A Busy Lake
We took the RV up to Lake Conroe for some boat time and a little bit of on-water social distancing. We had great weather and enjoyed three days in a row on the boat. It was windy and the lake was choppy with some whitecaps, but all-in-all our time on the water was lovely.

On Saturday – our third day – everyone showed up for their first boat day of the year. On Thursday and Friday I had counted just six to eight trailers when the tractor took us to the launch ramp. Saturday I lost count at 45 trailers! The tractor drivers were going non-stop. 

Our storage facility being busy was just a foreshadow of how busy the lake was going to be. In our 13 years keeping a boat at Lake Conroe, I cannot remember seeing so many boats on the lake. 

Holiday weekends are good times to avoid being on the lake, and we usually do. There are just too many inexperienced folks in too many boats with too much beer. This weekend was no different. We saw any number of dumb things being done on the lake, including one boat that came about right in front of us. I said to Linda that we would read of at least one death before the weekend was over. It did not take long. On our way back to the RV, we were passed by an emergency vehicle towing a rescue boat. A man fell off a personal watercraft wearing no safety vest – what a surprise.

Our Private Cove
One of the things we like to do when on the lake is wander up into a quiet cove, drop anchor, eat a bit of lunch, and take a nice relaxing dip in the lake. When we do that the living is easy. And we have our favorite, private places. Places others don't go to. Places where we can be by ourselves. Private places.

That was our plan on this busy Memorial Day weekend Saturday. We headed for one of our favorites, a shady little cove along the edge of the national forest. Just Linda and I and a few egrets fishing. Everything was great and going as planned until...

Yes, that's a picture of our quiet, private, "secret" cove. It was simply awash with boats, many more than show in the photo. I quit counting boats at 30.

We wandered along the shoreline until we finally came to a place that was quiet and found our refuge. We stayed for a while, ate our lunch and relaxed. Then we decided to cut the day short and get off the water while we were still safe and before the holiday boaters dug in to their back-up beer coolers. After all, we can always go back another day.

My Covid-19 Rant
COVID-19, the novel Caronavirus, is officially no longer a problem in Texas. It's over. Done. Complete. Kaput. Finished. No more. 

I know this because the governor of Texas announced that it was okay for us all to go to restaurants, bars, beaches, and every other essential place people want to go. And because the governor, who knows his pandemics, said it was okay to go out, everyone is out. And they are out without their gloves and their masks. Who needs gloves and masks? Social distancing? Hah! We don't have to social distance. This pandemic is over.

I went in a store on Friday and suddenly I am the only person (well, there was one other old guy) wearing a mask and gloves. A week ago everyone was wearing a mask. Does everyone think the danger has completely disappeared because things are starting to open up again? Do they understand that restarting is more about political and economic reasons than any clear proof that the virus has waned to less than critical importance? I don't think so. But if they do, then they just don't care. Either way, it is absolutely amazing. 

Anyway, if you are out and about, please keep staying safe. It ain't over 'til its over.
​

Are you self-quarantining? Sheltering in place? Hiding in the garage or basement?

Did you find your grocery delivery down at the end of the driveway?

Is working from home with your kids and spouse underfoot really better than being at the office with that wierdo who is two cubicles down from you?

Do you have plenty of cookies? Sodas? Hand-wipes? TP? Other essentials?

Are you rooting for them to "flatten the curve?" Do you even know what that means? 

Navigating through life with the novel coronavirus – COVID19 to the cognoscenti – is starting to get interesting.

This past weekend we took the RV to Galveston Island for some solitude to try and mentally cope with the knowledge that we are part of the high risk group quaintly known as “The Vulnerables.” Nah. Not really. We were actually on the island to go to a show at the Opera House, but it was canceled. 

With or without the show we were at the state park for 4 days.  We took a little time on Monday to go to the beach along the Seawall to see how others are dealing with the vicissitudes of this new, bizarre, phantasmagorical, reality.

​So if you are getting bored with hunkering down in front of your TV watching Price is Right and Jeopardy, then here are some ideas for you. These photos, with their captions, will show you how people in Galveston are using best practices to enjoy the beach, stay safe, and avoid the dreaded coronavirus. 

Whatever you do – don't worry, be happy, and have fun! 

We had a quick winter visit to Galveston Island this past week. Our main objective was to see the Sandhill Cranes which winter along the Gulf Coast and Mexico. They travel down across the Great Plains from the Alaskan and Northern Canadian tundra. So unless you happen to be in the midwest when they are passing through, the Gulf Coast is the place to see these great birds.

