Day 37
Sanderson to Langtry TX
"Danny"
was the name of the manager at the Budget Motel in Sanderson TX. He was managing a sinking ship, the place
looked like it had been staged for one of those suspense movies where stranded
tourists are forced to spend the night, usually with fatal consequences. The
pool was filled in with dirt, the old filtration equipment laying
helter-skelter inside the still erect fencing around the pool. Every paint can, mop, broom, or bucket that
had ever been used at the facility was still there, waiting for the call to
duty just one more time. I was intrigued
with the massive ironing machine that was slowly rusting just outside the back
door of the motel, it looked like a giant lathe, vintage about 1940, that must
have been a steam device to iron bed sheets.
Danny spent
his day talking with cyclists, encouraging them to rent a room (he has a little
speech he gives every arriving cyclist, the core message is that he has a
"sliding scale" fee for rooms he rents to cyclists, just name your
price. I made a joke about Priceline but
I doubt he knows who William Shatner is. Failing that, he offers soft drinks,
cold water, and hot showers for sale. He is quite a salesman; his daily take
cannot be more than $100.
Staying at
the "motel" in Sanderson was rough.
The camping was on gravel, it was windy, and the cafes did not seem
interested in opening for breakfast, I vaulted out of there with the idea that
I would ride the full 65 miles to the next town and then have a massive dinner.
The weather
had warmed, so the riding was pleasant but I did start to feel the hint of
work. The wind, which had been for the most part blowing from some westerly
direction, was starting to veer to the east.
All day it strengthened from the SE, making for a bit more work than
usual to cover 65 miles- since I was cycling right into it.
Arriving at
Langtry, I camped at a small community center for free, no bathrooms but some
nice grass. Just a block from my
campsite was located the Judge Roy Bean Museum, where I found squeaky clean
bathrooms, ice cold water at the fountain, and WIFI. I walked through the museum; it was a tiny
affair- it actually seemed totally out of place, so far out in the desert with
nothing else for miles- with silly little mementos of the life of Roy
Bean. I vaguely remember the movie
starring Paul Newman...I will have to watch it now that I have visited the
actual site.
The real
problem with Langtry is that the two restaurants shown on my map had ceased
operations, so there was no food to be had, unless you count the one small gas
station- it had standard convenience store fare, but no real food.
I would
have to make up for the shortage of food tomorrow.
64 miles
Day 38
Langtry to Del Rio TX
I was
hungry, the wind was supposed to be strong from the east (headwind), so I hit
the road early, just as the sun peeked over the horizon. During the night the weather had made a
significant change, up until Langtry the humidity had hovered around 10-20
percent, now it was close to 90%. I
think the desert was giving way to the Gulf of Mexico.
I crossed
the Pecos after only a few miles, not only did it have real water flowing
within its banks, the water was CLEAR. Things looked to be getting wetter.
Strong SE winds slowed my pace, but I made it
into the next town (Comstock) in time for an early lunch, only there was no
lunch to be had. Like a lot of the towns
of Western Texas, this one was suffering a serious setback. Most everything was closed, including the two
restaurants shown on my map. The only
"convenience" store (in Texas, apparently, a convenience store is only allowed to sell beer in 40 oz cans,
cigarettes and chew, plus a full selection of chips. And soft drinks.) had little to offer. There was a refrigerator with a sign announcing
that sandwiches are $3.50 each. I rooted
around within its bowels for a bit seeing nothing that resembled an edible
sandwich. The proprietress watched me
the entire time, calmly smoking what must have been her third pack of the
morning- judged by the pall of smoke in the store- and when I inquired about a
sandwich, she said, "we ain't got no sammiches". I wanted to change the sign to read "if
we had sandwiches, they would only be $3.50 each. Have a nice day".
All I could
scrounge for food was a can of V8 and two payday bars. They went into the
hopper but made little difference. My
only option was to keep pushing on the pedals until I made it to Del Rio, where
surely there would be food aplenty.
After 8
full hours of pedaling into a stiff headwind, I made it to Del Rio. I passed up several taverns that seemed more
interested in alcohol than food, and settled for the first Subway that hove
into view. I devoured a foot long
sandwich in record time, and then hustled into town headed to the Motel 6. I was lucky to get a room, it seems that Del
Rio is in the midst of a boom and many of the rooms were already filled with
construction workers. Later, I was to
learn that most of the towns in Texas, if they are booming, are busy drilling
for oil and natural gas. Evidently,
there is a lot of fracking going on in Texas.
Money.
As soon as
I was settled at Motel 6, I located the nearest grocery store and STOCKED
UP. When I left the next morning, my
trailer was festooned with many bags of groceries and sandwiches, all ready for
immediate consumption. There would be no
more food shortages if I had anything to do about it.
61 very
slow miles
Day 39
Del Rio to Uvalde TX
I decided
to leave the route, missing some of the legendary Texas Hill Country, and go visit
my friends Barb and John in San Antonio.
I decided to head straight east on Hwy 90, since it was a direct
route.
The first
20 miles out of Del Rio, the shoulder of the road was wide, very wide- maybe 6
ft. The next 20 or so miles, it shrunk
to about 3 ft. Still workable, but no
margin left for any error, plus traffic volume was increasing.
Here is a
good time to share the sad cycling fact that not all shoulder surfaces are
created equal. The wider the shoulder,
the better, naturally, but sometimes the width really only serves to frustrate
the rider. For example, it was very
common in AZ to encounter nice wide shoulders that were infested with
"expansion cracks" every 4-6 ft apart, running perpendicular to the
road. Riding on these shoulders was a
trial. The cracks were likely formed by years of heating and cooling of the
surface, often leaving fissures several inches wide and several inches
tall. Riding across these fissures was
like hitting something the size of a baseball bat every 4-6 ft. To ride these
shoulders safely required a very slow pace and checking on packs and tie-downs frequently to
prevent items from dropping unnoticed.
