As soon as we crossed the bridge into Arkansas, things immediately got pretty flat and farmy. This wasn’t all that shocking since all I knew of Arkansas was from Netflix’s Ozarks and of course, The Simple Life. Because everything on TV is undoubtedly 100% real, dairy farms and Sonic locations paved the way to our camping spot for the week in Hazen, less than an hour outside of Little Rock, AR. Now that we have electricity taken care of by the sun, we just need to make sure that we have cell reception to be able to work. Oddly enough, this lovely WMA had better AT&T service than most cities. At one point, we moved to the site across the street to get more unobstructed sunlight on the solar panel and discovered that there was even a fire ring and a water tap on that side – we were plebs to have chosen that first site! The water pressure on the tap was so intense that I got soaked multiple times just trying to fill up our tank. Barely anyone else passed through with the exception of another van that took our original site as we were leaving…suckas.

Heading west, we found another spot along the Arkansas River that used to be an established campground run by the Corps of Engineers but seems to have been recently let go from being maintained. I say this because there are remnants of where trash bins and other facilities used to be and the days of the small bathroom being cleaned were long gone. There were so many dead leaves on the floor that it was a challenge just to get to the vault toilet. But the worst part was that the walls were entirely covered in termite nests and bugs flew up at me from the toilet bowl, which made me think there were more nests below the seat, which then made me think that I’d rather just do my business outside. That being said, the fact that there still is a vault toilet present is a huge bonus for any free campsite. Aside from the less than ideal bathroom, there are designated campsites with level concrete pads, fire grills and picnic tables surrounded by towering trees overlooking the river. This seems to be a popular spot among locals to come down for the day and fish with a few scattered campers staying the night.

As we were ready to take off, Clementine had other ideas and didn’t want to start. After replacing the starter, this felt very different from the starting issues we were having before. The only thing we could think of was clogged fuel lines so we blew out all the lines and gave the seemingly clean fuel filter a good shake and it eventually started. As great as the whole “just shake it til it works” method can be with vending machines and…well, not much else…we knew we’d only fixed the problem temporarily by moving the dirt around within the filter. At least we assumed it must be the filter since the fuel pump was working fine. For the astronomical price of $6.50, we bought a new one and carried on to the very unsuspectingly cute town of Fort Smith. One very important tip to note if you’re travelling through Arkansas is that there are many dry counties. This means that you might have to drive across the river or to a neighbouring county to find beer at a gas station or supermarket – and don’t expect to be able to buy alcohol on a Sunday. We learned these things the hard way.

Topping the charts as the windiest drive in history, our ride through Oklahoma was not a very pleasant one. If you’re in the market for a van and opt for a high top, be prepared for some interesting wind driving. Of course some are worse than others, but Clementine is like a sailboat and it can be a battle to not sway into the other lanes, especially in places like this where all the roads are surrounded by open farmland – nearly the whole way was like driving through a Windows XP background (you know the one). This means driving slower and making more stops to take breaks because it can get pretty intense. Aside from the wind, Oklahoma was all around confusing. It goes from Native American names to Spanish names then all of a sudden it becomes…Canada? We crossed the Canadian River multiple times while venturing into Canadian County and ultimately arriving in a city called Yukon. To make things even more confusing, this Yukon is really into Garth Brooks. Ok, maybe he grew up there but it’s still funny for us to see how different Yukon, OK is from Yukon Territory – and I mean that mostly in terms of landscape, not Garth Brooks fandom. Our wild drive landed us in Elk City, where we camped at another shockingly free campsite that even had water and power hookups. Right on Elk City Lake are five paved sites, a kids playground and a bathroom that wasn’t a termite festering ground AND even had toilet paper. Not the most private or secluded but for a quick overnight after a long day, the sun setting over the lake was just what we needed.

