Tag: Texas

Keeping Her in the Ditch: Part Three

Leigh, Travel

The following is a recap of our cruise from Rockport to Kemah, Texas via the ICW. If you missed day two you can catch up on that here.

We awoke early at Matagorda Bay, and we weren’t the only ones cutting lines in the half-light. It made for a pretty scene as we cruised our way back into the ICW.

Sunrises on the water are incredible, and we were blessed with another gorgeous one on day two.

We took turns at the wheel and planned our day. There was another set of locks, and we’d need to plan a fuel stop somewhere along the way. We’d kept tabs on how much we were burning, and it was possible for us to make it to Kemah on the same tank, but it wasn’t a sure bet.

The next set of locks went pretty smoothly. At this stop we heard more chatter on the radio, and we let everyone know who and where we were. The lock master coordinated with the other boats in the area, and they even let us move ahead in the line.

Have you heard of Chocolate Bay? It’s probably named for the color of the water, but just it case it was a suggestion, I took the hint.

It was getting later in the afternoon and we decided to plan a fuel stop, and used our chart plotter to look ahead. Our first choice was right on the way, but they weren’t answering the phone, so we sorted out a few back ups. They’d be a bit more out of the way, but would work in a pinch. We headed for option number one, knowing they could just be busy with customers and away from the office. The way in was narrow and shallow. We motored along for about twenty minutes before we spotted another boat. The passengers confirmed the fuel station wasn’t open, so we flipped around to head back into the open water.

Another place finally answered the phone and agreed to stay open for us, as long as we were buying at least 50 gallons. No problem. The Bow Out holds at least 200. That was the good news, but the bad news was they were near Galveston, and about an hour out of the way. We took a right by the bridge and followed the channel markers, but ran aground in a shoaling area. We didn’t come to an abrupt stop, but the sound of oyster shells scraping the bottom had us all picturing what might be going on below. We put that out of our minds as we pulled up to the marina and got filled up with fuel.

It’s strange how one boat can seem both big and small. The Bow Out is 40 feet long, but it felt like a battleship when pulling into the marina and sliding up between boats to reach the dock. The same boat in the channel felt the size of a bar of soap.

We thanked our new friends and headed back into the ICW. The entire route is a busy thoroughfare for barge traffic, and it wasn’t uncommon to see something like this cruising right beside us. It made for difficult steering, as vessels this size create strange currents, and I could feel the Bow Out being sucked in sideways. I gladly handed the wheel over to Edgar when this happened during my shifts.

With the sun setting, a little concern set in as well, as I realized we had a couple more hours to go, and no spotlights on the boat. We’d all planned to be back at work on Monday morning. We also didn’t have another place to stay, so we’d have to drop anchor and be out of the way of passing ships, a solution that didn’t seem ideal as there were no good anchorage options along the way. We decided to keep on.

As we entered the Houston Ship Channel, we first tried to avoid the traffic by staying just outside the channel markers, using our depth finder and chart plotter to look for any obstacles. Trouble was, we were finding out the chart wasn’t completely accurate, and we spotted some obstructions with the naked eye just in time. We decided to move into the channel and stay a comfortable distance behind the ship in front of us, confident that his electronics would be more sophisticated that our own.

The initial turn toward Kemah wasn’t hard to spot, because we could see the lights of the carnival rides from the water. But once we brought the bow in that direction, it was very difficult to see the red and green channel markers in the dark. Edgar kept his eyes peeled from the captain’s wheel, while I gazed out one side and Kate the other. We shouted to each other as we spotted marker after marker just in the nick of time. To make things even more interesting, our iPad was running out of juice. The 12 volt on the boat wasn’t quite 12 volt, and the iPad was smart enough to know it. It was dying, and along with it, our electronic visual on the route.

We scrambled up top to the fly bridge in hopes of a better view. We planted our feet wide; I downloaded the app on my phone, and as Edgar steered, I held the small screen in front of him. From up there we spotted what we thought were channel markers, and headed in toward the boardwalk. As we got closer we could see it was the right path, and we were all smiles as we celebrated along with the music blaring from the rides and nearby restaurants.

I’m not exactly sure how we navigated the final twists and turns, or how Edgar found his slip in the dark. The next thing we knew he was turning us around to park “bow out” – after all, that’s her name. It was late, but we were giggling with excitement and adrenaline. We’d cleared the locks, admired the dolphins, made friends at a fuel station and navigated the Houston Ship Channel at night. It wasn’t exactly as we planned it, but it was a success, and a true nautical adventure.

Keeping Her in the Ditch: Part Two

Leigh, Travel

The following is part two of our cruise from Rockport to Kemah, Texas via the ICW. If you missed part one you can catch up on that here.

Morning came with butterflies of excitement. We made some last-minute checks and cut our lines loose. The sunrise was beautiful and we pulled away from Rockport excited about the day ahead.

Just a few hours into the morning, we had company. A group of dolphins decided to go surfing in our wake, and I could not stop smiling at the sight.

