Camping - Winter 2022

 We left the luxury RV resort as quickly as we could, heading into more mist and grey weather through Texas hill country, with temperatures near freezing. However, the clouds or mist finally lifted, and we were glad to see sunshine again. This is really dry country. We stopped in El Paso for a Costco run, then made the short journey to Las Cruces, New Mexico, where Don and Jean Lappinga (good friends from our old church in Grand Rapids) awaited us in their amazing casa. We parked our trailer in their spacious driveway and were welcomed with open arms. So nice to be in a real home again! Jean treated us to a warming dinner of tortilla soup and cornbread, and we caught up on news from the past four years since we’d seen them. We’ve been here only six hours and already we feel as though we’re home. We warned them that if they continue to be such super hosts, we may cancel the rest of our trip and spend the rest of the winter here.

 The next morning we were off shortly after 9:00 a.m. (Phil is a taskmaster when it comes to packing up and getting out on time. I love him anyway.) We sailed through mile after mile of Texas scrub on I-10, slowly entering an area of mist and drizzle. We reached the small town of Sonora around 4:00 p.m., and made our way to what the Internet had identified as the best RV resort for an overnight stop. It had water, electric, and sewer hookups, so it sounded very up-to-date. I had made reservations the week before, thinking it might be crowded. We turned in at this modest sign… …and were greeted by some luxury trailers: With growing trepidation, we ventured further down the lane, where we found the actual RV resort. Not exactly a popular spot. (The view from our trailer.) A fine, soaking mist completed the impression of desolation. However, we chose an empty spot, found that indeed all the hookups were there and working, got the dogs walked quickly, ate a quick supper of chicken nood...

 The morning dawned, still cool and spitty. We took our showers in icy, drafty bathrooms with scalding hot water. Phil walked the beach while I worked on some writing, then prepared for a celebratory dinner that night. Our new-found friends, Jerry and El, were coming to Mustang Island campground that afternoon, and we planned a final dinner together before parting ways. When they arrived, we took a walk together on the beach with Ernie and their two dogs, all of whom exhibited boundless energy, splashing into the waves and running with tongues out along the shoreline. Dinner was air fryer roast potatoes, chicken drumsticks, fresh green beans, salad, and—to our great delight—luscious carrot cake brought by Jerry. Our guests also contributed heady margaritas, which we downed prior to dinner.  Friends are a blessing, and unexpected friendships are a wonderful mix of surprise and pleasure. We enjoyed Jerry and El’s company well into the evening, with hopes to see each other again ...

 We woke this morning to a slight, steady rain.  This was great for the park but unfortunate for us, as we had to pack up and move to Mustang Island State Park, where we would camp for the next two nights. Just before we left, at noon, the elusive javelinas appeared in our campsite. Ernie almost got free, trying to get out to them, but we saved him just in time. Not sure how aggressive these wild pigs are. Instead, I shot them (with my phone). There were two, a mother and her young, likely hoping we’d left some tortilla chips or peanuts or bread crumbs behind. The drive to Mustang Island through Corpus Christi took an hour. We arrived in a spitty rain to a water-logged campground, situated between sand dunes and a very busy highway. We were cheek by jowl with 40 other campers, and our spot was almost completely covered with water. The campground was a great disappointment to Phil, who had envisioned a sunny paradise on the ocean and more scenic sites. The weather didn’t help—b...

 Today my mother would have turned 100 years old. She died on March 6, 2019, just as Covid was shutting things down. She went through that door peacefully, with songs and readings and prayers surrounding her until she took her last mortal breath and began to breathe the air of the home she had longed for. If others’ accounts of their near-death experiences are any guide, she was greeted by the One who loved her, and by music much greater than our throats could sing. Now what is mortal has been swallowed up by life. She shuffled off her mortal coil most gladly, and I can understand that. Living into a great old age as she did must feel like getting up early, working hard all day, taking a rest after dinner, and then longing for bed. Sometimes you’re just too tired to keep your eyes open any longer. This is her at 96, waving four of her daughters good-bye as we left for a trip to England and Wales to celebrate Gayle’s 70th birthday.  I always think of this picture when I think o...

 Laundry day again, though I began to wish we had given in and simply used the deluxe laundromat in Mathis, five minutes away. Washing everything from socks to jeans in our trailer sink makes me appreciate again the work my great-grandmothers (or their servants) did on laundry day: boiling pots of water, stirring clothes in it with sticks, wringing them dry, and hanging them out on the line if it was sunny weather. Laundry was a full-day affair. Phil kept busy too: Actually, he was very handy in fixing the soap dispenser of the sink, applying enzyme pellets to our black and grey water tanks, and scavenging firewood from empty campsites. And he walks at least an hour daily, does 200 pushups, and works out with his weights. So he deserves a little rest. The weather was again chilly. I ran in the morning, down to the lake, and caught a glimpse of sunshine in an otherwise grey day. There’s not much else to report about this day. We watched the final episode of All Creatures Great and S...

