September 25/09 - Encinal, Texas
Loves Truck Stop
Mileage: 156.8 km (98 miles)
Total mileage: 3,807 km
Camped tonight at Loves Truck Stop. Camped on a little tiny patch of grass that the manager permitted us to use. Strange birds chattering away in the hibiscus tress and the noise of 50 + tractor trailer units make for an interesting combination of sounds.
Cycled 156.8 km today. That's 98 miles. When Deby had the choice of camping in the desert or semi-civilization, she really put out (Funny what the fear of snakes and illegals will help you accomplish). Not to many choices in southwest Texas. Rather desolate and unpopulated country.
It was dusk and threatening darkness for the last 20 kms of our day. Deby cycled strong all day, but really punished the road over that last stretch. I think she's been holding back on me. I can honestly say that I could name 100 guys that couldn't have cycled that stretch that fast, especially after cycling 136 km already. After this kick, I renamed her bike. No longer is it V-Dub, now and forever after, it will be known as the 'Punisher.' (Appropriate since it punishes him on my slow days, and also works when fear makes me go faster).
This morning before leaving Eagle Pass we met a fella by the name of Alphonse. Alphonse was from Louisiana, but relocating in Eagle Pass. Alphonse said that he was renovating an old place and pointed in the direction of his new property. We had come into Eagle Pass from that direction so I knew the place he was working on probably didn't amount to much.
Anyway, we conversed for quite some time. Alphonse seemed to be a cross between Malcolm X and Preston Manning...strange eh! Alphonse gave us a long lesson on injustice and the problems with the United States. He also told us of the cycle of welfare etc. etc.
Alphonse was very interested in our trip and actually very worldly in his knowledge. He wished us the best and as we were preparing to leave he reached into his wallet and said, "Let me give you something for the road." I chose to leave this to Deby and I walked a short distance away to throw some trash in the garbage, smiling all the while. I looked back and Alphonse was forcing a 20 dollar bill on Deby. Deby was politely trying to decline the offer, but Alphonse kept getting louder, and louder in a Louisiana kind of way. Finally, Deby accepted the bill not wanting to insult him. Alphonse then bid us farewell and drove away in his rusty old 80's something Cutlass.
Alphonse is proof that less can be more. I think that we have to be careful not to loose the kind of attitude that he has. Alphonse is in touch with the finer things in life, that being relationships and generosity. He has it all together.
Down the road 70 kms, in Carrizo Springs, we gave Alphonse's $20 to a fella that was collecting money for his church that runs drug rehab homes around the world. The $20 that Alphonse so unselfishly gave us will go on working. Thank-you Alphonse.
Good cycling today. Highs were in the 90's which we are quite used to at this point. Gentle grades made it easy, although this Texas chip coat is rough and slows the bike somewhat.
Leaving Eagle Pass we cycled through desert of course, but it did vary as the moisture varied in the different areas. This is the land of showers and not all areas of the desert by any means get the same amount of precipitation.
From Carrizo Springs and eastward through Asherton, Catarina, and finally Encinal the desert became increasingly greener. The trees got bigger and instead of dirt, or struggling grass between them, we began to see lush high grass. So much so, that I began to wonder why they don't cut the ditches for hay. Then it dawned on me that they don't need hay in this country because they pasture their cattle all year. At the truck stop I asked one of the employees if this area was still considered desert. He stated it wasn't desert any longer.
Deby is getting hardier. Neither of us have had a shower in 3 days now. This is not some sort of strange strike or anything, southwest Texas is just hard country for a cyclist. We have taken to using a lilac scented sunscreen. Our aroma is rather special, sort of bitter/sweet, like a lilac bush growing beside a dumpster.
We saw half a dozen javelinas in the ditch today. A sort of wild pig. I thought they were supposed to be small, but these were a good size.
