Except for a near continuous stream of hot, dry weather and funerals, life has been intensely laid-back in my neighborhood. Clearly, this is an intolerable situation. It seems all the action, economic and otherwise, has fled elsewhere. After a few weeks of peace and quiet, I resolved to find something to see and do.
Thanks to the internet and a network of friends and relatives, I discovered where everything worth doing or seeing went. It went south. Far, far south. In fact, there is a large scale economic and socio-cultural boom unfolding even as I type. Geographically, they call it the Eagle Ford Shale Play.
This oil and natural gas bonanza covers more than a dozen counties in Texas along a line from Laredo on the Mexican border to Brazos County east of Austin, Texas. It is another monster discovery in a string of such discoveries in the last decade.
It was lucky for me that my youngest brother, a construction mogul in his own right, had the ambition to open an office in the heart of this phenomenon. It was only natural I would wrangle an invitation from him to visit his area. He was a good sport about it, too.
“Can you c’mon down tomorrow?” He said.
“I am already packed.”
The next morning, I headed south for a reunion with my brother and a guided tour of the economy of south Texas as it appears today. I punched his address into my trip computer before I pulled out of the driveway. I knew I had my work cut out for me when the computed mileage came back on the doorstep of 400 miles. If I hurried, and I did, I could get there in time to miss lunch.
I shall not boor my long-suffering readers with details of my ride down Interstate 35, AKA “The NAFTA” Highway", AKA “The Highway from the bowels of Hell.” Let us just say I was fortunate and the heavy traffic had little trouble keeping up with me. My directions said, “… go fifty miles past San Antonio and turn right. Then stop just before you hit Mexico. Call me when you get there.”
The trip lasted only five high-speed hours and I arrived just after lunch. My brother met me at a restaurant and paid for a down-home chicken-fried steak lunch for me. It is definitely off my diet. But what choice did I have? I did not want to hurt his feelings. Besides, I have a genetic weakness for CFS lunches. [urp]
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| Kid brother Paul. He looks that way because the top of his head is on fire in the sun. |
So, brothers reunited in an adventure, set out to see as much of the vast undertaking as possible. This, on a day when the temperature passed 110 and the sights stood 50 miles apart.
The local highways and by-ways were loaded with all kinds of heavy equipment. Various companies (you know many of their names) compete over yards to park and service million dollar machines used to turn 12000-foot holes in the ground into producing wells. Ranchers who cannot feed one cow on 50 acres of dessert are selling water to the service companies to make ends meet.
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| Courtyard of Ancient Hotel being refurbished to meet demand |
The labor force is ballooning from around the country. My brother estimates about 50,000 workers have arrived in the last eight months. More are arriving daily. Housing and feeding the workers is a big problem – and a big opportunity.
Funny, in the worst economy of our generation, a desert is blooming across an enormous swath of south Texas. In a place where it never rains, people are beginning to smile again. I am proud to say my brother is a part of it. Go get’em, Paul!
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| View of courtyard from balconey - Desolation Road, beyond |
I will include a few [more] good pictures in the next installment.
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