The Road Ahead ................. (Florida Ride 2013): April 2013

Nautical Times In Mobile

Two Unintended Nights In Hammond, Louisiana

April 25, 2013
Set back a day due to stormy weather, I was only too happy to be eastbound on I-12 and away from Hammond, hoping to also leave the dreary overcast sky and find predicted sunshine at Mobile.

It was windy. I expected that. It was cold. I didn't expect that. I wore a turtle neck under my jacket. Almost wish I had on long johns and heavier gloves. Once the chill sets in it is hard to shake, even when the weather warms up. Cousin Jim is probably chuckling, thinking of his heated handgrips, seat, and I think he even has an electric vest?

After 95 to 100 miles I was finally seeing some blue sky through my sunglasses, which I debated on wearing because they make things too dark on a cloudy day ... but my amber glasses for rain-riding are scuffed.

I signed up for two nights here at the Battleship Inn Resort, next door to the military park. My $98-plus-tax-room ranks among the "dirtiest" rooms I've ever stayed in. $50 Motel 6 is cleaner. Numerous stains on the carpet, which match the stains on the upholstered booths of the restaurant next door called "The Captains Table." The term "Resort" is an idle boast I'm sure.

In the evening a brown dog of the Terrier persuasion roams the premises, barking at guests. He acts like he owns the place. I found out he does. His name is "Chewy" (wonder how many guests he's chewed to earn that name?). From the office sofa, he and his Chihuahua sidekick have the day watch, pretending to be courteous and responsible. Complaints go unreprimanded because the dogs belong to the owner, according to the desk clerk. Meanwhile, a rotund black lab snoozes on the front steps and you have to walk around him. What's up with this place?

The good news .... there is a laundry service that picks up and delivers. The cost for my bag of clothes was $14; steep but I consider it a bargain when the alternative is hunting the streets of Mobile for a laundromat.

I spent two nights at the Battleship Inn "resort" and had all meals at the Captain's Table -- sparse and marginal food for a high price but it's the only place within walking distance.

On day two I spent 5 or 6 hours walking the decks and climbing the ladders of the USS Alabama next door. Some of that time was spent in the nearby aircraft pavillion and on the USS Drum, a land-mounted submarine. It was a day filled with fascinating discoveries of both ships' involvement in World War II. Their stories are only a click away on the Internet.

Click: USS Alabama BB60

Click: USS Drum SS228

I made a slideshow with pictures of the Alabama (included in the video below) and, for mood-setting music, added Johnny Horton's 1960 hit, "Sink The Bismark". Granted, the Alabama had nothing to do with that historical event, which was a British victory six months before America even entered the war.... but the song sets the appropriate ambience for big ships with big guns.

Mobile, Alabama at The Battleship Inn

The USS Alabama Was Decomissioned and
Towed to Mobile in 1964 to Become a Museum Ship

Looking Toward The Bridge
From The Forecastle of The USS Alabama

USS Drum SS228

Land Locked

Tourist Entrance (Not Original) To

Inside The Drum

Small Door and Narrow Passageway

Person In Doorway Gives Size Perspective

Union Jack On USS Drum

Sea Cadets at The Stern

Video of Ride To Mobile and

Slideshow of The USS Alabama

Hammond, LA to Mobile, AL ... 160 Miles

Hard Times In Hammond

April 24, 2013
As earlier stated I had planned to ride to Mobile this morning but the dark overcast sky looked like it could cut loose with more than the predicted afternoon shower. I turned on the weather channel for a quick report and it was "beeping" with a red band across the bottom saying a "Tornado Watch" was in affect for "your" area. I concluded they were addressing "me".
If no tornado, there would at least be 60 mile per hour wind, heavy rain and/or hail.

Not only did I immediately decide against leaving, I wanted to find hail-protected cover for my bike. I went to the front desk, signed up for another day and requested permission to park under the breezeway. I was the only one seemingly concerned about the approaching storm.