That's all folks. Have to go check the tent. The maintenance man here figures we put it on top of a fire ant hill.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
The Oasis
September 24/09 - Eagle Pass, Texas
Wagon Wheel Bar/Restaurant
Mileage: 100 km
Total mileage: 3,651 km
We are camped this evening at the rear of the Wagon Wheel Bar/Restaurant. It looked like a nice place so we asked the owner, Hugo if we could stay. Hugo said yes, and wouldn't take any money which I had offered him. Hugo, went even further and offered us the use of an older mobile home out back, but we politely declined.
Deby and I have been sleeping in our tent for so long now that we are used to the cool breezes and the lullaby of the crickets. We knew the mobile home would make for a restless sleep as have the odd nights that we have spent in hotels.
Just before dark, three Border Patrol Officers swooped by our tent and dived into the shallow valley that we overlook. Two of them were on quads and the third followed in a 4X4. As Bart Simpson would say, "Cooool!" I watched them for a while. The two on quads would periodically get off and look for tracks and then continue on. I don't think they had any call to this location. They just seemed to be making a rapid and hasty patrol in the hopes of surprising illegals or mules.
Leaving Del Rio this morning we talked with 76 year old Roger. Roger was very impressed with our trip and wanted every detail. I was very impressed with Roger. Roger runs 5 km distance 3-4 times a week and competes in 5 km races finishing at the top of his class. Way to go Roger.
Roger is also a pilot and flies a wealthy rancher to and from Mexico regularly. I asked him if Customs and Border Patrol were all over him for those flights to which he replied, "Yup!"
South from Del Rio on Hwy 277 we started to encounter desert trees which we had not seen for a while. Also, since Amistad Lake we were now seeing a beautiful flowering pink bush throughout the desert. The bush was very plentiful and from different vistas you could see it all across the desert.
We dropped into a valley which included the town of Quemado. The valley, which is more like a basin, is an oasis. Beautiful crops and grass pastures. Huge trees, and trees and brush that are overgrown in the lushness.
One has to wonder how a place like this exists here. There is irrigation, but more than that I think you could put a spade in the ground and hit the water table.
The Town of Quemado is quaint. Very Spanish in residents and architecture. It could be 'any town in Mexico'.
Leaving Quemado the country became a little dryer, but not like the country further to the west. Toward Eagle Pass was still much greener.
We rode through about 2 miles of road construction just before Quemado. There was no road left, just mud. Deby's new mudders ate it up. My tires left a little to be desired. The mud was slow going. The mud in Texas is sticky, like riding on a giant fly strip. By the time we were through the construction we looked as though we were riding adobe bikes.
Pulling into Eagle Pass, 3,651 km without incident, my Polish Princess hit a garbage can. (I didn't drive into it, I just miscalculated how far my bags stuck out on the side and caught the garbage can with the bag. The garbage can won, and down the bike and I went). The bike was fine, and oh ya, so was Deby.
We had a good cycling day. Overcast sky's and mild temperatures. Some real pavement for a change, not just chip coat. Real pavement is much faster and more comfortable to ride. In fact it was such an easy day that we both figured a person could get fat doing this.
Wagon Wheel Bar/Restaurant
Mileage: 100 km
Total mileage: 3,651 km
We are camped this evening at the rear of the Wagon Wheel Bar/Restaurant. It looked like a nice place so we asked the owner, Hugo if we could stay. Hugo said yes, and wouldn't take any money which I had offered him. Hugo, went even further and offered us the use of an older mobile home out back, but we politely declined.
Deby and I have been sleeping in our tent for so long now that we are used to the cool breezes and the lullaby of the crickets. We knew the mobile home would make for a restless sleep as have the odd nights that we have spent in hotels.
Just before dark, three Border Patrol Officers swooped by our tent and dived into the shallow valley that we overlook. Two of them were on quads and the third followed in a 4X4. As Bart Simpson would say, "Cooool!" I watched them for a while. The two on quads would periodically get off and look for tracks and then continue on. I don't think they had any call to this location. They just seemed to be making a rapid and hasty patrol in the hopes of surprising illegals or mules.
