Gulf Coast Beaches | The Wander Chronicles

Houston can be pretty overwhelming--heck, any city can be overwhelming-- and my wander itch was getting stronger, so my friend Josie suggested that we take a mini road trip to find Gulf Coast beaches. It couldn't have been a better idea, especially since we actually couldn't find it for a better half of the afternoon, but, of course, like all wander chronicles, getting lost led us to other beautiful places! 

This is the second installment of The WANDER CHRONICLES, so if you missed the first, hunting for Mt. Bierstadt's trailhead in the snow, you can find it here!

Frozen Point, Gulf Coast, Texas

Our destination began as Frozen Point, a part of the Gulf coastline that, in 1895, was subjected to 20 inches of snow! Our October day was still in the 90s, so it was difficult to picture a blizzard in this subtropical climate, and maybe our reason for choosing this legendary coastal protrusion--a little heat relief, please? 

Turns out, Frozen Point is mainly private land, one of the original cattle-ranching operations in Chambers County, owned by patriarch James Jackson whose 6,000 cattle head were covered in the bizarre snowstorm of 1895. So, while you can drive down the mainly gravel road to Frozen Point, through acres of beautiful prairie and marshes, you can't actually access the Point itself.

Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge

So, Josie, Corey and I found ourselves at Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, 34,000 acres of protected ancient marshland. After a picnic of sandwiches and beer, we took to exploring some of the trails. 

Josie was smart and brought along some Houston craft beer: Karbach Sympathy for the Lager

These are short, meandering little excursions but bursting with incredible flora and fauna. If you're a birder, this is the place to be--the refuge is known for its population of rails, a species of marsh bird that's described as chicken-like. Marsh dinosaurs! 

I'd like to return during the winter season because I might catch the snow-geese phenomenon where flocks of up to 80,000 swoop down from the migratory paths to feed in the marshes.

Okay, so after toodling around this refuge, we left in search of the ocean. Where's the beach? Where's the sand? Where's the water? we kept asking, and found ourselves driving a tad northeast to High Island. 

High Island | Gulf Coast Beaches 

You won't believe this but High Island gets its name because it's literally the highest point, at just 32ft above sea level, on the entire Gulf Coast, all the way to the Yucatan! This is definitely a different kind of landmark than the Fourteeners I've experienced in Colorado. 

The island is home to only 450 residents--that's only 100 more people than my graduating high school class!--and is rumored to have been a partying spot for pirates in the early 1800s. Now, it's a less-traveled, serene spot for sea kayakers, fishermen, and beach loungers.

People drove their vehicles right onto the beach, no parking lot necessary. We hunted for shells and got our feet wet, and hit refresh on our souls. 

Corey showing off her seashell collection, Josie, and I at the edge of Texas.

People's State Park | Barkhamsted Lighthouse Trail

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to travel back to my home state of Connecticut (for my best friend's wedding! #stillreeling), so of course, I had to make time to satiate my wander fix. Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine might hog all the attention when it comes to the New England countryside, but there are places to get (responsibly) lost in the little 'ole Constitution state too.

The leaves just starting to turn along the Farmington River.

The foliage is definitely a sight to see, but one of the best parts about the New England backcountry are the little things, which, like most, I took for granted as a resident of these green hills, but after spending the last few years in the larger-than-life Colorado mountains, I re-discovered them on my short visit: like the clonk of acorns dropping from the oak trees.

Mom said she was knocked on the head with a falling acorn. If it's not already a sign of good luck, now it is. ;) I slipped on this acorn pile, hidden on some fallen leaves. 

I get my adventurous spirit from my mama so the two of us ventured into Peoples State Park: forest land donated by the Daughters of the American Revolution, where 200 year-old pine groves grow, and the remains of the historic village, Barkhamsted Lighthouse, can be found. 

Like many people, when we heard "lighthouse," we immediately thought "ocean," but you won't find the traditional sea-beacon here. Instead, the village's lights served as a nighttime directional for stagecoach traffic traveling to Hartford in the 19th century--hence the lighthouse analogy! 

The forest map in my backpack, the tree trail-markers, and Beanie, our family dog, in the background. :) 

The village began as a settlement in the 1770s when Molly Barber, a young white woman, fell in love with James Chaugham, a Native American of the Narraganset tribe. They ran away to the woods of Northwestern Connecticut to escape her disapproving father. 