Weather was not exactly with us as Monday was a cold rainy day and Tuesday was very windy with gusts up into the 35 mph range. Birds are not dumb and they stay hunkered down and nowhere to be seen in those conditions.

Wednesday was a magnificent day and the cranes and all the other birds were out enjoying the weather. Sandhill cranes are large and plentiful and like open fields. They should be easy to photograph. But the cranes seem to have a knack for finding the far reaches of the fields, well away from the roads. Even so, with a long lens (500mm) I managed to get a couple of okay pictures. Sandhills are slate gray with a bright red patch of skin on their forehead. They may have some rust color mixed in with the gray, but, generally, the browner the coloring, the younger the bird. Remember to click on the pictures to see them in large size. 

After we had time with the cranes we headed over to Seawolf Park on Pelican Island. Here we could see the comings and goings in Galveston harbor, watch the shipping traffic head up the channel to the Port of Houston, and enjoy the fishermen and pelicans.

The big ship below is known as a "RO-RO" (roll on-roll off) and is specifically designed for shipping vehicles. It seems that I always see a RO-RO in the harbor.

The ferry connects Galveston Island to the Bolivar Peninsula. It operates 'round the clock and is completely free. Look closely at the picture and you can see three school buses on the ferry. The lower peninsula has an elementary school, but the older kids cross the water every day.

Along with the sandhill cranes, we also saw a few other birds, although not too many. As always, the brown pelicans, egrets, herons, and white ibises were out and about, but not in great numbers. Anyway I managed to get a few pictures.

...the White Pelicans have returned to Lake Conroe. 

Linda and I took a day on the boat Wednesday and saw two different pods – pod is the collective noun for pelicans not in flight – of White Pelicans on the lake. They show up every year around the beginning of December, migrating in from the lakes and rivers of the Midwest and Canada. Most of them will eventually find their way to the Galveston coast, but some will stay on the lake for the winter.

We'll be heading to Galveston in about 10 days to enjoy the Sandhill Cranes, another group of visitors from the Midwest which come to the Gulf Coast every winter.

We’re on our way back to Texas. We were in Missouri for about 4 weeks after taking two weeks to mosey up along the Arkansas and Mississippi rivers. We have made it through apple-picking, soccer for three-year olds, record low temperatures, three-day rainstorms, and the agony of the World Series.

We have had a great time. Linda and I have watched barges go through a lock on the Mississippi River, toured the Missouri countryside, enjoyed local eateries, and visited the St. Louis Art Museum for an exhibit of Dutch Masters.

We have also spent lots of time with the twins, picking them up from daycare, visiting playgrounds, eating at Chick-fil-A, visiting train museums, Halloween costumes, and, of course, watching 3-year-old soccer.

All in all, it has been a pretty busy (and a pretty great) time for a couple of septuagenarians. But it ain’t over ’til it's over, and we still have some days scheduled in the Sam Houston National Forest which is conveniently near Lake Conroe and the boat.

This post is extra long. It is really two (or maybe three) posts combined as a result poor and non-existent internet connections. I just kept writing and adding photos, and it just grew. In fact, with the lack of useful internet service, we will probably be home by the time I send this out. Anyway, lots of words and lots of pictures. Don't forget to click on the pictures to see them full size. Enjoy!

The Twins and Ben
​Since we were married fifty years before grandchildren ever appeared on the scene, we have a lot of catching up to do. So we try to visit Missouri every spring and every fall for a few weeks. And now we have three grandkiddos with Baby Ben who was born this past April. 

Tom and Jack are now 3-1/2 years-old and great fun to be around. We love to take them places and share experiences with them. Ben seems to be getting bigger every day, and we look forward to the time we can include him in our activities.

We try to maximize our time with the twins. We pick them up from daycare to take them to a playground or take them on little “field trips.” Sometimes we stop for a bit of lunch at Steak 'n Shake or Chick-fil-A. Paper hats, fold-up cars, coloring, and good eatin'. Life is good when you are three.

Crackerneck Lane
Several weeks ago on our way to our campsite on Carlyle Lake in Illinois, we passed a strangely named road, Crackerneck Lane. We looked at each other and asked, “What the heck is a crackerneck?” Well, I think we now have it figured out.​

While at Cuivre River State Park in Missouri, we were out touring and went down an unpaved road toward a Mississippi River viewing area – we were in search of a huge squadron of pelicans we had seen from afar. As we got close to the river we came to a small bridge with some folks fishing. There was a pickup truck parked on the bridge. There were two men with fishing rods at the guardrail. There was a woman sitting in a lawn chair on the bridge. There was a hound-dog sleeping in the middle of the bridge. It was a small bridge. 

