After our good days at the Coldwater Creek Horse Camp and our side trip to Port St. Joe to ride on the beach, we headed west for our next destination, an overnight stay with Ronnie and Ronette Bourgeios in Gulfport, Mississippi. Gulfport was nice this time of the year. Ronnie put us the shade of some huge live oaks and we turned the guys out in his pasture beside the house. We had a great stopover here. We actually stayed two nights so we could catch up on some things like laundry and such, the value of clean underwear can never be overstated. I'd reccommend Ronnie's place to anyone who needs an overnight stopover on the MS Gulf Coast.
It's still heartbreaking to see the miles of vacant lots along the beach from the devestation of Hurricane Katrina, but there are many signs of the resiliencey of these people and life is returning to normal. We found a great little seafood restaurant at Long Beach called Lil' Rays. I't recommend it highly also.
From there on across Louisiana where we stoppped and picked up some boudin sausage. We ate some and saved some for our "trip feast" when we get home. We really like boudin. I can see why Jimmy C. Newman sang a song about it. ("But when you're a lil' boy in Louisiana, the first words you you learn to say is 'where dat boudin at?'")
A brief stopover with Linda Shackleford in Beaumont, Texas who was just coming in from running the barrels at the rodeo, and we pulled out the next morning for our next stop at Paul Garcia's place at Seguin, Texas, near San Antonio.
As we were traversing the eight lanes on our side of I-10 at Katy, Texas, just west of Houston, a man in a pickup pulled up beside me on the left, dropped back and came up beside us on the right. Helen rolled down the window and he said, “Your front truck tire is flat, almost on the ground”. We thanked him profusely and made it for the next exit, where, since I was not able to get the rim loose from the hub, we called our US Rider Equestrian insurance assistance number. They sent out a good man who beat on the rim with a block of wood while I jiggled the wheel. After helping me install the spare and after a quick trip to Discount Tires, wonderful people who fixed our flat free, we were on the way again.
Our stop with Paul Garcia was very good. The man who worked for him spoke no English so I managed enough broken Spanish enough to ask him, “Jefe Nombre?” He replied “Pa ul” Garcia”, not Pablo, not Paul but “Pa ul”. We asked Paul about places to stay in Ft. Stockton, the most logical next stopping place. He suggest we call the sheriff's office. A suggestion that has proved invaluable since then.
Did you know you have to exit the main expressway about five times in order to stay on I-10 through San Antonio? Neither did I! But in Texas they have these wonderful things called “turnarounds” that will put you back in the opposite direction with no pain whatsoever.
At Ft. Stockton, we called the sheriff's office who told us to go to the Pecos County Arena. We could stall our horses there with no charge. As we were putting them up, Gus came by in his Pecos County pickup. We told him the lady from the Texas A&M extension office said we didn't have to tell anyone, just put 'em in the stalls. He said, "Oh yeah, she's exactly right, I just thought you might want to hook up to electricity and water."
You gotta love Texas! More in a few days.
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