Monday, May 30, 2016

This was a must for a Baby Boomer

Most everyone that was around on November 22nd, 1963 can tell you exactly where they were when they heard that President Kennedy had been shot. The official announcement that he was dead came only a short time later. Even the grizzled old war reporter Walter Cronkite, was moved nearly to tears by simply saying that the president was dead. A nation was shocked. Within a brief few days many of us turned to the national news media perhaps as never before to learn every detail, to follow every event that unfolded in front of our eyes. The three main networks were on the air around the clock. Schools were closed as a nation sat glued to their collective TV screen. I can still hear the clomp, clomp, clomp of the horses on pavement as they pulled the military caisson to the Capital Rotunda where President Kennedy's body was laying in state, while a quarter of a million people filed solemnly by. Life came screeching to a halt as a nation mourned. Can anyone forget John John handing his little flag to his mother so he could salute as his father's casket passed by?
Standing in the museum, looking out the window at Elm Steet, walking the grassy knoll. It all seemed so fresh and real, while at the same time surreal. It was a powerful reminder to me, as I am sure it is for many who remember J.F.K.s call to action; for civil change, and doing the right thing in life, not because it is the easy thing, but because it is the hard thing.

OP-ED - A day of significance

Today was actually a day I had planned for many years. Not really a bucket list item but close.
Without a doubt the most historically significant day in the life of most Baby Boomers and, for many of us an emotional watershed, was November 22nd, 1963. The ray of light that had shined through the vail of adolescence, perhaps a defining moment for many of us, was the election of a young Catholic congressman from Massachusetts named John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Along with his youthful exuberance he brought to the White House a feeling of importance and purpose, not for the office he accended to, maybe not even for the divided country for which he took the reigns. He brought a spark of belief; belief that we as individuals had a duty to make a difference. We were called to action to not ask what our country could do for us, but what we could do for our country.
Change we did. We survived and put ice on an already Cold War, returning from the brink of nuclear elimination to defuse the arms race. To begin the righting of the ship of human rights. To conquer the last frontier and search for answers to questions unlimited by our earthly atmosphere. To question the justifications of war. To build an economy that became the envy of the world while allowing an upward path out of poverty for millions. To provide opportunities where there had been none, and perhaps most importantly, to send our citizens to all points of the globe to help others to help themselves. 
Kennedy himself admitted that it wouldn't be accomplished in the first hundred days, nor the first thousand. Not within his term in office and possibly not within our lifetime. Though we may never see the fruits of our labors, he challenged us to take the first step.
It hasn't been perfect, or quick, painless or flawless, and it certainly is not complete. But I believe that historians will see the turmoil and strife of the sixties and seventies as the birthplace of civil reform that had a positive effect on the world.
A pawl was thrown over the nation that day in Dallas when a young president was felled by an assassin. The details may never be known and conspiracies will live on. The call to action could not be silenced however.
That light of hope shined bright on Inauguration Day and those of us who have perspective of time will have to admit that our society is better today as a result. The voice was silenced on Elm Street in Dallas on November 22nd, 1963, but it echoes to this day.
Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.

Sunday, May 29, 2016

Quiet day, but fun

Went to mass at Sacred Heart near Lisa's, then "raced" over to Buffalo Wild Wings to watch the 100th running of the Indy 500.
The sound for the mass was less than perfect, like listening to a presentation in a gym, but the sound for the race was non-existent. It seems Dallas doesn't have a lot of Indy racing fans. With all of the screens available they only had two small screens at the far end showing the race, and it was on The Sports Channel, ESPN as well as ABC! We had to request they turn it on a screen near our table, then with 35 laps to go, they switched it to the Texas Rangers game!
We got it switched back so we could see the end of the race but it's hard to follow without sound. Sound is exactly where I started with Indy. I've followed this race every year since 1957, starting when it was only on radio (remember those days?), then when ABCs Wide World of Sports started carrying it on tape delayed TV the following day, on Armed Forces Radio when I was in the Navy, rented a TV when I was living in a tent camper in Boise before moving the family to Idaho in 1991, then live in '85 and '87 (remember Tim's sun poisoning - but he doesn't burn). 60 years of memories, the past many receiving a phone call from Jason minutes after the checkered flag to discuss the race. This one was with my daughter and son-in-law, another memory for the ages.
Tomorrow we go to check out the biggest history event in the life of most of us Baby Boomers. I'm in Dallas and could not miss standing on the grassy knoll and seeing the book depository (which is now a museum). I, along with the rest of the nation, was numbed by the senseless act that took place on November 22, 1963.
Film at eleven...

