The Walking Machine

Today was an interesting day, with a little bit of added incentive, since tomorrow has been designated as a “layover” (rest) day. We broke camp around 7:30, and due to an extremely rocky road out of camp, were forced to walk our bikes about a half mile to get to the road to begin the day. Unfortunately, we had another “mild casualty” with one of the riders yesterday, as Susan fell from her bike and broke the tip of her thumb. She appeared at dinner with her hand and arm bandaged pretty heavily, but vows to continue the journey, bandaged hand an all, providing one of us agrees to help her tie and untie her shoes. Some people will do anything for a little extra attention! In all seriousness, anytime we have an incident, it does create a built in reminder of just how quickly things can change. I do think it helps people remain just a little more cautious than they would be normally. Unfortunately for Susan, she learned the lesson the hard way, but trust me, we all are pitching in to help her achieve her goal to finish the ride.

We are now officially out of the “Hill Country”, and the terrain has changed to a much more mild undulating pattern of rolling hills. There are still some significant hills to climb, but they seem to be fewer and farther between. While we didn’t cycle directly in to Brenham, I saw some mileage markers that indicated we were within about 10 miles. For those of you from Texas, you will likely recognize the town name, as it is the home of Blue Bell Ice Cream, an institution here. Blue Bell is sold in 23 states, and is reportedly the fourth (4th) largest ice cream company in the nation. It was founded in 1907, and has maintained its headquarters in Brenham the entire time. It is now sold in a number of the south and south central states in the US, and reportedly has a 57% market share in Texas alone. My personal favorite is their vanilla bean vanilla flavor, however they make 66 different varieties. Their popularity sustained the company during the 2015 listeria outbreak, thanks to a number of high dollar donations from wealthy donors in the state. For those of you who haven’t yet had the opportunity to sample the brand, I would urge you to do so.

Our next stop on the way to Navasota was Independence, Texas, located just 12 miles northeast of Brenham. Independence is considered to be the “birthplace” of Texas, and in the 1830’s was considered to be the religious and educational center of Texas. In 1845, if became the first site of Baylor University and the University of Mary Hardin-Baylor. Our second SAG stop was at the location of where Baylor was first founded, and some of the buildings, homes, and columns are still standing. Back in the 1840’s, it was home to the wealthiest community in Texas, however its prosperity significantly in the last half of the century after refusing to give a right-of-way to the Santa Fe railroad. The town was bypassed by the important railroads, and the decline was hastened after Baylor was relocated to Waco. I’m told by the nice white haired lady at the site that Sam Houston lived in Independence when he was a US Senator. So, for those of you who aren’t big fans of history, I promise to end the history lesson for the day!

After winding around for a hour or two more, we came upon our stop for the next two nights. How they found this place, I’ll never know. To gain entrance to the camp sight, you must run off of a two lane road and ride an extremely rocky and muddy dirt road until you come to a clearing. You will know you are there, when you see the huge swarm of mosquitos, bumblebees, and horseflies. There is a small metal building that houses the 2 restrooms / showers, meaning that these 4 feet by 4 feet stalls integrate sink, toilet, and shower all in one. Admittedly, it is convenient to be able to use the toilet, brush your teeth, and shower all without moving your body. Perhaps they are setting a trend that will take the construction industry by storm one day. Hopefully, one day in the very far distant future! I would love to say that I look forward to our extended stay here, however I should really try very hard not to lie to you! I promise to write more soon, providing a giant horsefly doesn’t abduct me from the campsite!

The past two days were certainly eventful. Yesterday, we cycled from Blanco to Lockhart, (approximately 63 miles) and today, from Lockhart to Warda, which is located just about 15 miles from LaGrange. Yesterday was special, thanks to a planned visit from Debby, Josh, Jessica, Marcus, Benjamin and Annalyn. The ride from Blanco to Lockhart was hilly, but the extra incentive of getting to see family after over 1 month helped fuel me to press forward pretty quickly. Ironically, I arrived at the Texas Pie Company in Kyle at our SAG stop, around 11:00am, and was only there a few minutes before Debby and the crew pulled in. I can’t tell you how nice it was to see everyone, if only for a few hours. We ate at the Pie Company, and then I cycled on to Lockhart, and met them again at the Lockhart State Park. I was able to exchange some things in my bags and consolidate, which hopefully will help as I move forward with the second half of the ride.

Today was difficult, not necessarily because of the mileage or terrain, but separating from family again left me with that family empty feeling I always get when leaving on a trip. It will be slightly less than a month before I see them again, so my focus now will be on staying healthy and keeping the rubber side down. Thanks for hearing me out, as simply talking about this on the blog is therapeutic.

But alas, there are “miles to go before I sleep”, which Robert Frost once said in his poem Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening. It’s pretty obvious that we are slowly moving out of the hill country, as the terrain is starting to get a little flatter, and the hills and valleys a little more rolling. The mileage each day will start to increase, as well, and the flatter terrain will certainly help.

