To Rockport Texas in the wind, the Feds and the Bass Family Depot

I had been watching the weather carefully. When I saw that the prediction for the day was for high winds, I became a bit concerned. This is known as one of the windiest places in Texas with several windmill farms nearby. When they predicted high winds, I knew I was in for a rough ride. The idea is that it gets windier as the day goes on so I left early Monday morning. The winds had already picked up as I made my way to the ICW, in the middle of the Laguna Madre. I had a 30 mile ride to the Land Cut, where the waters would be calm.

After a two hour trip where I maxed out at 15 mph, I finally made the Land Cut. I was now about 100 miles north of Brownsville. Inside the Cut, just off to the west, was a windmill farm…and very calm water.

As I exited the Land Cut and entered Baffin Bay, which is known as extremely windy on a normal day, I passed my first barge.  And it was the only barge I saw before reaching Corpus Christie.  The closer I got to Louisiana, the more barges I encountered until they were as thick as tractor trailer trucks on I35.

                                   

I was nervous about Baffin Bay and it was justified but it wasn't as rough as the trip from Port Mansfield to the Land Cut.

                                  

Next up is Corpus Christi Bay, about 30 miles North.  Before entering Corpus Christi Bay, the biggest bay so far, I stopped and had lunch with my Auxiliary Coast Guard friend Henry Quigley.

After lunch I headed out towards my next planned stop, Mark Binford’s bay house in East Matagorda Bay.   I had underestimated how far that was and how challenging it would be.  I had to pass through 4 major bays, Corpus Christi, Aransas, San Antonio and West Matagorda.  But it was only 1:00 so I headed out.

Henry warned against going across Corpus Christi bay with the wind as strong as it was. I thought he was being just Coast Guard cautious.  After all I had just crossed Baffin Bay with the wind farms.  Corpus Christi couldn’t be worse than that could it?  “It can be a lot worse” Henry said. 

And it was.  I found myself in the middle of the bay with no land in sight and the wind blowing over 25 miles per hour.  I was bobbing up and down like a cork and wondering if I had made a bad decision.  But the wind was coming from the South and was behind me so turning around was not an option.  I could see a thin strip of land on the other side.  My GPS showed me it was the ship channel and a land cut.  I stayed fixated on that and the buoys, trying not to look at the swells as they hit my boat. 

Bad luck.  I was thrown forward, hit my kill switch and broke it…at least I thought.  My engine was dead and I was drifting out of the ICW.  Not really that big of a deal.  I would drift for a long time until I hit something but I was scared.  I had failed to test my kill switch, take it off, put it back on, etc.  I turned the key over and over again.  Nothing.  I couldn’t figure out how to put the kill switch back on.  The one on my previous boat required that you pull a part out and put the switch behind it.  This one didn’t.  I panicked a bit.  I turned my VHF to Channel 16, the Coast Guard channel, and yelled “Coast Guard, this is comehellorhighwater (I bet that raised a few eyebrows). I am in the middle of the bay and adrift”.  Nothing.  Then I heard the Port Aransas Coast Guard responding, faintly.  I was furious.  “Corpus Christi where the hell are you, I am adrift”.  Nothing.  Then “This is Corpus Christi, turn your channel to 22”.  I did and asked them about the kill switch, a workaround, something.  Nothing.  Then I looked at the throttle and it was full forward.  The boat had to be in Neutral.  I put it in neutral, turned the key and the engine started.  A miracle I thought.  I was on my way and made it to the ship channel and back into a cut.

I headed towards Aransas Bay but I was confused.  Even with the GPS, I wasn’t sure how to get back to the ICW.  In front of me was a “Bad” boat. Inflatable, three 225 horse power engines and a low cabin.  Coast Guard?  Nope, Federal Agents. 

I approached them for advice.  Four tough but nice guys with shades and the works.  Miami Vice.  Very professional.  “Where you coming from?” one asked.  “Brownsville, Texas”  I said.  Maybe I should have said something else.  We were drifting and talking and they ran aground.  They got stuck so I moved on, looked up and saw Aransas Bay in front of me.  There were whitecaps everywhere.  That sick feeling in my stomach returned.  I was hesitant to enter the bay and when I looked over my shoulder there were the agents again.  “Hey, how about an escort across the bay?” I asked.  “Escort?  We are thinking about boarding you” another said.  And they did.  Searched every nook and cranny and checked my paperwork.  “Do you have a weapon on board?”.  Yes, but no permit.  Turned out that was OK.  I said “can I get a picture of you guys?”.  “Let’s wait until we are done” an agent said and when they had finished they did pose for one.

I knew there was no way to make it through more three bays with the wind stronger than it had ever been.  It had to be a constant 30 to 35 miles per hour.  The Federal guys told me about a public marina close by in Rockport.  I called and found it would be $30 for a slip for the night.  I asked for a description, some landmark or something to recognize the entrance.  The lady was useless.  “Just look for the jetties”.  I did not want to get back out into that bay but I had no choice.  It was bad, worse than Corpus Christi and I was looking for the marina.  Just to my left were two perfect jetties with red and green on either side.  I headed in.  The entrance was like a washing machine with big rocks on either side.  I was a mental wreck.  As I entered the water was still but I knew this was not the right place. 

It was a state of the art marina, concrete, bunker-like with high barbed wire.  Big cabin cargo boats in 3 of the 4 slips. I had no idea where I was but I was not going back out.  I saw a guy loading a truck and he looked at me like “who the hell are you?”.  I knew I wasn’t supposed to be there.  I said “buddy, I’m lost and I need to tie up here for the night.  I can’t go back out”.  He said “let me talk to the boss” and he left.  The boss came out.  He was a big guy named Jim.  He was the general manager of the facility.  The Bass family of Ft. Worth owned an island, a working ranch and oil and gas production facility, across the bay from Rockport.  I was in their private marina and you could see Jim had a problem.  Jim was a calm, fatherly like guy but I wasn’t sure what he was going to do.  He could call the police because I was definitely trespassing.  Not only did he not call the police, he told me to take the empty slip, tie up and get ready to go.  It was quitting time and not only would he give me a ride to a hotel, he would pick me up and bring me back in the morning.  As I was tying off, Jim was watching patiently.  He could see I was a bit shaken and didn’t know my knots.  I could tell he was thinking “what is this idiot doing out there in this little boat?”.  I told him I was sure the wind would be lighter in the morning and I would head out.  When he dropped me off at the hotel he looked at me and smiled “we will see how brave you are in the morning”.