Part 3 — The Southwest (Texas and Louisiana)
This is part 3 in a series documenting my grand tour across the US. The previous installment was also on New Mexico.
The Lone Star State
Before our trip began, we’d told ourselves that the state line of Texas would be a turnaround point. We’d never driven further East than New Mexico, and crossing into the Lone Star State would mean entering unchartered territory. It’d also mean we were really serious about driving all the way across the country.
Prior to this trip, I’d heard a few anecdotes about Texas:
- “Everything is bigger in Texas”
- “Don’t mess with Texas”
- “Texas tough” and “Texas pride”
Big, bold and bad — that was my impression before arriving. The first is certainly true — Texas IS huge. On a map it occupies a huge part of the continental US with more than 260,000 square miles to call home. To compare, Japan has a land mass of 145,000 square miles, the UK is 95,000, and Singapore and Hong Kong are less than 1,000 square miles combined. Throw in say, the Netherlands, and between these countries you have a combined population of more than 200M people living in an area that could squeeze into the Lone Star State.
NewGeography.com did a nice visual of this to show the relative comparison.
TLDR: The US is big
In person it’s no different. Driving through West Texas, that feeling of scale is unmistakable. It doesn’t come at you in a single overwhelming moment but rather through mile after mile of seemingly unchanging landscape. Driving through it felt at times like a war of attrition, chipping away at the immense distance.
Our first stop was the town of Odessa which is the setting for the true story of Friday Night Lights, named by Sports Illustrated as the best football book of all time. It was later popularized by the excellent film adaptation, and later fictional TV series. I listened to the audiobook while driving and learned of the people of this small oil town, whose fortunes waxed and waned on the price of oil, set thousands of miles away and far out of their control. The one constant in their lives was their local high school football team, the Permian Panthers. I love Football and have always been amazed at this country’s youth sports system where attendance at high school and college games can number in the 10,000's. This contrasts to the UK where top teams might be lucky to get dozen’s of viewers. As we drove through Odessa’s aging main street, its new strip malls, and past Permian high school, I listened to the stories of these athletes and the town’s hopes who rested on their young shoulders. I thought of the number of times I’d been to towns like this and given so little thought to the people who had lived there and their history.
By now, we were deep in “oil country”. Dotted consistently through the unchanging landscape were the oil pumpjacks which rhythmically moved to an undetectable beat. I had imagined them differently, not scattered and spaced, but numerous and crammed. Perhaps a sign of lower reserves from long term drilling. Later I’d read that density does impact the cost of extracting oil from the ground, and why there is so much excitement in the oil industry around shale oil and recent discoveries of new reserves.
That night we reached San Antonio, the seventh most populous city in the US and the second most in Texas. Like many large cities, you reach the outskirts of the city long before you reach the center but despite that, I was shocked to learn that San Antonio was home to so many people. It’s downtown had a distinct small-town atmosphere. The history helps with this. The city has Spanish influence dating back to the 1600’s and missions from the 18th century. As we walked along the beautiful riverwalk, visited the famous Alamo and toured the missions, I started to forget I was in the US. At times it felt more like Europe and looking back at my photos, this feels even more so.
The Gulf of Mexico
After San Antonio, we headed South to Rockport and the Gulf of Mexico. After weeks of desert and cactus, I was both relieved and excited to see the water.
We spent a day at Padre Island National Seashore. These Public Lands (managed by the National Park Service) separate the Gulf of Mexico from the Laguna Madre, one of a few hypersaline lagoons in the world. The park protects 70 miles of coastline and is the longest stretch of undeveloped barrier island in the world. It’s home to five species of sea turtle, including Kemp’s ridley sea turtles which choose to nest here more than at any other location. Amazingly, more than half of the documented bird species in North America have been found here. Padre Island is undeveloped, wild and despite being so close to population, feels completely isolated. It’s a wonderful example of the ecological value and quiet beauty of the Public Lands in the US. I’ve definitely marked it as a place to return to — perhaps next time to assist in the sea turtles conservation efforts and to drive the full length of the seashore.
Diversity
Another thing that struck me about Texas was the diverse ecosystem. Scattered throughout the state are mountains, forests, oil fields, 500 year old coast Oak trees and swamps packed full of Cypress trees.
Texas pride was clearly apparent all across the state. To my surprise, there were few politically associated signs. I’ve actually seen more while driving the 2 hours from Seattle to Eastern Washington than I did traveling through thousands of miles through the Southwest. This is not to say there isn’t a passion for politics — but it did feel less central to the identity of the state. What I did see was hundreds of Texas state flags — which universally accompanied any US flags. I’ve lived in Washington for 8 years and while 12th man flags are everywhere, I’ve never seen this outward projection of state pride. In that pride though, we also found there was plenty of room for hospitality and warm welcomes. As we traveled through Texas and especially across Louisiana, I saw plenty of ethnic and cultural diversity.
Some of my favorite conversations from our entire trip were with people through Texas and Louisiana. I met a musician outside New Orleans whose first language was Louisiana-French Creole. He helped me understand the French influence in this area, as well as the power of a common language.
I also met a wide range of other residents. People who served in the Armed Forces. Some who had lived in this region all their lives. Many who moved here from other states. Others who had spent much of their lives abroad. And some who had never left the country. Everyone spoke highly of their neighbors and fellow residents. The only universal dislike appeared to be for the summer humidity and mosquitos.
New Orleans
As our trip neared the halfway point, we arrived in New Orleans. We quickly found ourselves in the French Quarter and was again amazed at the European influence and wealth of great food. We ate hot beignets and chicory coffee at the famous Cafe Du Monde and I ate my favorite meal of the entire trip, a shrimp sandwich at NOLA Poboy.
We had good weather finally too. A winter storm had plagued the South for the previous few days, causing snow as far south as Louisiana. This had finally lifted and in its place were rich deep sunsets that sat over a city that seemed to float on the water.
As with many large cities, it’s often the serendipitous surprises that are the most memorable. For me, two examples spring to mind. The first was stumbling on a photo gallery. In this fine art gallery were original prints of all my early inspirations. Doisneau, Cartier-Bresson, Diane Arbus, Salgado and Ansel Adams to name a few. For me, it was like stumbling into a world I could barely imagine. These were photographers I’ve admired and who have inspired me in countless ways — seeing their prints in person, and for sale, was terribly exciting. It wasn’t that hard to resist spending small mortgage on a print — but who knows what irrational behavior will occur on a future visit.
Another wholly unexpected adventure was visiting New Orlean’s graveyards. It felt strange experiencing (and now writing about) graveyards as an attraction, but this really is a thing:
These elaborate “cities of the dead” stand in such contrast to The West, where small town graveyards are often marked with simple, functional headstones. Here in New Orleans, a high water table makes burying problematic, so above ground tombs were constructed. Here, you literally cannot bury the dead. Over time these became larger and ever more elaborate. Today, they create a startling beautiful sight. Many are well maintained, others in a natural state of decay. One particular tomb contained an Angel of Grief, a copy of a 1894 sculpture in Rome. I’ve been to the V&A in London countless times and despite its great works of art, this was the most beautiful and evocative statutes I’ve seen. That it was found in a graveyard only added to the surreal experience.
New Orleans was our last stop in the Southwest before heading further East and then South into Florida. We would return briefly again to this region on our return journey as we passed through Arkansas — but I’ll cover that next, in The Southeast.