There were some bright spots and funny moments from today. First of all, apparently Lockhart State Park is currently overrun with caterpillars, which appear both on the ground, in the trees, and in the air. You can hardly take a few steps without coming across these sneaky little creatures, and those that stayed in tents last night apparently were up for hours trying to purge the little crawlers from their tent, sleeping bags, and personal items. In fact, I’m hearing a rumor that the cook is planning on serving caterpillar soup for dinner tonight. As I was leaving camp this morning, I felt something “plop” on my helmet, and felt something fall through he grooves on my bike helmet and onto my head. I had to pull over and remove the helmet from my head, in order to free one of the little crawly creatures, who apparently had attempted, (on a dare, I assume), a kamikaze bungee jump from a tree onto the white helmet below him. I’m sure it will be an even he will talk about his feat with his family for years to come.

About mid day, I came upon our second SAG stop, which was located at a “cowboy church” (their official name). Being Sunday, church was in session, but they did have a few “ranch hands” outside, preparing a feast for the worshippers, who were inside welcoming a new pastor who had just taken charge of the church. Unfortunately, we did not have an opportunity to meet Pastor Pecos Pete, however we did interact with a few in his congregation. They asked us a lot of questions about our planned journey, and were “mighty obligin’ to offer us some ranch beans and hotdogs, if we could stay a little longer. I had to unfortunately decline, but did punch a hotdog before I left, since I think that’s what they mean by the phrase, “punch a few doggies”. Like the lady from the animal rehab center a few days ago, they appeared to be thankful when I left.

Speaking of “doggies”, today was full of them. As I was cycling just outside of LaGrange, I went past a house that had four dogs, all behind a fence in the front yard. As is typical, the dogs, a chihuahua, Rottweiler, German Shepard, and a mut ran up to the fence, barking furiously and moving in parallel to my path, with a fence in between us. I tried to offer some soothing words, however they were having none of it, and began to run the perimeter of the fence, parallel to my path on the road. I thought it was a little amusing, until I heard a strange “clang”, and realized that there was a hole in the fence, and dogs were now in hot pursuit. I must have looked like the Pied Piper on 2 wheels, as all four dogs followed me at full sprint, snapping and snarling, and running at quite high speeds. Talk about an incentive to put the “pedal” to the metal”. As I burst into overdrive, I noticed that the chihuahua, who had kept pace admirably for about a quarter of a mile, finally stopped, however the mut, Rottweiler, and German Shepard appeared to still have plenty in the tank. Pedaling now at top speed, (and probably shrieking like a little baby being forced to take a bath), I finally outran the mut and the Rottweiler, and had “only” the German Shepard to beat. We must have run “neck and neck” for nearly a mile, and when I had the nerve to look slightly down and to my right, I looked the dog right in the eye, and realized that this dog meant business. He lunged a few times, but I kept the pace, and finally, after about a mile, he gave up. I’d be surprised if it took me more than a few minutes to complete the mile, but then again, it took me about 30 minutes before my heart rate returned to normal limits.

Thinking that the excitement for the day was over, I slowed back down to my mortal (glacier-like) pace, and pedaled on for another several miles. Believe it or not, in 45 minutes, the same exact thing happened, with yet another German Shepard! All I can guess is that the first German Shepard had called ahead, and warned the second that I was on my way. How these dogs dial phone numbers and hold the phone is beyond me!

Finally, I made it to our camp in Warda, which is farm that was converted into an off-road mountain biking camp, just outside of La Grange, TX. Just on the other side of the fence from this camp is a gun range, which helps keep the excitement up to high levels when you hear bursts of gunfire at a relatively close distance. My favorite sight for today was a sign for a beauty parlor right before I turned into the camp, which was named the “Curl up and Dye”. Always appreciative of a good pun, I began to think of a few more good names, such as “Shearlock Combs”, and “Julius Scissor”. If nothing else, perhaps “Anita Haircut” or the “Jack of all Fades”.

A quick note about LaGrange. It is best known for a place called “The Chicken Ranch”, which is the inspiration for the movie “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas”. Aside from that, I’m sure that the 4,000+ people who live in the town find it to be an absolutely wonderful place, Chicken Ranch or no Chicken Ranch. Alas, tomorrow, if yet another long day, so I supposed I should close for now. Thanks for reading!

Today was a challenging yet interesting day. The route out of Kerrville following the Guadalupe River was very scenic, and soon we emptied out onto a lot of farm and ranch land outside the city. We cycled 2 lane roads for the majority of the day, through very rural countryside. We went over hill and dale, though based on what I experienced, there was a lot more hill than there was dale. The don’t call it the “Hill Country” for nothing, and it is apparent that the ups and downs are much steeper and prolonged than what we experienced in far west Texas.

