Last week I made my way along the Texas Gulf Coast – my first time on that 397 miles of coastline. Leaving San Antonio for New Orleans, I drove due south to the water’s edge, camping in Rockport and taking day trips to Corpus Christi and the Padre Island National Seashore, then heading north to spend a week in Galveston. I didn’t get all the way down to South Padre or Brownsville; next time.

The Gulf of Mexico is not the most picturesque sea; you’ll find no jaw-dropping blue or crystal-clear waters. The water is brown, largely due to sediment, detritus, and clay being dumped into it by the Mississippi and other rivers. Combined with the less than white, not nearly sugar consistency sand, and oil platforms, cargo ships and refineries dotting the water and the shoreline, St. Tropez, it ain’t.

The seafood is fried and plentiful, but not particularly memorable. The attractions are family-friendly and carnival-like. The Texas Gulf Coast is a working man’s paradise, where you finally begin to comprehend the country songs blaring from dually pickup trucks, waxing poetic about beaches, tequila, and cowboy hats.

Rockport

The highway from Corpus Christi to Rockport is scattered with RV parks, and it makes good sense – during hurricane season, a Wheel Estate is ideal for hasty evacuation. (Many of those RVs will depart with retirees and snowbirds at winter’s end, before hurricane season begins). Less logical is the construction, both new and rehabbed/rebuilt, constant since Harvey demolished almost everything two years ago. A billboard proclaims, “Let us help you rebuild!” The two waterside camping areas at Goose Island State Park remain closed, and there is still no camping on Mustang Island in Port Aransas. Live oaks pruned of storm-damaged limbs appear otherworldly, except thankfully for Big Tree, estimated to be 1,000 years old and largely unscathed.

Fulton Mansion (1874-1877) reopened just two months ago after sustaining heavy damage.

Corpus Christi

If for no other reason, I love Corpus Christi because it has everyone speaking Latin. Moreover, the town name is often shortened to just “Corpus,” resulting in locals basically saying things like, “Hey, you goin’ to Body today?”

Of course Corpus Christi means “Body of Christ,” and Jesus himself, in a boat, keeps careful watch over those who ply their trades on the sea – fishers and shrimpers, oystermen and oil rig workers.

Many of the town’s historic homes have been gathered up and placed in Heritage Park, where there were few tourists and a dire need of funds for renovation and preservation.

I stopped by Seaside Memorial Park to pay my respects to Selena Quintanilla, the Queen of Tejano Music, literally gunned down in the prime of life at age 24 by her biggest fan.

In many ways it seems like it happened yesterday, but the shooter, Yolanda Saldovar, is up for parole in five years.

Padre Island National Seashore

My America the Beautiful pass came in handy at Padre Island – 70 miles of protected seashore and a thriving marine wildlife habitat. At 130,434 acres, it is the longest remaining undeveloped stretch of barrier island in the world.

I would love to return someday to see the Kemp’s ridley sea turtles, driven to the edge of extinction but making a comeback.

Padre Island is a mecca for RVers, who camp right on the beach, but an incident in October 2019 made me think twice. A full-timing couple from New Hampshire was murdered and buried in a shallow grave in the sand, their truck and trailer driven across the border to Mexico by a man and woman. Thankfully the couple was extradited back to United States and are now in custody. This terrible crime sent shockwaves through the RVing community. I know it does not make random acts of violence more probable in that spot, but it was so recent I just couldn’t see myself boondocking out there alone.

Galveston, Oh Galveston (Glen Campbell, 1969)

Ever wonder how Galveston got its name?

I knew I was going to like Galveston because of its history and architecture, and I wasn’t disappointed. The East End Historical District is full of mansions of the uber-wealthy from the late 1800s and early 1900s.

It’s miraculous they survived the Great Storm.

The hurricane that struck Galveston in September 1900 is the greatest natural disaster ever in the United States. Over 6,000 people died. Clara Barton herself arrived with The Red Cross.

Many of the historic buildings in Galveston were erected in 1901 – no surprise there. These beauties down on The Strand have stood the test of time, literally.

In response to The Great Storm, the city built the seawall, which is now a hotbed of beachgoing activities.

There’s the Pleasure Pier, rebuilt after Hurricane Ike 11 years ago,

and I particularly enjoyed The Hotel Galvez.

I have a love for old Grand Dame hotels that are historic in their own rights, and I especially love it when there is a Hall of History.

Things in Galveston were pretty lawless by the 1950s with gangsters and illegal gambling, prompting the nickname “The Independent State of Galveston.“

Law enforcement finally busted it all up in 1956, but those must’ve been fun and heady times, especially at the long-gone Balinese Room.

September is a rough month for Galveston; Hurricane Ike made landfall in September 2008, and it was a doozy. What do you do when a hurricane topples your oldest, most beautiful trees? Transform the stumps into art. I had such fun hunting down these clever and resourceful treasures.

I also went hunting for the site of the home of pirate Jean Lafitte, whose Maison Rouge would have no doubt been a sight to behold.

All that remains are crumbling basement walls and a coquina staircase.

He wouldn’t like the view now anyway.

The Bolivar Peninsula

Ike practically obliterated the Bolivar Peninsula, just across Galveston Bay and accessible by a free ferry.

While there are some lovely waterside campgrounds in Galveston proper, I opted for a spot lakeside on the Peninsula for 20 bucks a night thanks to Passport America.

The Peninsula rebuilt in earnest, populated with brightly-colored homes on stilts, bars and restaurants.

Stephen and Kevin made the short trip down from Houston and spent the night on one of the only sunny days we had the whole week.

Galveston was just gearing up for its weeks-long Mardi Gras celebrations and parades on the day of my departure. Had I known I would have planned better! Perhaps I’ll return someday for carnival season and park the RV along the seawall with all of the other revelers.

Next Stop: New Orleans!