Saturday, May 28, 2016

Fun day for downtime

Yesterday was a slow day as Jimmy and I went to meet Lisa's plane upon her return from India by way of Frankfurt. She didn't bring back a camel or elephant so she had only a small bag when we picked her up.
Today she had a chance for a late start to shake off the jet lag, then she jumped into her role as tour guide. We went to AT&T Stadium, a.k.a. Cowboys Stadium. This ultra slick arena is state of the art in every way. Big, bright, glitzy, everything is first class, from the retractable dome

To the strange color of their playing surface

It even has four names with which BSU football fans are familiar

Our self guided tour included the playing field (look Tom, it's green!), the Dallas Cowgirls dressing room, the players dressing room and the press meeting room. Of course, being an old timer, I was drawn to the familiar figure of Tom Landry

Whereas most people are drawn to the worlds largest TV

After that we went only slightly further west to Historic Fort Worth, where we checked out several local attractions,
They ARE real!
 
Yes, that is a mode of transportation; heck, I used to race a Bul!

had a real good meal at a restaurant dripping with ambiance

then walked down the street for the main attraction. It was kind of a cross between the running of the bulls in Pamplona and the Trailing of the sheep through Ketchum

There is a real good reason they call them Longhorns!
Although the day started out overcast, it ended up very hot and very humid







  




Thursday, May 26, 2016

Interesting, if long, day

I spent most of my day today at Dallas Harley Davidson getting some minor repairs done so I'm ready to return to my route after my visit with Lisa and Jimmy.
Met Alex (a.k.a. No legs, reference to Lord of the Rings, if I recall), Lance and Ant, who were all lovin' the idea of my trip. 
Ant is an Army vet ('69-'79) who rode the "four corners" (L.A. To Spokane to Bangor to Miami, and back again to L.A.) when he got out of the Army. He said Easy Rider was still fresh on everyone's mind and they were a little nervous riding through the south.
Also saw a couple of interesting bikes, like this one:
Harley's brief entry into motocross, with a two stroke engine!
Read about it here. Anyone want to guess if Aermacchi was a rebranding of Girelli?

Then there was this unique looking bike:
The large gas tank is actually an air scoop (gas tank is under the seat).
I believe this model had the new larger (1800 c.c.) Screamin' Eagle engine, but it is water cooled. The long lines make it appeal to the cafe racers but the riding position is actually quite comfortable. Note also the higher position of the foot pegs. When combined with the riding position it really felt great. A shout out to Ant, who had me sit on it to realize how comfortable it is.
Once the work was done they put my bike through the pressure wash to clean it. But they pressure washed Spuddy Buddy too. I think he secretly wanted to take a shower but was afraid I'd pay him back with a picture of him. Spuddy's smelling much better now and he's got his smile back.
So now I'm ready to go, but first a weekend of sight-seeing in the Dallas area.


