Home to a hotspot

Unfortunately it was time to say goodbye to the pine-fresh, humidity-free air of Oklahoma and drive back down to Houston. The Texas border was still open - in the southerly direction, at least - which was a relief as we were front page of the BBC! Not because I'd won the Nobel Prize for literature, or peace, or whatever, but because we're apparently the world's worst Coronavirus hotspot. Florida, Arizona, and Brazil might have something to say about that, but everyone knows Texas is always #1.

We spent our last days in the cabin spotting wildlife while sitting around a fire, enjoying a little more kayaking, and hiking around woods that included caves where famed outlaw Jesse James used to hang out! The man had the right idea - now I'm on the lookout for a chunk of Oklahoman land to purchase, somewhere to run to when things (continue to) go wrong.

There are no gators in Oklahoma. At least, I think there are no gators...

Off on the hiking trail!

About as happy as Pete gets on any hike.

Jesse James used to live here, but these gangsters will only steal your heart :)

A good place to hide.

Pete displaying his excellent Cub Scouting skills. He must have a great Den leader.

Hotdogs by the fire.

The neighbours got nosey.

Stinky feet. He gets that from his mother's side of the family.

There was one happy surprise waiting for us at home.

Hammocks and kayaks

After staring at the same four walls since whenever all this virus stuff started, we decided to take a break. "Where can we drive to that's less humid than Houston and we won't see another soul?" was the question. The answer was obvious: Oklahoma!

I don't know much about Oklahoma, being a Sound Of Music chap myself, but it's the state that's directly north from us and rudely separates Texas from Kansas and Colorado with its ridiculous panhandle. We drove around Dallas, through a massive thunderstorm or two, and were soon in rolling forested hills without another car in sight.

We'd found a literal cabin in the woods in which to seclude ourselves, and the sign on the gate said the owner was a member of the Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association; the first thing we look for when choosing accommodation. The track to the house passed the outside loo, which was a bit of a worry, but thankfully the modern cabin has two toilets inside, as well as wi-fi. All you need for a week of isolation.

Since then we've been kayaking, hiking, bird watching, chasing fireflies, and generally wondering how we could make this lifestyle long-term and sustainable (although the wi-fi is a little slow). Meanwhile, Houston has been hit with flood and plague so...yeah, I guess we're Okies now!

Our cabin.

Our toilet.

Our nearest neighbour.

The very rare sight of Hannah actually relaxing.

Checking for more wildlife.

A spot of fishing at the local lake (results: fish need not worry).

The real reason we bought kayaks.

A little more fishing, with the same outcome.

Staying 200m apart.

A walk in the woods.

And there are plenty of them.

Just like Bournemouth Beach.

Up The Creek

With everything that's happening, I'm on alert for a huge flood to wipe out life from the face of the Earth. I know God made a promise to Noah, but I can't help feeling that circumstances have changed since then.

So to put my fears to rest I bought a couple of inflatable kayaks! Together with my 200 rolls of toilet paper, 500 tins of food, and my secret underground bunker, I'm quietly confident we can survive the next few months.

But what's the point of an emergency plan if you haven't tested it? Which is why me, Hannah and Pete headed up to The Woodlands this morning to make sure our boat could float. This is a shiny suburban part of the city, with everything planned around waterways. Thank goodness we never get hurricanes or flooding!

Hannah had already completed a literal dry run in our living room so I left the hard work of inflating the boat to her. It was surprisingly quick, and together with the inflatable seats and clip-together oars the whole arrangement looked vaguely seaworthy. We lowered it from the dock, lowered ourselves in, and drifted off.

It was wonderful! There are no worries about social distancing when you're surrounded by water; one day I'll get my own castle with a moat. We made our way serenely across the lake and down through some landscaped channels between stylish apartment blocks, sharing greetings with other kayakers and paddleboarders as we passed.

I was up front and Hannah and Pete were in the back - the "engine room" as I believe Olympic rowers refer to it - but unfortunately most of the paddling was left to me, which meant that my prime athletic physique was feeling very tired after about fifteen minutes of splashing. We bobbed around, admiring the flowers and the wildlife, and took a circuit around one of the lake fountains without getting too wet

Soon we were back on shore, having had a great nautical time. Could we survive a Biblical deluge in this thing? What about taking in the animals two-by-two for forty days/nights? To paraphrase the famous shark documentary: we're gonna need a bigger boat.

Well done Hannah. I'll just stand here and supervise...

At the back.

The full crew!

Drifting about in The Woodlands.

How's flood insurance out here?

"Jump in and we'll take you to safety!" He didn't respond.

Mad dogs and Englishmen

I'm not a dog person. I'm not much of a person person to tell the truth, but today the limits of my empathy for both man and beast were tested when a stray dog arrived at our house.

It all started when I looked out of the door at the wrong moment and saw a black dog standing on our driveway. When it became clear it wasn't on a leash and didn't have an owner anywhere near I mentioned it to (animal lover) Hannah, who rushed out to see what was going on.

The poor animal was very skittish and somewhat crazed by the heat, although it was wearing a collar so we figured it would come to us with some gentle coaxing. No such luck! After chasing it around for half-an-hour I would have left it at that, having watched the documentary Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey and therefore confident it would get home, but Hannah wouldn't listen. Some time later, with the help of a sausage, we shut the gate to our yard having tricked it inside.

"Congratulations on your new puppy!" said next door neighbour Mo, who had been watching this all with much amusement. But I was having none of that so called dog-owning Kindra, throwing myself at her mercy with "Help! I'm a foreigner who has no idea what to do when you have a stray dog trapped in your yard!"

Kindra and Levi came to the rescue with a jar of peanut butter and a stick. The dog was not happy with anyone coming near, with much nipping and baring of teeth, but we discovered a name and number on its collar, although getting close enough to read would have risked losing a finger. Then Kindra worked her stick/peanut butter magic, and with the use of a digital camera we managed to get a picture that we could enlarge enough to read! It turned out that "Duke" had an owner, one that didn't answer when we called.

We all adjourned to bed, leaving a savage animal with a nice bowl of water to drink and our porch to shelter under rent-free. How I got a wink of sleep I'll never know, but the owner called back at 4.15am (?!?) and we eventually organised a hand-off later that morning.

When I cautiously opened the door to refill Duke's water it was like being greeted by a different dog! There was much tail-wagging, sniffing and pawing, and attempts to get into the house, as though apologising for the poor behaviour of yesterday. My heart thawed ever so slightly. Maybe it would be nice to have a fluffy companion (other than Hannah). But then the owner arrived - extremely thankful for what we'd done - and Duke was very happy to see him, so we waved them all goodbye as the sun was rising.

It was as I walked back to the front door that I noticed the poo everywhere. EVERYWHERE! From just one night!! There followed twenty minutes of scooping, hosing, and no small amount of swearing. Why does anyone own a dog?! A 7-yr-old boy is enough wild animal for this house.

I thought a guard dog was meant to keep people out, not in.

More my kind of animal (the cat, not the child).

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PS Duke's owner came back later with a big box of cookies to say thank you! With that kind of payment, his dog can poo in my yard anytime.