We had other company as well. Huge barges passed us every so often, sometimes filled with products and sometimes looking lighter on a return run. We heard some of them on the radio and spoke to some, but it soon became clear they weren’t used to speaking to pleasure boats and we trailed off communication. They weren’t rude; it just seemed like they didn’t know why were were calling out to them.

Just an hour or two into the journey, we could tell something wasn’t right. Edgar was at the wheel and not getting the response out of the engine like we had been, and there was a smell in the air…

We rushed to get out of traffic, dropped anchor and flung open the floor panels to expose the engine room. As we did, a big white cloud filled the cabin. We’d blown a radiator hose. We gave it a couple minutes to cool down and then added several bottles of water. Edgar worked his magic and we got ready to get back on track. It was a delay in an already tight schedule, and we had a lot more (watery) ground to cover.

It was smooth sailing for a while, and then we hit San Antonio Bay. The wind was whipping so hard, it made it difficult to keep the bow pointed in the right direction, and we had to stand with our feet at least shoulders’ width distance apart to keep our balance. We knew we were slipping behind schedule, but we had no choice but to ease off the throttle as we bounced our way across the chop.

Just on the other side of San Antonio bay, the wind died down and we passed several peaceful neighborhoods, like this one in Calhoun. Happy to have the rough seas temporarily behind us, I celebrated my newfound skill of boat-steering with a break… and a pb&j.

Later that afternoon, it was time to go through our first locks. We’d looked ahead on the schedule and saw that they were running, so when we got close we started listening to the traffic and getting a better idea of how it went down. We called ahead to the lock master and let him know we were coming, and he gave us the instructions to wait a few minutes until he could get another vessel through. When it was our turn he asked us to come through and then go to the right to wait another minute before going to the other side. We did, and found ourselves in the shallows. The Bow Out drafts four feet, so we needed five feet of water to cruise through. We made that right turn and ended up in four feet or less… and stuck. Edgar wasn’t too worried, since he knew he could twist his way off, and that the ship coming by would also give us a wake and help us move, but it didn’t erase our concern about what we were doing to our fresh paint job below.

When it was our turn to move we told the lock master it would take a second. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you it’s shallow over there.” Yeah, we see that. We wiggled off without too much trouble and continued on our way.

About 7pm we found ourselves in Matagorda, which was not quite the halfway point, but we knew there was a marina with facilities, and they turned out to be very nice. The guy running the place even let us borrow a power adapter so we could plug in for the night, and get a charge on our iPad, which we were using for the navigation app. It felt good to have a shower and a meal on land, and a little funny to be walking around on solid earth.

We settled in for the night, knowing we’d have a long day in store. Our hope was to make Kemah by dusk, and we’d need to be up and moving early to do it.

On day three we watch our fuel tank drop to an uncomfortable level, and make a risky run through one of the busiest ship channels in the country.

A Welcome Change

Edgar

The heat index is around 120 F in South Texas, and the humidity is just under 5000%.  The air is so thick, you have to chew it to get it down.
I was recently reminded that September is next week, and praise the Lord for that.
Thankful for new seasons coming in and the exit of old ones.

Folks feel differently about a lot of things, and certainly there are various perspectives about change. It is certain and consistent that things do and will continue to change, and I say embrace it.

Welcome home fall.

I look forward to the snow of winter and the bitter cold of a Northern gale blowing in…

Happy Labor Day to all our TSY friends.

Edgar~

Rides Around: Somethin’ ‘Bout a Truck

Leigh, Travel

As I mentioned in last week’s Rides Around, I’m not really a car person.

But it turns out I am a little bit of a truck person.

When I was growing up my dad had a pick up truck. Dodge. Blue.  He drove it to work, mostly, but sometimes he’d work an overnight shift at the steel mill, and he’d let me drive it to school.  It was a treat to have my own wheels, even if it was an old truck, and even if it sometimes wouldn’t start right away, or stalled out on occasion.  I do remember turning the key in the school parking lot, and willing it to start… hoping it wouldn’t stall just at the point somebody super cool was walking out of the building.

Once I hit senior year of college I got my own car, thanks to a great deal given to me by my grandmother.  I don’t remember how much I put down, or even what the total was, but I remember that I paid her $100 a month until I could pay it off.

I leased a car, then tried a Honda del Sol (fun!) and then ran the wheels off a Civic and needed something else.

A Mini Cooper caught my eye.  Not many people had them in Texas, and it was a convertible (like the del Sol) and a great deal, so I snatched it up.  I found I enjoyed being a Mini “person”.  It got great gas mileage and when I made moves from Texas to California and back again, it held me, three suitcases, a guitar, a backpack and a dog just fine.

To be fair, the dog doesn’t take up much space.

It could even hold blinds for 19 windows. Barely.

But this new neighborhood and its sea of potholes have been rough on the Mini.  In just a few months I quickly had to replace tires, and this week new issues began to surface that felt more like Big Trouble.  It was time to face facts.  I had to bid adieu to the Mini, and get something a little more…max.