I know, I know, a real-life Disney Pocahontas romance! #heavybreathing 

They started the settlement, and the village became one of the country's first multi-cultural towns, a tucked-away haven for freed slaves, survivors of colonial conflicts, and Anglo-European pilgrims. Some of the remains of this village, which dissolved toward the late 1800s, still remain like the homes' cellar holes, the village's charcoal pit, and even the cemetery where the couple and their family have been buried. 

In terms of difficulty, these trails are comfortable and short. Perfect 2-mile segments, and the shaded woods keep you out of the Indian summer sun, so common during New England's September. At the crest of a hill, we were greeted by Grand Vista overlook, a beautiful scene of the Farmington River sparkling through the forest. 

Needless to say, my soul was happy wandering in my woods again. 

Here is me, the maker of adventure herself, and family pooch number two, Taylor. :) 

P.S. This little history lesson brought to you by Connecticut Curiosities: Quirky Characters, Roadside Oddities, and other Offbeat Stuff by Susan Campbell and Bill Heald. Go buy the book, e-book, or check it out at the local library for more cool #thingstodoinCT 

My Cross-Country Move to Houston

I've been MIA because I made a huge life decision: to move from Fort Collins, Colorado to Houston, Texas. You're probably wondering, "Why? Why would you ever?" and that's what everyone I knew said when I made this announcement. For months, I was heckled with "I hope you're prepared for unbearable heat" and various versions of "You're crazy." When I arrived, even Houstonians wanted to know why anyone would come to Houston from anywhere else.

I moved away from the backcountry of my Colorado soul, the purity of the air, the diversity of the landscape, the easy-going, slow, savory lifestyle, to pursue a PhD at the University of Houston.

I've been here about a month now, and I finally feel like I can sanely reflect on my insane decision. This is the second cross-country move I've made in three years, the second time I've left behind homes, family, and friends for a place I'd never been, for the sole reason to have the time and space to write. Last night, Jonathan Franzen read from his new novel Purity at the Wortham Theatre in downtown. During the Q&A, in response to the question, how are you able to sustain the energy to write a novel, he said, "You have to be obsessed with it." And I suppose, this too might be the only answer I have for people:

You have to love something enough that you're obsessed with it more than anything else in your life, and you're willing to follow it anywhere. 

I've met incredible people who have already become the friends that I rely on and laugh with like family. Adventure is just that: showing up in the unknown with every doubt and finding your spirit there anyway.

It might be harder to find the backcountry, now that I live in one of the largest metropolitan areas in the world, but it'll be an even bigger adventure now that I have to go searching for it. So, if you're willing to stick with me, this blog may venture into new territory just as I have, but it'll likely be just as exciting.

Josie, myself, and Corey in front of the "We Love Houston" sign off the freeway. Clearly, I'm not entirely convinced, yet. 

 Who knows what will happen from here, but for now...

Wandering

The sky has been dumping buckets of rain on Fort Collins for weeks, and it's made it difficult to fulfill my ambitious list of wilderness goals. On Sunday, my buddy Madison and I decided to tough it out anyway and attempt to hike Mt. Bierstadt, one of Colorado's incredible Fourteeners. But we didn't summit. In fact, we didn't even make it to the trailhead--walked right by it by about a half mile because it was buried in three feet of snow that still blankets the mountains here in May.

The peak on the left is Mt. Evans (another 14er), and the roundtop on the right is Bierstadt.

The road, Guanella Pass, was closed about two miles from the parking lot where in warmer days, hikers park and begin their excursion. This didn't stop us. The wind blew and the snow came down, and we walked along the road for the two miles to the base of the trail, passed two guys on skis and a snowboard who said 'hi' with a smile like "You're kind of crazy too huh?" We kept walking until a nice couple stopped us. "Where are you headed to?" they asked with a skeptical look. "Bierstadt," we said. "Oh, you passed it!" Of course we did. We couldn't see a thing in the blinding white.

Neither of us had worn waterproof shoes, winter jackets, or gear fit for an alpine climb. Even though we knew we wouldn't make it any farther than the road, this wasn't a failure. Madison and I had left town in the pre-dawn darkness that morning to seek out the wilderness, and well, we had certainly found it.

Unprepared, wet, and cold, we decided to make the most of our time and the place, and wandered around Arapaho National Forest telling ghost stories, swapping book recommendations, and exploration plans for the upcoming summer and year, and we had a great time. You learn a lot when you let yourself wander. You don't always have to summit. Sometimes, it takes a few tries just to begin.