Inspiring travel stories, tips, and guides from a couple exploring the world one destination at a time.
Last Updated: June 6, 2026
From Jacumba Hot Springs, California we headed west to Santee Lakes Recreation Preserve, east of San Diego, where we set up for the holidays to visit Michael’s dad. After a couple of weeks in remote Jacumba at nearly 3,000 feet, it was a welcome change to have the full amenities of a major city within easy reach — Costco included.
Last Updated: May 2026
At 26°N latitude, South Padre Island sits just inside the tropics — and in December, that made all the difference. While the rest of the country was bundling up for the holidays, we were pulling into the Rio Grande Valley in sandals, looking up at a blooming sandal tree and wondering if we were in Texas or the Caribbean. This stretch of our journey would deliver some of the most memorable wildlife encounters of the entire year, a surprise that no one in South Texas expected, and a very unconventional Christmas.
A short drive from our campground brought us to the international bridge at Progreso, Texas — and within minutes we were walking the main strip of Nuevo Progreso, Mexico. This border town has built an entire economy around American visitors seeking affordable dental care and prescription medications. The prices are a fraction of what you’d pay stateside, and the dentists are fully trained and equipped. We’d heard stories from fellow RVers who had come south specifically for crowns and cleanings, then stayed to enjoy the food.
For us it was more of a cultural excursion — wandering the colorful shops, picking up a few souvenirs, and eating exceptional street tacos before strolling back across the bridge. The contrast between the two sides is jarring and fascinating in equal measure.
Nobody warned us about the snow. South Texas — subtropical, 26°N, less than 50 miles from Mexico — was not supposed to get snow. And yet, on a cold December morning at Nature’s Resort in Edcouch, Jake looked out the window and lost his mind. White stuff. Sticking. Everywhere. It was Jake’s first snow, and it happened in one of the last places on earth anyone would expect it.
The resort itself was a delight. Handcrafted welded metal sculptures dotted the grounds — animals, abstract forms, things that made you stop and stare. And the library was extraordinary: an enormous, well-organized collection of books available to any guest, the kind of lending library that makes you want to park for a month and read straight through the shelves.
From Edcouch we made the short drive east to KOA South Padre Island, where we secured an oceanfront site. The Gulf of Mexico was right there — literally visible from the slide-out. One morning we spotted porpoises surfing the surf line from the porch. Let that sink in: porpoises. From the RV. The KOA had excellent facilities — a well-equipped gym, a pool, and a social atmosphere that fit the holiday season perfectly.
We also took advantage of a local detail service — a full wash and detail on both the Newmar and the Jeep. The total for both? $190. For a complete detail on a 45-foot motorhome and a tow vehicle, that was one of the best deals of the entire trip.
Whatever else South Padre Island gives you — and it gives you a great deal — the sunsets are the crown jewel. Every evening, the Gulf sky put on a show. Oranges burning into pinks, the water going still and reflective, the horizon doing things that made you feel like you were watching something choreographed. We never tired of it.
If you have any interest in birds — even a passing curiosity — the South Padre Island Birding & Nature Center will convert you into a full-blown enthusiast. An elevated boardwalk winds through coastal wetlands at the northern end of the island, and the diversity of species present in December was genuinely staggering. We visited multiple times and never saw the same combination twice.
Our old friend, the Great Blue Heron — is there anywhere we’ve been on this journey where we haven’t seen one? From Maine to New Brunswick, from the Great Lakes to the Texas Gulf Coast, this magnificent bird has been our most faithful companion of the entire year. There is not a state or country we’ve passed through where the Great Blue Heron hasn’t appeared, as ubiquitous as it is breathtaking. At the SPI boardwalk, completely at ease with human observers, they let us get remarkably close.
Elegant and impossibly white against the green wetland vegetation, the Great Egret was everywhere along the boardwalk. Its slow, deliberate movements and sudden explosive strikes at fish make it one of the most compelling birds to watch at close range.
If the Great Blue Heron is the reliable old friend, the Roseate Spoonbill is the showstopper. Shocking pink — almost flamingo-like in color — with that bizarre spatula-shaped bill it swings side to side through shallow water, this bird stops you cold. We’d glimpsed them before, but at SPI they were numerous, unhurried, and perfectly happy to pose.
