Navasota, Texas, Ride 2013

Thursday, early afternoon, the Missus and I set forth on a ride to the vicinity of Navasota, Texas.  The weather could not have been better, and traffic in the towns we passed through was light.
Once we made camp, she took her place on the Valk's  pillion, where she operated her camera with her usual skill.

We decided to ride into town to eat and get a few necessaries for the weekend;  we had to travel from off the beaten track to get to the State highway.

There are a few ranches and  a couple of very small, isolated, communities, out this way.

Once on the highway, we crossed the Brazos River.  Nearby is Washington-on-the-Brazos, site of the signing of our Declaration of Independence.

"The Filling Station" is our diner of choice, when in Navasota.  There's good food, friendly, competent waitresses, and decor I can relate to.

And, they are motorcycle-friendly.

On our way back to camp, we stopped at the local store  for supplies;  no giant grocery monopoly, here.  Jill found Dino, outside, but I told her she'd probably have to explain to the younger set that he was not "Barney".

We returned to the campground the way we came and settled in for the evening.

Friday, one of the neighbors had a little battery trouble.  His bud, being the conscientious biker he is, offer a jump start. .

 In spite of this help, the rider managed to get his bike road-worthy.  It's amazing what some  campers bring along, including generators, laptops, fans and battery chargers.
                                               

Saturday morning, we set off on a 140-mile poker run, prize: $1000, but, being lucky in love, I didn't expect to come away with anything more than a great ride with good company.

Cotton belt riding.












The old and the new.

Texas makes the biggest Ace bandages in the world.  Some are trucked to reducing plants in Louisiana and Arkansas.

Cotton modules, probably bound for Mexico.

Poker run stop.

The area roads were great, with  nice turns.  I wasn't quite sure how to deal with the lack of  fork seal-busting potholes, right at first, but I adapted.

Not interested in riding with the pack, we  rode along with a few people we'd met in years past.  

    

Circumstances, being what they were, this lady arrived late, by cage, and without a helmet.   I'd taken my half-shell along, to wear in the poker run, so I volunteered my road helmet for her use.  I told her she might have to shim it up with a baseball cap, but the darned thing fit her!

There are no coincidences.

Other happy campers.

We stopped at Yankee's Tavern, in Carlos, TX, and found this Harley-Davidson hanging from the ceiling.  No one could remember seeing one like this.

We continued on our way.

Back through Navasota town to our starting point.

We spent the remainder of our stay telling almost nearly true stories, and discussing whether time travel could be achieved by pressing together a certain number of nipples, but, that's neither here, nor there.

There was more music and dancing, till we finally called that night a day an found our tent.

On our return trip, we stopped for lunch at the Oakridge Smokehouse Restaurant, in Schulenburg, TX.  Once seated, I decide to move the bikes around to where we could watch them from our table.

Jill has a real knack for photographing me when I'm not at my most photogenic, as when I get my boot hung up on the luggage and  seat of her motorcycle.

The ride home  was cloudy, but we didn't encounter the heavy rain we'd anticipated, it must be all that clean living, paying off.

We're alive, and in Texas.

 

 

Native Art

The “ride” was only a few miles long, from our doorstep to the Flour Bluff branch of the public library.  There, drum circle members hosted a reception for the opening of an exhibit of art by Larry “Running Turtle” Salazar, holy man, educator and advocate.

Art can’t be carried away in a camera, it’s meant to be viewed first-hand, and so I haven’t tried to re-present the exhibit, here.  The photos are to try to convey the feeling of the exhibit.

This item is titled, “South Texas Javelina Dance Stick”.  The painted skull honors the spirit of the animal.  Coyote and a couple other animals were also represented on dance sticks.

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In a corner of the gallery, items made and decorated by Larry, including, a buffalo skull dedicated to, newly-canonized, Saint Kateri Tekakwitha, his walking stick, a buffalo skin bag for collecting medicinal plants, and Larry’s ceremonial shirt.

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I found the detail of the elk hide shirt is quite interesting.  The centerpiece is a representation of St. Kateri Tekakwitha, and is an example of the beautiful beadwork executed by Larry’s missus.

 The tassels are made from the hair of mustangs attached to shell casings of the same caliber ammunition used by the US Army to enforce the Indian Removal Act of 1830.

Depicted on the buffalo hide,  the sacred colors of the four cardinal directions on the back of a turtle.  “Turtle Island” is the name the Iroquois gave to North America.  The birds represent the four directions, note: the Eagle in the north, the Condor in the south.  They are part of a prophecy that the eagle and the condor will dance together (a phenomena witnessed first-hand by many) just prior to the spiritual joining of north and south and the return of the Ancestors.  The People will be united, the importance and power of women will be recognized and there will be a return to traditional values of respect for the earth and for each other.