Following the I-40, we were back in our old friend, Texas. Being away from it for a couple months, we must have forgotten how boring it is to drive across. We love Texas, but outside of the cities, it’s farmland galore and looks strikingly like its Canadian counterpart, Saskatchewan (all Canadians immediately know what I’m talking about). Time seems to crawl when there’s not much to look at but after all, we were only on our way to Amarillo to do laundry so we definitely weren’t in any hurry. With chores done, we took a look at the engine again and tried to figure out what was going on because we were also hearing a rattling noise at high RPMs and while going uphill that we knew couldn’t be good. Once we hit New Mexico again, there’s a lot of mountain driving on that side of the country so we wanted to get this sorted. With extensive googling and reading our Haynes book as bedtime literature, I’ve come to believe that this sound is called “pinging” and can usually be taken care of by an octane booster or premium gas. The fix seemed too easy but worked nonetheless. We settled into our campsite in San Jon, a forgotten Route 66 town not far past the state line of New Mexico and got some rest before continuing the journey and the automotive saga that is owning an older vehicle. We’re not mechanics but we’re learning a ton and as they say, it’s a labour of love.

On a lovely grey day, we made our way down toward Corpus Christi to do some beach camping on Padre Island. We would have loved to go all the way to South Padre, which is right on the Mexican border, but it was a little out of the way and we weren’t convinced that the heavy rainclouds would magically transform into clear blue skies just a couple hours down the coast. Weather aside, it was super rad to be able to drive right onto the sand and set up shop. The park ranger told us that the first 5 miles of the beach are hard-packed sand that’s easy enough for any vehicle to drive on, whereas after the 5 mile marker, things get a little softer and 4×4 is probably wise. I’m sure the distant miles of the beach are quiet and secluded but Clementine doesn’t have the best track record with driving through soft sand.

The next day promised warmer temperatures and a clear sky but in the time we got to the beach and lost cell service, the weather forecast must have changed significantly because all the day brought was fog so thick you could cut it with a knife. In fact, the fog was so damp that after sitting outside for a couple hours, we were soaking wet. It was hilarious to have to dry your hair with a towel when it wasn’t even raining – you could see the fog travelling through the air like thick clouds at eye level. Despite being such a blah day, there was a lot of traffic passing by our spot with all varieties of vehicles looking for a place to camp, or perhaps ambitiously thinking the fog might clear if they just trekked on a little further. It created a very mystical backdrop for the day’s activity since cars only came into view when they were about 250 metres away; it seemed as if at any moment, the Black Pearl would approach the shore to steal all of our rations.

We stayed two nights on Padre Island before giving Clemmie a much needed bath and moving onto the next beach (get a car wash after staying on the island. The salty air creates such a thick film on the windows and body that becomes a rust magnet. Even if you don’t feel like it, just do it). Our drive took us back through Corpus and seemingly every oil refinery in Texas. It’s not exactly the nicest view to look out on from your million dollar beach home but a nice waterside drive nonetheless. Another landscape this drive brought us through was the heart-wrenching state of Port Aransas and its surrounding areas. With Hurricane Harvey only a few months behind us, the debris and remnants of very tough times were still quite apparent. We first saw a bunch of collapsed trees and fences and thought that was bad until we reached the “heavy debris area” where the city had created landfills essentially in the area between the split highway. Mountains of furniture, clothing and building materials were piled one after the other. Looking at this stuff was like looking at parts of peoples’ lives destroyed and accumulated with no hope of being salvaged. It was clear that relief efforts were slowly helping to rebuild local businesses and homes but it was shocking to see the state of this part of the coast some four months after the hurricane while fancy beach homes and chain restaurants closer to Corpus showed no signs of damage. I think that instead of avoiding these areas, we should be encouraged to visit them and support the local businesses so they can get back on their feet.

Our next stop yielded harder sand and calmer waters. Magnolia Beach is situated in Lavaca Bay so worries of the tide coming up to the van in the middle of the night were non-existent in comparison to the rough waters at Padre. With a thunderstorm looming, the air was warm and humid and left us with perfect sleeping temperatures and a mellow soundtrack of calm waves hitting the shore. We were parked about 2 feet away from the water and couldn’t have asked for a better spot. The beach is a shell beach so it’s easy to drive on and there were even some big rigs parked further down – an A+ spot to check out if you’re in South Texas.

