Sailing South Padre

Went out on Thanksgiving evening for a wonderful sailboat ride to the jetties and back. It was supposed to blow over 20 MPG but it dropped to flat calm really quick. So relaxing ... our best Thanksgiving ever!

Being a wee bit snoopy, I asked about how much hs sailboat drafted and why we didn't get a lot of "winter cruiser" sailboats down here. The captain thought, and said "I draft about 4-foot eight, although the bluewater boats are deeper, like six feet or more. Even I have to watch the shifting bars and even I get stuck. Simply stated, we don't have any deep water unless you want to park in the Shrimp Basin."

I was rather shocked at the answer but then the captain continued "and what are the cruisers supposed to do, go to Sea Ranch and Louie's once and that's it? There's nothing for them to do here."

He mentioned a Galveston to SPI sailboat race where the large sailboats raced ... and had to turn right back to Galveston without even landing here at Port Isabel or South Padre. They were too big for the docks and too deep for the channels. Think of all that money just passing us by.

This was something of a revelation to me, although I've had my share of being stuck in the mud (many times) even with a motorboat that only needed a foot or so of water. I guess that's why the Southern Ocean Racing Circuit goes to Bimini, the Virgin islands, and other Caribbean destinations becase we don't want them. I wonder if we can change that ... sailing is the "green" thing to do, right?

Uncle Buggies Gone

I drove to the bank today - I love putting money in the bank and I saw Captain Al Stewart putting money in the bank there too - and was watching for all these hideous, damaged T-shirt shops, of which I only found four. Four out of maybe hundred shops on Padre Boulevard. I was thinking that the Town Vision Gestapo was maybe getting a little carried away ... when all the sudden I noticed that the letters had fallen off the Uncle Buggies sign.

Nope, somebody had purposely taken the letters off the sign, shuttered the store, and put up a "For Rent" sign in the front door. The property was empty, clean as a whistle. Bummer!

It's just another casualty of history I suppose, like the Dolphin Cove Oyster Bar, Josephs, Kelly's and all kinds of time-hallowed places that made the island what it is. In fact I had listed it in my History Channel blog because it was a neat old building, possibly an old gasoline station. There's a really cool story about the young man who came here from California to set up shop, although he got sick a few years ago and died ... which I guess is why all the dune buggies are gone now, as the family didn't want to fool with it anymore.

R.I.P Uncle Buggies.

This is what will happen ....

This is what will happen to our town if we don't clean up that SPI Boulevards right now! Those T-shirt shops need to be repaired NOW! It has been four months after Hurricane Dolly, and if we don't fix up these old shops we're doomed. Cousin Jed shown in the picture will move in, and that shack has wheels, baby. It'll be squatter city before you know what hit ya.

Actually, that's a half famous Smithsonian picture of a Hooverville dwelling during the Great Depression, which was quite a find - and a popular topic these days as the economy lurches along, swooning. There were Hoovervilles all over the country and at its worse, 25 percent of working men were unemployed - they didn't count women in the working force back then.

Funny, right when many cities and counties are running out of money, we want to fix everything up all spiffy, spend a few million, and by doing so, people will shower out town in coins and hundred dollar bills. I really don't know who these people are, or how many there are, but they sure are vocal pests. Of course the Main Drag looks a little frumpy - we just had a hurricane here. Of course they're supposed to secure their property a little better. I think it takes time and insurance money but these folks are definitely chomping at the bits. I just saw three condo roof jobs being started last week, for crying out loud.

And that's exactly why I picked the Hooverville picture. The well-heeled, conservative, and richer townsfolk kept trying to run off the poor people, and the attitudes are just the same. Where is that compassion, that ability to reach out and help?

And gosh, now I think about it, I have about 3-4 months I can make it if I loose all my income and I'll be just like ole Jed up there in the picture. But let us not talk about how close we live to the dark side with the poverty, the hurricanes, and all that. We're on South Padre Island! Yay!

The Raccoon

It's not fair to take a picture of my first raccoon we trapped, they look so innocent and intelligent. The sad dog eyes with round masks around them, the "please let me go" whimper.