As we began across the bridge we received unfriendly looks from all. The dog had to move, the woman had to shift her lawn chair, and a number of fishing rods had to be repositioned. Linda lowered the window and asked, “Will this road take us to see the river?” After more than a moment or two there was a response of, “No.” Then after another long pause, “Road flooded.” Three words. Two long pauses. One hostile look.

The “Road flooded” comment did not mean the road down by the river. It meant the road right on the other side of the bridge. Sure enough, just 50 feet on the far side of the bridge we ran into the water-covered road. There was no way to turn around so we had to go back over bridge in reverse. What fun! More dirty looks. More grudging movement from the dog.  Linda got out and guided me to make sure I threaded my way through the men, the

Here are some photos of the local farm landscape in the Mississippi River Valley. Two views of a barn, grain storage on a farm, and a local commercial grain elevator or what Linda refers to as countryside industry. There is nothing special about these shots. They are just typical views of the rural countryside north of the St. Louis suburbs. 

Places like this grain elevator just seem to pop up in the middle of the farmland or at the edge of a small town. This one was in the farmland. The white barn in two of the photos was adjacent to the old brick house, and I took these photos while walking to the house. The small grain silos were near to the big elevator. This photo was taken from the open door of the car.

Nature's Art
We visited the St. Louis Art Museum to see a special exhibit of Dutch Masters from the time of Rembrandt. It was a wonderful exhibit.

Alas, no photography was allowed. But I managed to capture the colorful art of autumn with some iPhone shots of these scarlet-leaved trees in front of the museum in all their glorious red. An identical line of red-hued trees bounds the other side of the large greensward to frame the front of the museum.

If you made it this far, thanks for your perseverance. Linda and I wish you the best of Thanksgivings. For us, we are thankful for our families – especially our super grandchildren – and our wonderful neighbors. Enjoy your holiday!

Paducah 
Paduuucah. Pa-duke-ah.
Paducah. What a great name. It is just a little – 25,000 people – county seat town in Western Kentucky. There are more than 1500 cities in the U.S. that are larger. But I am guessing that at one time or another you have probably heard of Paducah and, reading this, you most likely recognize the name Paducah. 

William Clark of Lewis and Clark fame laid out the town and named it. Somehow that seems like a pretty good pedigree to me. In its past Paducah has been a riverboat town and a railroad town. Today Paducah is a county seat and a nifty little river town with an artistic bent and part of the UNESCO Creative Cities Network. There is an artists' co-op, an active theater community, and a number of museums, including the National Quilt Museum. The downtown area is filled with little shops in early 20th century brick buildings. 

The city lies at the precise point where the Kentucky River flows into the mighty Ohio. Long barge tows move past the town every day. In 1937 the Ohio River reached a flood height of over 60 feet and effectively closed the town for about three weeks. After that catastrophe the Army Corps of Engineers built a flood wall for Paducah.

Lemons to Lemonade
The Paducah flood wall along the Ohio and Kentucky rivers protects the town when those waters rise. But the wall is an ugly 15 foot high ribbon of concrete that completely blocks the town's view of the river. In the 1990s Paducah finally got tired of looking at a concrete slab. The city commissioned artist Robert Dafford to paint murals on the flood wall depicting the history of the Paducah area. Now the flood wall is a mile-long work of art. I took a few pictures, but I also found a YouTube video taken with a drone which gives an overall view of the wall and its murals.

The flood wall murals not only gave the citizens of Paducah public art for all to enjoy, but the murals also became a tourist attraction, bringing visitors into the city. Ugly concrete to art. A city eyesore to a tourist attraction. Lemons to lemonade.

Quilts, Quilts, Quilts
There are a number of small museums in Paducah, but there is also one of major importance, The National Quilt Museum. Quilts? Really? Yeah. Really.

Let me assure you. These are not your grandmother's quilts. These quilts are works of art. I was astonished by the first quilt I saw and spent almost 10 minutes talking about it with a docent, learning exactly what makes a quilt a quilt.

A quilt is made up of three layers, the backing, a middle layer of batting, and the top layer or face. The design of most quilts is made up of discrete pieces of cloth sewn together with incredibly precise stitches, although some quilts have a face of a single piece of material. Those quilts depend on the stitching alone for their design.

