The Texas Riviera

Theodore Koch was a land developer who saw an opportunity to create a seaside resort in the Kingsville area. In 1907 he bought coastal land from the King Ranch estate and established a small town alongside the railroad track that ran a few miles from the coast. He called the town Riviera after the French Riviera where he’d once had a nice holiday. His angle was to promote the town and sell parcels of land for housing and business in the town itself and also on the coast where the name became Riviera Beach.

It’s nevertheless a popular boating and fishing destination with numerous piers for the anglers. There must be plenty of fish as there are flocks of white pelicans around.

There’s a park along the sea edge with mesquite trees growing at the oddest angles. It seems to be nothing to do with the prevailing wind, it’s just how they grow. Maybe to do with the alcoholic content of the soil.

There was a beach of sorts with sand, running for about 100 yards. Very pleasant, but not likely to put Saint Tropez out of business.

 There were some good birding trails and we enjoyed the sea air, so actually had a splendid couple of hours there. Travelling back to Kingsville we passed through another of Koch’s towns, a village really, called Vattman. No, they didn’t charge a tax to pass through.

Back in Kingsville town, we came across an up-market leather shop run by, guess who, the King Ranch Company, with every kind of leather goods imaginable including saddles that were made in the shop itself. You could watch the guy working. Couldn’t comfortably take any photos there but was able to sneak one of the ladies cowboy boots. Beautifully made if that’s what you’re looking for.

We move on from Kingsville to arrive at Dallas on Saturday, then to Washington DC on Tuesday for a couple of days with Ralph & family, including a Thanksgiving dinner (Nov 22nd) with Kelly’s parents.

Kingsville

We’re starting back towards Dallas where we hand back the camper in a week’s time. Kingsville is on the route so we stop here to see one of the biggest ranches in the USA, the King ranch, weighing in at 825,000 acres.

Richard King the founder was born in 1824.  At the age of 11 he ran away to sea as a stowaway. On discovery, he persuaded the captain to make him cabin boy. Although with little formal education, he was smart, and by the age of 21 was a captain in his own right. By 24 he owned his own boat and traded profitably along the Rio Grande River in partnership with several others.

In 1852 King came north on horseback to the Lone State Fair in Corpus Christi and noted that the only water he passed was at a Santa Gertrudis Creek. He thought it would be an ideal location for cattle raising. The next year, with a partner called Lewis, he bought 15,500 acres at 2 cents an acre. In 1855 Lewis was shot following a romantic dispute and King bought Lewis’ share from his estate. The accumulation of land had begun.

This is the creek that drew King to buy his first acres.

The earliest surviving ranch building is in elegant Spanish style. Many of King’s workers were Hispanic, a whole Mexican village having been recruited early on to work on the ranch.

We took a tour of the ranch- obviously only a small section- which promised to give an idea of how it was run and their types of cattle and horses. Unfortunately, the size of even this small part proved its undoing as, in most instances, the animals appeared as tiny dots on the far side of enormous fields. Texas is generally flat and this region is no exception, so not much scenery either. Rather like driving through the fens.

Well, we did see a Weaver’s cottage where the horse saddle blankets were made until recently, and the loom. It took about a week to make each one. Presumably the Chinese now make them for a fraction of the price.

This is an odd patent, a gate that shuts itself but whacks the tail of your vehicle if you drive through too fast. It’s a way of regulating the impatience of the many contractors and visitors to the ranch.

 This giant catapult- it’s about 10 feet tall- is what cowboys used for securing a lassoed cow. The rope goes through the “Y” and is tied to the upright. 

There were some good wild deer views. Ironic that the wild animals were more visible than the cattle and horses.

To cater for American tastes they allow hunting on the ranch, and in front of some of the estate cottages the hunters have built rather gruesome towers of antlers.

 Heavy machinery is used to clear the scrub every 10 years, and for the crop production, but the cattle are still managed by cowboys on horseback. The horses, called quarter horses, are specially bred for cattle work. A film before the tour showed the prize-winning King quarter horses in action cutting out single cattle from the herd. It would have been good to see these horses close-up, but the tour bus sped by so a faraway shot is where it’s at. They could be milkmen’s horses at this distance.

The ranch also breeds champion cattle and registered the first new American breed in 1940, the Santa Gertrudis. The cattle photos on the range look like just any other cows, but there are mounted Santa Gertrudis bulls heads in the museum that are more impressive, as if they had charged through the wall together.

The Ranch was reasonably Interesting, but could have been much more so given closer views of the animals, and with stops to do so, accompanied by a more relevant and enthusiastic commentary from the guide. Only 2 out of 5 stars I’m afraid.

Days Out

Some trips we made don’t merit a full blog, so what follows is a selection of these.

As mentioned before, Texas has the greatest number of butterfly species in the USA, so what could be more fitting than having the National Butterfly Center in Texas. It was just down the road. We’d seen some superb butterfly gardens already, so were expecting something special. But, disappointment: it’s all a bit run down. Even the entry logo is partly hidden by shrubs, and looks more like a cemetery entrance.