Op-Ed: California vs. Texas drivers as seen from the saddle

I think we would all agree that, nationwide, the SoCal drivers get the most recognition for their bad and/or rude habits. I must say, after approximately the same number of days in the saddle in each state that Texas is trying hard to be number one.
The motorcyclists in California were terrible. On the freeway the vast majority of cyclists I saw were speeding, not a big deal when everyone else was doing the same. When traffic slowed down however they moved bad driving/riding in to it's own genre. 
Weaving recklessly in and out of traffic at closing speeds that didn't allow for a plan B if another motorist suddenly decided to occupy the same piece of real estate was the norm. 
Creating their own lane on The Freeway was, although I am told legal, the most unnerving habit. If cars are at a standstill and a biker wants to creep forward in traffic I can understand that (but wouldn't do it myself). It is sometimes difficult to sit idle in traffic and hold the clutch lever in; been there done that. When traffic is flowing at 60-70 mph and a cyclist decides to turn it into a high stakes game of "I can occupy that space sooner than you", that's when the stakes become too high. If you've never observed this first hand, let me explain.
You are driving along at highway speeds, watching the idiots in the lanes ahead of you vie for positions as they become available. You periodically check your mirrors to know when those behind you are making their move. It is, I believe, unlawful in Southern California, to remain in the same lane, behind the same driver, for over one-quarter mile. Allofasudden, a motorcycle comes flying by you at a closing speed of 10 to 30 mph (i.e.their speed is that much greater than yours), and I'm not talking about passing you in the (usually non-existent) vacant lane next to you. They create their own lane between the two traffic lanes, riding the white line that separates cars by (hopefully) just enough to allow for the width of his handle bars. This comes as a total surprise to you as the bike was not in your rear view mirror only seconds before, so it startles you and the other drivers to no end.
But the bad antics don't stop there. I was riding in the right lane as I approached an intersection. Having just passed a car I looked to the left to ensure I was indeed clear of his front bumper so that I could safely change lanes, then turn left. As I spotted the car I had just cleared and was turning my attention to the road ahead I happened to catch a glimpse of another bike in my rear view mirror, overtaking me at a high rate of speed. He cut off the car and flew past me on the left in the lane into which I was about to turn. I hesitated slightly to allow him to fly by and, as I did, his buddy came flying by me on my right, in MY LANE!
Another time I was winding my way down a mountain road and had some idiot fly by me on the right, in the same lane!
So how does this compare to Texas drivers? I don't have a lot of observations to share regarding motorcyclists (maybe it's the heat, maybe it's the rain, but I have not seen a lot of bikes on the road). I have had a number of first person observations of four wheel drivers that have bewildered me. The State of Texas (like most states) is pushing a motorcycle safety awareness program asking drivers to share the road. Texans apparently have an aversion to being told what to do.
On no less than six occasions I've had a vehicle pass me on the open highway by crossing a double yellow line. On one occasion the driver didn't even bother crossing the line, he just came by me in my own lane! At least he had the presence of mind to pass on the left. Twice I have had cars merge right on top of me, then look at me as if to say "sorry, but I had to cut you off because my lane was ending". Given the choice of cutting off a cyclist or using the brake pedal, they opted for the former.
An electronic sign seen a number of times in West Texas stated that there have been 1181 motorcycle fatalities - This year! And we are still in the month of May. Sounds like a Hells Angel party gone bad!
So, based solely on this observer's eyewitness accounts I would say that, when interacting with motorcycles, California cyclists take the cake, but Texas motorists are the frosting! IMHO

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Chillin' in the Big D

Things went pretty much as planned today as I made a "side trip" (I.e. off route by more than 100 miles) to spend a few days with Jimmy and Lisa. Lisa is out of town on business but she will be returning soon (she thinks she's coming home Friday but what does she know, other than her itinerary!). 
After stopping in the early afternoon yesterday about 20 miles south of Houston, in Webster, Tx, I briefly thought I had made a mistake. If I had pushed on to a position just north of Houston I wouldn't have to deal with morning traffic in the 4th largest city in the nation, while driving into the 9th largest city in afternoon rush hour. All turned out well however when I came up with a devious alternative:
Sleep in and leave after Houston arrived at work. Because of the distance I was traveling I was still able to get to and around Dallas by 3:30 or so, With relatively low temperatures and humidity (both in the lower 80's) the morning didn't feel nearly as brutal as yesterday! I rode under overcast skies all day and it never reached unbearable, which is an improvement.
Most of my day was spent on I-45 North with little to write about with only these two exceptions:
1) I saw a motorcyclist sitting at the top of an exit ramp on his crotch-rocket (we used to call them cafe racers). He was just looking around like he didn't know if he wanted to exit or continue. A short time later he came flying by me in the high speed lane all tucked in like he was racing someone. He was definitely speeding, but certainly not running top speed. He wove back and forth through light traffic until eventually I lost sight of him. Some time later (30 - 60 minutes?) I came up on a police car with his lights on, parked on the shoulder of the Interstate. His vehicle was angled somewhat so that I could not see until I passed him that he had stopped Mr. Cafe Racer. The bike was up on the kick-stand and the rider was sitting on the shoulder of the highway with his hands hand-cuffed behind his back. What crime had he committed? I guess we'll never know.
2) Along I-45 near Huntsville, Tx is a very large statue of Sam Houston, one of Texas' bigger than life heroes.

