The beginning of the end.

Now begins the beginning of the end of the great adventure, and perhaps a few days earlier than we would want, but this was a big one, and there are quite a few loose ends to tie up before heading home - we don't want to leave everything until the last minute, either. First, an early start to the day gifts us with one of the most beautiful and peaceful sunrises we've seen this trip, with a couple of pelicans fishing along the shore next to the boat launch, tossing their catch up in the air and into their big bills. Then the fishermen started arriving in their noisy pick-ups and ruined the mood. Oh well.

Our "campsite" for the night	One lone toilet in the boat launch parking

We have about 2.5 hours of driving to get to our stop tonight, but most of that trek is on a big, busy boulevard plagued by construction, traffic lights and shopping malls, so the going is slow. Also, we are searching for a car wash. Now this should be a relatively easy task, as there is one on just about every block. But the campervan is tall - too tall to fit into those car wash tunnels, and every one we see is a tunnel. So I sit there, watching Google Maps, searching for car washes, watching the road, trying to see if one of these places in NOT a tunnel. For 2 hours. We find one, but it  seems closed, and the cashier in charge of the storage facility next door seems to think the place hasn't works in over a year, so we move on. I finally find one on a back street which we just barely fit into, having to drive in to wash the front of the van, then back in to finish the rest. What a hassle - and it's coin-operated, so Mario and I are running around at high speed, trying to wash and rinse everything as fast as possible before our time - and money - runs out. In the end, there is a little less Luckenbach mud on the running boards, a few less Galveston mosquitos stuck to the front, and the van is no longer an ombre shade of dinge, so mission accomplished.

We make it to Gulfport for lunch, where Uncle Kevin is working on his rental property, and welcomes us with a smile and a bunch of questions about our month living in a van. We sit for moment for some ham sandwiches, and to drink some of that sweet, sweet tea, then get to work pulling all of the things out of storage from all of the hidden recesses of the camper. Turns out, you can accumulate a lot of stuff in 25 days of driving and camping, and when you hide it out of sight for better storage, you forget what you've bought, what you've collected, what you've accumulated. Turns out, it might not all fit in the backpacks that were already too full to begin with, back when we left Canada. Thankfully, Uncle Kevin is willing to take a few things back for us in his truck - our blankets, all of my collected pamphlets and paper souvenirs, our frozen daiquiri cup that is just too tall to squash into a backpack. My bag is still overflowing, but I'll figure that out tomorrow.

We take a walk around cute little boutique-y Gulfport, a town we have been to before, but never in this iteration. The main street is lined with little shops, selling souvenir t-shirts and Pinterest-inspired home decor, high-end coffees and ice cream cones, pet accessories and  pizza. There are several restaurants specializing in seafood, because Gold Coast, and even more art studios hidden here and there in the neighborhood. The community centre is full of kids, as is the skate park, and the beach volleyball courts. Though it is too cold for swimming, people are at the beach, enjoying the sun, and the sand, the sea birds and the sea air. It's a quiet, safe place - always was - and I could definitely see myself staying here longer, but not this time. This time we are only passing through.

Over a dinner of BBQ Shrimp and Grits made with the spices we proccurred in New Orleans, we talk about our many adventures on the road, the driving and the weather, the camping and the gas station overnights. And yes, it only took me 2 days to remake the dish from New Orleans School of Cooking - it was that good. Look forward to stories of gumbo-making in the near future!

One last night sleeping in our van, though tonight, it feels different. Cupboards are empty, things are packed, there aren't towels and Mardi Gras beads hanging everywhere. It's still just as comfy, but feels less...established. Guess that's the point, until we get one that is no longer a rental we have to return, but one that is truly ours.