Exotic Surprise

If one could get tired of the wild flowers of spring, I wasn't showing any signs of it. After several days of viewing the variety and expanse of the realm of the short-lived spring wildflower, I was simply amazed that such beauty could grace the earth. Surely nothing more spectacular had resulted from the meltdown of society. If it had, I didn't know what it was. I just kept enjoying what I was seeing, stopping every once in a while where there were fabulous vistas, just taking it all in and taking a few pictures on my smart pad. Still resilient and able to reach the satellite and Google, still operating, although filled with holes from dead servers with no one to serve them. My battery chargers beat up and taped together. I expected failure anytime soon.

But the land itself, was rather flat and ordinary for many miles, so I didn't stop and drove far on into the east until I arrived at Ozona, the name reminded me of what could've been the end of humankind in a much worse way--the depletion of the ozone layer. That threat was amazingly reduced by international cooperation and the end to the use of hydrofluorocarbons as propellants for spray cans and heat exchange media for air conditioning compressor operation. Just like DDT, HFCs had been taken off the market after all the raptors were losing their chicks when their eggshells became weak and broke merely by nesting on them. Why hadn't the population seen what was coming next? I simply didn't know. Nuclear winter and global warming was now displaying its wrath on an unknowing population, so shortsighted and greedy. If they could only have known how to live within their needs. From the bounty that I was seeing, it looked like I could without going hungry.

But I digress again. Directly off the highway in town, I pulled into the burned out remains of a Holiday Inn and a small shopping center with the sign "Subway," amid broken glass. I wondered if they still made sandwiches as a kind of internal joke because no one was there to answer my question to myself. Believe me, I checked. The place was in shambles. If there had been any food there it was long gone. Still, I spent the night there listening to coyotes call to each other. Hoping to smell fresh baked bread at dawn. In the morning, I saw wild pigs roaming the street. Ultimate survivors, they could eat almost anything. They also made great eating for those of us who weren't afraid of pork by religion. So, I shot one. It was a young boar and therefore provided me with some nice pork loin. A taste I hadn't tasted in a long time. I had a very, well sealed against the heat, barrel of salt that I had picked up at the Salton Sea and used that to make some salt pork. I was so looking forward to making bacon as soon as I would stop somewhere long enough to smoke it… Maybe a ham from one rear quarter.

Butchering the pig and preparing the meat took all morning, so I didn't get going again eastward until the afternoon. I made good progress and was well into the Texas Hill Country when I spotted an emu in the road ahead and had to slow down to shoo it out of the way. Before long, three impala bounded across the road in front of me like deer. Approaching that spot, a group of wildebeests lounged under a surviving tree. Off in the distance I saw the tall presence of two giraffe. Near them were some zebras and long horned antelope of African or Asian origin I didn't know the names of without stopping and looking them up on the Internet. As I drove on, I saw more and more of these animals, mixed with deer and longhorn cattle, the symbol synonymous with Texas.

Stopping now and again to take pictures took away the rest of the day so I stopped for the night in a mountaintop rest stop with no services and no occupants in the few stripped and burned vehicles abandoned there. I quickly found some partially burned mesquite and made a fire to roast my pork steaks on. I must admit, as I watched the sunset, that I really enjoyed that meal more than so much of the other wild meat I savored. I gathered more mesquite wood and roots to use for smoking meat later. I was on the move and really didn't want to stop. Still had a lot of smoked fish to carry me onward.

That night, I heard a familiar sound. A pack of wolves howling. First, in the distance, and then, closer, as they had smelled my cooking and came in to investigate. Once again, tired and with a full belly, ignored them and went to sleep happy. In the morning, I was greeted with the reek of fresh wolf poop and having almost all of my vehicle tires marked by urine. That might keep other wolves away from my rig in future places, but it didn't prevent me from driving off and leaving their mess without even a pooper scooper… I'm sorry, but I had to laugh at that thought.

From that high point in the Hill Country, I took the long sloping drive downward toward San Antonio until the rising sun was in my eyes and I stopped at an abandoned gas station exit to have breakfast. Quail eggs and fresh fried pork.

I had just pulled out from there when I saw a sight that I couldn't believe. There was a huge rhinoceros feeding on flowers in the road ahead. I marveled at his size and his ignoring my rig as I idled on by, and then, stopped to take pictures. If rhinos were loose here, then I assumed there were also big cats--lions and tigers. The ultimate insinuation of invasive species. It made me wonder if these exotic animals would survive and thrive in North America like they had in Africa. The climates were becoming very similar. A chill ran down my spine.

Not far down the line, I saw a group of camels. I could easily see camels spreading throughout the Southwest. Especially when there were flowers and grasses growing where they never had before in historic times. It looked like there was plenty to eat for any predators on the prowl. That would help me. But I told myself that I would have to think differently camping out here in the future because animals without fear and a bit hungry, may find my camp inviting, and me as well. A shiver ran down my back thinking that a lion might approach my tent when I was sleeping. Made me all the more grateful for the truck cab sleeper.

I drove down into San Antonio and its suburbs that resembled Phoenix by its destruction, A large city with a freeway running threw it--ruined--and no one, not a soul, in sight. I made it a point to take some of the exits off the freeway and just see what I could see. Near downtown, I pulled off to try to get there. Here, the streets were one way, narrow and jammed together in the old part of town near the Alamo and Riverwalk. Several times, buildings had collapsed in the street or vehicles were blocking my way that I couldn't push out of my way. I had to backtrack.

Finally, I parked the rig on a bridge over the Riverwalk. And, after some looking, found a way to take some stairs down to the water. All of the water was a stagnant green with algae. Probably from sewer systems that had backed up and run into the river. Yet the place was alive with sparrows, pigeons and ducks, already with trailers of ten or so ducklings following behind their parents in a frantic effort to learn how to eat, swim and fly before being eaten, themselves. Rats also braved the sunlight to scamper here and there. Ducklings were on their menu.

As I drove further east, I came upon the blazing blue seas of bluebonnets that covered the land like an ocean. I continued to see exotics along with Texas horses and cattle. A new kind of ecosystem was forming. I would have to come back someday later and see how it played out. I pulled off the road near Sealy and the Stephen F Austin State Park on the Brazos River that night. For some reason, I dreamed of a John Wayne movie of that title. This place looked nothing like the movie scenes, filmed much further west of here. Back when people were naïve about movies and their location. Sometimes filmed in the back lot in Hollywood with fake Western scenery. The old West never seemed like this. And the old West probably never would be again.

I was looking forward to getting back to the Gulf Coast to see how that looked. I had numerous opportunities to take roads south to it, but decided to drive on through Houston to Galveston where I would see much more and, perhaps, even find survivors who had been at sea in self-sustaining fishing or pleasure boats.

I pulled out early that morning eager to see my first major city of the trip having passed San Francisco, Los Angeles and Chicago by 30 miles or more and could go no closer.