After picking up Foster in San Antonio late Friday, we drove west through one of Texas’ famous storms with quarter sized hail forcing us off the road for a bit to wait it out. I’d have probably kept on going if I was alone, but your perspective changes when your son is with you. We eventually made it to Ozona, TX, got a good night’s sleep and were on our way early to Big Bend. To get to the park, you basically get to Fort Stockton, TX and take the only road south. The only thing meaningful along that route is Marathon, TX and its only meaning is that it is on the way – and that it was the last place to get a rail car back in the day.
Away from the edge
My son Foster flew in to San Antonio to use a couple of days of his Spring Break hanging out with me on the edge. So after Seminole Canyon I needed to work my back toward the North and West to shorten the drive to SA. I ended up in Uvalde, TX (no sign of “back slidin’ barrel ridin’ Rita Ballou”) which is well away from the edge .
Nature’s Edge
Sometimes on these trips I get wrapped up in waxing poetic on everything and finding interesting tidbits of odd information and generally making all this about me. Then I am literally brought to my knees by the wonder of a created world shaped and changed in ways more various than I can name by forces so determined and so powerful that I am humbled and made small. The natural world is like that.
The Edge of Reason
Roma’s sandstone bluffs overlooking the Rio Grande were an ideal landmark for travelers and settlers. Three arroyos used as travel routes converged at Roma where the Rio Grande was shallow and easily crossed…After the Mexican-American war, Anglo-American settlers swelled Roma’s population and the economies of both sides of the river changed dramatically…Due to Mexican tariffs and customs, it was more expensive to purchase goods in Mexico than [in] the United States; this encouraged the smuggling of goods into Mexico. In response, the Mexican state of Tamaulipas instituted an informal free trade zone on its northern border, which made it very profitable to smuggle cheaper goods from Mexico to sell in the United States…Consequently, Roma grew with substantial commerce of both legitimate and contraband trade during the 1870s and 1880s. A Customs House was built in 1883 on the bluffs’ highest point to regulate commercial traffic…and collect taxes and tariffs.
Texas Historical Marker, Roma, TX
The Edge is a Small Mouth
I left Mustang Island heading south and spent a good part of the morning driving down Padre Island beach in The National Seashore Park. For 60 or so miles, there is nothing but barrier island and the beaches in Texas are considered roads, so you can drive anywhere as long as you don’t cross the dune. Which means you have about 50 feet – dune on one side, Gulf of Mexico on the other – and very very little traffic. This is my first experience actually driving for any distance on a beach and after a bit it gets kind of hypnotic. There is no road noise, and with the windows down the 12 mph “speed limit” draws you into the rhythm of the sea.
Pirates at the Edge
After getting to Sea Rim State Park last night to stay I faced three problems: 1) Sea Rim has endured some pretty bad hurricanes in the not too distant past. As a result, what has been rebuilt has the charm of an Omaha Beach pillbox. And rather than provide beachside camping, they opted for an asphalt parking lot with numbers on it. Disappointing but not insurmountable. 2) the Gulf has apparently decided Texas highway 87 is not to be, and reclaimed a huge sections of it west of Sea Rim. Consequently, my route to Galveston this morning would be blocked and I’d have to go back and around through Winnie, TX. Not acceptable since I’d likely not make the barrier islands I had in mind by tonight, but I’m supposed to be flexible. 3) I had to drive around three, three, snakes between he entrance to the park and the camping area. One, interesting. Two, hey you don’t see that very often. Three, sign from God. So I returned to Winnie, checked into a motel and went for a drink. Such are the choices we make out here on the edge.
The Edge of Life, The Edge of Industry
After I left Venice my plan was to loop south and west of New Orleans back down to Grand Isle for the night at Grand Isle State Park. Traffic and rain fought back and I ended up making most of the trip from New Orleans to Grand Isle in the pitch black, wet night. And by pitch black, I mean subterranean-coal seam-with-no-lantern. Since most of the road to Grand Isle is on LA 1 and LA 1 is mostly elevated above marshy hummocks and bayous and no one is begging for street lights and very few people live along the route, it is really dark. You get my point. By the time I pull into my campsite I don’t know anything about how I got here.
Making the Edge
Day one of my journey was an exercise in patience. Having spent so much time thinking, dreaming and planning the trip along the edge, I had to spend most of the day not there. From Atlanta to Venice, LA – my first actual visit to the edge – takes about 8 1/2 hours, but I stopped in New Orleans to visit Foster and eat a Domilises Po Boy and work on an old Landcruiser, so for me it was more like 10 1/2 hours.
The Edge Beckons
Over the past few years my son and I have travelled overland to several of our nation’s National Parks. We’ve covered the east coast, much of the southwest and southern California, along with Utah, Nevada and Colorado. We stick to the old roads and we stick together and we leave the complications of the everyday in favor of the grandeur of the country and the joy of new experiences.
Black Canyon
Camping at Black Canyon of the Gunnison on the north rim is a peaceful experience – though the storms this time of year can be fierce. We rode a wind/hail/flash flood storm out for the first hour or so in camp. At first our handy awning gave us a front row seat to the gathering storm, but eventually it was no match for the elements and we retreated to the car to stay dry.
Rope and Chain 