Author: Easin' Along

Del Rio was interesting and beautiful, and we were in no hurry to leave, but the time came to move on.  I always heard that Texas is big, but, until you attempt to drive across the state, it’s hard to fathom how big. Our destination was White Sands, New Mexico and a campsite at the White Sands Missile Range, but there was no way we could get there in one day.  Therefore, we booked a one night stay at Hilltop RV Park in Fort Stockton, TX, a town approximately halfway between San Angelo and El Paso.

Hilltop RV Park had the best reviews on RV Trip Wizard, and I understand why.  The Park is owned and operated by a lovely couple who were very welcoming to Helen and me.  The Park had spacious campsites, and the showers and bathrooms were spotless. That’s about all one could ask for during a one-night visit. Once we pulled in, we met Judy and Warren from Seattle who owns a fifth-wheel that is the same make as our Lucy.  Warren had a wealth of information on some of the features of Lucy that I had not yet discovered. The most valuable bit of information was a feature that resets our fifth-wheel to the precise position it was in when we unhooked and before we leveled it.  This feature allows us to reconnect without going through a bunch of steps to reset the hitch height.  Sounds trivial, but it makes a big difference on moving day.

I took three pictures in Fort Stockton; the park office, a statue of a Roadrunner, and a group of metal cowboy and Indian figures that stood on a hill across the highway. I thought they all made good pictures.

White Sands is a fantastic place and so very picturesque. All along the roads leading to the Missile Range, the California Poppies painted the desert floor a bright yellow (photo above). We stayed here two years ago on our first RV experience in Sherman. On this trip, we were assigned the same campsite on the end of the row of the eight sites there. I remember thinking on our last visit that this campground has to be the best-kept secret in the Military Campground inventory.  Only four of the eight sites were in use. As soon as we pulled in, a speedy Roadrunner greeted us.

 

The next morning, we woke early to catch the sunrise as the rays fell on the Organ Mountains to Lucy’s front. The view certainly added a pleasant experience to our morning coffee. We caught up on email and phone calls for the rest of the morning then watched our Tennessee Vols win a Sweet Sixteen game in the NCAA Tournament.

 

The White Sands National Monument is about ten miles from the Missile Range.  Helen wanted to hike one of the Nature Trails before dark, so we were off as soon as the final whistle sounded in the basketball game.  We arrived to find a surprisingly large crowd of tourists at the Visitor’s Center. Helen picked up a trail map and got a few tips from a nice Park Ranger.

 

The White Sand is white gypsum that comes out of the surrounding mountains and has no place to go. Water does flow into the area, but it settles through the gypsum into the earth below, and the white, granular material settles in the valley. The winds shift the “sand” into huge dunes. Driving in, we saw a lot of kids sledding down the dunes on plastic discs.  One girl fell off her sled as she chased her friend down a dune hill and gave me a chance to take her picture.

We chose a one-mile Nature Trail about three or four miles from the entrance.  Information markers along the trail pointed out the wildlife, reptiles (rattlesnakes) and plants found in the White Sands desert and made the short hike very interesting. According to the markers, most of the wildlife came out during the night to hunt for food.  We saw only a few hawks, but the scenery was the star of the show.

We left White Sands the next morning. Our visit was short, but we felt rested and ready for Tucson, AZ and a wonderful time searching for ancient Native American artifacts.  Please come back.  Until then, we’re Easin’ Along.

We left San Antonio in search of some downtime. We needed a few days to do laundry, answer email, check on the snail mail, call family—the usual stuff that we tend to put off while on the road. Our time in San Antonio included a not-to-be-forgotten St. Patrick’s Day celebration on the Riverwalk and some fun with friends so, we were ready to slow the pace to the customary Easin’ Along crawl. We paused at a few stops during our drive to capture the Bluebonnets. Fields of them stretched out on both sides of the highway and were just gorgeous.

The next stop would be Southwinds Marina, a campground and marina operated by the Air Force in Del Rio, TX and less than a mile from the Mexican border. The road we traveled to the campground ended at the border fence, and we had to take a right turn and follow a narrow road to reach the campground. Helen (adorable wife) took a picture of the border checkpoint as we passed.

Southwinds Marina fit the bill. To start, the campground is in a very remote location, so there was no temptation to go looking for restaurants or shopping. The laundry room was large and offered plenty of washers and dryers for free. The scenery was outstanding. Our campsite sat in the middle of a single row of camping spaces and overlooked a dammed-up section of the Rio Grande River. After making a home in Site #10, we decided to take a walk down one of the trails leading toward the water.

