Why couldn’t it be a sailboat majestically passing by? Or bus that did not stop. But a bus stopped and parked right there on the beach between where we were swimming and our campsite.

I’m ahead of myself now. Let me go back to the night before.  Gus and I were adventuring in a Huck Finn 70’s style in a red VW bus with a white top.  Gus was driving and I was spotting for a place to camp up in the dunes.  According to the geological survey maps, there were ponds scattered up in the dunes.  The prospect of fresh water to bathe in was delicious in our minds.  We drove miles and miles southward along the beach, looking for the tell tale signs of human traffic and stopped at the first sign.  I climbed out of the bus, dashed up into the dunes not a hundred yards and there was the pond, just like it looked on the map.  It was brackish, but the day was already long so we settled.

We set up the tent and drew out the small white gas stove to prepare a dinner of rice and cheese and dehydrated green peas. Just add water and heat.  The tent opened up enough for two backpacks and two sleeping bags and was short a good four feet from allowing either of us to stand up.  While Gus heated dinner, I explored the dunes and found one of the other ponds on the map.  I scooped out a cup and watched undefined aquatic beings dart back and forth in the greenish water.  Mosquito larvae!

Rather than feed the mosquitos, we piled into the tent, zipped up the entrance and listened to the swelling buzz.  Sometime in the night, when the water and land reached an equilibrium temperature the breeze stopped and buzzing increased.  The Gulf Coast has plenty of sticky and hot firmament upon which the mosquitos flow.  The thought of tiny titter-tatter on the mosquito netting kept me awake while Gus snored.

Gus was a very solid individual, physically I mean.  He had hair top and bottom and everywhere in between.  His skin was pale and draped over the minimum necessary amount of muscle to haul him, huffing and puffing, along.  After his big brother, Court, shot his big toe off while out squirrel hunting, we took to calling him Slewfoot. There was no mistaking his foot print in sand or mud.  Not even close. And he could snore.

I was long and thin and boney, a gangly ganglion of limbs and torso, fingers and toes.   Regular shaving remained in the future, my naked skin tanned by an outdoors existence.  Listening to the hum and buzz of the little critters gave me time to think, to imagine, to pretend a future, always a bright and wonderful future.  And then comes a rumble and snort from Gus to break my concentration. On and on through the night until the boring frustration sharpened the knee that poked him.

Then, exhausted, I fell asleep.

We awaken mired in sandy perspiration unable to return to snoozing.  The morning breeze murmured over the warm late August Gulf waters, increasing the humidity. We are awash in itches and the pinching of imaginary mosquitos in the tent, the light of waxing gibbous moon shining through the netting cast a rectangle across our legs. I cannot recall who came up the idea of a swim.  As soon as the idea appeared we were off.

You have to understand we were country boys and country boys don’t own swim suits. They don’t live close enough to the clear water chlorine pools found in backyards.  We swam in the crick alongside the catfish, brook trout, random sluggardly carp, and a smorgasbord of minnows.  The water so deep we could not see the bottom in the deepest spots, while bright and clear  when running over rocks and gravel.  And of course we had a rope swing. No swimming trunks.

We raced down to the water and jumped just ahead of a following swarm of mosquitos.  Watching the sun begin to rise while bobbing, cocooned in the warm Gulf waters, is an incomparably wondrous experience I’d recommend to anyone.  Carried by the water’s rising and falling waves I felt cuddled by the earth’s warm water blanket.

Gus saw the headlights first.  Navigational dawn comes when shapes are visible on the horizon against the background; the earth is no longer a black void as begins the new day.  Soon, we could see the cones of light bouncing up and down ahead of the bus. The cones appeared and disappeared with the rise and fall of the waves. And the cones came closer, then close enough to see it was a school bus of some sort.

This had happened before, not at Padre but at a local pond, when a family with a passel of kids frolicked from a station wagon out onto the shoreside.  You can always swim across the pond and find some shoreside bushes and back track.  Not on the Gulf. I began to pray the bus stops very soon and turns it headlights out, or drives on past. And it passed, bumping and jostling along and booming music, red tail lights bouncing and winking goodbye.

Immediately, we made for the shore line. Almost as immediately the bus stopped, backed up toward the dunes and turned around back toward us.  We froze neck deep in the water. The music grew louder.  Dawn began to break.  And the bus stopped between us and the tent.  On the side of the bus it said “Full Gospel Baptist Church” in white letters against a blue background.  And then a stream of big people and small people came out, some of the big people bearing large boxes, which they set up and connected to speakers.  The gang surrounded the sound system as a feedback wail and a man’s voice erupted: “Brothers and Sisters in the Lord!  Gather here by the seaside. We’re gonna praise the Lord this morning!”

Before the first hour’s preaching passed we had pruned out.  Sea mites invaded the furry nether regions and nibbled on the tender giblets of my groin.  I imagined Gus was squirming for the same reason, but he was not.  He strained so much his face squinted his mouth screwed shut in a grimace.

Let me tell you there is one thing not even the trashiest folks would not do–the thing a bear does in the woods. Gus was dealing with a turtle of sorts.  Maybe the Pope would make an exception in this case, but I was not going to wait and see how it came out, and I headed for the beach, the idea of a floating turd bumping against my back.  Once I reached the shore, I did the fig leaf thing and sand crabbed my way toward the tent.  When I reached the dunes and peaked back, there was Gus, goose stepping his way slowly toward the dunes.  About half way, left face, and salute the congregation. Right face and goose step out of site.