The storm came and went. Rumbling thunder and rain until about 1 p.m. No wind. No hail. No tornado. The desk clerk was correct in not being concerned. I'm beginning to think the weather channel folks are the epitome of the "boy who cried wolf." However, I did learn the next morning two tornadoes touched down near New Orleans. No injuries. Not sure about damage.

This area of Hammond is "truck stop country". Large amounts of trucks coming and going off the nearby freeway (I-12). Very busy area.

Short Day To Hammond

April 23, 2013
Negotiating Interstate 10 through New Orleans was not my idea of a good time. Sherry and I visited the French Quarter in 2000 for three days, so no need to see it again. The best thing was to find a route around that city.

I took what I thought would be the back-road to Morgan City. Turned out it was also a freeway, at least two lanes in each direction, but not crowded. It was windy but I've grown accustom to the wind and realize it will be with me wherever I go.

There wasn't much to capture on video along the route, except for the huge bridge arching over the Mississippi River at Luling. It is precisely then the first of my three batteries died. Because of heavy traffic and attention to safety it was not feasible to stop and change batteries.

Another "video-missed-sight" was the spectacular connection of the 310 freeway with Interstate 10 on which I had to travel a few miles west to make the connection to Interstate 55 leading north to Hammond.
Long sweeping arches offered nearly an aerial view of stilted freeways connecting via on and off ramps also on stilts above the vast swamp that is called Louisiana. Very few of the roads I was on today were on the ground.

I'm way behind on the blog, not to mention the growing number of video clips I don't ever see having time to edit. I stopped after only 160 miles, here at Hammond. Never heard of this place, which is on the opposite shore of Lake Pontchartrain from New Orleans. My plan tomorrow is to head east from here, connect with Interstate 10 at Sidell and ride it to Mobile where I intend to stay at the Battleship Inn and visit the USS Alabama.

New Iberia To Hammond (160 Miles)

On The Bayou

April 22, 2013
I awoke at 5:30, had breakfast with Cousin Jim and bid him farewell on his 7:20 a.m. departure to his home in Dallas.

I spent the day sight seeing. In the old section of New Iberia (Main Street) I signed up for a $10 guided tour of "Shadows On The Teche" .... an antebellum mansion completed in 1834 by David and Mary Weeks, wealthy owners of a slave-operated sugar plantation. Four generations held fast to the property, which started its decline during and after the Civil War. It never recovered and fell into disrepair. The last family owner, William Weeks Hall, lived there until his death in 1958 and did much to restore and preserve the home. He and previous generations of the Weeks family are buried on the property, which sets on the banks of the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, all part of the plantation back in 1834.

Our tour group consisted of four. In addition to me was a snowbird from New Hampshire, returning home from Tuscon with his 5th wheel, and a couple from Los Angeles. Pictures are allowed on the outside of the home only.

PICTURES OF "SHADOWS ON THE TECHE" (click)

PICTURES OF NEW IBERIA (click)

Later in the afternoon I returned to Avery Island for a visit of the Jungle Gardens, an $8 self-guided tour along the Bayou Petit Anse where the alligators roam, according to the ticket-selling folks. I saw two gators but they were too far away to discern with my camera.

The Jungle Gardens is a beautiful three-mile drive/ride bordered by huge oaks hung with Spanish moss. Other attractions in the gardens are "bird city", a massive roosting area in the swamp for snowy white egrets, and a buddha under glass. Actually, the buddha sits inside an ornate structure with glass windows. Originally stolen from China, it ended up in New York where friends of E.A. McIlhenny (of Tabasco fame) discovered, purchased and sent it to him as a gift in 1936.

