Pandemic Playtime: Padre Island

 

When we awoke on Friday morning, the day after Thanksgiving, the Alamo outside our window at the Menger Hotel, was still in the hands of the Texians. 

I am grateful to General Sam Houston for defeating the butcher Santa Anna at the Battle of San Jacinto in just 18 minutes, several weeks after the siege and
slaughter at the Alamo.

We packed our bags and checked out of out of the Menger Hotel, leaving The Alamo safely in the hand of hordes of tourists and a Bexar County Sheriff's Deputy. With The Alamo in our rear view mirror, we merged onto the Interstate and headed south toward Corpus Christi and Padre Island National Seashore for a day and two nights of primitive camping on the beach.

It had been a warm and dry fall through 2020 and I was reasonably confident that the warm, dry weather would hold for South Texas and our visit to the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. I began checking the extended forecast about a week before we left home; initially it was a 40% chance of rain. I mentioned the rain chances to my campmate and she shrugs, "Even if it rains, we can deal with it. We've got to take our chances, I don't see any reason to turn back and change our plans short of a hurricane." My wife, she is a happy camper.

I keep checking the rain forecast for Corpus. The day we leave home I tell her the forecast has gone to 100% chance of rain. What we don't know is whether this is an all-day downpour, or a 100% chance of a passing shower. We have already decided to take our chances, with the ultimate option of detouring and taking a room at a hotel in Corpus if we absolutely have to. 

I check again for Saturday's forecast before we leave San Antonio, "Hey, the chance of rain on our campsite tomorrow is down to only 90%!" I announce cheerfully. 

Rolling along I-37 through rural Texas at what I call 'Wyoming Speed', I note that I am doing almost 90 mph. I mention to my passenger (who has yet to fall asleep) that I'm doing Wyoming Speed and how pleased I've been with the 222,000 miles I put on this vehicle and how cool it is to put it in 4WD and cruise down island and make camp in the dunes next to the waves. Later, after our (mis)adventures; she tells me that when I was speaking so well of my 4Runner that she had the thought that my pride was an ominous foreshadowing - but she didn't say anything about her thoughts then. I respect that.

We have a friend who is also my business accountant who grew up in Corpus and prior to our trip I asked for any travel tips while in the area. Among others, we got the suggestion to try the Black Diamond Oyster Bar. I take Kathy's advise on corporate taxes and dining, she is that good. GPS navigation brought us to the Black Diamond Oyster Bar and we asked to be seated at an outside table. It was warm, on the verge of hot, in the sun for a November 27th afternoon. 

Outdoor dining on Gulf oysters at the Black Daimond

We ordered a half-dozen Oysters Rockefeller + a half-dozen Oysters New Orleans and added eight blackened shrimp to make it a Gulf Coast Lunch experience. No regrets.

I hung my printed pass, which I'd downloaded on my computer days in advance, out the window as the ranger waved us onto Padre Island National Seashore. There was supposed to be a kiosk to register as Down Island Beach Campers, where the road ends and the beach begins, but I never saw it; either coming or going. Otherwise, no formality other than 4WD required. I had bought a tow strap and packed a shovel and some plywood panels for traction to be prepared. It was mid-afternoon when we transitioned off of the blacktop and onto the hard packed sand between the dunes and the surf, I shifted my transmission to 4W. We passed several parked camping trailers and plenty of fishermen and their rigs parked in  the first 5 miles from the entrance.

I wanted to go further down island and find a spot less populated. Isolation is the name of the game for us. At Mile 10.5 we found a saddle in the dunes that looked like a good campsite. I swung up toward the dunes and we began unloading the gear.

Padre Island camp in the dunes; 2 nights & 1 day of memories

There was a steady, some may say 'stiff', breeze coming off the water, blowing inland. I unpacked the thin nylon tent and was afraid that the breeze would catch the unsecured tent and carry it off over the dunes and into the salt meadow where we were warned to watch out for rattlesnakes. I asked that Sue place our water thermos and other gear inside the tent to weigh it down. Together we began fitting the fiberglass rods to erect the tent. Of course as soon as we bowed the rods to give the tent its shape, the wind would fill the side like a sail. The water containers used to weight the inside were flipped and managed to spill some of their liquid across the tent's floor. Setting up camp was like building a two-person kite in a gale. We struggled. We added more gear to hold the tent in the sand. We strung together more fiberglass rods and the shelter took its shape despite the threat of it being lofted skyward and launched 1/4 mile inland to the land of the rattlesnakes. We inserted the small pegs through the base rings to anchor the tent to the ground, only the ground was very loose, fine grained sand that did provided little purchase for the pegs. 

Squatty Potty Luxury

It was mostly sunny weather. The breeze was noticeable, but once we had our gear loaded into the tent, everything looked secure. It didn't look like rain, despite the forecast. I would have checked the weather forecast again, but we we down island and beyond cell phone range. This is primitive camping. 