Further down the coast, we took the Bluewater Highway from Surfside Beach to Galveston. There’s a $2 fee to use the San Luis Pass that connects the lower island to Galveston Island but it was well worth it for us to cut down on the driving time and to give us a much more scenic journey. Said scenery also made one thing quite clear: this is rich people territory. Colourful beach houses on stilts lined both sides of the road with towering palm trees and perfectly manicured lawns. From what I’m used to in Toronto, homes that big would generally be 2 or 3 separate apartments but Justin reminded me that these were single family homes. And not just homes, vacation homes.

We stayed in Jamaica Beach, about 20 minutes away from the town of Galveston. As lovely as the area was, it was an abnormally cold week yet again so we didn’t get a chance to do much outdoors. We went into downtown Galveston on our way out and grabbed our share of the golden food group at one of the many deep-fried seafood joints before scoping out what I was most excited for, serial killer Robert Durst’s house!! He lived in Galveston for a little while, disguised as a mute old woman, before slaughtering his neighbour and throwing his remains into Galveston Bay. Now that’s a tourist attraction! If you’re into true crime then…this probably still isn’t worth the stop since someone seems to live here and either isn’t bothered by it or got a really good deal from their real estate agent.

To leave Galveston, we took the free ferry to the Bolivar Peninsula. This is about a 20 minute ride across Galveston Bay where you can either stay in your car or step outside to let the wind blow through your hair and the seagulls fly alarmingly close to your head. The lady beside us was throwing Ritz crackers at them so they continuously hovered along the edge of the boat, just plotting whom they were going to poop on. Luckily we made it out untarnished and continued on about 10 minutes down the road to the Bolivar Flats. This is a mud flats meets beach area with a designated zone that you can camp for free in. From the highway, you’ll turn down Rettilon Road and see a big ol’ sign welcoming you to the beach at the end of the road. It’s full of confusing rules and arrows pointing in misleading directions so if you find yourself standing there a bit confused like we did, stand looking at the sign and everything to the left of it until the wash is free reign. To the right of the sign and past the wash requires a permit that’s like 10 bucks and lasts you a week. There appeared to be virtually no difference in beach quality and both sides have access to a portapotty and garbage bins, which is pretty handy. Sadly, the winds picked up and the temperature seemed to plummet when we got there so we stayed inside but we certainly could not complain when the Gulf of Mexico was in our backyard.

Despite not having very beachy weather, we had a wicked time driving and camping along Texas’ Gulf Coast. It was nice to do this in the off-season because I’m sure it gets pretty busy down there in the summer. What’s your favourite third coast spot?

There are few big cities that we are actually excited to pass through among our drives through weird small towns and Austin was definitely one of them. Coming from the Roswell, NM area, we broke up our drive a little bit by staying one night in a town called San Angelo. A major thing we noticed after crossing the state line was how much better kept these small towns looked compared to those of New Mexico. It’s quite unfortunate really that there can be such a visible wealth gap between two neighbouring states in towns just miles apart.

That being said, we entered Texas through a small town called Plains, where the first thing we saw was a dead chocolate lab in the middle of the road. It was awful and had obviously happened quite recently judging by the folks on the side of the road. Little did we know, this would set the tone for the rest of our drive that day. Setting an all-time record for both of us (probably combined), we counted 38 dead deer on our 90 mile drive along highway 87 from Big Spring to San Angelo. That’s nuts! And that doesn’t include the multitude of smaller animals we lost count of. It’s clear that some of them were fresher than others, so the city/county/state/whoever must not collect them like they do back home and in (I assume) other states. When I googled briefly to see how that all works, all I could find were threads about if it’s ok to harvest the animal if you hit it…but that’s a different story.

