Day 14 -15 (6/9-6/10/21)-- miles traveled:~200
Location: Malaquite Beach, Padre Islands, TX
Science: air quality at campsite, at the shore -- onshore winds with white-capped waves
This spot was gorgeous with winds whipping in onshore, making the surf sandy and rough. The campsite was right on the beach, pretty much -- stunning spot. But before I delve deeper into Malaquite, however, I just realized I forgot an important incident that occurred somewhere between Ft. Pickens and Grand Isle State Park -- my trailer's license plate just, well, fell off somewhere. There was just a sad little half of my wooden license plate holder hanging by a rusty screw when I finally noticed this........and then I remembered the rough back-up job I had done at Ft. Pickens.......maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to race out of there......?
Anyway, when I discovered this in Grand Isle, while talking to Ilana and the kids that night, I immediately had to google what to do in this situation........one of the instructions from the NY DMV was to get a police report from the nearest police department about the license plate having fallen off somewhere as soon as possible. I googled the Grand Isle police station and found this:
........I then decided maybe I wouldn't get a police report there after all -- and just call the NY DMV on my way to Sargent Beach. I tried to call Kingston DMV three times over the next several days and was hung up on each time -- the message was "I'm sorry, we have heavy call loads right now. Please call back some other time." I am not making this up.
It seemed that there was really no solution except to drive back to Kingston and go to the DMV in person..........So here is what my license plate looks like now until I get back there sometime in August.....:)......
Looks just like the real thing, right?????
OK, back to Malaquite: Did I already say this was a beautiful spot? Well, it really is one of those unique spots in the US -- camping right on the beach, cool winds and happy people.
It was hot, but manageable. And just as I was settling in (I did NOT have to back up....:)..), my new friends-to-be Dana and Rex rolled up into the site next to me.
The first thing Rex did was ask if I had a hammer -- and of course, since I was traveling with an entire tool collection as I continued to rehab the trailer on the road, I had just the thing.......!
Determined to detox myself from the meat overload I had been subjected to the night before, I was pulling out carrots and onions and potatoes and couscous for dinner, and Rex strolled over to check out the trailer's galley setup.
"Hey, if you're interested," he said, pointing to my very veggie array, "we're having some of my brisket tonight. There's plenty to go around."
Do ALL Texans eat brisket while camping? I kept stirring my veggies in the wrought iron skillet and weighed my options.....I had no doubt that his brisket would be better than Dave's, but I ........just........couldn't do it.
"That is so generous, Rex -- but last night I was treated to so much meat from this organic farmer guy at Sargent Beach that I am trying to recover by doing the veggie thing tonight."
Rex chuckled, watched as I promptly burnt the garlic beyond repair, and said, "Yeah, I get it, but don't be fooled -- everyone in Texas thinks they are doing the organic thing but it's rarely the truth. Mine, on the other hand, was hand-fed by me so I would know every single thing those cows ate before I butchered them."
We had a long conversation about whether or not all Texans raise their own cows and if every night was a brisket night around these parts. Then I finished my "cooking" and ate my food while Dana and Rex made their own dinner. Shortly afterward, Rex returned and offered me some boudin -- a word I had seen on restaurant signs beginning in Louisiana.
"It's just beans and stuff, and I did add a bit of pork, but not much," Rex tempted.
Well, to be honest my dinner had been a bit charred and not altogether filling, so I grabbed a bowl and had my first boudin. As I was eating this excellent dish with him and Dana (a primary care doctor who worked outside of Houston), Rex elaborated on what was in the dish. It was all food that had been grown or otherwise prepared right in his home or with some neighbors -- and it turns out the "pork" was actually fresh wild boar he had recently hunted in the deep woods near his house.
Dana, Rex, and I talked deep into the (very starry) night -- our topics included Trump (they voted for him the first time), the pandemic (Dana had been in the thick of treating patients who were hardest hit by Covid19 due to refinery and chemical industry air pollution), Black Lives Matter (Dana felt strongly that this was the only way to make real change), and then I mentioned that I had been listening to Indigenous People's History of the US while driving and had been rethinking a lot of the history I'd been taught when I was young. It turned out that Rex was Indigenous and black, and that his great grandfather had been one of Sam Houston's Indigenous guides. His family was deeply rooted in a Texas that I had not yet seen, one that included a close connection with both the deep Texas woods and Gulf waters.
Between Rex's stories of coming face to face with a 20 foot hammerhead shark while spear-fishing, a close connection with Bobby Knight and major league basketball players, and his deep love for Texas terrain, the hours slipped away and suddenly it was well past bed-time and we had all been bitten relentlessly by the biggest mosquitos I have ever seen.
"You would think with the wind these bugs wouldn't have a chance," I mused, as we broke up our circle to get ready for sleep.
"Not these salt water mosquitos," Rex replied -- "these winds are barely a breeze to them."
Did not know that.
Next day, I decided to try out the intracoastal water side of the island, where the water seemed calm. There were tons of windsurfers over there so I thought it might be a good spot to paddleboard. It was hot, but the breeze was still great as I unloaded my board and got ready to head out. The water was clear on this side, and a light green. I even took my snorkel with me just in case there was something to see -- the ranger had said it was all "just mud" but I knew better -- upside down jellies and baby fish were usually in these sorts of waters and I was determined to find them.
Within 5 minutes, the wind pushed me well away from shore (as the pics above clearly show) and I suddenly realized two things:
1. I was the only paddleboarder out there -- everyone else was windsurfing.
2. For the windsurfers, the wind was a good thing because they could direct their sail. For me, well.......
It took me almost an hour or so to paddle back to shore. Most of the paddling was me going no where, just trying not to get pushed out further. I would wait for the wind to die down, and then frantically paddle as fast as I could to get anywhere. Thoughts of snorkeling went right out of my head as I instead started thinking about survival.
I knew I could always just get down and swim the board to shore, but the same darn pride that made me do those stupid backing up shenanigans kicked in. I could see folks watching me from shore and I was not about to admit defeat. The problem was that I was windsurfing, too -- with my 6 foot body serving as the sail. My arms were so sore the next day I was struggling a bit to turn the steering wheel......
That night, I again hung out with Rex and Dana and the nice RV'ers who pulled in beside them. This time we talked about air quality and there was a LOT of interest in seeing the data at some point (still working on this!). Also, everyone had ideas of where else to do sampling -- focusing on big cities and refineries. Slowly, we all cooked up a plan for me to make some key measurements at some inland sites as I made my way up to Colorado. Armed with a good field plan, I was chased into my trailer by the massive marine mosquitos and fell asleep to the sound of waves crashing and frustrated mosquitos buzzing at my windows.
No comments:
Post a Comment