I haven’t seen a lot of bluebonnets yet, however there were fields of a lot of purple and yellow flowers, which contrasted beautifully. (You can tell that I’m not the best at identifying flora and fauna, but I certainly can appreciate it’s beauty). We went through Comfort, TX, Waring, Sisterville, Kendalia, and then finally Blanco, where we are camping at Blanco State Park, which is a 105 acre park along a mile of the Blanco River, at the southern edge of town. The park is hilly, and contains a number of cedar and pecan trees. Even better than that, it has some pretty nice showers, with hot water, no less!

During our route today, just outside of Kendalia, I passed a number of ornate gates and stone walls marking the entrance of estates and ranches, which appear to be quite common in this part of the state. Each entrance is marked by some sort of name, such as the “Dunwaukin Ranch” or the “Dun Broke Us Farm”. One name stood out, however. It was “Tooth Acres”, which I immediately appreciated the pun, and also assumed that this particular estate belonged to a wealthy, retired dentist. So for the next several hours, to occupy my mind while my knees pumped and I gasped for air, I began to think of other good names for estates along the way. Keeping the “Acres” theme, I started with some easy ones, such as “Belly Acres”, (perhaps a retired gastroenterologist), or “Heart Acres”, (cardiologist), “Back Acres” (orthopedic), and one of my favorites, “Wise Acres”, (for smart Alecks). Of course, there could be others, such as “El Rancho Gobroko”, “Fifty Shades of Hay”, “Derry Heir Farm”, and “Legen Dairy Farm”. As you can see, the old adage “an ideal mind with enough time on their hands is far worse than a politician” applies here.

Just outside of Blanco in Kendalia, I cycled past a Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. Being curious, I coasted up to the gate, which was manned by a lady, (which is an oxymoron if I ever heard one). Wanting to show her just how knowledgeable I was about wildlife rehabilitation, I asked her if they had treated many alcoholic bears, or deers hooked on cocaine, or perhaps rabbits with sex addictions. She kind of frowned at me, and told me it wasn’t that type of rehab center. Sensing I was losing her respect, I quickly regrouped and asked if they, perhaps, treated raccoons raised in broken homes, who had gotten in with the wrong crowd and had entered a life of crime. (I figured that raccoons could do this, given the mask around their eyes and all…a natural assumption, I’m sure you will agree). To that, she pointed to my bike and the road ahead, and asked that I proceed as quickly as I could out of her sight. It was only later that I learned that wildlife rehabilitation is the treatment and care of injured, orphaned, or sick wild animals so they can be released back into the wild. All this sounds pretty noble, I’ll concede, but I still wonder about the bears with alcohol issues, and am convinced that this could be an “untapped” market. “Untapped”. Man, how do I come up with these? Thank you, I’ll be here all week. Well, not exactly, but I’ll be around.

Blanco’s population is estimated to be about 2,000. It is home to a former astronaut (Terence Henricks), a former professional baseball player (Willie Upshaw), and screenwriter, author and photographer William Wittliff. If you know any of these people, you are better than me. Even if you DON’T know these people, you are still probably better than me.

Tomorrow is an exciting day, not necessarily because we cycle 64 miles to Lockart, but because a lot of my family will make the 3.5 to 4 hour drive from the DFW metroplex to meet me there. Talk about an incentive to pedal fast! It’s been over a month since I’ve seen Debby, Jessica and Marcus, and Joshua, as well as the two grandchildren Benjamin and Annalyn. (Jacob plans on meeting me in St. Augustine when I finish, so he won’t be there). The time in Lockhart will be short, but it will feel so good to get to see them again. It will also give me a chance to package up and send back a lot of things I brought with me that I shouldn’t have, such as a snow shovel, meatball maker, and a banjo. (No, I don’t play the banjo, but thought this would be a good time to learn. I guess I was wrong!). For this reason, please excuse me if I don’t post anything tomorrow, as I want to maximize the time I am able to spend with them, since I’ll only be in Lockhart for slightly over 12 hours. I promise to fill you in on everything when I write again, probably on Sunday once we move along to Warda. (No Wifi here, so I can’t include any pictures. I promise I will, as soon as I can).

Today was a challenging yet fascinating day. We left camp around 7:30 in a cold and wet drizzle, and experienced consistent light rain, fog, and breezy winds for nearly all of the day. The spray from the tires saturated us from head to toe, and distributed grit, grime, and dirt from helmet to shoes to bike, and everything in between. That being said, today was undoubtedly one of the prettiest rides we have had, particularly along the Guadalupe River, through and around both enormous ranches and small, quaint towns. The ranches were marked by extremely ornate gates, and spread several hundred, if not thousands of acres. The lush, green foliage covered the hillsides and came right up to the road, giving us a lot to look at through glasses spotted and streaked by the raindrops. From Concan, we traveled through Hunt county on very small, two lane roads that wound left and right, up and down, giving us a mixture of extended uphill struggles and downhill bursts. Having lived in Texas nearly 34 years, I was extremely surprised by the sheer beauty of the countryside, which was, in my opinion, reminiscent of Gatlinburg and Franklin, North Carolina, and the Smokey Mountains, particularly in the valleys, where the Guadalupe flowed nearly up to the roadside. I’m sorry to belabor the point, but I would strongly recommend a drive through this area, particularly this time of year.