Look at the two photos below. These are not Van Gogh's Self-Portrait with Straw Hat and Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring. These are quilts. Quilts made of an incredible number of seemingly random bits of cloth painstakingly sewn together with fine tiny stitches. Click on a photo to see the phenomenal detail of the quilt.

Not all the quilts in the museum were like this. These happened to be in an exhibit of a particular quilting artist whose work totally fascinated me. There were many more traditional looking quilts on display as well. If you like art and appreciate fine craftsmanship, this is a great stop. 

As a matter of fact, if you find yourself in Western Kentucky, Paducah is a great stop. Our next time through we will plan to spend more time in this interesting little town. For now, our next stop is Carlyle Lake in Illinois where we will spend a few days before crossing the river into Missouri.
​

Our First St. Louis Stop
Carlyle Lake is a Corps of Engineers campground on the Illinois side of the Mississippi, just about 35 miles from St. Louis. We like public (federal, state, etc.) campgrounds. They "tune in" to nature and the campsites are generally wooded and private. Their major negative is a two-week limit for a stay. So we end up being local nomads, for want of a better term, moving from campground to campground while visiting St. Louis. Carlyle Lake, not really close to the kids, is our first stop on this trip.

The day's trip was a pleasant ride through the southern Illinois farmlands, We were surprised to see cotton fields, but there were plenty of them. Some were ready for harvest, and they were so white they looked as if there had been a snow-fall the night before. It was as though we were still in Louisiana or Arkansas.

We pulled into the campground on Friday afternoon, got settled in and rested up. Saturday was to be a busy day at the orchard picking apples.

Apple Picking
With fall finally here, the air has turned a little cooler and crisper – perfect for picking apples. Eckert’s Orchards on the Illinois side of the Mississippi River has to be the Walmart of apple-picking. There are untold rows of apple trees, pumpkins are piled high and hay bales are scattered about. Hundreds (thousands?) of cars are in the parking lots. Families are milling everywhere. Apples and pumpkins are truly in danger – they are going to be picked and carried away.

Here’s how it works. At a booth you pay a small entrance fee, get your hand stamped and grab some bags for your apples. Then you get in a Disney-like serpentine line and wait for a tractor and wagon that will take you to the apples. You get on the wagon and ride to the orchard. The tree rows all have signs with the apple variety grown on that row. You want Braeburn apples? Look for the sign and hop off the wagon.

Once you are off the wagon just walk down between the trees picking apples for your bags, maybe munching on one as you go. If you want another variety, just walk down a couple of rows or wait for a wagon to come by. You will end up with heavy bags and more apples than you need. 

On your way back from the orchard, you might want to jump off at the pumpkin patch to select the perfect one for a jack-o-lantern. When you finally get back from the orchard, get in line and pay for your apples (who knew you had 12 pounds in your bag?).

You can head back to your car, but, hey, why not stop in the store for some fine foods and gifts. Let’s see. Apples. Pumpkins. Applesauce. Apple butter. Apple this. Apple that. Do you have everything? Great! But don’t leave yet. Have lunch in the restaurant. And if the kiddos get a little antsy, there is a small playground with a slide that goes through an old John Deere harvester.

Eckert’s Orchards. Apples for everyone. Walmart on the farm.

Soccer
What could be better than some Sunday soccer? Sounds good, right? You bet. But it is even better when the soccer players on the pitch are three- and four-year-olds. 

This is soccer at its finest. Kids kicking soccer balls. Kids not kicking soccer balls. Kids paying attention. Kids doing other things. 

Some very nice, caring young dads volunteer their Sunday mornings to teach the rudiments of the sport to the kids. Somehow they have the knack to keep the little ones reasonably focused and engaged. They practice kicking and dribbling and maybe some other skills. Then there is a short game. The kids get exposed to the sport, and the mothers learn to be soccer moms early on.

We'll be back soon with some stuff about the Mississippi barge tows and some other things. See you then!

Howdy!
It is good to be back!

​It's been a while – 10 months actually – since I have written a post for Travels With Linda. It's not that we were hiding in a cave or anything, it is simply that life sometimes just gets in the way. For us, this was a good thing – the birth of our third grandchild. We spent the three months of spring in Missouri helping take care of the twins (just three years old) while our daughter gave birth to their baby brother, Benjamin. Then it was home to recuperate – it's hard for old folks to keep up with three year olds.

So after summer at home in Texas catching our breath, we are now on a fall road trip that will include a few weeks with kids. We are meandering up through the Lower Mi​ssissippi River Valley. We spent two nights on the Arkansas River, and right now we are beside a small lake in Jonesboro, Arkansas. Our next stop is Paducah, Kentucky on the Ohio River.

