Author: Easin' Along

Our route to California took us through Texas—and there’s a lot of Texas in front of us. Galveston Island State Park was next up, about a four-hour drive from Blue Heron RV Park near Lake Charles, LA. Helen and I camped in the State Park on our first RV trip in a Cruise America RV we nicknamed Sherman. This visit would be Mortimer’s first. 

On our arrival, heavy rain greeted us. Thankfully, the rain was all we had. Nearby Houston experienced vicious storms and tornadoes, and thousands of residents lost power. Lives were also lost, and the cleanup began while we were there.

As always, please click on any image to enlarge

The second day of our visit began with bright, sunny skies. The beach was calling, and Mortimer needed to walk, so we gathered some gear, started down the steps from the trailer…and were attacked. Swarms of mosquitos descended on all three of us. Poor Mortimer was covered with them and did not react well. We hustled back in and treated the bloody bites on his wrinkled face. 

We battled mosquitoes throughout all three days of our stay. The park’s grounds are very flat, offering little drainage for rainwater and an excellent breeding ground for pesky bugs. Mortimer was so spooked that we had to drag him out for potty breaks and watch him run to the trailer. Helen and I learned that if we walked on the road, far from the grassy areas, we could minimize the attacks and make the short walk to a lovely beach. 

Mosquitoes notwithstanding, Galveston Island Park offers much to its guests. The sites have level concrete pads and covered patios, the restrooms and showers are clean, and the staff is friendly and helpful. I would return if not for the bugs. 

From Galveston, we drove about five hours along I-10 to Ft. Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas. The drive took us through hundreds of miles of ranchland and almost no gas stations. We finally drifted into a Pilot/Flying J on fumes and filled up, but it was a close call. We arrived with a very dirty fifth wheel.

We have camped at Fort Sam Houston several times and left with some notable memories. A few years back, we spent Saint Patrick’s Day in San Antonio and had a fantastic day cruising the Riverwalk with some Guinness-soaked tourists. It was great fun!

Two years ago, Helen received a call that she needed to have an ultrasound due to some questionable results of a very recent mammogram. A friend in San Antonio gave her some suggestions, and we made an appointment on a Friday afternoon. The staff and doctors at the clinic made Helen feel very comfortable and guided her through coordinating the details with our doctors at home and the myriad of insurance requirements. Helen accomplished a lot that day, and that memory will remain forever. The eventual outcome was good. 

For this visit, we wanted to meet Ed and Mary Jo, a couple who lived across the hall from us in our apartment house in Wurzburg, Germany. That was over forty years ago, but we have remained in contact over the years, and it was an opportunity to catch up. Mary Jo helped Helen find a clinic in the area, and we needed to thank her. 

We met at Good Time Charlie’s, near Ft. Sam Houston, famous for its chicken fried steak. After seeing the meal on the menu, Helen and I decided to go for it, then skip dinner that evening (and maybe breakfast the following day). The chicken fried steak was terrific; we had enough leftovers at the campground for a second meal. Mortimer passed and watched his favorite television show instead.

We had a delightful time that afternoon and dug out a lot of jewels from the memory bag. We didn’t mention when we rode the train back from Octoberfest and almost slept through our stop in Wurzburg, but we only remember a little about that trip anyway. The time passed quickly, and we departed with the promise to stay in touch. 

It is a long way across Texas, and I can’t do it in one or even two stops. We divide Texas into three stops and try to keep each leg within a five-hour time range. Even that can be challenging. Our next stop after San Antonio was Ft. Stockton, a small town on the state’s western side. I wanted to arrive within five hours, but it took almost six with breaks for gas and potty breaks for Mort. 

Hilltop RV Park was our home for one night. It is high above I-10, and Ft. Stockton is to the east. We have camped here before, primarily because of the shortage of campgrounds in West Texas. There are some, but Hilltop RV Park has the best reviews of the campgrounds close to I-10. Every time we camp here, we notice that the ownership continues to make improvements and upgrades. We also camp here because there is a Walmart close by. 

I went to Walmart for gas and drove by the huge Roadrunner statue, which always amuses me. Helen stayed with Mortimer and took pictures of the setting sun. We took a picture of the cowboy statues across the highway as we left. 

Goodbye, Texas. We enjoyed our visit, but it’s time to be Easin’ Along. California is calling, and we have more stops along the way. 

Note: For several years, I occasionally read the blog posts written by Barb Bomberger on her blog “Making It in Retirement,” but I have not seen a post in quite some time. I tried to reach out but had no luck. Readers from her blog visit Easin’ Along, so if any of you know anything about what’s going on with Barb, please fill me in. I loved reading her posts, and I hope that maybe she just changed her web address. Thanks!

We left Knoxville on Saturday, May 11, just in time to miss the Northern Lights show that will probably never hover over us again. Oh, well, timing is everything, right? Our usual first stop when traveling the southern route to the west is Maxwell Air Force Base in Montgomery, Alabama. We only visit for one night, but five hours from Knoxville, it’s convenient for a one-nighter. 

We got up early the next day and headed for Biloxi, Mississippi, to spend three nights looking for sun and friendly casinos. The sun cooperated. On our third day in Biloxi, Helen wanted to drive the short distance to Ocean Springs, MS, to tour a museum that Janet, her pottery instructor, had suggested–The Walter Inglis Anderson Museum of Art, known for its unique collection of Anderson’s works. 