Finally the local animal control guy - actually two of them - came by to offload the critter way up the beach, since my dog was going absolutely nuts. Malia out dog is pretty easy with the possum now but the raccoon must be some kind of mortal enemy.

And a nasty one too, after posing like an angel for Lori and me. "Watch this," said the officer as he dangled a dog leash into the cage. The varmint yelled, hissed, spat, took a mighty swipe with a paw, and then bit the leash almost in two. "Don't stick your fingers in the cage." He used a six-foot snake pole to move the trap into his truck.

I asked the officer if raccoons were normal for the island and he said they don't see them for a long time and then they seem to be everywhere - I just started noticing them after the hurricane. Sure enough, another acquaintance says he say four down by the beach right next to a beach access.

One more tidbit: another islander who traps varmints now and then did an experiment and dabbled some nail polish on the possum that were taken up north by the town. Within a matter of two weeks, about half the pack was ... back in the trap again. Are you folks picking up some rather strange hitchhikers or what?

Beautiful November

Here's a kingfisher, a belted kingfisher like the kind that winters down here every year. We have a pair of them at the end of our bay-end street and they are a wonder to watch because they're true acrobats, sometimes diving and coming up with minnows. I wish my camera could catch them but they look fly specks - thus the stolen picture.

They're ornery bastards I can vouch for that, always arguing and I swear they swoop my dog to try to run it off - while I'm walker her. No wonder why they invented Thanksgiving at the end of the month, because November is such a bummer month, especially this year.

True, many fellow islanders have gotten sick or need surgery and many folks are down. I'm just recovering from a case of the flu that tried to morph itself into walking pneumonia, but thanks to Lori's Mexican drugs, that sucker is about gone. You folks still under the weather take care. Lori herself seemed like she was catching something just tonight.

But it is still wonderful on the island, very seasonable weather, and we got the kingfishers back in town. The kite and wind boarders are fun to watch. When the wind gets up there are about three or four locals that waddle down the street in their gear looking for that 40 MPH ride.

The kingfishers get to bark at them, too!

Pinkie Still At It

This is probably the last plumeria bloom of the season but as you can tell, "Pinkie" is still going strong. I've never had plumeria in November before so this is really something - I think she likes the island weather. Hmm, a rather delicate lavender smell.

When she goes dormant this winter, I'll have dig her up and reset the plant, which like many others is leaning with a 45-degree list because of Hurricane Dolly. Alas, several died, in addition to a natal plum and the citrus trees.

Anyway, all fixed up and a handful of fertilizer mixed in the hole, she should be back in business by next April or May, flowers and all.

Sam, Sam ... the Fur Trapper?

Well after I sent a nutty complaint to our town using some whacky form, I got a call today. "I heard you had a raccoon that was attacking you, Mr. Wells?" After about a week I had forgotten all about that, how a mama raccoon and her baby had gotten all defensive when Lori was feeding the outside cats before dawn one day.

So staff was understanding and had heard of some raccoon on the island, and loaned me one of the larger sized Have-A-Heart traps. Whatever they're called, they're humane, just a cage and a trap door. And some kitty food.

First off all I caught every single dumb cat in the neighborhood, including my domestic part Siamese that should have known better. So I guess the trick is to run traps well after ten o'clock at night. I let all the cats go, since none were feral or bobcats.

Bingo, after reloading with another rasher of kitty food for bait, I bag a small possum. Not heavy enough to trip the trigger on the large animal trap so I dropped an old beach sandal on the trap from the upstairs porch, which made a nice "ka-chunk" sound as the gate snapped closed.

In case you are wondering, any trapped wild animals are unloaded about 5 to 7 miles to the north end of the beach, where they are released - the town insists on doing this. Domesticated animals go to the pound on the mainland to the south for an examination and such. My possum is taking the northern route, I expect.

Meanwhile I heard the raccoon because it was sniffing around when I dropped the shoe - it made a big ruckus running into the pepperwood tree where I think it lives. I know it is there but I have to fight through all these dang cats and possum first. All in a day's work, my friends.