I’m told that the large ranches we passed through are owned by extremely wealthy people and corporations, who often use these places as retreats. In fact, some of the grounds contain exotic animals, relocated here by for either sport or novelty. Last year, a number of the riders reportedly saw large elk along the fence lines. I was hoping to see something like that, perhaps a gazelle, giraffe, or perhaps a water buffalo, but unfortunately, probably due to the weather, the really “cool” exotics were inside watching Wheel of Fortune, and making Rice Krispie Treats. I can’t say that I blame them, but hope on my next trip through, I’ll spot a leopard, a kangaroo, and perhaps a pterodactyl. One can only dream.

As we were cycling along the countryside, between the very nice houses and large ranches, we came to an area that had fence posts on either side of the road. On top of each post was cowboy boot, and there must have been several hundred boots that bordered our ride. We were told that this particular area marks the approximate midway point of our journey, from San Diego to St. Augustine. That means that a) we have already traveled around 1,500 miles, and that b) we have yet another 1,500 to go. I’m encouraged about our progress, but am trying to remain patient and not look too far ahead, or start thinking about the end of the journey. There is so much more to see, and so much more pedaling to do. While excited about our progress, I recognize that this is still a marathon, and not a sprint. Besides, I still have many more funny stories to write!

We emptied out into Kerrville, which feels like a relatively large town. They have an absolutely beautiful park and bike trail system, and the last 4 – 5 miles were spent winding through wooded areas, with streams bordering on one or both sides of the trail. At one point, we came upon a deer, virtually 2 – 3 feet from the side of the trail. The deer calmly turned her head to look at us with mild interest, and I’m convinced that if I had some food, I would have been able to feed this beautiful animal without too much coaxing.

This trip has given me an appreciation of state and city parks. As an example, we are staying in the Kerrville Schhreiner Park, one of the cities busiest parks in Kerrville, I’m told. I’ll give them credit, in that they have a recreation hall, a dining hall, a playground, sand volleyball courts, kayaking and canoe rentals, and over 10 miles of biking and hiking trails. What this park and many others might consider is adding a few more showers and bathrooms, particularly when groups of 30 or more descend for the night. Two small showers and one toilet for 30 people make for some interesting dynamics, particularly when the group is covered in mud from head to foot. I’d seriously considered throwing myself fully clothed into the Guadalupe in order to wash away the remnants of my ride, but instead, I opted to stand in line for my 5 minute, luke-warm shower. I do think I’ll probably need to burn everything I have with me, once I return to North Texas after the adventure is over.

Kerrville itself has a population of just over 25,000 people, and is known for it’s beautiful parks and the Guadalupe River, which flows through the city. It is also home of the Texas Official State Arts and Crafts Fair (hello, Jessica!), and home of the James Avery Jewelry company. Most importantly, it is the hometown of Johnny Manziel, “Johnny Football”, of Texas A & M fame, who won the Heisman Trophy back in 2012. “Gig ‘Em, Aggies! 🙂

We don’t have much time to enjoy the sights and sounds of Kerrville, as we depart early tomorrow morning for Blanco, which is approximately 61 miles away. We will be in tents for the next several days, so I’m thinking of asking them simply to leave everything in my tent and transport it intact, mattress and sleeping bag in all. Something tells me that I won’t have a lot of luck winning that argument, but a guy can only try! Thanks for reading!

Not a lot to report today, since this was an assigned “layover day” in Concan. Slept in until around 6:00am, and then headed to breakfast and joined the group for a quick van ride back into Uvalde, traveling the last 35 miles we rode yesterday “in reverse”. Well, not really in reverse, since the van was in “drive” and the headlights were pointed forward, but you probably already knew what I meant! :). It was interesting to see the route under a different set of circumstances, and I was amazed at everything I had missed the day before, probably because I was either staring at the pavement below me, or my tongue was flapping over my eyes, given the intensity of the ride.

Tomorrow is a somewhat “special” day, in that we leave our beloved route 90 and reportedly wander along various country roads. In addition, we are introduced to the Guadalupe River in the afternoon, but even more importantly, the end of tomorrow will mark the halfway point of our Coast 2 Coast ride. It seems like “only” six (6) years ago we left San Diego (only kidding), and here we are, staring at another four weeks of tarmac, exhaust fumes, and an endless array of RV parks and campgrounds. Seriously, it has been a fascinating adventure, and I am sure that one day in the next several years, when feeling returns to my behind, I’ll look back on this time with great fondness. Until then, I suppose that I should appreciate the fact that my “cheeks” are so swollen I no longer require a chair when I sit down for lunch.