PICTURES OF JUNGLE GARDENS (click)

Video: Return To Avery Island

Cousin Jim Contemplating
The Long Ride Home To Dallas

Farewell Jim

9 Miles From New Iberia To Avery Island

133 Miles From New Iberia To New Orleans

You Might Be A Cajun If ... You Work On Avery Island

April 21, 2013
This beautifully clear day Jim and I had a good breakfast at the super 8 and rode six miles to Avery Island to visit the Tabasco Factory. Interesting place and I believe everyone living / working there are Cajuns .... at least they all have the Cajun accent, even the young girl who was our tour guide.

We paid our dollar entry fee to the island and the gate keeper lifted the toll gate, telling us the factory was on the left and to the right is the "Jungle Garden," apparently a tropical landscape we were told had a couple of alligator ponds and some snowy white egrets to look at.

The near half-mile leading to the Tabasco factory is gravel ... big, gnarly gravel of the possible tread puncturing variety. It was a relief to finally arrive at the small parking lot with air still in our tires.

The downside of our visit is they only operate the factory (bottling part that is) on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. It is Sunday so we only got to "see where" they do all that. Nevertheless, we learned a lot about the origins and scope of the Tabasco Operation.

In a nutshell, Tabasco sauce was invented by the McIlhenny family 130 or so years ago right here on Avery Island. It is made no where else in the world but is distributed worldwide from here and members of the McIlhenny family are still involved in raising the Tabasco peppers and refining the sauce.

I learned Baton Rouge means "Red Stick". It is what they use to check and see if a Tabasco pepper is "ready". They hold the "Baton Rouge" next to the peppers on the bush and compare colors. Not all peppers ripen at the same time.

After the tour, we followed other tourists to the "Country Store" and bought souvenirs. It's the law. While stowing purchasees in our bikes a couple arrived on a new Harley Ultra-Classic. Naturally we traded riding stories, learning this was their very first bike, recently acquired and they were on their "maiden voyage" .... just 40 miles from home in Houma. The man spoke with a heavy Cajun accent, his wife slightly so.

We rode over to the "Jungle Garden", agreeing if the three-mile road winding through it was like the gravel road to the factory we wouldn't do it. Yes, it was gravel and has an entry fee of $8 each. But it is small and tight gravel, promised the young Cajun manning the gate. We decided against it.

Turns out the most interesting thing at the Jungle Garden was a 72-year-old man who arrived on a Ducati (aka crotch-rocket) with his wife on the back. This man lives and breathes motorcycles, saying he's been riding them for 50 years and has owned many, including a Harley Road King and every BMW that has come out .... except one like Jim's ... a GTL K1600. He was like a kid at Christmas when Jim showed and demonstrated most of the hi-tech features on his bike.

Explaining his choice for the Ducati the man (his wife called him "Jerry") said it is only 450 pounds but has 160 horsepower and is very easy to handle (that's when he told us he was 72).

Jerry, who spoke with a Boston accent but lives in Florida, mesmerized us with one story after another. He discussed everything from his army days in Korea to his plans to ride to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska in 2015. Currently, he and his wife are roaming west to Utah in their 23-foot motorhome with the Ducati on a lift on the back.

Speaking of Jerry's wife, she was wandering aimlessly, taking pictures, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Jerry had spent the better part of an hour talking with strangers about motorcycles when they arrived there to visit the Jungle Garden. Apparently she's used to it.

Tabasco Factory Parking Lot

Reading The Tabasco Factory History

Click To Enlarge

To The Country Store

Hooked On Tabasco

Add caption

Tabasco Country Store

Video

Navigational Assumptions

April 20, 2013
Cousin Jim and I left Athens in the cold morning air, into the sun. It was a brisk and beautiful ride and not uncomfortable for we had the foresight to "bundle up". Of course Jim, with his hi-tech BMW, was afforded the added comfort of heated handgrips and seat.

At the end of the day Jim would show me the other creature comforts of the GTL K1600 he has had for less than a year. It's total mileage is in the neighborhood of 4,000, most of which was tallied during his commute from his home in Garland to Parker University in downtown Dallas where he is Professor Jim, teaching medical related classes.