I'm gonna huff and puff and ...

Much as I hate to see an old semi-historical house go down, this one really did need to be demolished. It is - or was - on Lantana Street on the bayside. About an hour or two after I snapped this picture, there was absolutely nothing left but a few piles.

The one thing you noticed right away is that all the wild animals ran off and the wild bees were everywhere - some very seriously upset bees. The crews had to keep their windows closed and I had to sorta run away!

I think that's where a bunch of raccoons and tequatche (possum) had been living. Anyway, parts of the old structure had been blowing off into the neighbors yards, such as Dr. Sher next door. It didn't take much for a 200 horsepower CAT 950 to make it fall down. No telephone poles, interestingly...

A nice gentleman walked up to take some pictures too and said that he could have bought that property 25 years ago, but that it was in very bad shape then. I didn't say he'd probably be a millionaire if he bought it just for the property, but back then such a lot was what, maybe $60,000 in the early 80s? Dr. Sher says that 12 years ago somebody offered $600,000 for it.

By then the bees had discovered us and we were, like the poor old shack, solid gone.

Us Islanders

I have lived on several islands and visited man in my days, and each was very provincial. You really had to be BOI - born on the island - to be considered a true "islander." Up north, some islanders can trace their local genealogy back 340 years, the families named Dodge, Littlefield, and Rose. Same for parts of the Bahamas where the Loyalists fled during the Revolutionary War - there were five settlements in the Abacos populated by families with names such as Albury, Lowe, Malone, Pinder, and so forth.

Here on South Padre, being an Islander doesn't mean a long genealogy or even being born here. It simply a state of mind, something that appeals to me. The truth is, most babies were hatched elsewhere anyway, Brownsville or Harlingen at best. But when I come to think of my friends, and what an islander is, I have the same positive thoughts. Not only do I know folks who live here year round, but I know a bunch of those folks who return like lemmings every so often, so great to see them after a long absence. We have out weekend neighbors and folks from Minnesota, Nova Scotia, Colorado (of course), Mexico, the Dallas area, and ... well all over the place, even a sand sculptor from Singapore.

In fact some folks ask if I am related to the Wells family on SPI - which I readily deny (actually there were two long-time Wells clans before we even got here). I just like the island, don't care for the mainland, and really love it here. That's what an islander is here. Short-timer, part-timer, or living here every day, it makes absolutely no difference. You can tell by the smiles.

I won't go into whether anybody else even would consider me an islander in their estimation, and frankly I don't care. But here's a kink: some people who have lived here for years ... well, they really just make it seem like they're not islanders. I don't know any personally, to be honest, although they seem to multiply like rabbits on the Internet forums. They claim to be "smart" but are negative, down, criticizing, dogmatic, and always in a black mood. Who are these strange people and why are they here?

Well they certainly are a minority and for now I am 100 percent blessed with all the good kinds of islanders. Spoiled rotten, more like. But for you newbies, if somebody looks troubled we always head to the beach, listen good, make eye contact, and say "I don't think it's all that bad." It works, never failed yet!

Sand Boils

Sand boils are defined as underground seepage that rises to the surface, and is oftentimes associated with levee failures (see this Corps of Engineers document). It turns out they are not uncommon down here on SPI, although perhaps the physics is a little different.

The simplest description is when a water main breaks and the water shoots upward to the surface with a pressure called "hydraulic head" (cool name for a pound puppy?). It's a powerful force that can blow asphalt and even concrete roadway apart. When sand and clay rise to the surface in a slurry like that, it is called a sand boil. The first sign of a sand boil is many pencil-sized dribbles of water leaking to the surface. Every year our water district gets about a half-dozen water main breaks, each resulting in a sand boil.

There are several spots on the bayside up the island to the north known as being "quicksand." Yes, quicksand is just another kind of sand boil, where water is rising up from the depths. We almost suspect that the Leaning Tower of Spizza might have been built on a sometimes sand boil.