 I stopped to take a picture and see what I could find out about him. The name was familiar but he was not a focal point of history in the Wisconsin school system. I love the quote on the accompanying plaque. I can think of a few people in the national political spotlight that should memorize this paragraph!
So I'm in Sachse (a suburb of Dallas) tonight, have an appointment to get my bike worked on tomorrow, and a long weekend to regroup and recover from the heat and humidity, a welcome respite.

Houston to Dallas

Check out my 291.9 mi Ride on Strava: click here

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

May 24th or, as I call it, Day 29

Lots of heat, humidity, miles. I'm tired and really looking forward to some downtime over the Hołiday weekend!
I left Corpus Christi amidst clouds, wind and mugginess (if that wasn't a word before it is now!), headed to Mustang Island which apparently is a well kept secret around town. I asked three or four people if the highway on Mustang Island went all the way to both ends and their responses were all "Mustang Island?"
I asked the Girls but they were taking the day off again so I took a mind full of look in' at the map and headed off. Navigation is a real problem when you are having to do it yourself on the fly.
I exited one exit too soon and found myself entering a Navy Base. The guard was not amused. I gave him my drivers license and asked him where I was. He asked if I was connected with the military in any way and I told him Great Lakes Navy Boot Camp, class of '68. Still not amused.
"I'm going to take this drivers license and stand at the last lane on the other side. You Sir, are going to go up here and do a U-turn around that last cone and meet me over at the last lane, where I will return your drivers license to you and you will leave." I hope he wasn't expecting a "yes Sir" out of me.
I did eventually find Mustang Island and the highway did indeed run the full length of the island where I found myself waiting for the next cargo ferry to take me about 150 yards across the bay to the continuation of the highway. I'm counting this as another form of transportation as the ferry in S. F. Carried only people, not my bike.
Back on the Main Land again, I headed north toward Galveston, a city that, between hurricanes, sits on an isthmus just south of Houston, literally IN the Gulf of Mexico. I stopped for fuel and, while sipping on some water, got the Girls back to work, and this time they weren't taking Interstate highways. Instead they took me on a series of "farm to market" roads, two of which were under construction, one of which had just been chip sealed and yet another that was under water! Then they took the afternoon off again!
I crossed a number of causeways and drove quite a distance on a narrow strip of blacktop, passed houses, apartment buildings and businesses that stood on stilts and looked eerily familiar. We have all seen them before, on the news, usually with Al Roker tethered to one of the wooden pylons that hoped to support a house against the approaching hurricane. 
Next week is the beginning of Hurricane season and there is a lot of construction being finalized. I couldn't help but wonder how much of the work was repairing damage from last year. These people love it here. You see them on the news - we'll rebuild, it's our home, I couldn't imagine living anywhere else...
The local TV Station is still giving out free Hurricane Kits! What's in it I don't know but I'm guessing there isn't enough 4x8 plywood for the whole house. With huge waves crashing against the shore, red flags flying every couple hundred feet, stifling heat and humidity yet people wearing coats on the beach because of the cold water in the air, it was not a fine glimpse of Paradise. You always have a headwind when riding down the road on a Harley and at 50 mph I couldn't help but think of the same scene but with the wind blowing 25 to 125 mph harder!
As I got further down the road I eventually passed through all of the small hamlets and came to Galveston. On the beach across from the Convention Center was a large group of people. The locals were surfing, or body surfing, kite boarding. The visitors stood in the foam, up to their ankles, calling it good enough to be an official dip in the Gulf!
The cloud cover persisted all day but with no rain. The overnight low was 80! Like I said, hot muggy and just shy of 300 miles for the day! Tomorrow it's a mere 270 miles to Lisa's where I plan to spend several days sight seeing with my favorite daughter in all of Texas! Yippy Eye Kyyeah (Tom - spell check please).
I can't get my pictures to upload tonight so... Maybe tomorrow.