Leaving Del Rio this morning we talked with 76 year old Roger. Roger was very impressed with our trip and wanted every detail. I was very impressed with Roger. Roger runs 5 km distance 3-4 times a week and competes in 5 km races finishing at the top of his class. Way to go Roger.
Roger is also a pilot and flies a wealthy rancher to and from Mexico regularly. I asked him if Customs and Border Patrol were all over him for those flights to which he replied, "Yup!"
South from Del Rio on Hwy 277 we started to encounter desert trees which we had not seen for a while. Also, since Amistad Lake we were now seeing a beautiful flowering pink bush throughout the desert. The bush was very plentiful and from different vistas you could see it all across the desert.
We dropped into a valley which included the town of Quemado. The valley, which is more like a basin, is an oasis. Beautiful crops and grass pastures. Huge trees, and trees and brush that are overgrown in the lushness.
One has to wonder how a place like this exists here. There is irrigation, but more than that I think you could put a spade in the ground and hit the water table.
The Town of Quemado is quaint. Very Spanish in residents and architecture. It could be 'any town in Mexico'.
Leaving Quemado the country became a little dryer, but not like the country further to the west. Toward Eagle Pass was still much greener.
We rode through about 2 miles of road construction just before Quemado. There was no road left, just mud. Deby's new mudders ate it up. My tires left a little to be desired. The mud was slow going. The mud in Texas is sticky, like riding on a giant fly strip. By the time we were through the construction we looked as though we were riding adobe bikes.
Pulling into Eagle Pass, 3,651 km without incident, my Polish Princess hit a garbage can. (I didn't drive into it, I just miscalculated how far my bags stuck out on the side and caught the garbage can with the bag. The garbage can won, and down the bike and I went). The bike was fine, and oh ya, so was Deby.
We had a good cycling day. Overcast sky's and mild temperatures. Some real pavement for a change, not just chip coat. Real pavement is much faster and more comfortable to ride. In fact it was such an easy day that we both figured a person could get fat doing this.
Bike Repairs
September 23/09 - Lonesome Dove Campground
Del Rio, Texas
Spent the day in Del Rio. Replaced both tires on Deby's Surly. Both her Specialized Nimbus Armadillos had severely deliminated.
Lakeside Sports, the Specialized dealer and the only bicycle shop in town didn't have any of those tires to give us, so they replaced them with Specialized Crossroads Armadillos. The Crossroads is more of a mountain bike tire, but has a centre bead for road travel. Not premium, but workable.
I guess I have to eat my shorts. I stated earlier that the Specialized Nimbus was the best thing on wheels...wrong. True, they are almost impenetrable, but the rubber falls off the tires. This is a bad thing. Never the less, Specialized has been very good to us and replaced all the tires on warranty.
I am starting to concede to what super cycle tourer Dan in Montpellier told me. He said, "Buy cheap tires and lots of patches, because there isn't a tire or gimmick out there that will work better." I'm starting to feel more comfortable with his philosophy.
Del Rio is a pretty city. We had a nice time touring around.
Del Rio, Texas
Spent the day in Del Rio. Replaced both tires on Deby's Surly. Both her Specialized Nimbus Armadillos had severely deliminated.
Lakeside Sports, the Specialized dealer and the only bicycle shop in town didn't have any of those tires to give us, so they replaced them with Specialized Crossroads Armadillos. The Crossroads is more of a mountain bike tire, but has a centre bead for road travel. Not premium, but workable.
I guess I have to eat my shorts. I stated earlier that the Specialized Nimbus was the best thing on wheels...wrong. True, they are almost impenetrable, but the rubber falls off the tires. This is a bad thing. Never the less, Specialized has been very good to us and replaced all the tires on warranty.
I am starting to concede to what super cycle tourer Dan in Montpellier told me. He said, "Buy cheap tires and lots of patches, because there isn't a tire or gimmick out there that will work better." I'm starting to feel more comfortable with his philosophy.
