Saturday, January 23, 2010

Corpus Christi, Texas

One sign said that we had entered the city limits of Corpus Christi, but we have seen no hint of said metropolis. If it exists it is across the bay, beyond our range of sight. We do have a fair number of TV channels, so they must come from nearby. We seem to be getting some weak analog signals from Mexico on the "-0" channels. One more thing to think about is that, in general, it seems that Public Television stations are better represented and delivered in state parks than any other broadcast network. Cell phone service is also a little better than minimal -- we get to surf the web most of the time we try it.

Mustang island is a barrier island, and although we passed by some developed portions on our way here, everything we can see from the park is prairie-like grass and dunes. The building in the park are poured concrete to be nearly hurricane proof. An interesting arrangement for the restrooms, which are over the showers -- it may take some time for me to figure that one out. The restrooms and showers are far below average -- flaking paint on home-made partitions, ancient plumbing, no privacy area for changing and drying, and open to every mosquito in the county.

The sun is struggling to shine through the high clouds, and raise the temperatures into the 70s. It was enough to burn off this morning's fog, but maybe not for the rest of the job. Recent rains seem to have flooded the beach parking lot causing it to be unusable. Park rangers are running a pump but it is very slow going.

Back story on a couple of pictures: we saw the Roseate Spoonbill flock on Friday morning about three-quarters of the way to Mustang Island. Ms. Garmina knew that we were on the ferry and prepared us for the disembarkation. There seem to be a lot of starfish washed up on the beach. Warnings are still up about red tide striking this area last fall. Morty thought he was pretty big hunk when they assigned him two lanes on the ferry.

We are paying $16 a night to camp here -- a very reasonable rate. Tomorrow we head 36 miles north to Goose Island State Park, were the rate is $20, but they say they have fishing tackle to loan.

And, if you are playing along or just keeping score at home, the drain cap magically reappeared yesterday -- it had just come loose, and temporarily lodged itself on top of the plumbing. And we isolated the clicking sound to the coach door where everything seems firmly enough attached to put the whole issue into the benign category. So all is well again with Morty.

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