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When it isn't quite warm enough and the clouds look like they
may want to spit on you at any time, you can find something to
do indoors, or you can take your chances anyway. M and I decided
to take the latter option on Saturday, and we had a very nice
day. For others venturing to southeast Texas, our little outing
was a good template for a one day tour.
We headed south around 9 AM, taking the beltway as it curves
around to the east until it crossed I-10, where we turned toward
Baytown. We could have kept going on the beltway, but this
is the point at which it becomes a toll road, with a $2 fee just
to cross the ship channel on the rather ordinary concrete
high-arched bridge.
But avoiding the toll isn't the real reason to get on I-10. We
were headed to the San Jacinto Monument, and there is a much
more fun route. If you turn south off of I-10 onto FM 2100, the
Crosby-Lynchburg Road, you have only to drive two miles to reach
the Lynchburg Ferry, which is just across the Houston Ship
Channel from the monument. The ferry operates from 4:30 AM
to 8:00 PM every day, with up to two boats, each of which
carries 12 normal sized vehicles at a time. No, they
aren't big, but I've never had to wait more than 10 minutes or
so. I guess I just have a thing for ferries, and it's free.
I figure the state will eventually shut it down to save money,
so ride it while you can.
The San Jacinto Monument, just on the other side of the ship
channel, dominates the flat coastal plain, right where the San
Jacinto River meets up with Buffalo Bayou, as the waterway
widens considerably as it turns southeast toward Galveston Bay.
The monument is the tallest stone column in the world.
As anyone who went through seventh grade in Texas knows, this is
the site where 820 men under the command of Sam Houston defeated
the 4000-strong Mexican Army of Santa Anna, just months after
the massacre at the Alamo, in 1836. By using brilliant and
thoughtful military tactics, Houston only lost nine men, while
the Mexican Army lost 630. There are lessons for our modern
warriors here. I had either forgotten, or my seventh grade
teacher, Mrs. Moore, never told us, that after defeating Santa
Anna, Houston didn't kill him, or make him a prisoner of war -
he sent him packing back to Mexico and focused instead on
forming the Republic of Texas.
Of course the next few years saw Texas join the Union, with the
Union declaring war against Santa Anna again, this time for
conquest. The spoils were the entire Southwest United States,
from Texas to the Pacific Ocean. When the southern states later
began seceding from the Union, Houston thought it was a bad
idea, and since his was the minority view, he was removed from
the governorship. He died two years later, during the
height of the Civil War. The rest, as they say, is history.
Just across the road from the monument and its reflecting pool
is the Battleship Texas, so we paid to go aboard and have a look
around. As ships go, there is much less accessible here than
most other decommissioned Naval vessels, so it was a bit of a
disappointment. The USS Alabama at Mobile, and the several ships
at Charleston, S.C., are better places for those with an
interest.
We headed back across the ferry to I-10 and turned south on SH
146 toward Baytown, stopping for lunch at Baytown Seafood.
Baytown is a working class town, so it is the sort of place
where the food is good and the prices are low. The restaurant
has a novel approach, with each entrée on the menu presented as
a series of quantities and corresponding prices. I had 11
nice sized shrimp and one catfish, all fried of course.
This, along with salad and fries, is under $10. M had a crab
cake and a few less shrimp for $8. Highly recommended.
 Heading
on down the road, we passed through Baytown, finally getting to
the reason I drove this way - the Fred Hartman Bridge. Any
person with an interest in art, architecture, or engineering
should make it a point to drive across the bridge if they are
anywhere close. It is an elegant double diamond tower cable-stay
design, and is simply breathtaking the first time you see it.
The cables are bright yellow, and particularly if it is sunny,
you get the impression that it is a great harp for the gods.
The bridge takes you through La Porte, Seabrook, and on across
the rather plain bridge across the mouth of Clear Creek to
Kemah. At the foot of the bridge, among the yacht basins, a
developer has created the Kemah Boardwalk. Even though it is a
classic tourist trap, it is well designed, clean, and it is free
to stroll about among the restaurants and attractions. On a
sunny warm day, it would be hard to resist sitting down at a
table on the verandah and having a cold one while watching the
boats go by. We'll come back and try that idea sometime.
A couple of routes west from Kemah take you back to I-45, one of
which passes by the Johnson Space Center, or you can keep
heading south to Galveston on SH 146. The Space Center is a
great place to spend several hours, but we've been there before,
so we opted this trip to keep going and head north and home.
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Since it was the last weekend of Mardi Gras,
M and I spent the day in Galveston yesterday, to see how their
celebration compares to some of the others we've enjoyed over
the years.
There were two parades, one at noon and one in the evening, both
originating on the ocean side and traveling the breadth of the
island to the harbor area. The early parade, which we
viewed at the seawall, was a bit disappointing, but we drove to
the harbor district to spend the rest of the afternoon before
the evening parade.
The Strand is a street a block over from the harbor, lined by
old buildings built in a style similar to the more well known
French Quarter of New Orleans. A five- or six-block area
of the street was cordoned off from traffic, and there was a
charge to enter the "party zone". In some ways, it was
reminiscent of Bourbon Street, but the Galveston version is
clearly a seasonal transformation with all the food and alcohol
available for public consumption. On Bourbon Street anything
goes pretty much all the time. The Strand is missing the more
decadent aspects like strip joints and the plethora of live
music.
Many of the second-floor balconies were full of people
associated with the various Krewes, who put on the parades, and
they threw beads and trinkets down to the screaming masses below
all afternoon. It wasn't hard to catch enough beads to
look nice and gaudy in a pretty short time. The crowd was
pretty tame, with very little "flashing" for beads or seriously
drunk revelers.
Some of the live bands were quite good, with a variety of music.
It was interesting that the biggest crowds were drawn to oldies
rock and roll, with little interest in more "hip" music. Judging
by the apparent age and proclivity for dancing, particularly
among the women in the crowd, there was a lot of pent-up need to
"cut loose" a little. I didn't see many of the younger people
moving to the beat of any sort of music, so maybe there's a
generational thing there. One of the early evening
performers was Chubby Checker, most often remembered for the
sixties dance craze "The Twist." He told the audience he
was born in 1941, and he was still singing and dancing.
Can't knock that.
The evening parade was a good one, with all the bands, floats,
and other entries you would expect for Mardi Gras. The
only complaint was that our feet were tired from walking around
all day, and we had to stand in the same spot for over an hour
as the parade went by. We hobbled to the car and left when
it was over around 8:30 PM.
On the way back north, a state trooper pulled us over for having
a taillight out. He saw where our northeast Texas home address
was, and it turned out he was from a town 20 miles away, so he
joked that he couldn't ticket anyone from back home. He gave a
warning, and I told him I would get the taillight working again.
Since the weather is warm but threatening, I may take in a movie
this afternoon, while M drives back home. I saw Sideways last
Sunday (and liked it), so this time I'll choose between Million
Dollar Baby and Finding Neverland.
I always feel so much better after the weekend, when M and I get
to spend time together. I spend my weekdays counting down the
time until we'll be together again. I guess I'll never get used
to being apart.
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