Del Rio is a pretty city. We had a nice time touring around.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Border Patrol
September 22/09 - Del Rio, Texas
Lonesome Dove Campground
Mileage: 100 km
Total mileage: 3,551 km
The same storm that we got last night provided us with an awesome tailwind today. Temperature also dropped to 68 degrees. Perfect cycling. Almost a little chilly.
Rolled through the desert and crossed some very picturesque canyons. Crossed the Pecos River just above where it meets the Rio Grande. The Pecos River canyon is something to behold. Huge rock walls on both sides, 100 feet plus. The river itself is enormous.
Talked with a Border Patrol officer, Rubin. Rubin told me that the work here has changed somewhat over the years. Rubin said that it used to be mostly aliens, but now it was mostly drugs. He stated that a few of the "good old boys" still come over to try and find work, but most of the illegals now come over carrying drugs.
I got the impression that he and probably the other Border Patrol officers have some empathy for the aliens coming over to work. They come over, Border Patrol catches them, all part of the game, ho hard feelings. The drug smugglers, or mules as they are called, are the big problem.
Rubin said that in this area it was difficult to come across because the banks of the Rio Grande are much like the banks of the Pecos. He said that there was only a few canyons, washes, etc. joining the Rio Grande where it was possible. He stated that these areas are monitored with seismic sensors tuned to detect footsteps. When there is a hit they swoop into the area. Still, aliens/mules do manage to penetrate these barriers sometimes.
All along Hwy 90 where we travelled, there was a dirt road adjacent t the ditch. This dirt road runs for miles and miles and miles. I noticed the Border Patrol grooming the road by dragging tractor tires along it with their trucks. Rubin told me that they groom this road and check it three times a day for foot prints. If there is a foot print on it, the hunt starts. Rubin said that the illegals will try to make it north to I-10, which gives the Border Patrol officers up to five days to track them through the desert. He said that he used to be in K-9. It made my mouth water to think of tracking through the pristine, uncontaminated desert.
They have no shortage of work and there doesn't appear to be any shortage of them. Border Patrol is everywhere. We pass them constantly while they sit on approaches and watch traffic and they pass us constantly at high speeds heading to the next call.
Today we went through a road block. Border Patrol was stopping each and every vehicle and the K-9 officer was checking the vehicles which his dog.
Ruben told me that they have horse patrols, that officers are out in the desert on quads and that they have an air unit with flur night vision. Very multifaceted.
Anyway, we ended our day peddling along Amistad Lake and to the Lonesome Dove Campground just on the outskirts of Del Rio. The nice lady camp host gave us way to many cookies.
My Polish Princess was a hot shot today with the tailwind and her little tiny high gear. The vulchers never looked at her twice.
Lonesome Dove Campground
Mileage: 100 km
Total mileage: 3,551 km
The same storm that we got last night provided us with an awesome tailwind today. Temperature also dropped to 68 degrees. Perfect cycling. Almost a little chilly.
Rolled through the desert and crossed some very picturesque canyons. Crossed the Pecos River just above where it meets the Rio Grande. The Pecos River canyon is something to behold. Huge rock walls on both sides, 100 feet plus. The river itself is enormous.
Talked with a Border Patrol officer, Rubin. Rubin told me that the work here has changed somewhat over the years. Rubin said that it used to be mostly aliens, but now it was mostly drugs. He stated that a few of the "good old boys" still come over to try and find work, but most of the illegals now come over carrying drugs.
I got the impression that he and probably the other Border Patrol officers have some empathy for the aliens coming over to work. They come over, Border Patrol catches them, all part of the game, ho hard feelings. The drug smugglers, or mules as they are called, are the big problem.
Rubin said that in this area it was difficult to come across because the banks of the Rio Grande are much like the banks of the Pecos. He said that there was only a few canyons, washes, etc. joining the Rio Grande where it was possible. He stated that these areas are monitored with seismic sensors tuned to detect footsteps. When there is a hit they swoop into the area. Still, aliens/mules do manage to penetrate these barriers sometimes.
