Missions, polluted waterways, and infinite mechanical noises. Get me out of here!

Remnants of the wall’s protective facade at the San Jose Mission

     Tomorrow will make a week of being stranded here, last Wednesday night being the first. My bike got stolen Saturday night while I slept. Federal police interrupted my nap outside the San Jose mission and told me if they saw me again I would get a ticket for loitering (this was the first time they saw me). They thought I was homeless, which I basically am right now. The stench of cars and exhaust is thick. The people swarm around like a hive full of angry bees. I try to write, or read, or play ukulele in the park, but the day stretches on so long there is always too much time in it. Sometimes long walks help. It is four miles to the Blue Star brewery. Yesterday I walked/skateboarded to the center of the hive to tour pawn shops in order to see if I could spot my yellow bike, which one of the species was obviously attracted to. What makes one accepting of living in such an environment I wonder? The river walk, which is the main path to move up and down the city, is filled with trash to the high water line. There are many areas of the walk where it looks like a bulldozer just drove through. Ecological devastation for all those poor birds migrating through the central flyway. Myself, I would rather walk back to the shoreline of Texas and sleep in the dunes with the coyotes than spend another month here. Fortunately, my hub assembly is due to arrive today.

The gates at San Jose

     Oh the exhilaration to be moving through the thick Texas air again, I can feel it now. First chance I get I’m ditching off onto a backroad and busting out that solar shower. I did manage to sneak one here, but I am right next to the road. I don’t think any passers by noticed my soapy naked body crouched and partially concealed by my van, the building, and a dumpster.

Mission Conception

     The historic missions, which must be the most alluring part of San Antonio, were nice to visit (when I wasn’t being accosted by officers). I made my way to the two nearest me: Mission Conception and Mission San Jose. One thing that stuck out however is that the winner writes the history books. Since nobody knows how to fashion a bow anymore, you can guess who the winner was. It was certainly portrayed that the Spanish were helping the Indians, by teaching them animal husbandry and farming. The ones here were foragers in place, but apparently dealt with mobile tribes as well that would also want to use some of the surrounding resources, fish and game. The Spanish integrated the Indians into their workforce of blacksmiths, masons, and farmers. Much faster to build the stone walls with all these Indians stacking the stone! They turned them into Christians and Tax Paying Citizens(truly civilized then). The Indians really having no choice, since the Spanish just came in and set up shop like they owned the place. The Spaniards had the superior technology of muskets and cannons, which helped. They could promise protections from the pesky mobile aboriginals

Mission San Jose

     At any rate, I’ve cleaned the van, and am ready to embark again on my journey to Colorado. I will be happy to have to get into my heavy sleeping bag at night, and enjoy the warming sunshine on the cool sixty degree days to come. Surely I will find sand in the van here and there for a very long time.  The small spots of rust that sporadically appeared will always be a reminder of my wonderful month surfing and living on the beach in Port Aransas.

Author: Ronjohn

When I take a deep look at my ego, I see that it defines itself as a recreation bum. I ski, hike, rock climb, kayak, raft, sail, stand up paddle, mountain bike, rock climb again. I grew up in Grand Junction, Colorado. I am a vagabond extraordinaire.

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