A quick word about the group I am riding with. While we have a broad spectrum of people on the tour, the majority of the group is either nearing retirement age, or have been retired for a few years. Of the now 23 remaining riders, we have six (6) medical doctors, another five (5) with doctoral / PhD degrees, and countless others with advanced or master’s degrees. Beyond their educational background, I marvel at the fact that the broad majority of them have been cycling for 15 – 20 years or more, and most have done a number of cycling tours before this one, in all parts of the world. Most our well-versed in the various techniques of cycling in groups, and spend countless hours talking about the dynamics of “pace lines”, and “slip streams”, and “pelotons”, which up until this trip, I thought was only a brand of indoor cycling bike. It’s no wonder that they laugh at the wicker basket attached to my handlebars, and the bulb horn I squeeze when, on the rare occasion, I have enough energy to pass someone. I sure am glad that I didn’t purchase that high wheel bicycle for the trip. (You know, the one with the huge wheel up front and the tiny one in the back).

Tomorrow, it’s off to Kerrville, another 73 mile day with a lot of climbing in the hill country of Texas. I’m sure I’ll have more to write tomorrow. Thanks for reading!

Today was tough. We started out at 7:30am in a pretty consistent rain and 25 MPH head and cross winds. A few interesting points along the way, however. We passed through a border patrol checkpoint, and had to stand in line while officers and a K-9 inspected and sniffed each vehicle. I felt sure that the dog would get one whiff of my socks, and either pass out, or bite my leg off. The officer only asked if we were US citizens, and did not seem to be amused when I answered “Si”, and quickly motioned us through.

Just up ahead, we came to a one lane bridge. The tour company “re-directed” us ACROSS the highway, and asked that we ride on the shoulder of the other side of the freeway, in the face of oncoming traffic. If that wasn’t scary enough, the cross winds we experienced were so heavy riding over some overpasses that we actually chose to dismount and WALK our bikes 1/4 mile or so, until we came to a group of trees on the side of the road, which helped reduce the impact of the cross winds. This was truly a first for me. These cross winds were so strong that I felt I would either be blown into the face of oncoming traffic, or would be blown over the guardrail.

In a moving experience, we cycled to Uvalde, TX, site of the mass shooting at an elementary school there. Here, we ate lunch at a very popular local diner, and saw many posters, pictures, and signs commemorating the children and teachers who lost their lives in this travesty. The town itself seems to be thriving, with a very active business district and some very interesting neighborhoods. Though not tremendously large, I would recommend anyone passing through the stop and visit the memorial, and see some of the town. There is still a strong police presence here, despite the fact that it has been quite a while since the tragedy occurred. A truly moving experience. As a quick side note, John Nance Garner, known as “Cactus Jack”, who was Vice President of the US under Franklin D. Roosevelt, was from Uvalde.

After cycling through Uvalde, the fun began. Beyond dealing with flat tires and a chain that became dislodged from one of the bikes, we endured 25 MPH headwinds and extremely rough roads for the remaining 35 miles. If this wasn’t enough, I also experienced first hand the impact of “rolling coal”, which is a practice of a pickup truck driver blowing out thick clouds of black exhaust smoke on purpose, as a sort of a derogatory “salute” to cyclists on the side of the road. This happened not once or twice, but actually three times just today. It’s not the most pleasant sensation, but alas, we did survive!

On a much lighter note, we have definitely moved out of the desert, and appear to have entered the Texas Hill Country. Having lived in Texas for over 30 years, I am truly surprised to see just how green and lush some of these areas are. I never have really traveled much west of I-35, and was amazed at the size of the trees and the foliage along the sides of the road. While the Hill Country certainly does add an element of challenge to a cyclist, the beauty and serenity of some of the areas we went through today really softened the blow of such a difficult day, weather wise.

We are staying in cabins at the Riverbend on the Frio in Concan. Despite the fact that there is no heat in these cabins, it’s nice to actually be indoors, if only to make it more difficult for the bears to eat you in the middle of the night. I admit that I have never experienced a bear in such circumstances, however the security of having a secure door separating the critters on the outside with the four weary cyclists on the inside offers a distinct measure of comfort. And besides, it’s probably too cold for bears in here, anyway.

Tomorrow is an “off day”, so I will attempt to clean the grime from my bike and ready it for our next destination, Kerrville. Hope all is well with you all. Sleep well! (I know I will!).

Well, they told me there would be days like this. Today was rough, not necessarily because of the early morning showers (our first of the trip), but the difficult trek out of Del Rio into Bracketville. The name of the game today was simply to survive the 74 miles, and regroup and hope and pray that the world might end overnight, negating the need to ever ride a bicycle again. (Only kidding about the world ending…though I’m told they are expecting severe thunderstorms and hail around 7:00pm, so I am typing furiously, in hopes of getting this in before we must take shelter).