To explain, there are various strata of sand which a large clay deposit fittingly known as Rio Mud. Under this layer is some unconsolidated sandy/shelly/shale and salt formations, not solid rock. OK, there is a shallow water lens on top of the Rio Mud, water is trying to seep from Laguna Madre towards the sea, and saltwater from the Gulf is invading at the lower levels - all the reason why water wells do not work here on the island. Given the differentials in clay strata and rising or falling water levels, sand boils can routinely occur at any time. So now you know why piers are put down as high as building it tall! We're floating on what is basically ketchup.

And just like ketchup, you never know when that buddy is going to pour out all at once.

If we lived along the Rio Grand or Arroyo Colorado one might be concerned about sand boils and levee damage, so here it is more of an occasional thing that is natural - unless the dang water main breaks again. Interesting phenomena, and if I see a good one I'll snap a picture for ya.

Our Economic Engine ...

Best Sand Castle Days Ever

What a wonderful day, after a cool front and dreary rain earlier in the week and mid-week. I'd say that the 21st Sand Castle Days was a roaring success, in spite of all the stupid hurricanes and souring economies.


Above, a shot down a whole bunch of sand castles. Those in wheelchairs could see the stuff perfect from the sidewalk. Those piles of sand used to be about 10 tons and now look!


Two of my favorite artists, Sandy Feet and her fellow friend sand sculptor, Kirk. Those aren't fake smiles there.


That's Fred's sculpture, another good friend, international sand carver, former alderman, computer guru, and boat tinker-er. He's standing in the very left of the picture as well. He won one of the top prizes, forget which one.

I can't do justice to the day I spent there because my camera batteries went kaflooie. There were several dozen cabana tents, an area for children (even 50 year old ones) to learn sand castles, vendors, food, art, and even a spot so you could adopt a dog from the humane society (we won't talk about the "puppy mill" mistake in another tent, which should have not been allowed). Gosh what can I say - it was fun.

Time to Bloviate about the Economy

I was born in 1956 and my parents have only distant memories of the Great Depression when they were children. But what has happened recently is remarkable - not a real depression, something maybe like a recession but not yet, but nonetheless ... interesting. Let's go over the last month or so, when all the "bail-outs" occurred:

• Bear Stern
• Lehman
• Merill Lynch
• Freddie Mac
• Fannie Mae
  
• AIG
• Washington Mutual
• 700 Billion US Congress Bail-Out
  
• 250 Billion Federal Reserve Bail-Out to Partly Nationalize Nine Banks

Impressive list, eh? I think I left a few out, including money used to shore up European bank trusts, maybe another bank or two, or to back some bank merger collateral. I can't say if it is good or bad, just that I am mystified by what is probably one of the largest transfers of wealth that I've ever witnessed.

I'm sure people will write books about it, when it's all said and done, with expert opinions, theories, insights, and the veil of sounding authentic. To the man on a little sandbar in South Texas, it sure sounds rather baffling right now.

But do you remember when this all started, and the bloggers got all over the Lehman bail-out, saying 85 billion should not be paid by the taxpayers, and doing so would be a socialistic, un-American thing to do; not only that, it would promote bad morals by rescuing a company that lost its butt, clear and simple. Free market, laisezz-faire economies envisioned by Ronald Reagan and most every American means personal responsibility. Government was supposed to be small and not intrusive. Gosh, now we have big government and some really big nationalized banks. And by the way, these nationalized banks and trusts are good for us! Been doing it since the days of George Washington!

Well I guess it beats working for a few bucks a day in the potato, rutabaga, and onion fields but gosh, that's an incomprehensible amount of moolah. That's a good question: if we didn't save this global banking community from their brand of wayward capitalism, would the economy be so bad we'd all have to become proverbial field workers?

I think the answer, as always, is "it ain't all that bad, Sam, but sorta."

Best Fajita Award

Well there's a ... well that's really a tacos al carbon. Many people haven't a clue what real fajitas are since it became a mainstream Tex-Mex food. It's just meat on a warm tortilla, nothing more, and for Pete's sake no onions, pico de gallo, cheese, and all that trash. The best I've ever had were from the Falcon Brothers up in Austin. It is pure heaven.