We were expecting enclosures with specific habitats for different species, but found it was all in the open with the same butterfly bushes we had seen elsewhere, therefore with the same butterflies.

However, the bird watching was good. The green jay is so colourful, and is peering straight at the camera.

These creatures look like chickens with long tails. They live in noisy flocks in the trees. It’s called plain chachalaca. The bird book doesn’t mention if there’s a fancy chachalaca.

The squirrel is unimpressed by all of them. He’s had a busy morning nutting and is now flat out in the heat of the afternoon.

Let’s not be too mean minded about the butterflies, so we’ll include one pretty photo that reminds me of a kaleidoscope.

A solitary picture from the next excursion- to the seaside. A boiling hot day, so we go to South Padre Island that is linked to the mainland by a bridge. We took a picnic and walked for several miles along the Gulf of Mexico sea shore, with paddling thrown in.

That was Friday: Saturday the temperature plummets from 92F to 54F (33C to 12C). It’s caused by the northerly air flow and is unseasonably cold. We tog up and go to a museum in the local town of Harlingen.

Harlingen was founded by a Mr Lon C. Hill who was a lawyer with a finger in numerous pies. Before he arrived in 1904

it was a crossroads called Rattlesnake Junction. Hill quickly turned his talents to setting up and running many types of business. The next two photos show, firstly, his house and then the interior of one of the rooms. Surprisingly sophisticated and elegant given the frontier nature of the town.

You might think I wasn’t such a hazardous place to live after all- until you read the next picture caption.

It reads “Sugar mill built by Lon Hill in 1911 and burned by Mexican bandits 1917.” Bandits with a sweet tooth evidently.

In 1923 two nurses opened a hospital in Harlingen. Rooms were $5 a day.

This is the operating theatre. Saturday operations drew large crowds of spectators peering through the windows.

 And the dentist’s xray machine, looking like a Starwars death ray – which it was, in a way.

In a reconstructed cabin elsewhere in the museum, we spot an 1880 doughnut maker. Junk food isn’t so recent then.

There was a lot more to see in the Rio Grande Valley than was first apparent.

We move off in a few days, moseying back in the direction of Dallas from whence we picked up the motorhome. The weather’s got even a little colder with the first frost projected for next Tuesday night.

Nov 8th: Hola Mexico!

General advice is, don’t go to Mexico as the border towns are too dangerous: banditos likely to rob you, or caught in a shoot-out between rival drug gangs. We’re told that the Wild West still survives here on the Mexican border.

Delving into folk’s actual experiences of crossing into Mexico, it seemed there is one tame town called Progreso that also happens to be close to where we’re staying. So we decide to go, and drive to the crossing point, parking the car on the US side, then walking across the bridge spanning the Rio Grande. It feels like the covered bridge into Peterborough Queensgate Centre from the railway station side car park.

At the halfway point across the river is a plaque that marks the exact frontier line. The boundary was always the centreline of the river but in years of flooding in these flatlands the river would change course and, with it, the border. It is said that a certain chapel changed sides many times over several centuries. The Boundary Commission finally agreed in 1970 how this issue was to be resolved.

At the end of the bridge you walk straight into Progreso. It’s a fully committed tourist town with garish signs and vendors everywhere.

Over and above the expected shops and stalls are a large number of dentists, evidently charging much less than back across the bridge. Would you want to take the chance, though, and end up with a set of teeth that only speak Spanish. Numerous pharmacies, as well, since meds are also much cheaper on this side. Eyecatching rather than tasteful is the order of the day- isn’t that right, Pancho?

The bazaar style sidewalks could be in any of the poorer countries like Morocco or India. They offer their wares as you pass but here don’t pester if you say, “no thanks”.  That is different from Morocco where they sometimes grab your arm or chase after you. 

The one department store sets itself above the other traders, selling slightly better tourist tat. These Mexican dresses are very colourful, but I can’t really see Jane turning up in one to WI back in Alconbury.

We finish off in the department store café, chatting to two Texans (clue: the hats). In the background is some local mood music, and we had a decent cup of coffee.

Crossing back into Texas, the passport formality on the US side only took a few minutes. We didn’t feel uneasy or threatened at any time in Progreso, but then it was full of American tourists, the town’s income source, so why would they want to jeopardise that? To underwrite the security, we were told that there is an armed guard presence, the Rurales, but we didn’t notice any.

Definitely a day out with a difference, and we didn’t even buy a sombrero. Hasta la vista! 

LLano Grande Resort

Leaving Falcon for Llano Grande, the landscape is still scrub. Gradually we see some grass emerging that evidently supports ranching as there are now a number

of traditional ranch signs like the one below.