We spent around 9 hours on our 340-mile run to New Iberia, Louisiana from Athens, Texas, taking the "back road" and riding through Jacksonville, Lufkin and Jasper before entering Louisiana near DeRidder. From there it was a straight shot south to Lake Charles where we connected to Interstate 10 for our final jaunt east.

Our route to New Iberia required an exit off I-10 at Lafayette. We had our GPS's synchronized and life was good, although neither of us trust the devices when stacked up against our good ol' fashion "horse sense". When in doubt, follow your nose.

Well ..... as happened to me in the maze of country roads the day before when I gave up on it and made an "I'm lost" phone call, it was discovered our "horse sense" was whoa-fully deficient.

Most everyone of those 340 miles Jim and I had each other in sight. But at the critical off ramp in Lafayette we were immersed in traffic and in my rear-view I did not see Jim, just a big flatbed pickup truck .... not far off my bumper I might add. It was then I took the GPS-prescribed 103A off ramp that would lead to New Iberia and the "Super 8--$80-before-tax-rooms we had reserved with a cell-phone call earlier in the day.

I took the ramp and the truck didn't ..... but neither did Jim. Where was Jim? I stopped. I waited. No Jim. I had to get to a better place to pull over and wait. I rode on, and on, and on, and on ..... no place to pull off. I was in an old section of town with narrow, heavily traveled streets in disrepair. And because any driveway to a parking lot was also narrow, requiring a near stop and 90-degree turn, I feared being rear-ended should I attempt it in the sea of bumper to bumper ghetto traffic.

I traveled maybe 3 miles before I found a wide-driveway-gas-station where I could get off the road and call Jim's cell phone on the chance he was broke down on the shoulder of the freeway, just shy of the off ramp. Then again, he rides a BMW. Breakdowns only happen to Harleys.

As I expected, Jim didn't answer his phone, which was a good sign. He was still riding .... somewhere. Logic told me to continue to the motel and wait. Guilt told me to go back and check the freeway for a busted Beemer or busted cousin. Experience told me to allow time for the problem to resolve itself.

Unbeknownst to me Jim was at warp speed, westbound on the interstate, returning to ramp 103A after a six-mile search for the next off ramp after purposely passing the 103A, thinking I had done so. He figured it best to stay with me even if I was wrong. He was certain I'd passed the off ramp because he didn't see me on it from the angle in which he viewed it from behind that truck. It was a major "oops" moment when he glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of me sinking into the bowels of Lafayette.

As it turned out, I'd only been at the motel for about 5 minutes when Jim arrived. Hadn't even dismounted yet. Rather, I was trying the cell phone again while aimed in the direction from which Jim would come. He did. We were both relieved.

We ended our day with dinner at the El Chili Verde next door to the motel. They don't have green chili.

Cousin Jim, Ready To Ride

Jim's Beemer

Texas Game Warden Walks Among Us

Taking a Break in Newton, Texas

View To The Right From Above Picture

Two Nights In New Iberia, LA

Stair-Climbing Lizard

Actually, I Don't Know What It Is

But This Is Where He Lives

Video of The Day's Ride

Athens To New Iberia, 341 Miles

You Can't Get There From Here

April 19, 2013
Not only did the planned visit with Cousin Bob and his wife, Susan, not go as planned, I got lost trying to find their place in the country, even with a GPS.

It started out as a clear but cold ride, which I knew it would be when I walked out to the parking lot and felt the cold chill in the air. The weather up till the day of rain had been down right hot .... and muggy. The cold front that dropped all the snow in the northern states of the Midwest had dropped down and collided with the warm air mass from south Texas, the recipe for tornadoes, and there were some in Mississippi but not in the Dallas area as predicted. The cold air mass won that battle and has left this part of Texas a little cold, actually face-numbing cold on a motorcycle.