All along Hwy 90 where we travelled, there was a dirt road adjacent t the ditch. This dirt road runs for miles and miles and miles. I noticed the Border Patrol grooming the road by dragging tractor tires along it with their trucks. Rubin told me that they groom this road and check it three times a day for foot prints. If there is a foot print on it, the hunt starts. Rubin said that the illegals will try to make it north to I-10, which gives the Border Patrol officers up to five days to track them through the desert. He said that he used to be in K-9. It made my mouth water to think of tracking through the pristine, uncontaminated desert.
They have no shortage of work and there doesn't appear to be any shortage of them. Border Patrol is everywhere. We pass them constantly while they sit on approaches and watch traffic and they pass us constantly at high speeds heading to the next call.
Today we went through a road block. Border Patrol was stopping each and every vehicle and the K-9 officer was checking the vehicles which his dog.
Ruben told me that they have horse patrols, that officers are out in the desert on quads and that they have an air unit with flur night vision. Very multifaceted.
Anyway, we ended our day peddling along Amistad Lake and to the Lonesome Dove Campground just on the outskirts of Del Rio. The nice lady camp host gave us way to many cookies.
My Polish Princess was a hot shot today with the tailwind and her little tiny high gear. The vulchers never looked at her twice.
Beggers can't be choosers
September 21/09 - Langtry, Texas
Mileage: 97.6 km
Total mileage: 3,451 km
Picked up our lunch and supper provisions before leaving Sanderson. We were warned that Dryden and Langtry had next to nothing for services. Packed lots of fluids along for this stretch.
Southern New Mexico and this part of Texas do involve some logistical planning. Towns are a long way from one another and some may not have the services you need to survive, food and water, and some may not even exist.
Travelling south east on Hwy 90 we made a quick start through beautiful Sanderson Canyon. Rolling grades, easy ups and long descents. A bit of a headwind, but Deby drafted me and we flew along. We made Dryden (40 km) in record time.
At Dryden we stopped at the store for a break. The little store is Dryden. A cold reception from the lady at the cash register who told us there were no public restrooms. She didn't even look up or apologise when she said it. How can you be the only service in the middle of the desert and not have a restroom? Twenty six years ago I cycled trough here and they didn't have a restroom! We left our deposits out back and when we left we felt much better about the place.
The day heated up as we rode and Deby began to have some difficulty with the climbs. I noticed that the vulchers that are regularly present began to leave their carrion and circle Deby. I think they thought that something moving that slowly would have to fall over any time now. Yummy...Alberta beef fed and Great Western fermented, what a morsel. She continued on though and the vulchers dropped off in pursuit of other road kills.
Stumbled into a rest stop and fixed a flat tire in the shade. That was a nice fix. Cycling in the heat is not a problem. You create your own cooling breeze. Fixing a tire in the sun in the ditch is real killer. We continued on.
During the afternoon the wind changed in our favor and we rolled into Langry. The store was closed, no campground.
Three locals, one having had too much to drink, made fun of us when I told them we were cycling to Florida. I let them talk for a while before telling them that we had come from British Columbia. Then, we were hero's and they became more diplomatic. The inebriated one, Rusty, invited us to take up a patch of grass in his yard for our tent, mumbling something about being put on earth to be good to people. We took him up on it, but not before I changed a flat on Deby's bike which she had pushed the last 1/2 km to the store.
Now, Rusty had been relegated to living in the back of an old office in a rock yard. Landscaping rocks are stored in the yard having been taken from a nearby quarry. It was not the splendor that you may be thinking a yard in a small town might be, but beggars can't be choosers.
Anyway, we set our tent up on oil soaked gravel where cars had parked for years and then went and enjoyed the company on the couch outside Rusty's back door. It all seemed reminiscent of a certain house on lets say, the 100 block of Avenue J South (Police humor). Oh, how life has changed.
Rusty's cousin, a ranch hand and a pseudo hippie who sold out in Virgina to live off the land in this desolate country was also our company. Princess and I just looked at each other and smirked as the philosophical conversations deepened. Rusty, bless his heart provided the beer.