It is especially painful to ride mile after mile on these rotten
shoulders when there is a wonderful, smooth driving lane just on the other side
of the white line. I tried several times
to cheat the situation and ride the roadway until I heard traffic approach from
the rear, when I would then slow and ride onto the shoulder. Because the wind
and/or oncoming traffic noise made it difficult to detect every overtaking
vehicle, I received many long duration “damn it" horn blasts from many
overtaking trucks- the message seemed clear, get back on the shoulder. I stopped doing that.
Texas has
many highways that have been resurfaced with "chipseal", Hwy 90 being
one of them. Instead of repaving the
highway with high quality asphalt, the road is covered with paving oil, then
gravel is spread over the oil, creating a new but rather rough driving
surface. In Texas they do everything
BIG, and they use 3/4" angular rock for the chip seal. This makes for a very rough and uneven
shoulder, plus the road noise from tires passing you at 75 mph is incredibly
loud. Again, nice wide shoulders, which appear to the motorist as very
generous, to the cyclist, a challenge.
The
narrowing shoulder and the chip seal made HWY 90 less than ideal, but a new
element was beginning to emerge that would prove to be very helpful. Up until this point in the trip, there was
usually only one road available on which to cycle. No options unless one was
willing to divert for hundreds of miles.
From Uvalde eastward, Google Maps was starting to show some serious
options. Texas has hundreds of
"Farm to Market" roads, and I started taking them. Now I could leave the noise and danger of the
high speed highways and travel slowly and quietly through the little towns of
Texas. This was a big step towards
happiness.
Another
Motel 6 in Uvalde
74 miles
for the day. 2,018 miles TOTAL!
Day 40
Uvalde to Castroville TX
The most
noticeable change is the steady greening up of everything. There is green grass springing up alongside
the roadways. Spring wildflowers are
everywhere. Trees have green leaves, gardens are planted and sprouting. Ranches have planted crops instead of
scrubland. The land of milk and honey.
Unless you are a deer.
You can't
miss it, especially in the smaller towns, where one passes hardware and lumber
yards in every town. The deer do not
stand a chance here in Texas. If the cars
don't get them, the hunters will. I have never seen so many lifeless deer along
the side of the road as I have seen here in Texas, sometimes the carcasses seem
to touch they are so numerous. Judging by the roadkill numbers, life as a fawn
is especially perilous in this state. And that is only during the off season,
apparently things are worse, animal-wise, during hunting season. Two items seem to be for sale everywhere:
deer corn and elevated deer stands. The
deer corn is sold in 50 pound bags; the favorite seems to be the
"apple" flavored. Every
convenience store has it prominently displayed...and it is March. I presume that one uses it to lure the
unsuspecting animals to within gun range of your deer stand.
The
elevated deer stands come in a variety of sizes, but imagine a Sylvester
Stallone movie- Rambo- where he has to rescue hostages from a sordid POW camp,
the compound is always guarded with men in towers with machine guns. The props crew probably purchased the
"guard towers" here in Texas at any of the hundreds of lumber and
hardware stores that have them proudly displayed. They are all painted in camo and might even
come with options like refrigerated beer tappers and machine gun mounts.
Not much
sport to deer hunting here in the great state of Texas.
67
beautiful and serene miles along the backroads.
Day 41
Castroville to San Antonio
This was an
easy day. I stopped at a Starbucks to
remember what big city living was like, and then cycled on to my friend’s house
in NW San Antonio. I was looking forward
to some good food and sleeping in a regular bed.
37 miles
Day 42 (March 17, 2012)
San Antonio TX
No riding
today. I put two new tires on my bike,
visited the real Alamo, had ice cream, watched the San Antonio River turn green
in honor of St Patrick, grilled Jerked chicken on a strange grill, and relaxed.
0 miles
Day 43 (March 18)
San Antonio to Wimberley TX:
I hated to
leave the comforts of San Antonio, but the winds dictated immediate
action. For the past eight days of
riding, the winds have persisted from the SE, since I have been riding almost
straight east, that meant headwinds. Now
my route is north for at least 45 miles and the winds are forecast to switch to
the NW very soon due to a rapidly moving cold front from the north. No time to dally, if I want to feel the joy
of a tail wind, I need to leave today.
This day is
a delightful ride into Texas Hill Country.
Never ending, rolling hills that give a fabulous view at every crest,
then a sweet downhill run to the next climb.
Delightful riding.
I get my 45
miles of fast tail wind and then another 26 miles of headwind after I make my
turn to the east, but all is good. I
camp at a free campsite, an EMS station in the wonderful town of Wimberley. Plus there is another cyclist there from
Portland OR; He is originally from Indonesia but now calls Portland home. He is a chatterbox and shares many, many
stories about his exploits cycling down the West Coast (he left for his trip in
early summer 2011) and then starting the Southern Tier in the Fall. I have met many people along the way who have
told me about him (his name is Tai) and now I meet him. Of all the riders I have met so far, he seems
closest to me in his view of the Southern Tier: too few roads, too many cars,
too few interesting towns. He is
planning to turn north when he gets in the vicinity of New Orleans, and ride
along the Mississippi River. He has
heard about a trail that will take him along the river all the way north to
Minnesota. I hope I run into him again
someday.
71 miles