I whined; I researched; I consulted my personal panel of experts, and I test drove a couple small SUVs.

But, as I learned when I was sixteen… there’s something about a truck.  I saw one online I liked.  Blue. No frills.  Just a truck with a few years and a few miles on it.  Grey and blue seats and two little jump seats in the back, for some very small passengers, just in case I run into any.  When I turned the key it started right up (thankfully) and I scanned the radio for a country station.  I had a big smile on my face the whole ride home.  It doesn’t fit in the garage as easily as the Mini, but I think it suits me just fine.

The Rig: a 2005 Ford Ranger
The Location:  just north of Houston
The Rider: a city girl with a mild case of nostalgia
The Special Circumstance: getting a new deal on an old truck

Rides Around: The Men That Don’t Fit In

Edgar, Travel

Last week’s Rides Around has us still thinking about why people like the spirit of motorcycles, and specifically adventure motorcycles.

Robert Service captured the spirit of the fabled open road in a poem called The Men That Don’t Fit In.  Taken as a whole, the poem may not accurately describe every adventure rider, but the lines that speak of the allure of the new, the challenge of the mountain and the love of the unknown can’t help but catch our attention.

 

There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,

A race that can’t stay still;

So they break the hearts of kith and kin,

And they roam the world at will.

They range the field and they rove the flood,

And they climb the mountain’s crest;

Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,

And they don’t know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far;

They are strong and brave and true;

But they’re always tired of the things that are,

And they want the strange and new.

They say: “Could I find my proper groove,

What a deep mark I would make!”

So they chop and change, and each fresh move

Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs

With a brilliant, fitful pace,

It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones

Who win in the lifelong race.

And each forgets that his youth has fled,

Forgets that his prime is past,

Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,

In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;

He has just done things by half.

Life’s been a jolly good joke on him,

And now is the time to laugh.

Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;

He was never meant to win;

He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone;

He’s a man who won’t fit in.

-Robert Service, Source: The Spell of the Yukon, and Other Verses (1911)
The Rig: 2008 BMW 1250 GS Adventure
The Location: Texas Hill Country
The Driver: a Robert Service fan 
The Special Circumstance: taking the long way
Edgar~

Rides Around: Stretch Wagon

Edgar, Surfing, Travel

We found another great ride for our Rides Around series!  This is a custom bug on a South Texas beach.

Someone enjoyed bugs so much, they wanted more.  Instead of getting a second one, they decided to add more to the one they had.

They cut the body and frame, added some body and frame and… voila!  A little paint and some elongated linkages, and this thing was ready for the sand.  The genius behind this knew the stock bug engine was a little light, so they went ahead and through a V8 in her.  That should do it…

The most amusing part of this long bug, is the fact that the owner stuck w/ this theme and has a longboard on top.

I applaud the creativity, apptitude, and drive this creation took from its creators.

Well done!

The Rig: Stretched VW Bug
The Location: Some South Texas beach
The Driver: a creative and ambitious Louisiana gentleman
The Special Circumstance: as a species, our creative well is limitless
Edgar~

Rides Around: Rekombinando

Edgar, Surfing, Travel

The second vehicle featured in our “Rides Around” series is a VW combie van with an interesting story and a fantastic paint job.  I was at a little surf spot just southeast of Corpus Christi, Texas, when I spotted this creation pulled up on the sand.

Before paddling out, I introduced myself to the driver, a bit of a surfing icon, and the father of an exceptional woman who was passionate about making a change and actively doing so through her “social project “.  It is called “Rekombinado” and can be read about here.  It is an educational mission based out of the van, and takes place en route from Brazil to Northern California.

I spent a few minutes discussing the van, its travels, and function w/ the gentleman in the driver’s seat before paddling out.
During my session, I contemplated purpose and passion and priorities.  I thought of how I choose to spend my time, and where I burn the most calories.  It was a bit of a self check-up that I passed w/ some ideas for improvement.

As I was wading back in from my surf, and wrapping my leash up on the tail of my board, the combie was pulling off into the setting sun.  It was undoubtedly headed out to continue its mission of education and love.

Funny how chance encounters can impact lives…

The Rig: VW Combie Van

The Location: Packery Channel, Texas

The Driver: a surfing icon named Joao

The Special Circumstances:  an amazing encounter during a Tuesday after work surf session

Edgar~

Blessed

Edgar, Travel

It is the last week of February, and I am on a plane headed from Alberta to Texas.  Tomorrow I fly from Texas to Idaho. After three days there, I return to Texas for a week. Then I’m headed back to Canada. From there, I fly to Mexico for a long weekend, and then I return to Texas.

That is my next three weeks, and I am looking forward to it.  I like to travel, always have.  I like to see varying places and experience them.  People, landscapes, food, weather, cultures and all of their intricacies excite me.  I’m an anthropologist, a theologian and a philosopher, among many other things, and I’m wandering through God’s great big world considering implications of actions observed and interacting w/the local flora and fauna as myself.  I am very fortunate for this opportunity.

Edgar~