Has anyone else ever wondered why Texas isn't more of a beach resort destination? I mean look at it on the map; the state has hundreds of miles of hot weather coastline and a population that’s now something like 25 million, but you almost never hear it advertised for its beaches. Why? Yes, it’s true that South Padre Island near the Mexican border is known as a Spring Break destination, and people must go there at other times of the year too. And Galveston and the Corpus Christi areas have some beach type development, but it’s nothing compared to Florida’s developed coastlines or the almost continuous coastal resort development along the East Coast. The water is warm as it is in those states, unlike the chilly Pacific Coast, and the flat topography is similar. Texas gets hurricanes but not necessarily more so than Florida or the Carolinas.

After Louisiana my next stop was Galveston, the biggest town in Texas that’s built on a Barrier Island (like so many places in Florida) and my first time on America’s Gulf Coast beaches anywhere west of Florida . I got off I-10 well east of Houston and followed the coastal road along the Bolivar Peninsula towards the coastal city. I guess I wasn’t paying attention to my map because there’s surprisingly no bridge across the entrance to Galveston Bay between the Bolivar Peninsula and Galveston Island. You have to take a short ferry.

What I discovered was that the annual Texas Rally was taking place in Galveston that weekend, the Lone Star state’s version of Sturgis when tens of thousands of motorcycle riders converge on the city. So that meant there was not going to be any peace and quiet in Galveston even though it was well into November already. Supposedly the motorcycle riding crowd nowadays includes many professional and relatively affluent people who just enjoy the biker mystique and mingling the truly trashier types who define the culture. The streets were full of noisy motorcycles and the restaurants were full of trashy Texan bikers. I tried to think of it all as just another immersion experience in a deeply foreign culture .

There wouldn’t have been any rooms for rent around even if I wanted one. The weather conditions were ideal for car camping, a few degrees warmer than the previous two nights but with a pleasant breeze and the sound of the waves lapping in the distance (and the sound of motorcycles) through the night.

When the sun rose in the morning I could see that Galveston was not quite Miami Beach. There are a few tall resort hotels or condominiums near the eastern end of the peninsula, but Galveston is mostly a workaday town with a historic core. More typical low rise beach development extends west beyond the urban areas down Galveston Island, but it’s something more low key and very different from Florida. Some parts of the city are actually quite shabby while others have beautiful old homes and historic buildings. The cruise ship terminal is next to downtown Galveston, but my impression of the city center was consistent with what a friend told me about it somehow seeming unfinished. It has a lot of potential to be a pleasant resort city for tourists to visit, but much work needs to be done!

They say Galveston is about the same size it was over 100 years ago when it was one of the largest cities in Texas. However, a hurricane hit the city directly in 1906 destroying much of it and killing an estimated 6,000 residents, the largest single natural disaster death toll in American history . Business moved inland to Houston and Galveston has since been a shadow of its former self.

If all the beaches in Texas are like those I stopped at on Galveston Island, I can see why it’s not that popular as a beach vacation destination. The beaches are nice and wide, but I found the sand to be hard and generally compacted, nothing like the fluffy white coral sands of the Florida Gulf Coast. The water and weather were still warm enough to take a dip, and the water seemed nice. I’ve known people to say that Texas beaches aren’t too clean because of the offshore oil industry, but I didn’t see any evidence of that. It wasn’t as if I stepped on a big tar ball while frolicking in the waves or anything.

I drove the distance of Galveston Island, took a short ferry to the next island, and then crossed to the mainland near Freeport, another town with massive oil refineries. As fascinating and photogenic as they look, by now I was afraid to try to take pictures. I took the freeway northeast to Houston and entered the city famed for some of America’s most horrendous traffic at a well-planned out smoothly-flowing late Sunday afternoon.