Alpine to Austin

So out of cactus country and into more desert. We had even more hills to climb with not too much water to quench the thirst. Sometimes it felt like we were riding in a convection oven. The good thing was that we were not alone. In fact over this next section we would see at least one person riding along the Southern tier. Everyone always friendly, the only disagreement would be which party had the favoured wind. Not matter which direction the person was travelling, everyone had a headwind to complain about. Sometimes I wish I could get a picture that would capture the wind. Then again I don’t think in the years to come I will want to be reminded of those windy days. You can be sure that if I could take a picture of the wind, in every photo it would be smiling, nay laughing at us, in every photo.

Our journey was long and dry. We broke up the day with a short stop in the town of Langtry where a man by the name of Judge Roy Bean ruled the counties with an iron fist (as well as the local bar). Being so close to the Mexican border he held a professional fight against Texas and USA authority. All he had to do was construct a bridge over the Rio Grande and hold the fight on Mexican turf. To me he seemed to write the law as apposed to uphold it. The information center was very informative but probably the best selling points were the air-conditioning, cold water and free admission. Reluctantly we left our cocoon of comfort rolling in to Seminole Canyon National Park. Exhausted we were disappointed to find out that night daylight saving would begin. This meant one less hour sleep for our exhausted bodies.

The next day we made our way out early. The incentive was to be in greener pastures and a lunch in Del Rio. Gradually as we neared the Amistad Reservoir on the outskirts of Del Rio the scenery changed. We started seeing woody structures on the sides of the side of the road which we later identified as trees. We gorged ourselves to celebrate the greenery at a Texas BBQ chain. Not knowing how the system of ordering meet by the pound it took us three orders to get it right (the third was for a pecan pie dessert of course). Our mood had changed but unfortunately the wind hadn't. We charged on along a our trusty highway number ninety to Brackettville. Texas (or Tejas as it was originally called) has a reputation for things being bigger, this saying certanily holds true for the road surfaces. Probably the most teeth rattling sections of our journey have been in Texas with the chip rock on the roads being almost the size of boulders. I may need to get a few replacement teeth fillings.

Brackettville was a the first of many small towns that we would find ourselves saying "you could really enjoy living here one day." It seemed to have everything that you needed to get by with. Part of the town was an old fort called Fort Clark Springs, now it was very much a retirement/semi-retired village. We retired there for the evening with a couple of pints of Blue Bell ice-cream. Our nightmares of more chip rock roads and head winds became a reality when we awoke the next day. With no more fillings to lose it was just a bone on bone grind for the day. We continued along farm roads past many ranches used as target practice for the many gun happy people or ventured out to these parts. Many of the ranches were filled with exotic animals that bosted year long hunting. On one section of the road we came across two stray deer that had freed themselves. Startled they began jumping reclessly into the fences on either side of the road trying to escape the roadway. With bits of fur flying all over the place and less strength in their step they finally gave up as we cycled past. A couple of gentlemen who owned one of the nearby ranches were disappoitned we couldn't steer them toward their entrance.

We pedalled for what seemeed to be an eternity. The country side was picturesque and the hills began to increase in frequency. We enjoyed short stops in quaint little towns like Campwood, Leakey and Vanderpool. Some of the steepest sections of our adventure were in this section. One area was called "the wall" for obvious reasons. This was an area enjoyed by many motorcyclists because of the windy, tree lined and steep sections. Unfortunately our bikes were fuelled by our legs. Somehow we managed to persist and sweat out the pavement pounding. That night, over 90 miles from our beginning, we got to the Lost Maples State Area to pitch our tent only to find out that the only camping left (mainly due to the Spring Break crowds) was at the primitive sites. Th Ranger, who must have a distant relative working at a bike shop in Las Cruces, would take no pity on us insisting we start hiking before the sun gets too low instead of allowing us to camp elsewhere.

The next morning we had one last steep climb before continuing on through Hill Country. The route continued past more ranches, winding up and down more hills and followed the course of the Guadalupe River. We passed more of those little country towns such as Hunt, Ingram and Kerrville. One large buffet lunch later and we could not pass up the opportunity of camping in Comfort, albeit next to the interstate. In Comfort we met another cyclist travelling cross country supported in an RV by his wife. The following day their help (thanks Mike and Vargie) was priceless. Alison had further spoke and rear wheel trouble. First the replacement spoke jumped out onto the road. Once relocated and repositioned another completely different spoke decided to break. More repairs ensued and we continued to ride with our fingers crossed. The tac tic worked as we pulled in to camp in the backyard of the EMS of Wimberley.

A sleep in complete with donut sharpened our mood as we continued on to Austin. The road out of Wimberley was similar to the Hill Country. It had hills, narrow roads and no shoulder. The only difference, unfortunately, was that here there was a lot more traffic. We may have had our first encounter with road rage, however, at that speed all we could hear was "blah blah blah." I think the translation might be - "I am fat, lazy and I am late for my appointment at McDonalds." The road improved, as did the drivers patience as we approached Austin. After all we were in Lance Armstrong territory now (as we kept getting reminded). Around midday we arrived at our destination, deposited our bikes for a tune up and awaited a lift to a much needed stay with our hosts Sal and Dora.