Back on land

After much discussion, Vlad decided he wanted to try going to the beach. So we drove down to Galveston and got on the ferry (above) to Bolivar to meet Linda and Terry yesterday. Since Stingaree is closed, allegedly temporarily, we tried a new place, Steve's Landing, which is, well, not Stingaree. But it is on the water, and Linda and Terry got us a coveted window seat on the channel, so we got to visit while the barges and pelicans went by.

An aside: I haven't been to Bolivar in a couple of years and this time noticed the pelican population seems to have exploded. They were even hovering all over the causeway bridge as we drove into the island. There were flocks of them, I counted from 9 to 18, flying in line all over. Terry calls them the "Bolivar Beach Patrol." They look like mini-air force patrols. I love watching them; they're simultaneously graceful and clumsy.

The ferry wait both ways was about a half-hour. They've made big improvements in the landings; it's much more organized. The sheriff's office show of force on the Bolivar side is nothing less than intimidating. And you wonder if there's any crime anywhere else in Galveston County going unattended. They're pretty serious about the ferries.

Coming back, the pilot, we postulated, must have been a newbie. I don't know how fast those ferries go, but he was, well, hauling ass. And it was a bit windy. I've never been scared on a ferry, but last night it was kind of spooky as the thing was accumulating a rocking side-to-side as we were speeding toward Galveston. It got stronger and I started to fear we were going to tip on the starboard side. (As if!)

But as the ferry approached the dock, Mr. Speed Racer slowed to an excrutiating pace, aiming badly for the slip, hitting the sides so much that people started setting emergency brakes as the cars seemed in danger of lurching into each other.

It was a thrill ride to be sure.

Vlad survived without any obvious signs of wear and tear. I'm glad we went.