Smaller and more animated than the Great Egret, the Snowy Egret has an energy all its own — rushing through the shallows, stirring up prey with its bright yellow feet, looking perpetually on the verge of something exciting. Those golden feet against pure white plumage are an unmistakable field mark.
The Tricolored Heron — slate blue, chestnut, and white — is a beautiful and somewhat underrated member of the heron family. We caught this one hunting in the shallow pools alongside the boardwalk, completely focused and methodical in a way that made watching it feel almost meditative.
White Ibis moved through the wetlands in loose groups, their curved orange bills probing the mud in a rhythmic, almost choreographed fashion. Up close, those bills and the vivid facial skin make them striking birds — less showy than the spoonbills, but with their own distinctive elegance.
With bold black-and-white plumage and those absurdly long pink legs, the Black-Necked Stilt looks like it was assembled by committee — each part borrowed from a different bird. It works, though. These stilts waded through the shallows on those cartoon legs, supremely confident.
Brown Pelicans were everywhere along the shoreline — loafing on pilings, cruising low over the surf, then suddenly folding their wings and plunging headfirst into the water after fish. It’s a spectacular dive that never gets old. The ones here were completely unfazed by people and let us get extremely close.
The boardwalk also turned up a satisfying mix of waterfowl: American Wigeons drifting in the calm ponds, a Common Gallinule picking its way along the reedy margins, Mallards — the endlessly adaptable world travelers of the duck world — and the crown jewel of the morning, an American White Pelican. Enormous, brilliant white with a bold orange bill, the White Pelican dwarfs even the Brown Pelicans it was resting alongside.
And then there were the alligators. The boardwalk wetlands at SPI are home to American Alligators, and spotting one basking in the December sun was an unexpected thrill. These are ancient, prehistoric animals and seeing one in the wild — even a modest-sized individual — commands immediate respect. They coexisted peacefully with all those birds wading just feet away: an extraordinary tableau of predator and prey going about their business.
South Padre Island offers something most beach destinations can’t: thirty miles of undeveloped barrier island shoreline where you can drive a vehicle right onto the sand. No crowds, no parking lots — just open Gulf beach stretching to the horizon. We took the Jeep out several times, driving down with the windows open and the Gulf breeze coming through, stopping wherever something caught our eye.
The shadow on all that beauty was the trash. Plastic debris, foam, fishing line, tangled nets — washing up in quantities that were genuinely disturbing. We grabbed bags and spent time cleaning up stretches of beach, filling bag after bag with what we hauled out. It made a small dent in a large problem, but doing nothing felt worse.
Sea Turtle Inc. is a non-profit rescue, rehabilitation, and release center for sea turtles, based right on South Padre Island. The volunteers and staff are deeply passionate, and the center has been rescuing cold-stunned and injured turtles from the Gulf for decades. We toured the facility and spent time watching the resident turtles — animals too injured to survive in the wild but living long, carefully tended lives in the center’s pools.
Sea turtles are not small. Seeing one up close — those ancient eyes blinking slowly at you, their size and weight evident even through the water — is a genuinely moving experience. The work Sea Turtle Inc. does matters, and if you’re on the island, visit. They earn every dollar of every donation.
We finished our South Padre chapter a short drive inland at Sandpipers Resort in Edinburg — and stepped directly into the heart of Winter Texan culture. Winter Texans are a specific breed: retirees, mostly from the Midwest and northern states, who pack up every October and drive south to the Rio Grande Valley for the season. They come back to the same parks, the same sites, the same neighbors, year after year. The social bonds run deep.
Happy hours at Sandpipers routinely drew 90 people. The Christmas party was held outdoors in 86-degree heat. Armadillos wandered through the grounds at dusk like they owned the place — which, in fairness, they did long before anyone parked a motorhome here. The whole experience was warm, generous, and utterly unlike any other RV park we’d stayed in all year.
It was an unconventional Christmas in every way — no snow (well, except for that one impossible day in Edcouch), no cold, no pine trees. But there was an alligator. And Roseate Spoonbills. And sea turtles. And porpoises outside the RV window. We’ll take it every time.