  Note: My iPad and iPhone have refused to sync for the past three days, so blog entries have gotten clogged up. But I have discovered WiFi in the campsite bathrooms (not sure of the logic in that) so am publishing four today.  Two victories today: swimming at the Y in Corpus Christi this morning (any exercise at my age is a victory), and making amazing (if I say so myself) cornbread in the air fryer this afternoon. Warm, crumbly, moist, crunchy on the bottom and crisped on the top, browned to perfection—a perfect receptacle for melting butter and a drizzle of honey. Yes, the cornbread was a victory. Though it probably undid the benefits of the exercise.   Going into Corpus Christi and baking and feeding/walking the dogs took up much of the day, but I also got out for a walk. Wandering down to the lovely CCC pavilion,  I found a stone seat and wrote down some notes for a new story, then listened to a recording of a writing seminar on creating villains.    Q...

  One of the things that delights me about Lake Corpus Christi State Park is its wildlife. Not only is the lake well stocked for fishing (various trout, catfish, pike, gar, and more), but the trees and underbrush surrounding our campsite are home to whitetail deer, coyote, wild pigs, crocodiles, armadillos, snakes, feral cats, squirrels, and a bewildering variety of birds (herons, hawks, turkey vultures, cardinals, finches, jays, and more). Deer are a common sight in the morning.     I’ve seen the wild pigs (black, hairy things twice the size of Ernie) and tried for photos of them, but they’ve always been too far away. They do come snuffling around our campsite at night. First introduced to the US by the Spanish explorer deSoto in 1539, they now number at least 2.6 million in Texas alone. With large litters and a lack of natural predators, they keep increasing. And they’ll eat anything—insects, weeds, tubers, cacti, and small animals and reptiles. If farms are nearby, the...

  This was the warmest day so far: close to 90 degrees. I baked another loaf of bread in the morning, with slightly better success, and enjoyed the gift of strawberry-rhubarb jam on fresh, buttered bread. Showered. Then took pity on the dogs, who looked uncomfortably hot, and gave them baths. (Well, Phil showered Ernie, who promptly rolled in a pile of dirt and leaves and had to be showered all over again.) It was hot enough to turn on our central air (oh, the luxury of camping in a trailer!). But somehow that seemed wrong. We have traveled thousands of miles (well, at least a thousand) to get into warmth and sunshine. So now we’re going to waste electricity trying to get cool? It would defeat the purpose of our journey. So, no. As a Calvinist, I have my standards. We wanted warmth, and we got it. Stop complaining.   So I napped most of the afternoon, side by side with two damp dogs. Actually, a very nice way to spend a hot afternoon. Phil listened to podcasts and, as always, ...

  Today was one of the nicest days we’ve spent at Lake Corpus Christi, and not only because of the weather (80 degrees and sunshine). I also met three couples who considerably brightened my day.   One, a Hispanic family across the road, is heading out today to Choke Canyon in their new RV. They are new to camping but already know how to do it right: last night they had invited family and friends to join them around their campfire, and there was much laughter and conversation up until quiet hours. The father is an avid fisherman and works in the wind farms that line the road between here and Corpus Christi, and it was fun to see his delight in discovering the joys of camping. Yesterday he set up two lawn chairs in the back of his pickup, hoisted his wife and daughter up to sit in the chairs, packed his fishing gear in the cab, and drove off to the lake. It reminded me of all the rides I took with my siblings in the back of Dad’s truck, on our way to glean cherries or apricots o...

 Phil’s Grandma Weemhoff lived in a sedate neighborhood in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where people pretty much toed the line: neat yards, snow shoveled promptly, leaves raked, weeds pulled. They kept an eye out for each other. Having such neighbors had its advantages…and disadvantages. During one of our visits, Grandma looked out the living room window and frowned. “There’s Wendy again. There, see? Now she just moved behind the curtain.” She pointed to the house across the street. “She’s wondering who’s visiting.” Grandma sniffed. “That woman. She has nothing better to do all day than look out the window at her neighbors.” We all firmly disapproved of Wendy.  Until, that is, we began turning into her. In a way, we can’t help it. Camping is by and large a life of leisure. Phil and I often sit at the table to read or write, and any movement outside the window catches our eye. We watch a humongous rig pulling in to the campsite across from us and speculate as to the age and physical...

