Saturday Summary - Week 14 - 60s to 80s, history to heat, quiet roads to ferry crossings
- Karen Kuhl
- Feb 8
- 5 min read
San Antonio, TX (60’s) → Mission, TX (80’s) → Corpus Cristi, TX (80’s)
Week 14 carried us deeper into Texas than I thought I would ever go.
San Antonio
We started the week in San Antonio, staying at QRV Greenlakes RV Resort, and kicked things off by biking the Missions. We drove to Mission Espada near the campground, then biked to Mission San Juan and Mission San José. The original plan was ambitious: continue all the way to The Alamo, return to the bus, and head out for dinner with Steven (Don’s coworker) and his family.
That plan didn’t materialize. Mid-ride, my bike’s pedal assist stopped working entirely. The throttle still functioned, but pedaling felt like dragging the Skuhlbus behind me. San Antonio isn’t especially hilly, but these bikes are heavy, and without assist, maneuvering them is no joke, especially with Lucky riding with me. We turned around, adjusted plans, and decided to drive to The Alamo instead.
Despite the mishap, I was genuinely grateful we spent the morning at the Missions. They felt authentic, less like a tourist attraction and more like a story. We missed Mission Concepción, but we can’t do everything. At Mission San José, the bell tower began to play, catching me completely off guard. The song that was playing was “Mañanitas”. Mausi, I remember you singing it to us on the morning of our birthdays. Moments like that are why we travel slowly. We had some fun staging Bumble, MOS, and Sock Monkey at Mission Espada. It was good, silly fun, and something I want to remember to do more often.
The Alamo, unsurprisingly, was busy. There’s an entrance fee, which we opted to skip, choosing instead to walk the exterior and gardens. From there, we headed to the Riverwalk. We found a restaurant right on the water, ordered an appetizer and cocktails, and Lucky enjoyed what we dubbed Duck TV.
The Riverwalk stirred mixed feelings for me. It’s undeniably charming, lush, decorated, and welcoming, but it also felt tightly packed and curated in a way that leaned toward “manufactured attraction.” We were there during the low season, and even then, it felt narrow. I can’t imagine peak season. Still, it’s easy to understand why people love it.
That evening, we visited Steven. His wife and daughter joined us, and they took us to a local burger joint called Longhorns, it is exactly as Texan as it sounds, a loved local establishment that Steven and his wife have been going to since they were kids. Good food, easy conversation, and the rare gift of connecting with people I’ve only known through work stories and Zoom calls. Meeting coworkers’ families and seeing their houses adds depth that remote work often lacks.
The Muffler Saga
Somewhere around entering Texas, we noticed the bus getting louder. Was it something we hit? Fallout from the tire work? Texas speed limits daring us to keep up? No one knows. What we do know is that we now have a very loud bus.
I called around and found a place about five miles away that could take a look at the bus. They could fix it, but it wouldn’t be quick. Their shop had a very visible “Vote for ___” Democratic sign out front. In Texas. In this moment. That mattered to me. I’ve always told the kids that one of their superpowers is the power of their dollar. Where you spend it is a statement. So I waited all day in their shop (more family living room than waiting room) while they fixed the muffler. I didn’t choose the fast option. I chose the aligned one.
They also flagged a possible leaking seal in one of the tires. After a quick TeleHealth consult with Mike Enslow (Skuhlies’ #1 Doctor) from Enstech Automotive back home, we were cleared to keep moving, with a few things to watch for. We had places to be, and McAllen was waiting.
Mission & McAllen
We drove south on Highway 281, a smooth, fast, and painfully boring road. Nothingness followed by more nothingness. With the new muffler and good tires, cruising at 70 felt good and solid. We were told to expect a checkpoint, but never encountered one on the route South. Still, we swapped drivers partway through, operating under the quiet calculations that seem unavoidable in the U.S. these days. These are thoughts we shouldn’t need to have, but we do.
Jorge and his girlfriend Ingrid picked us up from the campground and took us to lunch at another great local find. Fajitas, guacamole, chips, and a refreshing Té de Jamaica. Easy conversation, shared laughter, and the reminder, again, that connection is one of the best parts of this trip.
Crater Lake RV Resort in Mission turned out to be the friendliest campground we’ve stayed at so far. It leans retirement-community, but in the best way. Everyone waves. Constantly. No one is intrusive, but conversations happen naturally. We met people from Missouri, Iowa, Michigan, and New York. A couple from Buffalo spoke glowingly about Care-A-Vanners, which only increased my excitement for when we get there.
The 80° day made the temperature difference to our NY home very real. Sorry, Jean, you’re surviving unprecedented cold temperatures, we hope our stories of our travels warm you up somewhat. There was a small craft fair where I found the perfect little bag for our ever-growing pile of loose change, and we finally reclaimed our sole cup holder. All I need now is another hook. (I love my hooks, and we use nearly all of them.)
Dinner at Jorge’s was a highlight. We talked about first homes, new chapters, and the energy that comes with building a life. We played with their animals, two dogs and a very reserved cat, and ate far too much food. It was a late night by my new standards, but worth hanging out with friends.
On to Mustang Island
Thursday started early, so we could settle in for Don’s meetings. We did cross an immigration checkpoint on the way back, but it went smoothly with a simple question, “Are you US Citizens? and May I take a quick look inside your RV?” Both answers were yes, and we were on our way. In Corpus Christi, we worked from yet another excellent library, full of kids’ programs, tutors, and quiet productivity. Libraries continue to show up for us when we need them.
That night, we stayed at Bay Area Brewing via Harvest Hosts. They hadn’t confirmed our stay (we later learned they’d been on vacation) but welcomed us anyway. The beer was good, the food solid, but the back patio stole the show. Cool breeze, great conversation with a local fisherman, and cautious monitoring of a very large, allegedly gentle rooster. The next morning brought a hangover that humbled me. I spent hours horizontal while Don carried on. Lesson learned.
We continued toward Mustang Island State Park, choosing a route marked with a slowdown, but which was still faster overall. What we didn’t realize was that the slowdown meant boarding a ferry. Our first ferry of the trip. Our skuhlie on a ferry!
As we waited, we questioned why a ferry existed at all, until the answer floated by: a massive oil tanker, easily over 1,000 feet long. Suddenly, it all made sense.
And just like that, Week 14 ended not with a plan, but with a crossing.
Still moving. Still learning. Still grateful.
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