Learning that Cousin Bob was back home, I bundled up and rode south toward Athens, hoping the GPS would get me through the maze of country roads, one of which is where Bob and Susan live on 19 acres. I was there 12 years ago and had in my mind a picture of what the area looked like.

The ride was magnificent to start with, rolling through the green countryside south of Tyler, around the curves and up and down the small hills where various four-legged critters of the livestock world were in abundance.

The GPS was doing fine, I was making the correct turns and watching the "miles to destination" drop closer and closer to zero. When I was within 4 miles of my target I came upon my first setback, a construction zone where I ended up stopped behind a tractor towing some type of farm apparatus. As we started up, behind a pilot car, to travel down a graded, dirt road, two mastiff-looking dogs broke from a nearby yard and charged toward my right side, barking. I was trapped by the confining position in line and very vulnerable. The nearby flagger called a halt to the charge, as if the two dogs were his, and they stopped.

If I'd left my video camera running (I'd just shut it off moments before) I might have got some footage of them gnawing on my leg.

Finally free from the dust spewing tractor and back on pavement, I thought I was just moments away from my destination. The last turn was coming up. Wrong. The road was closed . . . ."bridge out". I had no choice but to continue straight ahead. The recalculation of the GPS added 4 more miles, directing me to Road 19, the main route between the towns of Canton and Athens.

Next I was directed to turn left on County Road 3800 a short distance ahead. I saw no road where I was directed to turn. It was a small, narrow intersecting road hidden by knee-high, roadside grass. When I finally did see it I couldn't turn left because of an oncoming vehicle and a fast one was approaching so quickly from the rear I thought I'd be run over sure. I wasn't.

I turned and meandered down a curvy, narrow road, which got narrower until finally dipping down to a rickety looking bridge. Three 2x6 planks bordered each side (total of 6 boards) of the bridge barely wide enough for one 4-legged vehicle. I stopped, got off and walked up to study the bridge, wondering if it had been crossed this century. A car from the opposite direction appeared and crossed, confirming that it would in fact support the Harley's weight. But I was skeptical about large, finger-sized, spikes used to nail down the planks. The dull edges of the nail heads, after being hammered sideways to flatten them, were like dull knife edges. (I might add that the road was too narrow to turn around and a slight incline prevented backing up. I have no reverse.) So it was .... I gritted my teeth and went for it.

Once across the bridge, the road got even narrower, barely wide enough for a car. If I met one I wasn't the one who was going to back up a half mile. I saw what looked like three horses standing in the middle of the road at the top of a rise. Turned out to be an optical illusion. They were actually behind a fence next to a curve in the road, which now I was sure was someones driveway and I was about to dead end in that someones front yard .... probably protected my large and angry dogs.

Given the way the past three days had gone in trying to accomplish this "cousin visit," I was ready to give up. If I could find a way back to road 19 I was tempted to get on it and make tracks to the town of Athens. I was beginning to wonder if it was worth the effort and I figured my GPS, notorious for tricking me on turns before, was pulling the granddaddy of practical jokes.

Well, it wasn't a driveway. Once I got to the cluster of buildings where I thought the road would dead end, I discovered, like the horses, they were off to the side of the road. I rode on by and came to a T intersection. The road looked better to the right, but the GPS said go left.

I came to another intersection and another instruction to take the road to the right. It's a good thing because the road ahead was closed and another sign said the bridge was out. I figured (turned out correct) it was the other side of the first "bridge out" road. Yet, I also figured my destination might be down that road for I no longer trusted my GPS who said to turn right. I figured it was time to call Susan for help.

This time I had the wherewithal to take off my helmet before I dialed. I punched in the first two numbers and the phone rang. That's odd, I thought, answering it. It was Susan, wondering if I was having trouble. I was and said so in not a pleasant tone.

Turns out I was only a stone's throw from their driveway (I could almost hear the GPS laughing and saying, "I told you so."), the one they assured me was okay to traverse on a motorcycle. When I got there, I realized the picture I had in my mind from 12 years ago wasn't at all in line with reality.

