Our big year-long RV adventure has reached the ninth month of the epic journey in our exclusive series for The Independent, featuring the month-long stretch from New Mexico to the southwest Texas coast.
It includes time in superb Santa Fe, stunning White Sands National Park and the cowboy country around Las Cruces, as well as Alpine in Texas, the astounding Big Bend National Park, the city of San Antonio and glittering South Padre Island.
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!
Our itinerary had been thrown into chaos compliments of Ruthie’s turbo-charged backside, but as things settled down for her, we ventured out again to pick up on the highlights. Some of our plans had to be scrapped, some fell through due to a major college football bowl game that had most of downtown San Antonio in worse chaos than Ruthie’s gut, but there was still plenty to enjoy, if our stamina allowed.
Ruthie gets a lot of love when we venture out. She’s incredibly patient and gentle with children.
Mission San José was known as “The Queen of Missions” for its larger-than-average size, and indeed, the church does cut an imposing figure over the huge courtyard outside. Simon and I both thought a mission was a just church; instead, it’s typically a community with living quarters, trades, agricultural work, and a church. But the mistake is an easy one to make, since the goal of forming the “community” was to convert native peoples to Catholicism, which would then generate new taxes for the King of Spain.
Conversion was the native peoples’ path to safety from the very people who were making them unsafe. Their diets would change, their spiritual lives would change, their clothing and housing would change. And the names they were given at birth? Yeah, those changed, too. The timeless dilemma: what would you do to keep your children and the people you love safe?
We were part of a guided tour, but Ruthie was getting so much attention we backed off a bit. Even the ranger was (fondly) distracted by her.
Inside the church.
This area formerly housed the missionaries and lay people who ensured the communities’ regimented schedule of toil and thrice-daily prayer were upheld.
This is one-third of a working family’s “apartment.” Up to 15 people lived and slept in each apartment, spaces so small they wouldn’t even qualify as a “tiny home” today.
Apartments from the outside. They run the full length of three sides of the compound. The structure out front is a communal oven.
We’d been given a reservation at a downtown hot-spot’s outdoor patio (where dogs are allowed) for lunch the next day, but when we arrived, we were told they weren’t seating anyone outside. The line to get in was, in our estimation, more than an hour long, which just wasn’t going to work, especially since we had plans for the afternoon.
This is about one-quarter of the line waiting to get in.
Instead, we returned to the Pearl area and grabbed a quick taco lunch.
In 1960, four students from a nearby college “discovered” what is now Natural Bridge Caverns, and Simon joined a guided tour that afternoon while Susan kept an eye on Ruthie. Kennels were available, but in her still-delicate condition we didn’t want to leave her.
The two flat slabs that form a bridge above the cavern’s entryway were the inspiration for its name.
10,000-year-old stone tools, projectile points, and a pre-historic cooking hearth were discovered in the cavern when the entrance was being excavated. How cool is that?
Ponds formed in the lower level of the canyon, with incredibly clear water due to filtration by the surrounding limestone, and the lack of pollution and debris.
You can see the smooth, dark walkway in the center of this photo, which gives you an idea of size.
We were glad we only had a taco for lunch when we reached Backyard on Broadway that evening. Boasting the most enormous outdoor seating area we’d seen at any restaurant, anywhere, we grabbed a picnic table away from a group gathering and a load of excited children, and were rewarded with a quiet meal. It was incredible how little the sound traveled.
This is about one-eigtth of the outdoor space.
Simon ordered Hummus Spread with veggies to share, and the Viva Las Tejas sandwich (two beef patties, two cheeses, bell peppers, onions, jalapenos, and spicy sauce), which he devoured. Our server also recommended the Sweet Potato Fries, which we both devoured.
Susan went for the Not Your Father’s BBQ (pulled pork sandwich), and managed about half of it, minus the bun. Damn you, tempting Sweet Potato Fries!
Two Bro’s BBQ Market was our lunch stop the next day, and we’re glad it came as a recommendation, because A) we never would have found it otherwise and 2) we might not have chosen it due to its rather rustic location. It turned out to be one of those “locals” spots that no one wants to reveal so that tourists don’t mob it.
When a meat joint has a skull on their buffet table, you know they’re confident in their beef.
This guy is going to make sure Simon gets all the right stuff.
“What should we try?” Simon asked the manager, and he came away carrying a tray loaded with smoked jalapeno poppers wrapped in bacon; BBQ baked beans; Texas-sized bread slices; a massive Big Bro Sandwich piled high with smoked brisket, smoked pulled pork, and an entire sausage, topped with pickles and coleslaw; and a pint of “Cheesy Chop,” made up of chopped smoked brisket and mac & cheese. Lord help us!
Good God!
Drinks were an informal affair. Simply choose one and push the dispenser button on a Home Depot five-gallon jug. And yes, that most Southern of drinks, Kool-Aid, was an option.
I may have been bundled up a bit, with a shirt, two sweaters, and Puffy Coat. Don’t judge me!
Straight away, we knew we were beaten. After a generous sampling of the obscenely-large sandwich, Simon pulled out a half of the sausage, made it into a smaller sandwich, and we saved the rest for later.
So, that white part at the top of the sausage isn’t the sausage. It’s the graphic on Simon’s sweatshirt. Every time I see this photo I think, “What’s that…?” so I thought I’d mention it.
We ate as much as we could of the rest of it, but it was like mice had nibbled on it. That meal ended up making two more meals the next day, and our microwave still smells like a smoker, more than a week later.
The building at the very back and the one on the left are where the goodness happens. You can smell the meat smokers even when they’re not doing their jobs.
Stuffed to the gills, a long, slow walk around the nature retreat of Phil Hardberger Park Conservancy was in order, where, we were told, we’d find the Land Bridge and Skywalk. The park’s trails reminded us of Kensington Metropark, a favorite place for getting away from it all when we lived in Michigan.
It may have been a bit chilly.
Ruthie engaged in her favorite activity (sniffing).
The Skywalk goes on for a long, long way. We only did part of it, since Ruthie really can’t do much hiking and she’d already walked a bit too far to reach it.
We had been booked in for a meal at Breakaway Brewing Company, but we were all food-ed out. Instead, we popped by to sample some of the brewpub’s beers, and ended up having a nice chat with the bartenders. A warm, homey feeling ended the day.
Our bartender was adorable, and knew her beers well. Great choices!
Twice we’d made attempts to visit Historic Market Square in San Antonio (originally a gift from the King of Spain in 1730, and former home of the “Chili Queens” who served up that comforting dish in days gone by), but the chaos of Christmas week made parking impossible. Determined to give it one more try, we headed into town, and finally succeeded.
Note the person walking into the shop, to give you an idea of size.
What a fun place, filled with Latin sounds, bright colors, every tourist souvenir you could imagine, lots of umbrella drinks, and a general air of Christmas cheer! We were so glad we made the effort. Take a little stroll with us:
Strollin’ through the market.
Those allergy symptoms Susan had were no longer acting like allergies, and when Simon came down with them we knew we were in head cold territory; the unwitting victims of an unwanted gift. Annoying, yes, but considering all the other cr@p going around, not the worst thing in the world.
We knew we needed a mental and physical break at this point anyway, and our upcoming five weeks in the Donna, Harlingen, and South Padre Island areas of extreme southwestern Texas were arriving just at the right time.
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.
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