Then a further change as we roll along, into crops as well as grass. We have reached the region known as the Rio Grande Valley, the final 50 miles of southern Texas, and a fertile year-round area of agricultural production. It’s an odd name because it’s not a valley but dead flat, and the Rio Grande runs along the whole 1,250 mile Texas border not just the last 50.

The Llano Grande campsite is big. We are pitch 612, but there’s plenty of room as the “snowbirds” haven’t all yet arrived from northern states or Canada. This is us, with the travel poster back. One year we had a realistic road graphic on the motorhome and needed to watch in foggy weather that someone didn’t try to drive along it.

The photo is taken from a bank, a levee, which used to be the Rio Grande before it changed course. A long lake is left that looks attractive in the evening light.

The birds also like the lake for night roosting. They arrive in hundreds, anything from small wading birds to pelicans.

Here are the last of them arriving in the setting sun that looks like a glowing mushroom.

Running alongside the levee lake is yet another state park, and one that we can walk to. Having already bought the park pass for our previous visits and stays, it’s free for us to come and go as we wish. There’s an alligator lake in the park but we failed to spot any from the viewing platform. My theory is that they all hide under the platform. Plenty of birds, though, and trying not overdo the bird aspect for non-birders, the next 3 photos are, in order, black belly whistling ducks, black and white stilt, and yellow crowned night heron. The ducks really do whistle; I’m sure the tune is Colonel Bogie.

Running along the levee top is a good path, sufficient to take a vehicle, which are not permitted, but they do allow walkers, bikers and golf trolleys. All campers here seem to have a golf trolley, to be used for all journeys of over 10 yard. Nobody walks much. People take their dogs for walks while driving the golf trolley. The dog runs alongside. Here’s one approaching in the distance, with trotting dog that probably isn’t close enough to be visible.

Got to say it, the showers and toilets are modern, clean, and greatly appreciated.

Sorry, state parks.

Lake Casa Blanca & Lake Falcon

From Seminole we drive south, following the Mexican border. 200 miles down the road is Laredo and lake Casa Blanca, another state Park where we’re staying for two nights to break the journey. It’s a pleasant stop, with plenty of pitch space. The lake and fishing pier takes a good photo in the late sunlight, with a heron on the pier.

The park is mainly aimed at boaters and fishermen, but has some wildlife interest like roadrunners and water birds, including osprey. We also came across this odd Spanish style building. Apparently an ex-museum, unused and boarded up, but structurally solid. Pity it can’t be used for the fisherman, or for general recreation, or even a café.

The state parks, including the camping areas, are generally well run with the exception of the toilet/shower facilities. These Spartan blocks, of assorted layouts and sizes, were clearly designed by boot camp architects. For example, communal men’s showers at one campsitel! Toilet doors often had no locks, and Jane’s showers provided a dead scorpion plus an enormous dangling spider. Shower curtains missing in many showers. We’re adventurers at heart, so no big problem; anyway, the state parks are cheap and the wildlife fascinating.

We leave Casa Blanca and travel the 100 miles to Falcon Lake for a three night stay. This is a wildlife visitors to our pitch, a peccary or javelina, a small hog. It’s edible, but no guns allowed in the parks, so the javelina lives to grunt another day. Its Spanish name comes from the javelin-sharp teeth that it will use, with tusks, if cornered. 

The Mexican border runs across Falcon Lake that was created by damming the Rio Grande River. The frontier runs down the centre a mile away, so it’s Trump’s front line so to speak. Plenty of police and Border Patrol vehicles around, but that’s no different from previous years when we’ve been along the frontier at the California/Arizona end.  The US also use surveillance balloons in this area that use radar equipment to detect drug and illegal immigrant activity. This isn’t a new Trump initiative as they’ve been in operation for some years. This is what they look like at ground level.

As if to emphasise that border issues go way back, here’s this cracked and yellowed notice from Falcon Lake. When the notice was put up the sheriff was probably still patrolling on a horse.

Our mobile phones pinged, “Welcome to Mexico”. Our calling plans allow internet use in the USA and calls back home at no extra charge. But the phone will pick up the strongest signal, and here that’s coming from Mexico. If you then use the phone it’s £2.00 per minute for calls and similar stiff fees for other services. Solution: turn off phone immediately.

However, birdsong was free. This is a vermilion flycatcher on a dark afternoon.

Nice walks on good paths, so you can see where you’re stepping (rattlesnake country). In most parts, the scrub is so thick the lake is hidden. That’s me by the tree, not an illegal immigrant. He’s taking the photo.

Falcon is awash with butterflies, especially in their butterfly garden. Texas has more species than any other state. One particular bush, the Rio Grande Bee-bush attracts them in their hundreds.

 Lots more birds, including an osprey eating its fish on the telegraph pole by our pitch, so a great back-to-nature time, but after three state parks one after the other we are ready for the comforts of a good commercial site. We now head for the southern tip of Texas, near the Gulf of Mexico, to Llano Grande RV Resort.