Just Beachy
This weekend we went to the beach. Well, in Texas, it's not called "the beach", it's called "the coast". I'm pretty glad there is a distinction between the Texas "coast" and an actual "beach", because I'm from sunny Southern California--by way of the Florida east coast (with a five-year sojourn in Norway)--and the coast doesn't look anything like any beach I ever knew.
My first introduction to the Texas coast was many years ago when my brother and I piled perfect daughter (then a "perfect 6") into my little Honda and drove south to a place called "Seadrift". Perfect daughter sat in the back in a swimsuit, holding a beach towel,and wearing flipflops and sunglasses. We were going to look at real estate for my parents and then go and swim on a beach somewhere.
After driving an endless amount of time through flat scrubland covered with mesquite trees, car junkyards and lots of abandoned-looking shacks (Dorothy, we weren't in La Jolla anymore), we arrived at the coast. The first sight was the color of the water. Muddy. Followed by the oil rigs in the background. There were picturesque shrimp boats, but they didn't smell as pretty as they looked. It was "different", but we had high hopes and decided to find a beach, spread our towels and swim anyway.
We never did find one. Not one with sand. We found lots of fishing piers. We found rocky bulkheads. We asked the local--who looked surprised and asked back, "You want to swim?".
So, that was my first attempt. Years later we all went to Corpus Christi and found a beach on the bay and while it wasn't San Diego, it was "ok".
Needless to say, when we headed to Rockport on Saturday with rowdy son and sweet girl in the back in their swimsuits and beach towels and sunglasses, I spent a long time extolling the virtues of a motel with two swimming pools. We weren't going to swim per se, but we were going on another errand and I had heard via the grapevine that there really was a beach in Rockport. However, I did withold judgement until we arrived.
Rockport was full to the brim with serious fishermen for a serious fishing tournament. (People do FISH on the coast, it's the swimming that seems to flummox some Texans). Therefore, the little town had literally ONE motel room available. It was "interesting". I can't really define the smell of our room other than to say that mildew was quite prevalent (possibly mixed with eau de fish cleaning). It did look out on the bay and....there was a beach!
OK, this beach was smack-dab next to a 150 foot fishing pier. It had a sad little wave then flopped onto the dark, rough sand. There were two picnic tables for people to sit and watch the shrimp boats come in. The kids couldn't wait. I stared at it and remembered long stretches of white sand in Cocoa Beach where we could actually drive our car on the packed sand, then swim in the blue water. I remembered the force of the water in San Diego...the fun of body-surfing in the big, cold waves. This "beach" looked like something out of---well, it just didn't look inviting to me. But, my kids are Texans, and off they went.
Can I just say? Only in Texas....the first thing we saw was a jelly-fish wrapped around a dead snake. Yep. My brother liked to say it looked like an epic struggle between the two and they both died. I liked to say, "What the heck? WHO goes to a beach and has to sidestep dead snakes?????" The kids poked at it, looked at it, shrugged their shoulders, and went back to their sand castles.
Later, as we drove through town, stopped at another beach (this one sans snakes), and took a long walk on a beautiful pier...I tried to see the beauty of the Texas coast. I think I caught a glimpse of it when I realized that there are still cows grazing across from the pier at Goose Island State Park. The beauty in Texas is that the coast is STILL filled with little bait shops and ramshackle motels that smell of mildew and lock with actual keys, not electronic cards. It's NOT one multi-million dollar mansion after the other. It's not surfer dudes and bathing beauties...it's fishermen and barefoot kids and jelly fish. It's different, but it's Texas.
And this time we didn't see any oil rigs.
My first introduction to the Texas coast was many years ago when my brother and I piled perfect daughter (then a "perfect 6") into my little Honda and drove south to a place called "Seadrift". Perfect daughter sat in the back in a swimsuit, holding a beach towel,and wearing flipflops and sunglasses. We were going to look at real estate for my parents and then go and swim on a beach somewhere.