Sue was surprised, and delighted when I unloaded the 'squatty potty' components from the back of the 4Runner. "Where did you get that?"

"I built it one morning while you were at work, after you seemed reluctant to primitive camp without 'facilities'. Where would like to located the bathroom in our new floor plan?" I asked. She pointed to the backside of the dunes. I shouldered my shovel, crested the dune ridge and constructed the luxurious squatty potty.

We bailed the spilled water from the floor of our tent and set up the air mattress and unrolled our bags, adding a few heavy blankets on top for a variety of sleeping options. 

I returned to the 4Runner to move it higher on the beach, not knowing how high the tide would come that night. I turned the key, the engine started, I pressed the gas, the wheels spun, yet the vehicle moved not. Dang. I think I'm stuck. I dug out the sand from around the wheels, inserted my traction boards and put her in gear. I gained a couple of feet, the boards under my tires shot out the back and here I was stuck again. More shovel effort, more boards and more gas with Sue behind the wheel while I pushed. I large pickup rig with surf fishing tackle slowed to look at our efforts, "You need a bit of help there?"

I admitted that it looked like I did. It was a bad feeling to be stranded, but the two good ol' boys were happy to see what they could do to get us out of the soft sand. I pulled out my tow straps and the pickup driver attached them to the front of his frame and with a tug I moved forward. He shouted from the driver's seat, "You got 4 wheel drive?"

I assured him I did (otherwise I would not have come 10 1/2 miles down this beach). "Do you know how to put in 4WD? 'Cause when I was pulling you, your front wheel weren't turning."

"Mind if I take a look?" he asked as he seated himself behind my steering wheel. 

I showed him where the gear shift said 4W. "That's how I put it in 4WD." He tried it. 

"Hmm. Normally I'd think you should have to lock your hubs or have a switch to engage your transmission. I don't see it." He tried a bit. "You got your owner's manual?"

I said I did. He said, "Read it."

Moonrise over the Gulf. First night on the beach.

 

I thanked them for getting me back on the hard packed sand - for the moment. They took off toward their home, leaving us on the island where I was now studying my owners manual. I was embarrassed. I had a shameful and sinking feeling as I concluded that I did not own a 4WD 4Runner. The 4WD switches shown in the manual were not on my dash. I had a regular 2-wheel drive 4Runner. It's like after 12 years of marriage that you find out that your wife wasn't attending garden clubs meetings all these years, but was performing as a stripper across town at Shenanigans. I was devastated.   

It is what it is. I threw the vehicle in reverse and shot back as far as I could go up the beach and back in toward camp. I got stuck again. I just hoped I was above the high tide mark for the night. Another rig with fisherman came by. "Are you stuck?" they asked. 

I told them, "Yeah I think so. But we're staying until Sunday morning. We'll find a way out then. Thanks for stopping. But I won't need any help for another 36 hours." I believed that everyone of these rigs with heavy casting rods mounted onto their front bumpers was driven by good people. I believed everyone of them would offer to help if needed. I was just ashamed to have been silly enough to never know that I didn't have 4WD. I believed we would get off the island when we needed to, but too bad I was going to need help after getting myself into this predicament. 

Sunset in Padre Island's Dunes

Saturday morning

Meanwhile, back at beach camp: I thought it would be too much effort to light my single burner camp stove, so I suggested we eat a dinner of cold cuts of ham and salami, slices of cheese and peel a few tangelos and call it supper. I did manage to get a campfire going at the base of the dunes and broke out a bottle of Cabernet as the sun set on a fair weather day. The sky looked clear enough. I was optimistic that the weather would hold, or if it did rain, it would be a passing shower. We were stranded on the sea strand come hell or high water. Another glass of Cabernet please.

The breeze continued to buffet our tent, but it wasn't flying anywhere with the two of us inside. We slept well that Friday night looking forward to a full Saturday on the beach to walk and explore. 

Sue crawled out of our tent in the early dawn. "Mark, you should see the sunrise. It's fabulous." I scrambled out to experience the sunrise. It was a fabulous sunrise. The 4Runner had not been swept out by the tide and the sky had only a few clouds. I think Saturday will turn out fine... I looked at the rising sun; what is that weather-watcher's byword? 'Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky at morning, sailor take warning.' That's a fabulous sunrise, is it red? Nah, maybe more like persimmon orange. Well, we're stuck on the island anyhow, come hell or high water. the sky is not that red - is it?

A great start to our full day on the Island

Red Sky in Morning, sunrise from our beach camp

The breeze came in from the Gulf light, the sun warmed the sand as a few thin marine clouds drifted overhead. It was a good morning for a stroll on the beach. Saturday is looking good. I don't see that 90% chance of rain, maybe I lucked out.

Collecting sea shells

A fishing vehicle would pass every 20 minutes or so. We were not totally isolated, but each rig drove on down the beach beyond our distance to see, giving us the feeling of being alone in this spot with the birds and the surf. We found small colorful shells to collect, Sue was hoping to find a whole sand dollar and ended up finding a dime-sized whole sand dollar. 