The campground sat on a peninsula surrounded by the Rio Grande. From our spot on the trail, we could see the Amistad Dam and Mexico beyond that. We later learned that the dam crossed the border at its mid-point. The river and the Texas landscape made for some excellent photo opportunities. Sunsets over the river were stunning.

 

The rest of our stay went just as we planned. We crossed many items off of our “to do” list and just relaxed. We did take a few pictures, and I have shared them below. There’s not much else to report. We leave in a few days for Ft. Stockton, TX and White Sands, NM. All is going swimmingly well, and we’re still Easin’ Along.

 

 

We left Lafayette, LA and spent the next two days at Galveston Island (TX) State Park.  Our campsite was within walking distance of the beach, but our hopes for a sunny beach vacation went unfulfilled. The weather was cold.  The weather was drizzly. The weather was very windy. I only took a few pictures of some brave kids flying kites in a 25-mile wind. I’ll share them at some point.

Next, we took off for San Antonio and a reunion with Mary Jo and Ed, a couple who lived across from us in Wurzburg, Germany over forty years ago during our first Army assignment. The campground at Fort Sam Houston would be our home for the next three days.  Mary Jo and Ed retired in the San Antonio area. They came out to spend some time with us in Lucy, then led us to a very nice Thai restaurant for dinner. They both looked great, and we had much fun catching up after all the years that had passed. The night moved so quickly; I forgot to take pictures. Take my word for it; they looked terrific.

The next day was Sunday, and our plans included a visit to the Alamo and a stroll along San Antonio’s famous Riverwalk. Mary Jo had warned us that because Sunday was also St. Patrick’s Day that we might want to start early…a task that usually gives Helen (adorable wife) a challenge.  Nevertheless, she was up to it, and we made it downtown soon enough to get a parking place near the Alamo as traffic began to build.

At the Alamo, an Irish-American Friendship ceremony was underway, and an Irish dignitary was speaking to the crowd. A long line formed at the entrance to the Alamo.  It took about twenty minutes to reach the front door.  There is no fee for a tour. The exhibits inside are excellent and there is no need for a tour guide. Outside, a short video explained the events of the attack led by General Santa Ana and his 6,000 men against a tiny number of brave fighters inside the small open-air church. As a Tennessean, I spent some time learning about the role of Davy Crockett in the attack.  He performed well but, in the end, Santa Ana spared only the women and children and slaughtered the men.

From the Alamo, Helen and I walked a few blocks to some steps leading down to the Riverwalk.  The color green was everywhere.  Even the river was dyed green. Except for Helen and me, everyone wore green, and the green throng along the river was huge. Boats, similar to parade floats drifted in front of us, filled with St. Patrick’s Day partygoers.  The first float we spotted bore the title of “Mad Dogs” and had a celebrant in the front dressed to resemble the Pope (pictured above). What a hoot!

Continuing along the Riverwalk, an Irish Pub named Waxy O’Conner’s called us inside for an Irish lunch. We shared a table with Connie and Tim, a fun couple from Wisconsin.  Connie was into the celebration in a big way.  She greeted every restaurant patron that passed by and applied a Shamrock sticker to their cheek. Helen and I both received one.  Finally, we wore green.

Soon, the Pope mentioned above entered Waxy O’Conner’s.  Connie posed for a picture with him, then broke out into an Irish dance as the lunchtime musician played a tune on his guitar.  The crowd applauded. Connie can dance. An overserved underling wearing a kilt accompanied the Pope and, on command from His Excellence, the portly fellow would bend over and raise the kilt to allow bar patrons to autograph his derriere with a Sharpie. Several patrons (females among them) accepted the offer. A dozen or more cameras recorded the event. Somehow, this didn’t make my Reuben taste any better, but a bottle of Guinness helped forestall the shock.

We hated to leave the party, but we wanted to take a boat ride in the canal and depart the scene before the traffic got heavy.  Many of the float boats were forming for the parade that was to start in a few minutes. The participants were ready to put on a show and full of the Irish spirit(s). Our boat left ahead of them but the crowd along the canal assumed we were part of the Parade and greeted us with exuberant waves and shouts. At one point along the route, a group of skilled Irish dancers performed to a lively tune for us.

As we returned to the dock, the party showed no sign of letting up, and music everywhere seemed to grow only louder. We took that as our cue to exit at stage left. Helen danced a jig up the stairs and down the block.

It’s days like this that make Easin’ Along so much fun.