An ugly storm was brewing in the west so Deby and I retired to cook supper and hit the hay. And the storm did come. All night we were awake watching the peak of the tent flattened out over us in the wind. I rolled to one side and Deby to the other side to try and hold it down. All the while listening to Rusty's tin roof creaking and moaning like it was going to blow off.
By morning the storm had subsided and the good old Eureka Timberline was still in one piece. Rusty was up in his rock yard giving orders and running around like he was a Mormon who never touched a drop. I guess he is very used to his liquor.
Rusty has a giant heart and the experience was fun. I hope we see him again some day, but doubt he'll remember that night.
Mileage: 97.6 km
Total mileage: 3,451 km
Picked up our lunch and supper provisions before leaving Sanderson. We were warned that Dryden and Langtry had next to nothing for services. Packed lots of fluids along for this stretch.
Southern New Mexico and this part of Texas do involve some logistical planning. Towns are a long way from one another and some may not have the services you need to survive, food and water, and some may not even exist.
Travelling south east on Hwy 90 we made a quick start through beautiful Sanderson Canyon. Rolling grades, easy ups and long descents. A bit of a headwind, but Deby drafted me and we flew along. We made Dryden (40 km) in record time.
At Dryden we stopped at the store for a break. The little store is Dryden. A cold reception from the lady at the cash register who told us there were no public restrooms. She didn't even look up or apologise when she said it. How can you be the only service in the middle of the desert and not have a restroom? Twenty six years ago I cycled trough here and they didn't have a restroom! We left our deposits out back and when we left we felt much better about the place.
The day heated up as we rode and Deby began to have some difficulty with the climbs. I noticed that the vulchers that are regularly present began to leave their carrion and circle Deby. I think they thought that something moving that slowly would have to fall over any time now. Yummy...Alberta beef fed and Great Western fermented, what a morsel. She continued on though and the vulchers dropped off in pursuit of other road kills.
Stumbled into a rest stop and fixed a flat tire in the shade. That was a nice fix. Cycling in the heat is not a problem. You create your own cooling breeze. Fixing a tire in the sun in the ditch is real killer. We continued on.
During the afternoon the wind changed in our favor and we rolled into Langry. The store was closed, no campground.
Three locals, one having had too much to drink, made fun of us when I told them we were cycling to Florida. I let them talk for a while before telling them that we had come from British Columbia. Then, we were hero's and they became more diplomatic. The inebriated one, Rusty, invited us to take up a patch of grass in his yard for our tent, mumbling something about being put on earth to be good to people. We took him up on it, but not before I changed a flat on Deby's bike which she had pushed the last 1/2 km to the store.
Now, Rusty had been relegated to living in the back of an old office in a rock yard. Landscaping rocks are stored in the yard having been taken from a nearby quarry. It was not the splendor that you may be thinking a yard in a small town might be, but beggars can't be choosers.
Anyway, we set our tent up on oil soaked gravel where cars had parked for years and then went and enjoyed the company on the couch outside Rusty's back door. It all seemed reminiscent of a certain house on lets say, the 100 block of Avenue J South (Police humor). Oh, how life has changed.
Rusty's cousin, a ranch hand and a pseudo hippie who sold out in Virgina to live off the land in this desolate country was also our company. Princess and I just looked at each other and smirked as the philosophical conversations deepened. Rusty, bless his heart provided the beer.
An ugly storm was brewing in the west so Deby and I retired to cook supper and hit the hay. And the storm did come. All night we were awake watching the peak of the tent flattened out over us in the wind. I rolled to one side and Deby to the other side to try and hold it down. All the while listening to Rusty's tin roof creaking and moaning like it was going to blow off.
By morning the storm had subsided and the good old Eureka Timberline was still in one piece. Rusty was up in his rock yard giving orders and running around like he was a Mormon who never touched a drop. I guess he is very used to his liquor.
Rusty has a giant heart and the experience was fun. I hope we see him again some day, but doubt he'll remember that night.