After driving an endless amount of time through flat scrubland covered with mesquite trees, car junkyards and lots of abandoned-looking shacks (Dorothy, we weren't in La Jolla anymore), we arrived at the coast. The first sight was the color of the water. Muddy. Followed by the oil rigs in the background. There were picturesque shrimp boats, but they didn't smell as pretty as they looked. It was "different", but we had high hopes and decided to find a beach, spread our towels and swim anyway.
We never did find one. Not one with sand. We found lots of fishing piers. We found rocky bulkheads. We asked the local--who looked surprised and asked back, "You want to swim?".
So, that was my first attempt. Years later we all went to Corpus Christi and found a beach on the bay and while it wasn't San Diego, it was "ok".
Needless to say, when we headed to Rockport on Saturday with rowdy son and sweet girl in the back in their swimsuits and beach towels and sunglasses, I spent a long time extolling the virtues of a motel with two swimming pools. We weren't going to swim per se, but we were going on another errand and I had heard via the grapevine that there really was a beach in Rockport. However, I did withold judgement until we arrived.
Rockport was full to the brim with serious fishermen for a serious fishing tournament. (People do FISH on the coast, it's the swimming that seems to flummox some Texans). Therefore, the little town had literally ONE motel room available. It was "interesting". I can't really define the smell of our room other than to say that mildew was quite prevalent (possibly mixed with eau de fish cleaning). It did look out on the bay and....there was a beach!
OK, this beach was smack-dab next to a 150 foot fishing pier. It had a sad little wave then flopped onto the dark, rough sand. There were two picnic tables for people to sit and watch the shrimp boats come in. The kids couldn't wait. I stared at it and remembered long stretches of white sand in Cocoa Beach where we could actually drive our car on the packed sand, then swim in the blue water. I remembered the force of the water in San Diego...the fun of body-surfing in the big, cold waves. This "beach" looked like something out of---well, it just didn't look inviting to me. But, my kids are Texans, and off they went.
Can I just say? Only in Texas....the first thing we saw was a jelly-fish wrapped around a dead snake. Yep. My brother liked to say it looked like an epic struggle between the two and they both died. I liked to say, "What the heck? WHO goes to a beach and has to sidestep dead snakes?????" The kids poked at it, looked at it, shrugged their shoulders, and went back to their sand castles.
Later, as we drove through town, stopped at another beach (this one sans snakes), and took a long walk on a beautiful pier...I tried to see the beauty of the Texas coast. I think I caught a glimpse of it when I realized that there are still cows grazing across from the pier at Goose Island State Park. The beauty in Texas is that the coast is STILL filled with little bait shops and ramshackle motels that smell of mildew and lock with actual keys, not electronic cards. It's NOT one multi-million dollar mansion after the other. It's not surfer dudes and bathing beauties...it's fishermen and barefoot kids and jelly fish. It's different, but it's Texas.
And this time we didn't see any oil rigs.
posted by herewegoagain at
8:18 AM
2 Comments:
On the other hand, I'm living about 6 blocks from a "true" beach, and barely ever see it. Once it becomes part of the scenery it's "just there." And definitely not on the way to the bank or the grocery store or the dry cleaners or Target...
Where I grew up, 20 miles outside of Gettysburg, it was the same thing. As a local, my thoughts of Gettysburg during the summer had nothing to do with the excitement of the re-enactments and everything to do with the INSANE amount of traffic that came with those actors.
My image of Texas, by the way, is San Antonio, because that's the only place in Texas I've been. My experience is pretty much limited to the Six Flags, the Alamo, and the Riverwalk.
By
Maria, at 6:06 PM
I love Gettysburg! One of my fondest memories is of a three week vacation there with my family in 1971. My brother was thrilled to find all sorts of battlefield "evidence" and we had a wonderful time. Of course, 1971 wasn't that terribly distant from the actual battle!
You are lucky!
As for me, I seldom go to the Alamo, but I love the Riverwalk. I guess we never appreciate the history on our doorstep.
I WOULD appreciate the "true beach" just six blocks from your home. Sigh.
By
herewegoagain, at 11:55 PM
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