Museums are not usually my preferred choice for recreation, but I recently purchased a new prime lens for my DSLR (85mm f1:1.8) and was eager to try it out on some closeups. I drove while Helen worked Wordle. The museum was busy, but I found a personal connection with Anderson’s art that made the visit more enjoyable.

Walter Anderson (1903 – 1965) was born in New Orleans and spent much of his youth there. In 1922, he entered The New York School of Fine Art and later the Pennsylvania School of Fine Arts, where he studied modernism under some well-known artists who painted in that style. From Pennsylvania, he received a scholarship to study in France, where he was impressed by cave drawings, which later influenced his style. From there, Anderson moved to Ocean Springs to work in Shearwater Pottery, a family business started by his brother. Income from the pottery allowed him to marry and raise a family. Walter hated working in the pottery.

He preferred to be alone on Horn Island, where he studied the birds and wildlife and would also draw and write. 

I was impressed by his art and his life. The museum displayed his drawings and murals alongside narratives about the works and excerpts from the hundreds of logbooks he kept during his life. Anderson was very creative, and his brightly colored paintings were fabulous. One of his most famous works was the murals he painted inside the Ocean Springs Community Center. The entire room was Anderson’s palette except for a small unfinished area over a window. 

Walter died in 1965 from lung cancer. After his death, his wife cut off the lock of a door into a small room of his studio and found the entire room covered in murals. Paint splatters covered the floor. She also found hundreds of paintings and his logbooks and preserved them for a museum. Unfortunately, Hurricane Katrina, a devastating natural disaster, destroyed some of his work when Shearwater Pottery stood in the hurricane’s path, removing some of his artistic legacy. 

I’ve shared some pictures from the museum, both above and below. I hope you enjoy them. Please click on any of them to enlarge.

After our museum tour, we visited Shearwater Pottery to look around. A delightful lady named Laura greeted us and pointed out several pieces as examples of items available. Helen found a clay cat she liked as a gift for our granddaughter, a cat lover. Laura explained that the cats would be fired that afternoon, and she would send a picture for Helen to choose the one she wanted. The picture came via email the next day. Helen chose two–the third from the left (dragonfly on the chest) and the brightly colored blue and yellow piece (fourth from the right). Laura shipped them that afternoon.

Because the casinos in Biloxi weren’t kind to us, we decided to drive nine miles further to Gulfport and did much better. We like Gulfport and should have camped there, but that’s hindsight. 

We drove to Iowa, LA, on Wednesday and spent the night in Blue Heron RV Park. This lovely campground is about fifteen miles from Lake Charles, LA. Before we left on Thursday morning, John, the campground owner, stopped by our trailer to thank us for camping there. He was a true Southern gentleman.

Thanks for traveling with us. We hope to reach San Diego by June 1, but we’ll stay in touch as we Ease Along. Next up–Galveston and San Antonio. 

We spent ten days in Charleston, SC, helping with our granddaughters while our son was away on business and our daughter-in-law had an intense work week. We jumped at the task when offered. I’ll have more about the visit later, so I’ll leave it by saying we had a lot of fun.

Before returning to Knoxville, we spent two nights at our favorite campground in Cherokee, NC. We had two hopes: 1) That the wildflowers in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park would be in bloom, and (2) we hoped we would drain Cherokee Casino of its cash reserves. Hope number two didn’t materialize on our first night, but we walked out whole with only minor damage.

We rose early the following day and drove to Deep Creek Campground inside the National Park for a wildflower hike. New Park regulations require that visitors pay for parking. We went to a ticket kiosk, purchased a one-day pass, and then drove to the parking lot nearest the hiking trail. We were in the Park early on a fabulous day for a hike. 

Within the first one hundred yards of the trail that runs along Deep Creek, we caught a glimpse of a large bed of Purple Phlox. We immediately felt great that we could conquer hope number one…the wildflowers were in bloom.

We spent about two hours strolling along the trail and photographing wildflowers blooming in abundance. Large beds of Wild Dwarf Iris (my favorite) and Purple Phlox were everywhere, requiring that we walk slowly to take it all in. I’ll take my luck here rather than the Casino anytime.

In addition to the wildflowers, we passed two large groups of Yellow and Pipevine Swallowtail Butterflies. We asked several hikers if they knew what caused them to huddle this way, but no one had an answer. A reader may supply one.

Also on the trail were at least four large dogs walking beside their owners. I noted this because there is a large “NO PETS” sign at the trailhead, and dogs are not allowed in the National Park except for two trails. Deep Creek Trail is not one of them. Helen and I know the pet rule and left Mortimer in our trailer. The dogs passed two Park Rangers who said nothing to the hikers with dogs. I asked the Ranger why she let them pass. She just shrugged, said, “Some people simply cannot follow the rules,” and dropped it. I wouldn’t let the episode ruin a lovely day, but that’s the last time Mortimer is not included on a hike.

Helen and I walked to Indian Creek Falls and back before returning to our vehicle, a distance of about two miles. I have inserted a gallery of many of the flowers I photographed in the space below. There is only one that I cannot identify, but again, I’m counting on a knowledgeable reader to help me here. I hope you enjoy them as much as we did. (Note: A reader identified the unknown wildflower as Henbit and pointed out that I had mistakenly identified Dog Hobble as Solomon’s Seal. Senior moment…Thanks, Janet!)

Please click on any image to enlarge