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Captain
Dean Thomas, owner of Slowride Guide Services
in Aransas Pass, shows off a healthy redfish.
The 1857 Aransas Light rises out of the marsh
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Black
mangroves fill the shallow bays around Rockport
and Port Aransas, and their white blossoms fill
the air with a sweet, subtle scent throughout
the summer. |
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Texas
lantana grows wild along fencelines in this part
of Texas |
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The
blubonnet, state flower of Texas, blankets roadsides
during the spring. This July blossom is -- literally
-- a late bloomer. |
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Rockport's towering, twisted oak trees (the town
is built on aptly named "Live Oak Peninsula") are a welcome
sight. It's the weekend of the 38th Annual Rockport Art Festival,
and we breeze past the tents and pavilions, knowing we can
come back later.
Accommodations
here are plentiful: bed and breakfasts, RV parks, chain
motels, waterfront campsites and '50s-era cottages, aunts
and uncles, cousins, my brother and his wife in the next town
over. We opt for the latter.
As we drive through Aransas Pass, I see Capt.
Dean Thomas' truck out front of the Kayak Shack. The building
that houses his business, Slowride
Guide Services, is a gathering spot for the laid-back,
minimalist crowd of kayak anglers and paddlers in the area.
Dean shows me pictures of a "new" critter he's discovered
in the marsh: a giant blue land crab. Turns out Aransas Bay
is at the edge of the animal's tropical range. It's one of
the reasons I love this place so well -- there's no telling
what will show up. Some years it's manatees in the harbor;
others it's a pair of flamingos, up from the Yucatán, on the
back bay.
Dean's wife, Jennifer, quizzes me on a bleached,
gothic assemblage sitting on a shelf: "OK, Nature Boy, what's
that?"
I pick it up and hold it in my hand. "I'd say
... dried macroalgae."
Jennifer nods affirmatively. Dean demurs: "No,
it's a sponge. I can show you a lot of them growing out on
the flats."
We make plans to paddle the Lighthouse
Lakes in a couple of days.
The next morning, Tamara and I drive out state
Highway 361 and onto the ferry for the short boat ride to
Port Aransas. Our plan to get the kayaks in the water and
start paddling early is derailed as I show her the sights:
the World War II gun emplacements overlooking the Gulf beach
and channels (German U-boats were active in the area early
in the war); the University of Texas Marine Science Institute
and its modest aquaria; and The
Tarpon Inn, whose lobby walls are covered in trophy tarpon
scales dating back to the beginning of the 20th century.
President Franklin D. Roosevelt fished here,
and a signed scale and photo grace the walls. One of mine
is up there somewhere, too.
Finally, with the sun low in the sky, we paddle
across the channel to Harbor Island and hunt for Pleistocene-era
fossils and seashells along the beach. When the ship channel
was dredged to make it deeper, the rocks from the bottom were
scooped into piles along the shore, revealing a treasure trove
of fossilized bones, selenite and seashells -- fighting conchs,
lightning whelks, bonnet shells and sundials.
The sunset paints the water deep, liquid blues
and golds and pinks. A quick jaunt to Mustang
Island State Park for showers, and we head back into town
to meet friends at The
Back Porch Bar.
Food. We need food. There are several fine restaurants
serving fresh, local seafood down by the harbor. A late start
on a summer Friday night guarantees they'll be packed. We
opt instead for the Shrimp Stop, a taco stand on Alister Street.
It's where the cabbies and cops stop for a late-night snack
-- always a good sign.
We park and walk up to the window. Tamara orders
a tuna taco; I get grilled shrimp. We chat with a man from
Fort Worth, down for the holiday weekend, who has ordered
for his group of six. The food comes out and we eat at the
picnic table in the parking lot. Tamara's tuna is a generous
portion covered with black pepper and perfectly seared. My
corn tortillas are stuffed with shrimp, cilantro and avocado.
They're delicious.
At The Back Porch we pay the $5 cover charge
and order cold beer at the open-air bar. Mingo
Fishtrap, an Austin-based soul-and-funk band, takes the
stage. Mingo falls into a tight, funky groove punctuated by
the band's horn section. Overhead, stars peek from behind
the high clouds; behind us, sailboats and sport-fishing boats
glow above submerged lights.
Sun and surf, music and food; good friends and
the glory of an unwinding road. Sometimes going home is more
than a time-out, it's time-out-of-time.
Aaron
Reed
August 19, 2007
