The Gulf and Back

Last weekend was my last opportunity to get away for awhile, so I took it. As spin-off from Tropical Storm Manuel drenched Central and West Texas, I drove south through the deluge and spent last Friday night in Corpus Christi.

Corpus Christi--or just Corpus--is a city by the sea. Its downtown streets were empty when I arrived late in the afternoon. I munched on an order of fries from Whataburger as I wandered along the seawall protecting Corpus from the Gulf.

The beaches of Corpus are not especially pretty but they offer nice views of the skyline and twinkling oil rigs in the distant waters. Sunset lit the hazy sky in deep blues, then purples, then grays as I dined on fresh raw oysters.

I walked the seawall again the next morning this time in the opposite direction towards the city's art museum and a decommissioned aircraft carrier. Then I drove about thirty minutes to Padre Island National Seashore. My national parks pass got me in for free.

On Padre Island, I walked and briefly drove along the beach. Thick clouds shrouded the sun but the ocean waves still crashed, same as ever. Much like standing in the presence of mountains, standing on the shore of a giant body of water reminds me of the vastness of everything.

After collecting a handful of sea beads (seeds from Southeast Asia that get caught in ocean currents and wash up on Texas beaches ten to fifteen years later) and meeting a bright white and yellow crab, I began my backroads return to Austin.

I spent an hour in touristy Port Aransas before taking the shortest (literally four minute) ferry ride of my life. Once back on mainland Texas, I cut up through the southeastern part of the state to Goliad and the state park there. It was here where captured Texian soldiers were massacred by the Mexican Army during the War for Texas Independence. That event, along with the Battle of the Alamo, stirred the Texas Army to final victory at San Jacinto.

My final stop before getting back to Austin was Palmetto State Park, a lush preserve on the banks of the San Marcos River. I didn't stay long, but enjoyed watching the glowing orange sun set behind the park's lush foliage.

Enchanted Rock

Last Friday, I drove to Enchanted Rock State Natural Area, about an hour and a half northwest of Austin--my final summer excursion. Maybe. Today, five days later, was my last first day of school ever. Maybe.

Hiking to the top of the 425-foot pink granite batholith rewards visitors with an expansive 360-degree view of Texas Hill Country. Beneath the burning sun and chandelier clouds, it's one of the most beautiful places in Texas. Not dramatic, but constant and solid. Parched, but with flora stingy enough to survive the oppressive summer heat.

I first scrambled up the gradual peak of Enchanted Rock itself. The roughly-marked trail is less than a half-mile so I continued through Echo Canyon then around Little Rock. The temperature was pushing 100, but that's the only way to fully experience the desert's arid allure.

After wandering for a few hours, I drove 30 minutes south to Fredericksburg, a touristy German town with folksy shops and overpriced wineries. I did one brief wine tasting, but was more impressed with the clear glass bottles than the dull, watery wine. A shop with hot sauce and various other condiment tasting opportunities on Main Street proved much tastier.