After the exhibit was officially opened, the public was invited to stay for refreshments.  The practice of smudging with smoke from sage was explained and visitors were invited to participate. A demonstration of drumming and Native song rounded out the event.  A final prayer was offered, each person sitting in the drum circle putting his left hand on the drumhead, those outside the circle touching the shoulders of the drummers so that they, too, were connected.

In all, another great afternoon in Paradise.

Rolling with my homelies

Sunday afternoon, that lucky Flour Bluff girl and I decided to make a little lunch run over to Fulton Beach, in Fulton, Texas; a short 40 miles and a world away. We called our other brother, Darryl, arranged to get up with him, and off we went. We took the scenic route on roads that by-pass the SH-35 by-pass around the towns of Port Aransas and Rockport. The tides have been particularly high, recently, and as we rode Fulton Beach Road, we could see that parts of it had been covered. We’d decided to dine at Alice Faye’s Restaurant, a long-time favorite. However, after asking to be seated on the patio, we were forgotten. I guess we weren’t potential tippers for the dining room twinkie who greeted us, so she blew us off. Well, I like to eat at Alice Faye’s as much as the next guy but it’s against my principles to put up with crappy wait staff, no matter how good the food is. My decision to, “fuck this”, went as un-noticed as our exit. Charlotte Plummer’s Restaurant was more than willing to sell a meal to a handsome stranger.

"We're hungry!", was my answer to the pretty waitress', "How are y'all doin', today?"

"Well, you're in the right place", she assured us.

We were. Seated upstairs, enjoying delicious seafood, with a perfect day just on the other side of the window, we congratulated ourselves on having it dicked.



The second floor has a great view of the marina, as did the deck behind the building.




After, we made our way down the newly paved street.



It seemed obvious to me that the city got a two-for-one deal on some stop signs. Four-way stops, ever few yards, seems a poor idea for a restaurant row in a tourist town. We had quite enough of stop-and-go, toot sweet, and turned off the beach road and into Fulton, proper, making for the state highway that takes us back to where we belong.

Nature on the Texas Coast

The luckiest woman in Flour Bluff, who is also a real Renaissance Man, took a hankering to include photographic images with a craft project she’s cooking up. As you students of art and observers of the human condition have learned, “desire” (hankering) is a powerful force.
Since we hadn’t been out on the scoot for a couple of days I offered to ferry her around to places she figured she’d find subjects.

Our first stop was Packery Channel County Park, so named because a meat packing concern used the channel to ship its product back in the day when that was an important industry on this part of the coast. Even though this area is seeing heavy development, partially because the channel connects the Laguna Madre with the Gulf of Mexico, the park is, pretty much, unspoiled.



The bays and estuaries is where basic elements of the marine food chain get their starts. Combing along the tide line we ran across a lot of hermit crabs living in these shells, called “Sharks Eye”. In the upper right-hand corner you can see one of the critters peeking out.

The seaweed is called, “Sargassum”. Tiny creatures live in it and once it washes up on the beach, sand collects on it and dunes are born. It’s yellow, when it first gets here.



Our next stop was the Padre Balli County Park (Nueces County Park), home of Bob Hall Pier. This part of the island is very popular with families, both local and tourist and, of course, fishermen.



This is the third incarnation of the pier, hurricanes “Carla” and “Beulah” both having done extensive damage to it when they blew through.



About the time we got our helmets off, an admirer of fine motorcyclry approached, complimented my ride, and we commence to blowing smoke about road bikes and wives while Jill wandered off to take pictures.

From Padre Island we rode into town to the Hans and Pat Suter Wildlife Refuge. Named for a couple who were environmentalists before environmentalism was cool, the Refuge is considered to be one of the best sea bird watching areas in the world.
The park wasn’t such a hot spot for birds, the time of the year being what it is, but we did manage to spot Brown Pelicans, skimmers and a roseate Spoonbill (sometimes mistaken for pink Flamingos) seining for his supper. A look over the edge of the nature walk revealed fiddler crabs fiddling for food and doing a little people watching from a safe distance.



We wandered through the park and checked out the local flowers.



These Mexican Hats looked like they were stripping off for a little skinny-dipping.



The Jerusalem Thorn was still wearing some of its spring finery.



This park is not only important as a refuge for plants and wildlife. Oso Bay and Oso Creek were home to the Karankawa and other Native people. This land holds the second largest Native American burial ground in Texas. The Gulf Coast Indian Confederation is working toward placing a monument here.