March 24 – 25, 2023: Marfa – Alpine – Marathon, TX. 57 miles and 1,140 feet of elevation

Hello from Marathon, TX! My apologies for not writing yesterday, but the evening grew late and some wind and rain storms forced us to “batten down the hatches“ and hold on for dear life in our nylon tents. Yesterday, (Thursday) we cycled from Marfa to Marathon, by way of Alpine. We had a delayed start (8:30 instead of 7:30), thanks to the relatively short day, the delayed sunrise, and cold, with early temps in the high 30’s and low 40’s. As with most desert climates, the overnight and early morning can create problems, and layering is the order of the day, as by 11:00 or so, it can reach 80 degrees or more. Prolonged sun exposure has also proven to be a challenge. Despite liberal use of sunscreen and zinc oxide, I discover new red places on my body every day. (Most people think it is from where people have attempted to touch me with 10 foot poles). My latest sunburn was found from my knuckles to the tips of my fingers, which protrude out from my fingerless riding gloves. It almost looks like I’ve stuck both of my hands in liquid cinnamon from a candy apple.

The ride out of Marfa was interesting. I cycled through a few canyons, and came across first a deceased deer and then a javelina (wild pig) who apparently wandered a little too far to the edge of the cliff above, and tumbled several hundred feet below to the road, meeting their untimely deaths. As they say, it’s not the fall that kills you, but the sudden stop at the end. Not to sound a little perverse, (I know, probably too late for me), but the sight of the javelina was truly interesting. Not only was the animal about 3 times as large as I had imagined, but it had to tremendously long, curved tusks on either side of it’s face. It was either a javelina, or I have made an important discovery of a wooly mammoth on the plains of west Texas. Since it was too big to stuff it into my bike bag, and pedaled on, up the steep and prolonged inclines and descended into the “happenin’ town of Alpine.

Alpine, Texas is a cute little place. Home to about 6,000 souls and another 2,000 college kids attending Sul Ross State University, Alpine has a quaint downtown, with coffee and pastry shops, antique stores, and a relatively lively central square. This was the site of our first SAG stop, and as I was draining my water bottle and catching my breath, one of the locals on a bicycle, a man easily in his 80’s, approached me and struck up a conversation. He had moved to Alpine from Austin, and was fiercely proud of this new mountain home, telling me story after story of what there is to do (didn’t seem like a lot to me), as well as how convenient it was to “jump on Amtrak and be in California or Chicago, as long as you didn’t care how long it took”. Speaking of “how long it took”, after his fifth or sixth story, I became a little concerned that it might take me a few days to cycle the 57 miles I had in front of me today, if he could think of a few more dozen stories to tell. After insisting that I proceed on my way, he asked if he could ride with me, at least for a few miles. I agreed to his proposal, but secretly feared that my ears would start to bleed if he talked the whole way. Fortunately, he gave up relatively quickly, and I was left once again in solitude. Just outside of Alpine, I came upon another man in a car parked on the side of the road. He flagged me down, and I slowed and stopped, always a little cautious of encountering strangers that might even be a little stranger than me. He was looking for the road to Marfa and then El Paso, and just like a well-informed native, I told him that his car was pointing in the wrong direction, and that he should drive back the way that I had come. I also suggested that if he saw an old white-haired man with a mustache riding a bicycle back in Alpine, to stop and “chat for a while”. The guy seemed a little wary of this suggestion, but promised he would “keep an eye out”. I told him that was gross, and moved on. (Maybe he meant something else?). We will never know.

After moving on from these chance encounters, I continued to follow route 90 until I came to Marathon, (population 460, plus 24 additional cyclists, at least for the next day and a half). In their ultimate wisdom, the Timberline Bike Tour people thought this would be a fantastic place to have a layover day, since there would be an abundance of things to do, like walk a block and watch the neat little red light flash on and off above the only intersection in town. The one store in town apparently specializes in bags of potato chips and slim Jim snacks, and provides a few bottles of water, providing you don’t mind drinking them at room temperature. They did tell me that they are hoping to get in a refrigerator in the store in the next year or two. (I told them that was a risky investment, but it might just pay off). We are staying at the world famous Marfa RV park, which features lots of sand and gravel, as well as a chicken coop and one outhouse, which works perfectly for 24+ exhausted riders just looking for a few minutes of solace. Being 18th in the queue, I have plenty of time to plan all the necessary activities for my upcoming 5 minutes in the loo. As an added bonus, they have situated the RV Park so that it catches every gust of wind between El Paso and Opelika, Alabama. Two enthusiastic thumbs up, at least from this critic!

Tomorrow, we leave bright and early for Sanderson, TX. With nearly a population double that of Marathon (830, to be exact), I can only hope to be able to get a little sleep in the Sanderson gym, or at least hear myself think over what promises to be the constant din of cars flowing through the Sanderson metroplex. Onward we go, as one-third of our trip is behind us, with only a month to go. I feel strong enough to make it, as long as I don’t contract scurvy, or something like that. Hope all is well with you all!