Mexico Bound - Winter 2007 travel blog

admiring the sculpture

sand castle

spraying the fixative

the beach

the prophet

a face for all occasions

sand bar

jazz under the sea


Movie Clips - Playback Requirements - Problems?

(MP4 - 641 K)

the band

(MP4 - 93 K)

fishing boat

A week in Pharr was just the ticket to recharge our batteries and get ourselves cleaned, repaired, and ready to get on the road again. Large rain storms are wrecking havoc across Texas and we had drizzle from the southern edge of these storms, so it seemed like a good day to drive. With our Yucatan friends Judy and George we headed up the coast to Port Aransas, a favorite camping spot last winter. As we drove here, the road came to an end and we had to put our rigs on a little ferry to complete the trip. On this part of the gulf coast, the sand is so hard packed, that cars can drive on it and in Port Aransas, RV's are allowed to do so as well. We are parked less than one hundred yards from the surf with a view of a procession of large ships entering the channel on their way to Corpus Christi.

We are lucky to be here for the sand sculpture festival. We walked at least a mile up the beach to see the artists in action. On part of the beach elaborate sculptures were being created by professional artists, who travel from beach to beach to compete. Some of them also sculpt in snow and ice depending on the venue. The other part of the beach amateurs took advantage of the hard packing sand to erect their own whimsical creations. Some of the sculpltures were ten feet high and it was hard to imagine what made the sand hold its shape. The artists were spraying a white liquid on their finished work, which must have been some kind of finish hardener, and seemed a minimal treatment in light of the looming rain clouds.

Interspersedwith the the art, vendors sold T-shirts and doo dads you don't know you need until you see them. A band played and delicacies such as deep fried moon pies and foot long corn dogs tempted our palates. Unfortunately, when we reached the far end of the beach and the last of the sculptures, the rain started again. It was at least a half hour walk back to our rigs and we were soaked through and through, but we knew we had a warm, dry spot to recover as we marched by tents sitting in little puddles in the sand.

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