As I stepped out onto the sand beach the roar of the surf seemed to instantly put me at peace. Renita joined me and said, "It feels like home", and it did indeed. One of many homes that we have now that we are full time travelers. Every place is special and has its own feel. Three that come to mind are the Red Deserts solitude, the sound of a cascading stream in the Wind River mountains, and of course the surfs roar on Mustang Island. All places where time has seemed to stop, at least for a little while, and each place has given us the peace we have been searching for. We are at Aransas Pass, waiting for our winter camp reservations at Watersedge Rv, on December first, and exploring the town and the surrounding area. Our first trip was to Conn Harbour, another day was spent fishing the south Jetty, and a third at Mustang Island State Park, walking on the beach and wading in the surf. Now we have been to Conn Harbour, and I even fished here with George and Gary. but we had never stopped at the seaman's memorial and so we parked and walked to the tower. The inscription told of loss and heartbreak and sacrifice. It told of a Coast Guard plane that crashed with its crew lost, searching for a ship in distress, and of course we felt special pangs and said a prayer for their souls. Shortly after we arrived here Pete called and I met him at the south jetty. We didn't catch much, just a few small piggy perch, a croaker and some small mangrove snappers. Others had much better luck as we watched a family pull seven large redfish from a spot that Pete had been fishing. Two other fisherman caught three nice pompano, my favorite fish to eat, and so I planned to return as soon as possible. Renita suggested a drive to Mustang Island State Park and as usual it was another great idea, the girl is full of them. We drove to the ferry and saw dolphins and Renita was happy. Crossing we drove to the park and heard the roar of the surf, but I already talked about that. We have been so many places in the last year that if it weren't for this journal, ok blog, we would never remember them all. Of course each was special, not just the places, but equally the friends we have touched and greeted. I don't think we could live in any one place as the others all call to our souls. May you all find your own places of peace! Clear skies.