Getting Used To My New Home
Padre Island
Oct 21, '70
I walked over to see the four dudes camped by the fishing pier. They
weren't very friendly, but they did sympathize with my living
conditions. My shelter of a torn plastic tarp, about a half-mile
down the beach, wasn't getting the job done, so I was invited to
move into one of the abandoned shelters available in the area. I
still wanted to be alone, but self-preservation took over as I
accepted their offer. Being isolated on the beach meant that every
time you took a walk, or went to refill your water jug, your
campsite was open to scavengers (it only took one dishonest person).
Among the people living on the beach there was an unwritten
agreement, "I look after your stuff, you look after mine."
My new campsite was now located under an old piece of abandoned
commercial slide. I have no idea how the fiberglass piece of slide
got on the beach, but it made a good roof. I was a stones throw from
the four dude's campsite, so I walked over and they offered me wine
and smoke dope. As we sat around the campfire, I found out these
guys were mostly from Texas and they had come to the island to get
away from it all. For the most part, they had a permanent campsite,
but they occasionally strayed to find work in Corpus. One of the
guys had a part time job at Jeetos, the little store back on the
paved road, about a mile away. The owner paid him with food instead
of money. After we got pretty wasted on wine and weed, we decided to
walk to the store and buy a candy bar. On the way back, I left the
fellows, and walked out to the fishing pier. When I reached the end
of the pier, the view of the ocean in the fading twilight made for a
memorable moment. I made the moment last as long as possible.
I found the boys shooting up acid back at camp. I wished them well,
and went to my slide to crash. The noise coming from their camp
didn't bother me, but the man-eating mosquitoes did. My only defense
against these blood-sucking vampires was to cover up with my
sleeping bag, but then I began to bake. I finally said, "Fuck this,"
and moved closer to the ocean. At the water's edge, there was enough
wind to cut the mosquito population to almost nothing. I had gotten
past the noise, the mosquitoes, and the heat, but the thing that did
me in was the sand in my sleeping bag. It stuck to my sweaty skin
like sandpaper. I knew I would have to do something about my
sleeping arrangements come morning.
I was up with the sun. I had survived a hellish night. The rising
sun turned the entire ocean radiant silver. Breathing in the salty
air, I couldn't refuse the sun's invitation. I ran down to the beach
and dove headfirst into the plummeting surf. Playing in the Gulf of
Mexico waves, I knew I had arrived; it was all worth it.
Beach life was a simple life. It was reading, walking, or visiting
the fishing pier. I would go to the pier at least three times a day.
Sometimes I would find myself perched at the end of the pier for
hours. At night, I would go to Jeetos and get a candy bar, pop, or
ice cream bar. The place became my link with reality; it was where I
went to find out about the outside world. If walking to Jeetos and
having sex were in competition, most of the time I wouldn't know
which to choose.
I met Jim and Collin on a sun filled beach morning. They were from
Nova Scotia, touring the USA in their VW bus. I was already swimming
when the two of them came to join me. The surf was really large and
everybody had a great time. They told me that they really liked this
beach and wanted to take advantage of it. They planned to stay for a
couple more days. After our swim, it was time to return to camp for
breakfast.
The tomato soup I ate wasn't bad, but you had to be hungry before
you could enjoy eating cold tomato soup from the can. I didn't have
the proper utensils to keep the sand out of my food, so I had just
about given up eating cooked food. Reading was next on the agenda
and I must admit; I was beginning to enjoy Nietzsche. I think I had
also remedied my sleeping situation. If you stay close to the ocean,
the wind coming off the top of the waves, keeps the mosquitoes away.
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