Actually, the first half of the ride was fairly pleasant. Overcast skies shielded us from a lot of the blazing sun, and relatively cool but not cold temperatures aided us as we crossed the Amistad Dam with an escort. At first, I thought by “escort” they had secured the services of an escort service, and wondered how the spouses at home would feel about that. My fears were unfounded, however, when I discovered that they simply bunched us up and rode behind in a van, shielding us from crazy drivers in pickup trucks who seem to enjoy scaring the life out of me from time to time. Our first major SAG stop was a WalMart in Del Rio, followed by a lunch at Rudy’s a Texas barbecue institution. This is where the fun began.

As you may remember, there is one man on this tour from Holland by the name of Piet. (He pronounces his name like “Pete”, and who am I to correct him, since he’s had this name nearly all of his life. Well, maybe ALL of his life). He was the guy who flipped over the guardrail back in Arizona, but has fully recovered, and has maintained a very good attitude. As a quick background, Piet runs a small car repair shop in a small town in Holland. He went to work there at the age of 20, and has worked at the shop for 44 years. He now runs the place, which apparently is tremendously successful. Piet also is a very successful long distance ice skater, and holds some records in Holland for his performance in the 200 kilometer ice skating races. Yes, 200 kilometers, which translates to about 125 miles. (I asked him how long it takes to ice skate for 125 miles. His answer: “All day”). For all of his success, Piet has not traveled extensively in the US, so I’ve taken it upon myself to help guide him through some of the nuances of the good ol’ USA.

My first stop with Piet was at the Del Rio Super WalMart. I explained to Piet that our Super WalMarts might be just slightly bigger than his car shop in the Netherlands. Having never darkened the door of any Super WalMart, Piet’s jaw dropped when the automatic doors slid open to reveal the cavernous store, with bright neon lights and acres and acres of merchandise. I quickly explained to him that it is a tradition, well, maybe more of a requirement, that upon your first visit to a WalMart, that you must stand at the door and greet at least 10 other customers as they enter. (Why should Piet have all the fun in Del Rio, I figured. This could be pretty entertaining). Piet seemed a little confused and pensive at my instruction, but I proudly demonstrated, sticking out my hand to the person entering after me. All you have to say, I told Piet, was “Hi, my name is Piet. Welcome to WalMart.” So, being a good sport, Piet tried out this approach on the next customer. Since he was already wearing a reflective jersey with his name etched on the corner, he looked almost official, despite the fact that his jersey was actually a cycling jersey, in neon yellow. His first “customer” he welcomed seemed a little surprised, but seemed to accept that Piet was just another greeter, and went with the flow. I stood back and watched for a while, until Piet appeared to get the hang of things, and then left him at the door to join the others in our group, who were intent on buying every last bit of sunscreen the WalMart carried. I lost a little track of time, and after about 15 minutes, wandered back to the door to check on Piet. He was a still there, but didn’t notice me, as he appeared to be helping direct a lady to housewares. I left for the bike center to see if there was anything else I needed, and came back to find him after another 15 minutes. He was so engrossed in helping another lady with a return, I really hated to pull him I away from his adopted job, but finally felt he had had enough OJT (on the job training) for one day. He seemed to really enjoy his time as greeter, and I am convinced that he will be up for employee of the month, (once his standard 2 week probationary period is up).

After his first day of work at WalMart, I walked Piet over to Rudy’s, a Texas barbecue institution. He was amazed at the selections, and I demonstrated by ordering a baked potato with chopped brisket. Piet’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw the finished product, which was about the size of an NBA basketball, heaped with butter, sour cream, and about 4 pounds of chopped brisket. I paid the $8.50 for this super potato, and ushered Piet over to the table to join the rest of the group. After taking a few bites, I passed the colossal mound of found to my left, where the next person, and then the next each took a few bites. At the end of the lunch, I am proud to say that this super-stuffed potato fed all 24 of us. Not bad, for only an $8.50 investment. It was worth every penny.

Del Rio, which I believe literally translates to “the town before the road becomes tremendously bad and the wind hits you in the face” was quite an experience. One of the biggest towns we have cycled through, (population 35,000), Del Rio is located about 150 miles west of San Antonio. During September 2021, as a part of the ongoing Mexico-US border crisis, approximately 30,000 Haitian migrants illegally entered the United States at Del Rio. The border patrol moved many of these people into a camp underneath the Del Rio Ciudad Acura International bridge, a bridge we cycled over on our way to Bracketville. The area is dotted with numerous small springs, which provides a constant flow of water to San Felipe Creek. The creek supplied fresh water for drinking and irrigation to early settles of Del Rio, and the springs are still the towns water supply. It seems like a really nice town, and I would urge you, if you get into the area, to pay a visit, at least to Rudy’s Barbecue and the SuperWalmart. And if you go to the Walmart, keep an eye out for Piet, who might still be there.

Tonight, we are staying at Fort Clark Springs RV park, in tents. Fort Clark was a US Military Fort in operation for nearly 100 years, but once abandoned, was turned into a camping and RV area. The camp is truly very pretty, with huge oak and pecan trees surrounding the grounds. Fort Clark is probably one of the greenest places we have seen thus far on our trip.