Aside from the plethora of dead animals strewn on either side of the road, the rest of the landscape was pretty much cotton field after cotton field. Most people don’t really consider how much cotton we consume but seeing the giant bales lined up by the dozen was pretty eye opening. Clothing is one thing but then there’s cotton balls, cotton swabs, tampons! It’s crazy to see the raw materials in such high volume when we’re so used to focusing on obtaining the end product. Anyway, if textiles are as interesting to you as they are to me, here’s some further reading about the current cotton industry and how insane in the membrane our consumption habits are. On that note, our camping spot for the night was in a nice little park in Tom Green County (lol) called Foster Park. It was picturesque with big pecan trees, a pond and lots of very talkative residents – ducks. Two of them were especially outgoing and walked right up to us and quacked away as if politely asking for food. They looked like a cross between a duck and a turkey, which we later learned were called Muscovy ducks. In the morning, we opened the curtains and they were camped outside our window waiting for us to wake up so they could politely ask us for food again. I say “politely” because they didn’t blatantly attack us but they definitely walked away with quite a bit of sass when we politely denied them.

We were lucky enough to score a spot at Pecan Grove RV Park in the Barton Springs area of Austin. When looking for a park to stay at for the work week, we realized that this is THE spot to stay at cause it’s smack in the middle of everything. It’s Airstream central and apparently has a 2+ year waiting list for permanent residence, which leaves very few overnight spots. The park itself is nothing to write home about but it’s walking distance to tons of bars, restaurants and parks and is coveted by travellers and locals alike (don’t even think about trying to get a spot during ACL) so we were stoked to be able to stay there. The week was mostly comprised of eating and drinking as hard as we were working, but that’s our kind of party.

In addition to being spoiled with our location, I have a friend in Austin that showered us in delicious food and drink (not literally – we’re not that gangster) and made sure that we checked out all the different neighbourhoods to get a feel for all that makes Austin the bustling place that it is. We had a good time checking out the endless food trucks and eating our bodyweight in melty brisket and cornbread. Justin even paid homage to our friends from Foster Park by having Muscovy duck for dinner one night. We had never heard of these things and then they pop up on a menu the next day – serendipitous some (non-vegetarians) might say!

As our luck would have it, the week we were in Austin was the coldest they’ve had all season and even shut the city down one day. As Canadians, it felt like a nice fall day to have a high of 1°C (34°F) in January but for Texans, this meant cancelled school, closed businesses and no driving. As comical as it was, we had to remind ourselves that this barely ever happens there so it can actually be a big safety concern since Austinites already seem to suck at driving, even in good weather. Before the freezing rain storm hit, it was a decently warm day that we spent walking along the river to the Stevie Ray Vaughan statue. Amid all the cute dogs, there were so many people running, rollerblading and biking. We sat on a park bench, tired and hungover, as people of all ages continuously zoomed past us and made us feel pretty lazy. It was exhausting to watch how active these people were. Wasn’t enough to make us do anything else but indulge in more food and drink that night though.

Before leaving town, we loaded up on Topo Chicos and spent a night in Round Rock, just north of Austin, crashing in our friend’s driveway. This is a cool little town that we probably wouldn’t have otherwise checked out but we’re glad we did. Despite being just 20 minutes away from downtown Austin, Round Rock is doing its own thing and doesn’t fall into the typical neighbouring city-suburb category. Even on a weeknight, the town was alive and had lots of shops and restaurants in old timey buildings with lots of character – contrary to the very young feel that Austin has.

Our next stop was the “third coast”, as the Texans like to call it, to get out of the city and into some free beach camping (music to my ears). The weather forecast wasn’t promising but still beat the 20+ cm of snow Toronto was getting. It just so happened to be torrential rain the day we left, which is everyone’s favourite beach conditions, right?! To make our rainy drive more bearable, we stopped in to try Whataburger for the first time after seeing so many of them in Texas (this is worth clicking). Some context behind why this is noteworthy: we had been raving about how much we loved In-N-Out when we got challenged by friends saying that Whataburger is way better. My verdict still has to go to In-N-Out cause Whataburger was just too big and too mustardy (weird complaints to have, I know) but once we throw Shake Shack into the mix, it’s anyone’s game. Let’s get into the hard-hitting stuff now, which American burger chain has your vote?