"I don't want to stay in the mosquito pit," Renée tells me, deadpan, as the ranger tells us we'll need to evacuate our bay front site at Goose Island in favor of a wooded site, swarming visibly with insects. So, we head south across the bridge and stopped at the first RV park we find, as we need to wait for that good old country General Delivery in Rockport the next day. I call as we enter the park, largely full of permanent residents or winter snowbirds who missed the ongoing migration back to wherever. It's a little rundown and as the woman running the place pulls up on her golf cart and shows us our spot–amazingly the last one available, I think to myself–we're more than a little bummed not to be beneath one of the massive mighty oaks that every other spot enjoys and instead right against a road which will turn out to be only lightly trafficked. Still, this is home for the night. As evening shades on in we walk to the dock. It's gorgeous, Copano Bay all around and the sun setting over a scene so calm it could slow a coffee roaster's hand. We look at shells and shoot slingshots into the water. Upon returning, we give the rec room a shot. Dozens or maybe a hundred dvds for anyone to take back to their trailer. Board games, a pool table and ping pong, all in working order. We dive into a round of Sorry. Back at our Bus, the WiFi is fast enough to stream Monster Truck and we thoroughly enjoy the evening. In the morning a warm shower does the trick. Rough at first glance, we're happy to have found this place, though next time perhaps we'll work harder on the reservations at Goose Island.