The motto for tomorrow is “no rest for the wicked”. We have another 74 miles to cycle tomorrow, with Concan being our destination. I am told that “Concan” should not be confused with “Cancun”, so am trying to lower my expectations. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to write about tomorrow.

Sanderson, Texas is known for it’s dinosaurs!

Today started with breakfast served in the parish hall by a group of bleary eyed teens who had just finished celebrating their senior prom. Despite a few shirts on backwards or inside out, as well as a few who appeared to have been “over-served”, it was somewhat difficult to tell these kids had only a few hours ago been “dancing the night away”. The eggs and sausage were delicious, as were the gluten free pancakes, which I believe were intended for those of us who prefer not to eat glue. After the hearty breakfast, we left around 7:30am, and followed state route 90 toward the bustling town of Comstock, or more accurately, Seminole Canyon State Park, which is our current place of residence for the evening.

The ride was long and challenging, with a fair number of rolling hills and some steep inclines. Overall, however, we descended more than ascended, and emptied out into a basin that is pretty rocky, and fairly hot, about 84 degrees. That being said, nightfall is soon approaching, so if the performance of past nights repeats, soon we will be cocooned in wool long John’s and shrink-wrapped in our sleeping bags. I’m ready for the night-time and early morning barometer to rise to a level that might not be appropriate to keep meat fresh.

Today’s ride featured two points of interest. The first was the town of Langtry, the home of Judge Roy Bean. Some of you may know the story, or remember the 1972 movie “The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean, starring Paul Newman and Jacqueline Bisset. Judge Roy, (hereafter referred to by me as “JR”), was quite a character, acting as justice of the peace and essentially judge and jury back in the late 1800’s. J.R.’s law library consisted of only one volume of the revised statutes of Texas, though reportedly JR rarely referred to the book, but instead called upon his own sense of justice to apply to the situation, which most often suited himself just as well, if not better, than the people he was supposed to serve. He named “his” town Langtry after an actress named Lillie Langtry, one he had fancied, though reportedly had never met. Since Langtry had no jail, all offenses were deemed fine-able, with JR pocketing the fine for his own personal use. He reached the peak of his notoriety when he staged a heavyweight fight between Fitzsimmons and Maher in 1896. The site he selected for the fight was on a sandbar on the Rio Grande River, staged in Mexican territory so the Texas Rangers could not stop the fight. Of course, JR pocketed the majority of the proceeds from the fight. Quite a business man!

A few quick examples of how JR operated: Once, a corpse of a Southern Pacific railroad worker was discovered after he fell from a high bridge over the Pecos River. The man had been carrying a pistol and $40 in cash. JR rendered a verdict of “accidental death”, and then imposed a posthumous $40 fine on the deceased man for carrying a concealed weapon. Additionally, when a train passenger tossed a $20 gold piece for a beer at his saloon, JR refused to give any change. When the stranger protested, Bean fined him $19.95 for contempt of court, and threatened to double the fine if the stranger said another word. My kind of guy!

In my opinion, you haven’t really experienced life until you get on a bicycle, travel down a mile-long, 10% grade descent with 20 MPH cross-winds, while semi-trucks loaded with livestock pass you going 85 MPH. Then, picture me in that scenario, hanging on for dear life to my little red two-wheeler, screaming at the top of my lungs like a 12 year old girl in the front row of a Justin Bieber concert. Naturally, being a Sunday, I prayed HARD, and survived the state route 90 rollercoaster ride they had me ride on today. The next time you want to go to Six Flags, save the entrance fee and travel to Comstock, where you can get your fill of thrill rides for free. How we all survived the ordeal, I still am not quite clear. I did, however, get a few breathtaking views of the Pecos River (my second point of interest), as I crossed what appeared to be a mile-high bridge. As soon as I get within 30 miles of WiFi service, I promise to upload these pictures to this blog, along with a lot of interesting shots of JR’s house and saloon.

Alas, we have little time to celebrate our 81 mile day today. Tomorrow, we push forward to Bracketville, approximately 74 miles away. Our route shifts from southeast to east only, with a crossing of Amistad Lake. The best news of all: The bridge over the lake is shoulder-less, so a vehicle escort will be required. I look forward to this parade, and promise to wave to all bystanders, and perhaps toss candy to the kids. We spend the night at the Fort Clark Springs RV park, once again in tents, though I believe the correct spelling is “INTENSE”. Hope you all had a great weekend!