Day 29 - Corpus Christi to (almost) Houston

Check out my 297.2 mi Ride on Strava: click here

Monday, May 23, 2016

Any plant experts out there?

Can anyone tell me what this plant is? I was told it was a type of Yucca but I see nothing  on-line that looks like it. They were everywhere across Arizona and New Mexico in varying proportions.

I am a little worried about Spuddy Buddy

I invited him to come along because Betty and I had planned to travel with him, picturing him in different scenes from our travels, like Kilroy, showing up in various places.
But since we left Boise, he's done little but just sit there. All day long, mile after mile, he sits there.
He won't help with hand signals or route finding. At night, in the motel room, he just sits there.
So, when I figured that he was just along for the ride and wouldn't lift a finger to help himself, he does just that... Helps himself to my camera and tried to take a picture of me in the shower!
I guess I need to keep a closer eye on him. What's next? Stay tuned!


Day 28 - Harlingen to Corpus Christi

Check out my 244.9 mi Ride on Strava: click here

Take what the weather gives you

I didn't get in a lot of mileage today but managed to make it to my destination anyway, despite toying with the idea of changing my agenda this morning. I made an early (as in time of day) exit from my route when I pulled into a Hilton Garden Inn Express at 2 p.m. and they were still cleaning rooms prior to check-in time.
I was greeted with the news that Corpus Christi is under a city-wide drinking water boil alert. When I asked if they knew why the order was in effect I was told that, due to the extraordinary amount of rain they've had the chlorine level in the city water supply had dropped. Yet I had made it to town, once again, dry. If you could see the weather outside right now you would know what a miracle that is.
A video would have been much more effective, showing the gale-force gusts of winds that were bending the plant in the foreground 90 degrees from upright.
I started once again, early in the morning with the continental breakfast. I had rested well the evening before with a dip in the pool (a first for this trip and the first time in memory that I swam in chlorinated water instead of white-water). It was so refreshing that I returned just before dark to sit quietly on a lounge chair and work on my blog while listening to my music on Pandora. As I said, it was a very enjoyable evening. 
After breakfast I packed quickly and was on the road by 7:10, or so. My plan was to ride to the International border, perhaps take a picture, then ride over to the one point in Southern Texas that all who knew the area recommended, Åšouth Padre Island, which sits on an isthmus in the Atlantic Ocean... er, the Gulf Of Mexico.
The trip to Brownsville took very little time... I guess I was ahead of rush hour, even with a fuel stop and time spent with the Girls, who decided to take another day off once they got me lost on the campus of UTBrownsville.
I found the border, behind the seemingly ever-present fence, on a raised walkway, but could not find a crossing inspection station. I tried to flag a old-timer down in Lincoln Park but as I debiked he found a second gear with his walker and never looked back.
I moved a little further down through the parking lot in the park and found a park worker. I asked him, "do you speak English?" and his answer was "no". Because he didn't start his sentence with a capital letter, I could tell it was a Mexican "no".
So I went just down the road and found myself on the campus of UTB, where I found a maintenance office with workers showing up for work. I asked a lady at her car, "Yo Harlan Englese?" in my best Mexican but because I only used the one question mark she said "no", again in Mexican. I pointed toward the office and asked "insido?". She answered "si", indicating it was okay for me to go in and "see". This Mexican isn't so hard.
They directed me over one block to where I would find the gate in the International Walkway that people used to travel between the two countries. I went to the end of the block and the Girls directed me to turn left right where I had been told to by the maintenance Department. I thought I was on to something, but it was the last time I heard from the Girls all day.
This gate is probably used for the Border Patrol Classes taught at UTB

The fence was there, the gate was there, but that was it. So I went back and got on the highway, turned onto the southbound lane, went one block and the Freeway ended at the Border Crossing!
An actual International Border Crossing. I was a little disappointed that, with all the Federal funds spent to operate the facility, they couldn't remain focused any better than this!