 Gerard Manley Hopkins, one of my favorite writers, was in love with language and with nature. Both priest and poet, he glimpsed the mystery and beauty of God in the green hills and woods of England. Read him sometime, just for delight. Anyway, he coined a word, “inscape,” trying to capture the qualities of an object or idea that gives it uniqueness. He wrote in his journal, “There is one notable dead tree…the inscape markedly holding its most simple and beautiful oneness up from the ground through a graceful swerve below (I think) the spring of the branches up to the tops of the timber. I saw the inscape freshly, as if my mind were still growing….” On my morning walk, I found several trees that might have made it into Hopkins’s journal. As a busy parish priest, Hopkins must have prized his solitary walks in the hills, as well as his quiet hours spent crafting poetry and writing in his journal. It would have been an escape from the constant press of his parishioners’ needs. I found...

 The problem with warm fronts is that they’re followed by cold fronts. Falling temps, high winds—that’s what we had today. From a hot, sunny yesterday, we’ve moved into Texas winter. Which was fine with me. I wasn’t feeling tip-top anyway, so I mostly snuggled in bed with the dogs, read more of Anne Perry, watched an amusing series on Acorn TV ( Under the Vines ), and napped. Outside, the wind howled, bullied the trees, rattled our trailer, and blew my socks off the clothesline.  The dogs were happy to have us all to themselves for a day. At night, we watched two episodes of All Creatures Great and Small. Afterward I covertly watched another episode of The Larkins . I will say, we allow ourselves much more screen time than we would ever allow our grandchildren. I know it will likely warp our brains. But today it was heavenly.

 We rose in the morning to an even warmer day than yesterday. The dogs sought out the cooler floor to get comfortable. Before the sun got too hot, I jogged the trail to the pavilion and back, did my stretching, and took a shower. Phil did an hour’s worth of weights and pushups—he inspires me. Then after breakfast the day stretched out before us, now perhaps too hot for a hike or vigorous bike ride. So we talked. I don’t know how the conversation started, but it somehow moved into our feelings about this extended camping trip. And that moved into the question of what we’re doing with our lives. Are we being productive? A vacation—of a week or two, or even a month—doesn’t need to be productive; it’s meant to be a rest. But three months…is that different? Phil says no, I say yes. That’s mostly down to different personalities, perhaps. My husband has spent his whole life doing, and now he is content just to be. I need more. After a week or two of resting, I am ready to dig into somethi...

 Yesterday was cool and cloudy, with a few misty drizzles. But today we’re inching up into the high 70s, with clear skies. Yes! This is what we’ve come for. So Phil got busy and did his laundry, making use of the sunshine and warm breeze: We can, of course, drive to a laundromat about ten miles away. But why not hang out our underwear for all to see? I am planning to wash mine in the evening, then hang it out under cover of darkness.  Phil took advantage of the great weather to bike to a quiet spot on the lake and listen to a couple of hours of Tom Sawyer on earphones. I stayed with the dogs, reading a murder mystery by Anne Perry, then took a bike ride toward evening, enjoying the sunlight and water. I sat for a few moments in the evening calm, till a fish startled me by leaping out of the water, feeding on insects. Two herons stalked the shoreline like white question marks, and a hawk perched on the buoy halfway across the lake, looking for prey. A turtle poked his snout li...

 Even though we’re in south Texas and are looking ahead to 80-degree temps soon, it’s a bit chilly in the mornings: The dogs happily function as a foot-warmer and lap-warmer. They’re a lot of work, but I suppose they’re worth it; at least two of the four of us give unconditional love. If you look closely at Ernie (the white one), you will see how badly he needs a hair trim. So we made a grooming appointment for this morning in Corpus Christi, about a 40-minute drive from our campsite. Such appointments take 3-4 hours, so we brought our gym bags (YMCA!) and made out a grocery list. I was expecting Corpus Christi, a seaside town, to be a bit like Santa Cruz, CA: a bit rundown but charming, with brightly painted cottages and a turn-of-the-century Main Street lined with restaurants and tourist shops.  Instead, we were greeted by a massive refinery, which sprawled for what seemed miles of metal and smoke. Then our GPS took us through what must have been the underbelly of Corpus Chr...

  Day 6: Breathing (1/11/22) This morning: no hurried breakfast, no confused packing up, no sitting cramped in the car for hours. We could breathe. Take our time. Relax into this place of beauty.  No scheduled tasks (except, of course, walking the dogs, feeding the dogs, making breakfast, clearing the table, washing dishes, putting them away, making the bed, sweeping the floor, organizing the food boxes, stringing a laundry line, emptying the gray water tank, then walking the dogs again and feeding the dogs again and eating lunch and cleaning up). It’s amazing how you look at the clock and it’s 1:30 p.m. already, and you haven’t taken the time to breathe. So we got on our bikes to explore the Mesquite camping area, which lies across a small bay from ours. And I found a place to breathe. The pictures don’t quite do it justice, but it’s a stretch of lake and grass at the far end of the park, where no one seems to come. I sat down on the bank of grass about three feet from the la...