The steep, graveled incline gave me pause. About that time, Cousin Sandy ... who'd driven there before me, came down to guide me in. She drove me along the hidden driveway so I could inspect it before getting myself into a position where I couldn't turn around if I deemed it impassable. I was somewhat surprised that, apart from one "soft spot," it was mud-free after the big rain the day before and the only steep part was the initial part, which was graveled. I decided to go for it.

I rode my rear break down the graveled hill and made my way through dips and bumps, finally arriving in Bob and Susan's front yard.

Cousin Jim arrived in Athens a couple of hours later, about 13 miles away, and requested someone come get him where he'd just checked into a motel in Athens. That's what I should have done.

I rode with Sandra who followed Susan to Athens. From there, Sandra drove back to Tyler where she was staying the weekend with her daughter and was expected back there soon, but wanted to say "hi" to Jim first.

I took that opportunity in Athens to check into a room near Jim's at the $42 Budget Motel. Susan drove us back to hers and Bob's home.

We had a good visit and shared many memories of years ago. Susan fixed a nice chicken dinner with strawberry short cake for desert.

It was dark (and cold) when I made my way down, up and out of the driveway with fogged up goggles, following Susan and Jim through the maze of country roads back to Athens.

Tomorrow, Jim and I ride east to Louisiana.

Preparing To Leave The Hampton Inn At Tyler, Texas

You Can't Get There From Here

Arguing With The GPS At This Point

Susan With Buddy and Lilly

Bob and Susan's Pond and Fishing Dock

Buddy On Watch

Buddy Loves The Water

Here Comes Lilly

Happy Little Tire Swing

Cousins Glen, Jim, Bob and Susan

Hospitalized Cousin

April 17, 2013
An unexpected change in plans has resulted after learning of Cousin Bob being in a Tyler hospital for dialysis treatment. This morning I veered off my original course and am now in Tyler after another wind-gusty day. The visit to Lancaster wasn't that important and, besides, the weather in Tyler is supposed to be better over the next couple of days. Although, the sky is filled with clouds and the wind is fierce, even for standing up. Thunderstorms are predicted for tomorrow ... but no tornadoes.

It was a pretty ride today, crossing green hills and valleys where ranches and livestock abound. If not for the strong wind gusts that required a death grip on the handlebars, it would have been a pleasant ride as well.

I got settled in a room about 2 miles from the hospital, then headed over to visit Bob. We hadn't seen one another in 12 years, so there was a lot of catching up to do. He says they're talking about releasing him from the hospital tomorrow, but he's not sure when.

2015 Update: Having been overwhelmed trying to include video two years ago, I've just now added this segment of the trip:

Video: Rockport To Rockdale

Video: Rockdale To Tyler

April 18, 2013
As predicted there was rain and thunder most of the morning. A good day to stay inside, which is exactly what I did. I signed up for another day here at the Hampton Inn in Tyler:

Cousin Bob was not released after all. Maybe tomorrow, in which case he'll return to his home near Athens. I stayed in my room catching up some video editing, completing two. I've been having difficulty getting the videos to upload to the Internet when I use Smugmug, so I'm going back to YouTube.

Here is a video that I've added to my April 10th blog entry, the ride from Cave Creek, Arizona to Las Cruces, New Mexico:

Click: April 10th Blog Entry

This video is added to my April 11th blog entry, the ride from Las Cruces, New Mexico to Alpine, Texas:

Click:April 11, 2013

April 19, 2013

I received an early morning call from Susan, Bob's wife, saying she drove him home from the hospital last night. So, after the fine breakfast they serve here at the Hampton Inn, I'll pack my gear and head toward Athens, 36 miles southwest of here. Susan assures me their graveled, hillside driveway is passable for a motorcycle after an all day rain. I hope so.