Two old guys
September 20/09 - Sanderson, Texas
Canyon RV Park
Mileage: 104 km
Total mileage: 3,353 km
Leaving Fort Stockton this morning we stopped at a service station for a coffee. We talked with two old fellas for a while. Ronny is why Texans are known to tell 'tall tales'. Ronny was full of it, but in a good way. Ronny's stories were so outlandish that even he didn't expect you to believe them. He and A.E. Ivy bantered back and forth attempting to insult each other, neither one losing the battle.
When we parted, A.E. Ivy, the kind you don't want as he put it, gave Deby a handmade rosewood perfume bottle with a glass insert and gave me a birch pen and pencil set that he had made. Ronny told us not to go through Langtry. Ronny said the last guy that went that way got hung. We already knew it was Judge Roy Bean country so the joke was on him. We were off.
We travelled south on 285 and the first 50 km appeared the same as most of the country since we had entered Texas two days ago. As Ronny had said, "you can travel further in this part of Texas and see less than you can anywhere else in the United Sates."
Then the country changed. We came into some pretty serious rolling hills which lead us into 'Big Canyon'. Beautiful, a large valley with sedimentary rock walls covered in cactus, mostly prickly pear. Leaves on the prickly pear as big as canoe paddles. From 'Big Canyon' it was all downhill into Sanderson.
Sanderson is a pretty place in the bottom of Sanderson Canyon. Several other canyons come into it from different directions. As we travelled through Sanderson we happened on a plaque. The plaque was dedicated to all those who lost their lives in the flood of 1965. I couldn't imagine how a flood could have happened here since a river doesn't even run through the place. Later we learned that in 1965, 21" of rain fell in 2 hours and all the canyons funneled the water into town. Many perished, some of the bodies never recovered. A horrible disaster.
We were greeted warmly in Sanderson. We're going back there someday. Talked for a long time at the service station with Jr. Gamboa. Nice little Hispanic guy. Jr told us to look him up in Del Rio, and we will do that.
Looking for the campground, we asked an old fella where we could find it. He gave us directions and when we arrived, he was there in his truck to make sure we found the place.
Oh, I forgot. I wish we could have enjoyed 'Big Canyon' more, but we were caught in a torrential downpour. Fixing a flat tire in that torrential downpour didn't make it any better. We arrived in Sanderson drenched. (The good part was that the wind had changed direction and between the wind and the rain pounding my back, V-Dub flew into town).
The campground was really nice. The host was fantastic. He charged us $5 for the stay. At a lot of these campgrounds they appreciate the effort of a cyclist and just do you a favor.
Canyon RV Park
Mileage: 104 km
Total mileage: 3,353 km
Leaving Fort Stockton this morning we stopped at a service station for a coffee. We talked with two old fellas for a while. Ronny is why Texans are known to tell 'tall tales'. Ronny was full of it, but in a good way. Ronny's stories were so outlandish that even he didn't expect you to believe them. He and A.E. Ivy bantered back and forth attempting to insult each other, neither one losing the battle.
When we parted, A.E. Ivy, the kind you don't want as he put it, gave Deby a handmade rosewood perfume bottle with a glass insert and gave me a birch pen and pencil set that he had made. Ronny told us not to go through Langtry. Ronny said the last guy that went that way got hung. We already knew it was Judge Roy Bean country so the joke was on him. We were off.
We travelled south on 285 and the first 50 km appeared the same as most of the country since we had entered Texas two days ago. As Ronny had said, "you can travel further in this part of Texas and see less than you can anywhere else in the United Sates."
Then the country changed. We came into some pretty serious rolling hills which lead us into 'Big Canyon'. Beautiful, a large valley with sedimentary rock walls covered in cactus, mostly prickly pear. Leaves on the prickly pear as big as canoe paddles. From 'Big Canyon' it was all downhill into Sanderson.