Today’s ride was a quick and easy one, thanks to a very prolonged descent from Marathon to Sanderson. We left at 8:00am, and by 12:15, entered the town of 650 people. The downhill was a big help, and worked in conjunction with a fairly cooperative tailwind to make the pedaling relatively easy. While we are on the subject of wind, I must make a note of the wind storm we experienced yesterday. For those of you “playing along at home”, you might remember that yesterday was a “layover day”, which left most of us wandering around the RV campsite in Marathon, trying to find something to do, even if it meant trouble. Trouble came to us, however, in the form of 40 mile per hour winds, gusting to 60+ miles an hour. I am not exaggerating (I would never do THAT, right?), but the winds started at 11:00am, and did not subside until around 10:00pm. The poor tent poles were stretched to their maximum, and miraculously held up, though several times, while lying on my inflatable mattress, the tent bowed all the way to the floor of the tent, covering me like an extra blanket. By the end of the day, we were so exhausted from trying to endure the wind that most of us collapsed in our tents, at least those of us whose tents had not collapsed themselves.

The town of Sanderson is known for many things. The first, most obvious thing, are the huge dinosaur replicas adorning the Main Street coming into town. Standing about 20 feet tall, I saw 3 or 4 as I pedaled into the center of town, and also noted huge metal statues of Don Quixote, camels, rhinos, and alligators, which is what you might expect to see in this remote little town in the middle of the desert, right? For you movie buffs, it is important to note that Sanderson is the location of the trailer park where Llewelyn Moss lives in the 2005 novel and 2007 film No Country for Old Men. How could anyone forget THAT, right? 🙂

We were instructed to meet at the Ranch House Cafe on the opposite end of town. The Ranch House is known for it’s abrupt handling of patrons, and it’s gun-toting waitresses, and this visit did not disappoint. I shyly asked the waitress if she would mind, very kindly, to bring me a hamburger, providing it was not too much trouble. Then, after ordering, I decided to add cheese to the burger, and asked politely if she could accommodate that. She frowned, rolled her eyes, and instructed me that that sandwich was, in fact, known as a “cheeseburger”, not a hamburger. Well, when you are right, you are right. About that time, I saw her slowly reach for her waist, and was sure she was about to pull her 57 magnum out and shoot me, but in fact, she was only reaching for her order pad, so she could make the change, and then, scribble something like “imbecile” on the pad, with an arrow pointing toward me. I only felt lucky to get away with a mild reprimand, and promised her I would no longer speak for the rest of the time I sat on the picnic table.

From there, we rode our bikes back to the Sanderson High School, were we are residing for the evening. We were told that dinner would be early tonight (4:30pm), since the kids agreed to serve us before they realized that tonight was the night of their high school senior prom. I’m pretty sure this is going to be a relatively fast meal, but secretly am hoping that I might be invited to attend the prom festivities, if only as a chaperone. In fact, I would even be willing to wander down to the hardware store to see if they carried clip on bow ties, so I could better blend in. We also were told that the kids agreed to serve us breakfast tomorrow morning, however my best guess is that most of them will be so hung over from the big dance that tomorrow’s breakfast might be the most memorable one of the trip.

Before I proceed, I must discuss something that is obviously of utmost importance to the townspeople of Sanderson. The topic I am referring to is WATER PRESSURE. Apparently, the administration in this desert town is extremely serious about providing the highest water pressure possible. After enduring several weeks of cold, very weak showers, the showers in the high school locker room created quite a stir. As I turned on the showers, I became a little concerned that, should there be a fire in the town, the burning structure might suffer from lack of pressure from the fire hoses, since it appears that all the pressure in the town is directed to the school. Despite all of our efforts, we were unable to reduce the pressure. I began to think that this was a new way of exfoliating, since layers and layers of first dirt, and then layers of skin began to quickly slide off of our bodies and down the drain. Sort of a shower and loofa all at once. After enduring a 5 minute shower, I rushed to the mirror, in hopes that the pressure washing I just received would make me look like an 8 year old boy again. Alas, no so such luck, but I thought the idea was sound, at least in principle. Perhaps if I had stayed in the shower a little longer, it might have worked, but then again, I could have sustained a concussion. It’s no wonder the Sanderson High School nickname are the “Sandblasters”.

I must close now, as the high school prom-goers want us to report pronto, since they are paying by the hour for their limousines. I promise to post more after dinner, and perhaps a few pictures.

Dinner was a huge success! All of the seniors, (all 7 of them), were in attendance, and shoveled chicken and beef fajita meat as fast as they could at us, so they could leave to don their tuxedos and prom dresses. There was a enough food to food twice as many as were in attendance, and they have begged us to take the food with us when we go. I’m just wondering how I am going to strap this fajita dinner on my bike tomorrow morning.

Speaking of tomorrow, the ride promises to be a very challenging one. We have over 81 miles to ride, from Sanderson to Comstock, through a route described as one where there is “absolutely no way to spend any money”. The biggest landmark apparently is a town called Langtry, which is the home of Judge Roy Bean, a former saloon keeper and Justice of the Peace. Roy described himself as “The Only Law West of the Pecos, which in many ways does not provide me with a lot of comfort, particularly after observing the territory Judge Roy was in charge of. I’m sure we will find ways to make the ride an enjoyable one. Sleep well, knowing that your favorite cyclist is safely nestled safely beneath the visitor’s basket in the Sanderson gym, (home of the Sandblasters).

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!