After a quick picture, I did a u-turn (not normally a good thing to do on a Freeway) and went back a couple exits, headed east until I was sure that:
A: the Girls weren't going to rescue me
B: I was good and lost
C: Google Maps wasn't going to rescue me because there was no signal what-so-ever
So while I'm sitting on the side of a very busy street looking at my phone/GPS, a very nice young man stopped across the road from me and asked if I was lost. I told him yes, I was trying to get on the highway toward Port Isabel. He proceeded to tell me, in great detail all of the different options I had available to me. He talked on and on and I didn't have the heart to interrupt him and tell him that, due to the distance between us, the engine noise of both our vehicles and the sound of no less than 25 cars that continually interrupted both line of sight and sound, I was catching about 10% of what he was chattering on and on about.
He finally went on his way, I backtracked in the direction he had pointed and found signs that got me back on the right highway; the exact same highway I had taken down to where I came from (huh? I'm lost again)!
So at 10 a.m. I rode northbound past my original starting point from 3 hours before! It took me only a short time to reach Port Isabel and the causeway to South Padres Island.

I stopped at a gas station just on the other end of the causeway and asked for recommended things to see and do. It was recommended that I see the Sea Turtle Rescue Center and take a Dolphin Watch boat ride.
By this time it was 11 a.m. The next Dolphin Watch was at 1:30 and it was two hours long. That would put me into Corpus Christi late and in the high heat of the day. I had nowhere to put my helmet and jacket during the trip so I hatched a plan B. I would find a motel for the night, put my gear in the room, go to the Turtle place, see the beach and return for the Dolphin Watch. So I rode down the road and passed a Motel 6 advertising rooms from $39.95/ night! All was looking good until I got far enough down the road to find beach access. The weather was not looking good and there was a Red Flag alert posted. I also, lucky me, found movie star Halli Berry coming out of the water in a bikini. She agreed to recreate the scene from her James Bond movie for my camera (what a regular person!)
Most starlets would have ignored my grovelling

I went just a little further down the road and found it to be nothing more than a strip of blacktop between the beach on the bay to the left and the beach on the Gulf to the right.
The road narrows as the wind picks up
I did a U-turn and went back to check out the Sea Turtle Rescue Mission where they feed homeless Sea Turtles, and found two signs that pretty much tell the story:
A nice gentleman who rode the perimeter of Mexico on a motorcycle in the '70s stopped to talk. He said he won't even go into Mexico now. The drug cartels see Gringos as a source of kidnapping revenue and the people are animals. He said last weekend they had a lady pass out in the heat while standing in line. While the EMTs worked on her the people were stepping over her to get their tickets!
So I retreated to the Motel 6 to check on a room where I could leave my gear while on the Dolphin Watch. They would not let me check in until 3p.m., so I re-evaluated Plan B.
No Turtle Tour, red flag warning for boating, no motel room to put my gear in, weather getting worse... I decided that there will be several other opportunities for Dolphin watching and I would return to Plan A. As I started back across the causeway, still wondering if I was making the right decision, I saw a small patch of blue sky in the otherwise threatening firmament, and it was directly over the causeway! Asked and answered, I rest my case!
I reset my sites on Corpus Christibut the heat and humidity were building quickly. It was still early but the acceptable travel hours were dwindling, and so was I.
I misjudged the number of exits before striking north on highway 77 and found myself hungry, tired and low on fuel, all while fighting the heat. Town after town turned out to be nothing more than a mail drop for ranchers in the area. My gauge was reading empty, my range indicator was showing less than 60 miles, when I came to a Border Patrol Check point in the middle of nowhere. I made it passed the drug dogs to the agent who usually waves me through. I stopped, flipped up my helmet and asked, just as he asked if I was a U.S. Citizen, "how far to the next gas station?". 
"About 20 miles, you going to make it?" He asked.
"Yes and I hope so".
He had a puzzled look on his face so I explained, "Yes, I'm a citizen, and I hope I can make it another 20 miles".
I did make it, got a quick sandwich and, as the next patch of blue opened up just to the north of the gas station, I drove out through the big puddle from the last storm and headed north again. I soon found myself coming into a confusing maze of exits and, based on a couple of drops of rain that hit my windscreen, decided to grab the first motel I came to. I drove blindly, with the Girls still on strike and ended up here, at the Garden Inn Express, before check-in time. The timing was perfect. A room had just been set up on the first floor and they let me move my gear in just ahead of the wind and sprinkles. If I had still been on the rode when the wind had started blowing it may have blown me off the highway.
The clerk up front said the weather has been horrible, with rain storms daily all month. When I told him I had just ridden 4200 miles and not yet been rained on he chucked, and said, "Welcome to Corpus Christi".