Sanderson is a pretty place in the bottom of Sanderson Canyon. Several other canyons come into it from different directions. As we travelled through Sanderson we happened on a plaque. The plaque was dedicated to all those who lost their lives in the flood of 1965. I couldn't imagine how a flood could have happened here since a river doesn't even run through the place. Later we learned that in 1965, 21" of rain fell in 2 hours and all the canyons funneled the water into town. Many perished, some of the bodies never recovered. A horrible disaster.
We were greeted warmly in Sanderson. We're going back there someday. Talked for a long time at the service station with Jr. Gamboa. Nice little Hispanic guy. Jr told us to look him up in Del Rio, and we will do that.
Looking for the campground, we asked an old fella where we could find it. He gave us directions and when we arrived, he was there in his truck to make sure we found the place.
Oh, I forgot. I wish we could have enjoyed 'Big Canyon' more, but we were caught in a torrential downpour. Fixing a flat tire in that torrential downpour didn't make it any better. We arrived in Sanderson drenched. (The good part was that the wind had changed direction and between the wind and the rain pounding my back, V-Dub flew into town).
The campground was really nice. The host was fantastic. He charged us $5 for the stay. At a lot of these campgrounds they appreciate the effort of a cyclist and just do you a favor.
Flat country
September 19/09 - Fort Stockton, Texas
Mileage: 86.4 km
Total mileage: 3,249 km
We are camped tonight at I-10 RV Park. The host, a real nice older lady, was so impressed with our journey that she reached inside her coupon bag and gave us a 2 for 1 breakfast coupon for IHOP. Later, she gave us 1/2 a watermelon and brought chairs to our campsite. Haven't met anyone yet that hasn't shown us a world of kindness.
Left Pecos this morning into another headwind. Light, but all the same, requiring more effort. Deby took to drafting me and we increased our speed into it as a result.
The country is similar type of desert, but the brush is lower and there are not as many desert trees or cactus.
In the middle of our day, we came upon a few sections of extensive irrigation. Here we noted beautiful alfalfa, cotton crops and a large feed lot. Probably the only farming in the middle of this desert for miles and miles. Just add water and the desert grows beautifully.
Lots and lots of oil activity here. We started seeing it the day before yesterday when we were southbound through Artesia. Oil storage tanks and pump jacks all over the place. I thought this area would be pumped out as these must be such old oilfields, but not so. The pump jacks continue to whine and bang on.
We amused ourselves today as we travelled by watching for tarantula's and centipedes on the shoulder of the road. (Had noticed dead tarantulas on the shoulder for a couple of days, but today was the first live one I've ever seen outside of a zoo). Often enough little lizards would pop out of the grass and run along side our bicycles. Man, oh man are they fast.
Mileage: 86.4 km
Total mileage: 3,249 km
We are camped tonight at I-10 RV Park. The host, a real nice older lady, was so impressed with our journey that she reached inside her coupon bag and gave us a 2 for 1 breakfast coupon for IHOP. Later, she gave us 1/2 a watermelon and brought chairs to our campsite. Haven't met anyone yet that hasn't shown us a world of kindness.
Left Pecos this morning into another headwind. Light, but all the same, requiring more effort. Deby took to drafting me and we increased our speed into it as a result.
The country is similar type of desert, but the brush is lower and there are not as many desert trees or cactus.
In the middle of our day, we came upon a few sections of extensive irrigation. Here we noted beautiful alfalfa, cotton crops and a large feed lot. Probably the only farming in the middle of this desert for miles and miles. Just add water and the desert grows beautifully.
Lots and lots of oil activity here. We started seeing it the day before yesterday when we were southbound through Artesia. Oil storage tanks and pump jacks all over the place. I thought this area would be pumped out as these must be such old oilfields, but not so. The pump jacks continue to whine and bang on.
We amused ourselves today as we travelled by watching for tarantula's and centipedes on the shoulder of the road. (Had noticed dead tarantulas on the shoulder for a couple of days, but today was the first live one I've ever seen outside of a zoo). Often enough little lizards would pop out of the grass and run along side our bicycles. Man, oh man are they fast.
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