There were pink and blue Portuguese Man-O-War washed up on the beach every several yards. Plenty of trash also, light bulbs, arc lamps, barrels, life jackets and all kinds of things. Sad to see a dead Ridley's Sea Turtle also along the sand. Mark even found a piece of art glass.

Portuguese Man-O-War, they're everywhere man

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were back at camp for a PB&J  lunch and a chance to catch some rays. I regretted not packing short pants, but I did have a bathing suit. I stripped out of my jeans and into my suit and waded into the breakers and caught a few of the waves that broke around me shoulder-high and body surfed toward the beach. 

Sue watched cormorants dive bombing into the sea beyond the breakers where there was a sand shoal and a school of fish that the birds were trying to catch. 

Art Glass found along the beach

I stopped to chat briefly with Luke and his lady, about 1/4 mile further down from us. Luke was in a 4WD Toyota pickup with camper and mounted holders to carry his serious fishing gear. He had just hooked a blacktip and offered it to me for our dinner. I declined to take another man's fish.

Luke asked, "Are you the one with that nice looking 4Runner down from us?" 

I said I was, but that "My 4Runner seems to have gotten stuck in some loose sand, my mistake for getting in over my head on this trip," I replied. 

Luke waved my comment off, "If you need any help, just come by, I can give you a tow. I got straps and some boards." Luke said he and his lady were going to stay until Monday. 

I thanked him for his offer and allowed as to how I would likely need a little help to get off the island. He was pleasant and congenial, as was every soul who went down island. I was thankful.

Thickening clouds Saturday afternoon

 
A few clouds with gray underbellies blew over our heads. They were gray, but I didn't think they were threatening. I'd have to watch, we may yet have a chance of rain. We decided we would explore behind the dunes for the afternoon. It was maybe 3/4 of mile across Padre Island to the backside of the island where the hypersaline Laguna Madre separated Padre Island from the mainland.

 

Beach side lunch of PB & J

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sky to the north looked wet and deep blue as we hiked through rattlesnake habitat. Sue suggested that I lead since I worked with snakes better than she did. I was happy to oblige. 

Beyond the dunes of Padre Island. Rumored Rattlesnake territory.

 

We saw a white tailed buck, a coyote and evidence of shrimp burrows and of small animal activity, but no snakes. The landforms were flat and interesting to me as a geologist who had studied these depostional systems in graduate school as a way of understanding the geology of subsurface oil reservoirs. There were cross-bedded dunes, overwash channels, and algal flats. By the time we reached the back of Padre Island, the sky closed in on us and we began to be pelted with rain. Fortunately, no lightning in this storm as we stood on open, flat ground. By the time we crawled up the back of the dunes and into camp, it was a heavy, steady rain. We were soaked to our skin.

Will you be able to find our camp behind those dunes? They all look alike.

 

 

Algal flats of hypersaline Laguna Madre

We stripped out of our drenched clothing and sat in our tent in our underwear as the rain came down and through the rainfly, forming puddles on the floor of our tent as the wind flapped the fabric separating us from the elements. We huddles under semi-dry or semi-damp (depending on you point of view) blankets and sleeping bags watching and listening to the leaks coming through the top of our tent in the afternoon storm. We tried to keep as much dry as we could, but we were only partly successful. 

Late afternoon, the storm passed and we bailed the rain water out of the tent and inspected the our leaky habitat. It looked like the once sealed seams on the rainfly had developed leaks after years of storage. We hoped that this was the 90% chance of rain, and after this it would be clearing for our departure tomorrow morning. 

Luke and his lady packed up and drove past us, telling us they were not going to spent the night on the island, but that they'd come back in the morning and check on us to see if we need help. I waved them off in the wind and growing darkness, wondering if they would really want to come back this way in the morning.

It was another supper meal of cold cuts, cheese and tortillas - cold. It was too windy to try and start a camp fire and it got dark just after 6, so we went to bed in the upslope, drier part of our tent.

Early dark morning the rain clouds returned as did the leaks. It was a miserable night of dodging leaks, seeking drier parts of the tent. The saving grace was that it was not cold. Cold, wet and windy is truly miserable, but wet and windy is much better if I had to pick two out of three.

I rose with flashlight in hand to check on the 4Runner, the storm with its wind and rain was pushing the surf higher toward my vehicle and I was not completely sure that I was not stuck above high, storm tide level. There was the fear through the night that my SUV could be sucked out into the Gulf. That would be a major bummer. It didn't happen, but I can't say I wasn't worried.

We were up and dressed at daybreak. We broke down the tent in overcast weather, not actively raining anymore. We were loading up the last box when Luke drove down the beach, hooked his tow straps to me and with little effort had me back on hardpack sand. We on our way off Padre Island. It felt good. Real good.

It was an experience. One I should blog about.

We had shrimp omelettes for brunch in Port Aransas on a sunny Sunday morning before we turned north to our reserved Airbnb in Fredericksburg.