Winter Vacation 2008

January is high season in the desert southwest, with cool nights and temperate days just made for leisurely hikes or sitting in the sun on the patio. So of course we decided to take a trip in the motorhome to Texas.

We had two motives for going to Texas: first, there were some birds that I hadn’t added to my life list the last time we’d been to the lower Rio Grande Valley and second, we needed to eat some Texas BBQ.

When you live in Arizona’s lower desert year-round, there is a tendency to forget that other parts of the universe have seasonal variations that are way different. This was brought home to us quite dramatically the first night out, in Deming, NM, where the mercury dipped below the freezing mark. Fortunately, we didn’t have the water hose hooked up, but it was mighty cold inside our laughably-insulated rig. The second night was even worse, in West Texas where the thermometer registered around 20 degrees F. Ice had formed on the inside of the windshield, separated from the marginally toastier living area by a flimsy curtain designed only to keep out prying eyes. The electric space heater ran all night, but the propane furnace died somewhere in the wee hours. The wind was blowing, of course, and what we had packed for heavy clothing failed to keep the arctic blasts from thoroughly chilling us on the short dash to the restroom building. For us tender desert flowers, a full-body survival suit with mask would have been a better option.

Saturday night found us staying on the east side of San Antonio. We asked about BBQ at the park office and were told to go to Rudy’s, a couple of exits down. Cream corn was the side dish of choice. When we finally found it, Rudy’s was mobbed but we snagged a parking place not too far from the building. We dutifully joined the line, then found out this was for the take-out counter. The main entrance was around to the other side of the funky building where we were confronted with a line that snaked out of the front door and didn’t seem to be moving. On second thought, we could do take-out: brisket and ribs, cream corn and beans. Well, three out of four ain’t bad because when we got back to the motorhome, we unpacked cole slaw instead of the cream corn we had especially desired. Maybe it was our Yankee accent. A charming touch: Texas BBQ comes with soft white bread (think Wonder Bread or Bimbo) and the cashier just asks you how many pieces you want. A whole loaf—that’s OK too. She gave us the tail end of one which must have had at least eight pieces in it, stuff I normally wouldn’t allow in my house, but which sops up the drippings quite nicely.

Was it good? Well, at the time it seemed pretty doggone good. We benefited from having stumbled upon the original Rudy’s, which has since been franchised with varying results as we were to find out later in the trip. The sliced brisket was falling apart tender with excellent flavor and texture. What did we know? We enjoyed every greasy finger-lickin’ morsel. We also bought a couple of ribs, which were less impressive, a trend that was to continue throughout the trip. In all, things were looking pretty good for the trip, especially since the temperature had warmed up significantly.

Onward to the Lower Rio Grande Valley. On our previous visit to the Bentsen-Rio Grande State Park, camping had been allowed in the park. We knew that it had been closed to camping and that a new commercial RV park had been established just outside the gates. Now it was necessary to take a park shuttle or walk inside the park. Since I can’t walk long distances, this meant taking the shuttle to an area, birding for a while, then waiting for a shuttle to come by again. One advantage of this is that you get to talk to people on the shuttle. We got into a discussion about BBQ on one trip, the speaker sneered at the thought of Rudy’s BBQ and told us to head for the City Market in Luling.

Another advantage on the shuttle is that there are lots of eyes and the driver will slow or stop for longer viewing of special creatures. During our camping experience here, I don’t think we saw a single armadillo, but now they seemed to have taken over the park. The first ten or twenty are interesting, but then it’s like seeing robins in the city park. Javalina seemed to be much more prevalent than before, and amazingly oblivious to the humans sitting on the viewing benches at feeder areas. Our own Arizona variety is very easily spooked, but these were fatter and much tamer than any I’d seen before. On the other hand, the birds didn’t seem to be there the way they were when people were camping inside the park and setting up feeders. Maybe it was because it wasn’t as convenient as getting out of the rig and taking a short walk before breakfast, then another one after, etc., which exposes you to more birds.

I don’t consider myself an expert birder by any means, but I’ve been birding in a desultory fashion for over thirty years in many parts of North America and have managed to see a bunch of birds. The problem with having a reasonably large life list is that the incremental cost of seeing each additional bird continues to rise. I figure that to make a significant addition to my list, I’ll have to start taking pelagic trips and get a whole lot better at identifying gulls. I’m never going to sort out all the sparrows without a guide either. All of which costs money, big bucks, which I’m not sure I’m willing to spend. I did manage to get a few new birds on this trip: ringed kingfisher, golden-fronted woodpecker, white-tailed hawk, crested caracara. Thanks to an evening program put on by the Bentsen-Rio Grande Park, I picked up pauraque, a bird I’d probably never have seen on my own. But a large number of the species we had seen on our previous visit went unseen and despite a long drive up the river, the brown jay remained elusive.

We tried the Rudy's BBQ in Pharr and as the man on the park shuttle had said, it was definitely an inferior product. The saving grace was that this time I got cream corn and it was heavenly, almost worth the drive.