Our planned start was delayed for several days as the Houston area was recovering from tropical storm Imelda. While all of the Houston area experienced torrential rains and flash flooding, the hardest hit areas were to the east and north of the city. As a result many of the main roads leading to Louisiana were still closed after the storm with flooding or flood-related damage.

Living Large at the Eat-a-Bite
When traveling in the motorhome we try to stay off of the highways when we can, and we try to stop overnight at public parks rather than commercial RV parks. These include national forests, state parks, and Corps of Engineers parks. The scenery generally beats looking over the parking lot of the Hampton Inn. Sometimes convenience does rule our choice such as our regular stop at the RV park for the Coushatta Casino.

Our third night on the road was spent at the delightfully named Chemin-A-Haut state park in Bastrop, Louisiana. We took advantage of a needed run to the local Walmart to have dinner at the Eat-a-Bite restaurant just across the street from the county courthouse. We mix in local restaurants with the chain eateries when traveling as we try to keep our cooking to a minimum. And as travelers rather than campers, we are not into cooking on a grille. 

Tire Man
On our way from Chemin-a-Haut to the Pendleton Bend Campground along the Arkansas River, we went through the town of Back Gate – you don't get town names like this along the Interstate – and happened upon Tire Man. Is it any wonder we like to avoid the major highways?

We spent two days at Pendleton Bend, a Corps of Engineers' campground right on the river. We all like a water view, and Linda engineered it so we had one of just three campsites right on top of the levee. Super! We enjoyed watching both the fisherman and the commercial river traffic. And to make things perfect, there were also beautiful sunsets.

The park is located just down the road from two river barge ports; one port is for soybeans and the other handles grains and fertilizers. Tucked in along the river bank were empty barges waiting to be filled. I watched a towboat move down past us and return with one of the empty barges. I surprised it took them only a few minutes to move the barge out from the riverbank, make it fast with lines, and move it into place to be loaded.

Watching Work on the River
I looked out the window and saw a towboat, the Frances Ann, going by, so I grabbed my camera and went outside for a photo or two. Well, the Frances Ann was going to retrieve an empty barge from along the riverbank to take to the loading port. The whole process took only minutes. The four pictures below show the towboat heading toward the barge, moving the barge from the riverbank, and then moving back toward the loading port. Click on any photo to see them full size.

Craighead Forest Park
Now we are in Jonesboro, and this town has an absolutely super city park. It is almost 600 acres of woodlands with a lake at its center. There are all sorts of facilities, including the RV park where we are staying and enjoying another water view. Next we will be on our way to Paducah, Kentucky.

We like to go to Galveston Island State Park, and we particularly enjoy it in the late fall and winter. We especially wanted to make sure we got in a visit before year's end as the park is scheduled to close early in 2019 to be rebuilt. It was severely damaged and lost almost two-thirds of its Gulf-side campsites as a result of Hurricane Ike some ten years ago (the wheels often move slowly in Texas). 

When the cooler weather sets in, the Gulf of Mexico seems to change. The sky gets lower and always appears to be a bit overcast while the Gulf's water looks almost as if it were liquid pewter. To me, the island is almost a totally different place from that sunny beach playground of summer. We walk the beach; we tour the island; we look for birds.

​
One of the birds we looked for is the Sandhill Crane. Sandhills summer and breed in the north – mainly Canada and Alaska. Then they migrate across the Great Plains to winter in New Mexico and along the Texas coast. Unfortunately while these birds like open fields and can be easily seen, they also seem to like being far, far from the road. At the Galveston Airport Linda counted a group (called a construction) of 52 cranes! Alas, they were so far from the road that without binoculars we couldn't even be sure they were cranes. Oh well, photos will have to wait until next time.

A Busy Body of Water
We wandered up to East Beach, the absolute eastern tip of Galveston Island where you can see the ships moving in and out of Galveston Bay on their way to the Port of Houston. The port is the country's largest in foreign goods and second largest overall, and ships are continually moving through Galveston Bay and into the Houston Ship Channel.

Often you can see ships anchored in the Gulf all along the coast waiting for their time to move into the port. This day I counted more than a dozen ships crowded at the east end of Galveston Island, each waiting for their turn to enter the bay on their way to being shepherded into the port. The orange ship is empty and riding high, heading into the port. The blue ship is fully laden and riding low in the water, heading out into the Gulf to parts unknown.