavalry and later inspired the song, “The Yellow Rose of Texas.”*

*James Bowie, pioneer, land and slave speculator, best known for his distinctive “Bowie knife,” and not known enough for his “ownership” of human beings.*

*David “Davy” Crockett, legendary frontiersman and congressman who, as the song goes, “killed him a bar when he was only three.” He and Bowie both died at the Alamo.*

Christmas Day! A day to distract ourselves from being away from loved ones by having a movie marathon, opening our gifts to each other, and enjoying a lovely meal.

Christmas Eve dinner had been a snacky affair due to all that fried chicken Simon had for lunch, but today we were in for a treat.

Simon requested Beef Bourguignon, Texas has good steak, and we had that bottle of Lemon Olive Oil from our visit to Queen Creek Olive Mill in Mesa that would make a nice dressing for arugula salad with shaved parmesan. Score!

We gave each other new reusable thermal mugs to keep our coffee and tea hot on moving days, wrapped up so we felt special. Simon chose a box of Lindt chocolates while we were out shopping; Susan picked up a Whitman’s Sampler in memory of her childhood, when that was the “fancy candy;” and we threw in a candy cane we’d been given at a previous campground, all of which made us felt as right as we could about the day, given our unusual circumstances.

Ruthie’s digestive tract still wasn’t cooperating, and after several nights of very broken sleep for her and for us, it was time to get her in with a vet. We’d had no luck on Christmas Eve, Christmas day, or December 26, but the wonderful Alamo Area Veterinary Clinic had an opening on December 27, so we rescheduled our touring and got her sorted out. Three medications and 24 hours later, she made a miraculous recovery, so we considered her vet bill a Christmas gift.

*A little light reading while waiting for the vet.*

Dr. Baker-Arguelles spent a long time with us and Ruthie, listening to our concerns and explaining the process we’re now in with our pup. And while we expect her to have many more happy months of travel, we know our girl has beat the Labrador life-expectancy odds. Every day is a gift.