The general area hadn’t grown in charm since we’d last visited, although this time we were smart enough to find a Mexican bakery with a fabulous selection of cookies and pastries as well as ropa vieja in take-out containers and handmade tortillas to go with. Did I mention that like Napoleon’s army, we travel on our stomachs? But we’d forgotten how the wind blew all the time and made bird-watching an even greater challenge and one day it was a challenge just to stand upright. The occasional sound of automatic weapons fire across the Rio Grande didn’t add much to the general ambience. So after a few days of enjoyable but largely unproductive birding, we headed toward the Gulf Coast and Rockport, TX for a complete change of scenery.

Rockport, Texas, is a place I could spend a lot of time in. Instead of BBQ, Rockport has seafood along with access to good birding. Judging by the occupancy rate of the RV parks, a lot of people like Rockport in the winter. There are seafood restaurants, one of which not only had an all-you-can eat lunch special where the food kept coming without having to ask for it, but our table overlooked a nice little inlet where roseate spoonbills swung their heads back and forth, sifting the water for edibles while an ever-changing cast of other species provided great entertainment. There are also seafood markets if you feel like preparing dinner yourself.

The big attraction for the birder at Rockport is the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge which is the winter home for a flock of whooping cranes. We had seen the young cranes of the Operation Migration flock at Necedah, Wisconsin, but the established population in Texas migrates between Aransas and Wood Buffalo National Park in northern Alberta, Canada. You have to take a boat trip to be sure of seeing the whooping cranes, which are generally inaccessible by road or foot. Our boat, the Skimmer, gave us a great ride and showed us many species besides the whooping cranes, who were, of course, the real stars of the show. While staying at Rockport, we made a day trip down to Padre Island National Seashore where I picked up the white-tailed hawk. As usual, once you see the first bird, then there’s one on every third fencepost, but I wasn’t complaining as that was my next-to-last hawk species.

Back on the road again heading west, we made a beeline for Luling, the home of the City Market, the epitome of BBQ for many enthusiasts. Unfortunately, we arrived on Sunday and it was closed. We found an RV park and took the CRV to Lockhart to enjoy dinner at Smitty’s. This was our introduction to how BBQ is supposed to be served. The first thing you do is find the end of the line because that will take you to the meat. When you get far enough toward the head of the line, you’re in the room where the meat is actually being cooked in huge metal smokers. There must not be a state-level OSHA in Texas, or perhaps they’ve convinced the medical industry that BBQ smoke isn’t bad for you. In the few minutes that you spend there, you’ll end up smelling like smoke yourself. No matter. We ordered some brisket and some sausage. Next time I’d just order brisket. The guy with the cleaver whomps off approximately what you order, places it on a piece of butcher paper and the cashier weighs it, informing you of the price. You take your bundle of meat through the exit and into the dining area. You want sides? You stand in line again. Don’t expect a fork. BBQ is meant to be eaten with your fingers and you shoulda brung your Bowie knife. Yum yum. I could feel my arteries hardening as we stumbled back out to the car, already in a food coma. Gotta cut down on the size of those orders.




Monday lunchtime found us at the City Market in Luling. Same smoke room atmosphere with the small pile of wood burning gently at one end of the enormous cooker. The brisket was more tender, but I think that the rub they use at Smitty’s is a mite tastier. City Market’s mustard-laced sauce is, however, the best one we tasted. We groaned with pleasure. They sell the sauce in bulk for take-home, so I took some home. Did I mention that everyone is Texas-friendly?






We saw an interesting take on yard art in the Luling area as you can see in this photo. A kind of "kinetic sculpture" is attached to the oil pump jack and as the head goes up and down, the sculpture moves. In this case, the little ducks go back and forth. I guess it beats a bare pump.





Monday dinner was at Kreuz, back in Lockhart. I know, I know but we couldn't stay in Texas forever! So many BBQ joints, so much cholesterol, so little time. Kreuz is in a fairly new building so once out of the smoke room, the ambience is a bit sterile. It needs a few years. Al really loved the potato side dish. The brisket and ribs were pretty doggone good too. Boy am I glad I don’t have to rate these places.

On our way out of Texas, we wandered around the countryside until we found Driftwood and the Salt Lick Restaurant, which had been recommended. We knew we were in a whole ‘nother category because they have a menu and servers and a lot of bus parking in the back, which was handy for stashing the RV and toad, but a definite clue to mass production. They even had sandwiches on the menu and you could order something called a “vegetable plate”—downright heresy. That said, the food wasn’t too bad and we even took some ribs and sauce for the road. Probably the best part of the meal was the dessert (more heresy!), which was a blackberry cobbler a la mode. We shared a serving in a feeble attempt to save our waistlines.

West Texas was just as cold as it had been going east and there were just as many dead deer along the westbound lanes as there had been going east. We ate the last of the Salt Lick ribs our last night on the road. They hadn't given us any white bread to sop up the drippings.

I’d go back to the San Antonio-Austin area in the spring when the bluebonnets are blooming and eat more BBQ but that was probably my last trip to the lower Rio Grande even if I didn’t get the brown jay. On the other hand, there's Rockport, which just makes me want to be a pelican like in this photo. Seafood all day and then you hang out on the pier--what could be a better life?