I will call Cousin "Jim" in a little while and let him know the latest. He will meet with me at Bob and Susan's for a visit, as well as Bob's sister "Cousin Sandra". We'll have an afternoon cousin reunion, after which Jim and I will go into Athens and get a room for the night. Tomorrow we plan to ride (Jim has a BMW) to Avery Island on the Louisiana Coast.

Rockport, Texas

April 16, 2013
I spent two days with Navy friend, Vern, and his wife Debbie at Rockport on the Texas Coast. Vern and I served together on the USS Truxtun, were both discharged from the Navy in 1972 and hadn't seen each other since. We'd only recently become reacquainted on the Internet. We had a lot of catching up to do after 41 years. It was a great visit.

Vern and Debbie were fantastic hosts. They invited me to stay at their home, chauffeured me around the area and pointed out the highlights of the quaint tourist town of Rockport. Like me, Debbie has an interest in photography and has made beautiful pictures of the local seashore birds and can name them all. She pointed out to me the best areas so that I might also get some bird photos, which I did but can't remember the names of most. Click: PICTURES

The second morning of my visit we were up at 5:30 a.m. for a fishing excursion on the Aransas Bay. Vern, Debbie and Vern's brother, Bobby, are avid fisherman and have befriended one of the guides, "Danny", a semi-retired, good-natured man of the sea who's been taking folks to fishing spots on the bay and beyond for the past 55 years. Now days he only takes a select few, mostly just people he knows. As Danny wryly puts it .... "Hell, I wouldn't even take Bubba (Vern's nickname) if Debbie didn't come along."

Danny, with his boat in the water at 7:15 a.m., got underway quickly from Goose Island State Park. He pulled on his windbreaker to ward off the spray sure to be generated on the high speed run across wind-blown water and headed to a far island where we were to anchor and catch a variety of fish that included "black drum," "red fish" and "speckled trout".

Bobby caught the first one, a "black drum," which is prominent in the area. Vern, Debbie and Bobby caught a lot of those, along with red fish and one speckled trout caught by Debbie. I caught three (a record for me) --2 black drum and a flounder. Our total was about 25 fish, which Guide Danny filleted as soon as we returned to the dock about 6 hours later.

That evening Vern and Debbie took me to the "Crab-n" restaurant south of Rockport where the chef will cook for you the fish you catch. We all shared Debbie's speckled trout and my flounder, which was stuffed with a special recipe, predominately crab. What a delicious treat it was.

Vern, Debbie and Bobby sent me on my way this morning with "happy birthday" wishes, hot coffee and two breakfast burritos under my belt. I couldn't have asked for a better visit on the Texas Coast.

I turned 63 years old on State Hwy 77 somewhere between Rockport and Rockdale, Texas. The mostly two-lane highway was a great alternative to the busy and undesirable Interstate 35.

The ride started cloudy and windy but changed to sunny and hot within two hours and, though pretty strong, the wind was at my back, boosting me along at a comfortable 65 on the 70 mph road. I rode through beautiful ranch land covered with green grass, undoubtedly a product of frequent rain showers, though most folks say drought conditions exist in this part of Texas. I passed through several small towns, such as Halletsville, Schulenburg, La Grange, Giddings and Rockdale where I am now at a Best Western trying to decide what direction to take tomorrow.

Stopping early in the day, I took the opportunity to access the Internet after a three-day absence and am keeping an eye on the weather channel. Serious thunderstorms and possible tornadoes are predicted for my original destination at Lancaster on the south outskirts of Dallas.

I've learned one of the cousins I was going to visit is in the hospital in Tyler undergoing dialysis. My plans are therefore changed. I will abandon the ride to Lancaster tomorrow and head east to Tyler, about the same distance but different direction.

Video: Corpus Christi To Rockport

Video:Fishing Aransas Bay

Except for the irritating snap, crackle and pop of camera adjustment, the sound is muffled in the fishing video due to the camera being enclosed in a watertight, plastic case.