Real skirt steak is incredibly tough and comes in four parts on the cow: the outer skirts from the diaphram fore quarters, and two skirts from the outer flank of the hind quarters. The Falcon Brothers only use the front skirts (more taste, less tough). These are about 18 inches long and about an inch thick. The skirt is carefully trimmed and butterflied in half so you get 1/2-inch skirts.

What Sonny "the Fajita King" Falcon does it is to pound the steaks but no marinade is used - horrors! That tenderized meat using the "poking machine" is worthless garbage. Marinating and poking the meat usually ruins the taste and makes them like a wet sponge. Only a hot fire should be used, about 6-8 minutes per skirt steak, and repeatedly turned so it does not get any grill marks. No seasoning or anything.

These are allowed to cool for a minute and cut extremely thin with a razor-sharp knife, against the grain and at a slightly slant. It is served with a warmed flour tortilla and all you get is some salt and some fiery hot sauce. This style is fairly close to the true vaquero dish of the 1930s called "arracheras."

Meanwhile, another restaurant in 1969 owned by Otilio Garza opened a shop in Pharr Texas and began serving what we know today as fajitas with all the fixings, sometimes even sour cream and (yipes) corn. An outfit later known as Ninfa's used the same approach (Houston, Ninfa Rodriguez), although careful enough to call them "tacos al carbon" because that's the real name. At least Ninfa's was honest about it.

Nowadays, little being sold in the restaurants is really skirt steak, and many even have the audacity to sell chicken and shrimp as "fajitas." Flank and shoulder and other cuts are often sold as beef skirt. I'm going with the Falcon Brothers approach - but if you like the fixings like my wife does, well enjoy!

Oh and for the vegetarians who find all this meaty talk a little repulsive, I'm working on a new guacamole recipe. Nicaraguan style, with radishes and mint ... ooooh.

Is Global Warming For Real?

There's a fascinating blog article by the Sci Guy today about Roy Spencer, a noted global warming skeptic. As I've said before, global warming is something to be concerned about, but it a fresh breath of air to hear somebody question the prevailing wisdom that we're going to fry in the next century, and the oceans will swallow half the continents. Not so fast, Roy might say, a bunch of what is happening is a completely natural thing.

I appreciate being a skeptic about anything, since we have all these quasi-religions of group-think these days, fed like pap from the media. Let's start with the basics, that Roy thinks that we've only had good, reliable measurements of the Earth's surface temperature for about the last 7 or 8 years, with a couple of satellites for coverage. The old data cannot be extrapolated as to "mean global average temperature" because we didn't have satellites that could record temperatures covering entire swaths of the planet several times a day. Ouch, he's right on that one.

Then, over the last 7 or 8 years, his analysis can't find any global warming. This is to be expected because one really needs perhaps 20 or 50 years to really figure mean global warming. After talking about some technical mumbo-jumbo, Roy cuts to the chase: too many people are making money off global warming and it was one heckuva sales job. It takes several million dollars to create a slightly faulty model to predict future temperatures - but the naysayers might only get a thousand bucks or so for printing a skeptical argument in a professional paper or a few hundred for printing in a hack media outlet. So the people who get the millions of dollars have a vested interest in proving that their theory was right. You have to admit, Roy has a point here.

Ouch again!

So once more I have to rethink all this, although don't mistake that climate change can be a very, very serious thing to be feared. "All it takes is a 1 or 2 percent change in global cloudiness and you can get this warming and cooling for decades upon decades, for a century." Yep, he's right on target there.

Beware the Attacking Dragonflies!

It's that time of the year when it seems like some of the dragonflies go berserk. I think they get old and might be dying, after all that reproducing and egg laying. You may have seen them flying around the porch lights at night, banging into everything like a crazy Kamikaze. Normally the most graceful fliers in the sky, you can actually hear them go "splat" against the side of the house. But they keep going.

So we were at our favorite gourmet deli last night, a riotous good time, and one fellow says he tried to help one particularly wayward fellow out. He grabbed it ... and the dragonfly bit the sh!t out of his hand! It drew blood!

