Port, Eh?

Thank you for your responses to my question about change.  I am grateful, and awed by your stories.  If you feel inclined to add a reply, I hope you'll give in to the urge.

Meet Toni and Scott:



They're living full-time in their Honda Element with their two substantial dogs, Walter and George. Both are swim coaches (the humans; the dogs swim avocationally). Toni describes her work with young kids as helping them relate to people better, speak more effectively with adults - a set of life skills - and almost incidentally she helps them become better swimmers. Scott works with older kids and young adults, superior swimmers who are headed for watery greatness. His work is more focused on the mechanics of swimming, and helping kids reach their scholarship and Olympic goals.

They have given themselves a year to find their own Utopia. A place that feeds their soul and jobs that feed their food habits. They've been offered jobs, but not in places where they want to live. Toni says she'd settle in a heartbeat if there were only a swimming pool in the Escalante Wilderness.



When we met them, they had snuggled in tightly against the Duck to shelter from the punishing winds we'd been enduring on Bird Island Basin. Which was fine, except that their too-cute rig was also snuggling the exhaust on our generator, so we got a little depleted waiting for them to move. Annie eventually took our rig for a drink and potty break and pulled back in a little further away.

They don't have a toilet or any refrigeration. I asked them about stealthing, but their handy pop-up makes them conspicuous, and without it they're sharing the bed with George and Walter.

They had some solar equipment that I covet:

 The Powerfilm line of solar chargers is especially rugged and remarkably thin, as you'll notice because I'm remarking on it.  The 30 watt charger folded up to be about the size of a spiral notebook (that's an iPad you can rip pages out of).  If a panel should become damaged, it doesn't take the array out of the game.

We rode our bikes to dinner.

  

Bring mine with a chainsaw and an artichoke.

We each enjoyed an adult frozen beverage. Annie asked for the butchest thing they served.

This was a bit too much alcohol for Annie, and she had to walk her bike home.  I mocked her from the sidewalk where I was resting;  I don't remember the details, but the officer was nice.





Where are we going next!  The giant car wash!  Where then!  I don't know!  It's a mystery to all of us!  As soon as I know, I'll tell someone!

Hello Madre, hello Padre, here we are at Camp Grenadre.

I told a friend once that I hoped this thing we're doing would change me.  Not that I needed to erase some smelly, evil smudge on my soul - I like my smudges, thanks - but, that I wanted to sense that how I see myself has shifted.  Continues to shift with time.  It seems, though, that you can't even begin such a project without changing;  that it isn't possible to seriously conceive of starting a life over without already having permanently shifted.   

Lots of you have started over, sometimes more than once.   Are you willing to share what changed for you on the inside?

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Please meet our friends, Obadiah (4) and Bella (6).

Bella and Obadiah love cats.  Specifically, Bella and Obadiah love Bob.

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful.

 

They live with their two little brothers in a school bus, along with their parents (who look like L.L. Bean models).  The family is from Indiana, and they decided they wanted something other than the life they were living;  they hit the road this past September.  We've been neighbors for two weeks, and we met while dumping our potties into the chemical toilet.  You know how it is: you're waiting in line with a gallon of urine and you just start talking about stink control.  

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Within the National Park is an old overnight corral and sleeping quarters for cowboys driving cattle in the early part of the 20th century.  Pat Dunn owned the whole island and used it to graze his cattle.  It's roped off to prevent vehicular traffic, but it didn't stop my hooves.

I picked up a little marching cadence:

I don't know, but I've been told

Bacillus spores just can't get old

The Castle Anthrax

Walk past the old corral ...



... get a treat.

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Photo by Chris

It's been fun here on the Laguna Madre, and we're ready to fun-seek on down the road.  

Let the pickle chips fall where they may.

Our new friend, Chris, joined us at the lagoon last night!  We had fun!  We see eye-to-beak on a lot of things besides just RVing.  One thing we did not agree on:

She thought it was warm enough to swim.  I disagreed.

Chris was having genny issues of her own with her Onan MicroLite 2.8 KW generator. The problem sounded similar enough to ours that Annie thought they could fix it without Camper Clinic in Rockport.

We're going to make it work now, okay?

Jubilation!  It's charging again!  

There's another story I have to tell THE RIGHT WAY before someone else tells it wrong.  I pulled a jar out of the pantry, and the hugest, meanest, ratty thing ever encountered fell out of the cupboard.  First, it roared at me, then bared its teeth RIGHT IN MY FACE, then dropped to the ground and swaggered into the bedroom.

I've lost that 30 seconds forever, but Chris had to double over, so amused-at-my-expense was she.  I (allegedly) make a sound that (allegedly) turned two of the cats to stone and made Annie temporarily lose continence (allegedly).  I may have also lost continence, judging from the evidence when I came back around, or else I broke the pickles on my crotch.

You remember we visited Judy and Emma in Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge.  Birds.  Remember now?   She had dozens of mice.  We were smug.  Mice in a rig!  we snickered behind our hands.  Would you like to borrow a cat (hur hur hur)?

I released the hounds into the bedroom, and within five minutes our Ellen gave us a tenderized mouse woodchuck and that was the end of the drama, except for my change of clothes.

 

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Some of you guys who don't have your own Amazon link have continued to use our link for your purchases - thank you!  We are very grateful.

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Paaaahhhdre Island, Texas

A:  When you absolutely, positively have to be out-of-touch overnight.  When you're willing to suffer through a deserted, untouched, sandy beach and sunrises over the ocean.  When the sound of surf (and nothing else) can be tolerated all night.

Q:  When is it okay to boondock at Malaquite Campground?

  

Then I sez ... hehehe ... then I sez ... SNORT haw! ... then I sez ... This is the GULL'S room! 

In the fog we called this Briga-Dune.

You know what I always say about pelicans.

Still, I couldn't help but feel that the ocean was sending us warnings:











Our friend, Leslie, drove all the way from Bryan (six hours away!) to spend a few nights with us and help us welcome in the New Year. None of us saw the new year arrive, but we definitely felt the change this morning.  Thanks, Leslie - it was great to see you!  And, thanks, Gary! who soldiered through New Year's Eve without his wife to smooch at midnight.

Annie, Leslie, and satanic photobomber.  This must be what the warnings were about.

Cupcakes are a thing! Did you know?

The CupCake Shoppe has a cupcake van!  This is what they look like on the way out of town.

This is what they look like on the way back into camp.

Find The CupCake Shoppe on Facebook, or at their website. I'm not linking because they have instant music.