It turns out that the name "Damselfly" is completely inaccurate and the more colloquial "mosquito hawk" is a much better word. Indeed, the Latin species classification for Odonata means teeth or mandibles, as in "flying mouth of teeth." Yipes, I bet that hurt.

But there are so many here on the Island, and they truly help keep the skeeter population down. They only seem to go crazy about this time of year, fortunately. And uh ... don't try to catch one with your bare hands, even though you can now.

Down the Road

Well so much for my poetic abilities. I wrote exactly two good poems in my life and that wasn't one of 'em. Oh well.

Other than the mosquitoes, the weather is perfect and the water is cleaning up. The road was still blocked off at County Access 4 going north, so I haven't been able to check out the Ike trash. On out beach here in town, a dock floated up on last night's tide. I'm not kidding, a dock! Should be interesting to see what's up yonder.

You might see a total mess but I see opportunity! We'd clean up some bad trash and have one heckuva bonfire for the scrap wood. I haven't had a bonfire this year, and used to do one every month.

Please notice my restraint as well. I did not write about the caterwauling economy, the fishy politics, or how bad the fishing season was. I didn't even peep when I found out that the lawsuit against the proposed development of our 400-acre Isla Blanca park took a serious turn for the worse.

Maybe it's Beerman's leftover homebrew and BBQ ribs? That'll put a smile on your face. And in these semi-dark times, a smile is exactly what one needs. And yes, I'll post some photos soon!

Insights on the Economic Crisis

I opened the door today, when the mosquitoes were clear
Three hummingbirds came in, or so it would appear
Two left and one remained

We tried all day
Using brooms, sweet talk, hanging things, an open door
That last ruby hummingbird just would not leave

He or perhaps it is a she
Sleeps so lightly, with the bill pointed up at the sky
Like a miniature swordfish

Up and up it flies in the ceiling …
It must be a horrible feeling
Come down and out the door, will you then?

I fear it could die
Unless it could fly
Out my door

He or perhaps it is a she
Sleeps so lightly, with the bill pointed up at the sky
Like a miniature swordfish, but praying

It landed on me
It was in reach
But the hand within six inches, and off we will go

When not roosting it perches by the window
Watching the other hummers play
And cries

Bay Progress

Here's some more reconstruction on the bayside docks, this time at the end of Lantana Street. The crane is needed to put in new concrete pilings so the carpenters can finish out the deck. There are approximately 186 docks along the bayside that were affected by Hurricane Dolly, according to a friend who surveyed them. By the way, if you need some marine dock carpenters, I know of several. Hopefully you won't need Mr. Crane.

From what I can tell there are only three or four companies that have a crane, barge, and tug like this rig. However, this is the only active one I've seen, such as also being over at the new Parrot Eyes previously. I guess docks can't be insured so it's mainly a cash proposition, and a slow-going one at that.

But it's good to see things starting to bounce back.

Rain, Rain, Rain

I got this chart from Weather Underground, showing the total precipitation over the last three days. That light purple area of 9 to 11 inches of rain is just to the town's north. It looks like we got four to six inches for sure, as compare to only and inch or two at the official Brownsville and Harlingen airport weather offices.

And that's fairly impressive, without even having more than a stalled cool front and a small coastal trough. Take a look at the stats already:

• Harlingen reports 28 inches to date as compared to an average of 21 inches, excess 7 inches
  
• Brownsville reports 30 inches to date with an average of 20 inches, excess 10 inches
  

So it looks like SPI got an extra dose of rain that is not showing up on the books. It makes me wonder if somebody is has an official weather station on the island to confirm that we got a ton more rain than our inland two cities.

And what a strange year so far. It rained around July 4th due to an easterly wave that came up from Campeche Bay. For a town that prides itself on something like 300 days of sun a year, this sure was a wet one, Hurricane Dolly included.

The good news is that drier air is starting to filter into Central Texas so the rest of the week should be better after another wet evening and perhaps another morning.