Sunday, May 22, 2016

OMG, if you can't laugh at yourself...

Then why travel around the country by yourself?
I did something this morning that I don't believe I've done yet on my trip - I set an alarm. The one thing I forgot to mention yesterday was that I found the humidity, big time! 
Even with my cool suit, the final hour of my ride yesterday was not pleasant. The temperature was livable but the humidity was ridiculous. The local (okay, it was a San Antonio TV station) weatherman was saying how rare it was to be late into May with highs only in the 90 degree range. Then they quickly added that all of the recent rain had finally elevated the humidity to extreme levels. The dew point last night was 76 degrees, the theoretical lowest temperature that could be reached before the air was saturated, I.e. 100% humidity. When was the last time you saw fog form with the temperature in the high 70's?
So my alarm was set to take advantage of an early continental breakfast, packing and an early departure. I was on the road by 7 a.m., fed, packed and ready to ride. The weather was similar to previous days, overcast but not raining, and it stayed that way until around noon when the sun finally dispatched the last of the cloudy skies. From that point on it was a matter of how far could I get before the saddle soreness, heat and humidity caused me to say "no mas"?
Shortly after one of my breaks, in the town of Zapata, when I was just getting back on the road, I saw a sign that said "Public boat ramp". This really took me by surprise as I had not thought I was anywhere near navigable waters. As I cruised at 60 mph south on highway 83, I craned my neck to the right and caught a glimpse of a huge body of water, with the bright green grasses of the shoreline visible, behind which was the darker green of deep water with patches of white capped waves. When I saw the rough waters extend to the horizon my mind went into neutral.
It was the ocean! The one point of the Texas border that extended to the Gulf of California near Baja was there at Zapata, Texas. I was so convinced of this that I did a u-turn and rode back to see if I could find a road that went down to the beach. As I re-accelerated toward town I spotted the familiar Tsunami zone warning sign that I had seen in every little dip in the road on highway 1 back in Oregon. I was so convinced that this was the rarely heard of Pacific Coast of Texas that I chased around for 10 minutes to find a road that went down to the beach so I could get a picture. I thought I found a walkway but, shortly after starting down the path between two beach houses I came to a chain, halting my advance. This is the best picture I could get of the Texas Coastline.
It was only as I walked back to my bike that sanity came flowing back to me and I recalled all of the sections of border walls, from Arizona to New Mexico, to Texas that I had seen over the last several days, the time I walked directly across the border to mainland Mexico from just south of San Diego. I had a good laugh at myself and could do nothing but shake my head and make a mental note to schedule that next eye examine as soon as I get back.
A little further down the coast I saw a sign promoting Falcon Lake as the best fishing in Texas. The map makes it appear that Falcon Lake is the very large slack water portion of the Rio Grande behind a dam at Farm to Market Road, with the U.S./Mexican border running down the middle.
A little further down the road, with heat pushing me to find the day's end, I had to stop and take a picture of this.
My Spanish is almost non-existent but that doesn't stop me from singing " you can get anything you want, at Alicia's Su Cocina". And I believe the left side of the sign shows a red guitar. I understand that Alicia doesn't live in Su Cocina, but in a church nearby Su Cocina, with her husband Ray and Poncho the dog.
I had hoped to make it to Brownsville today but the Girls put me on Interstate 2, which runs with highway 83, that I had been riding all day. I had wanted to be on highway 281 and follow the Rio Grande. By the time I stopped to check up on the Girls I was spent. It was only 2:15, but I needed to find a motel, preferably one with a pool. Which is exactly what I did, found a motel, with A/C and a pool and a circle out back for parking.
I'll be literally chillin' tonight so I can get another early start tomorrow.


From air to humidity

Day 27 - Check out my 269.0 mi Ride on Strava: click here

Saturday, May 21, 2016

What a difference a day makes...

The previous morning I was awoken by the sound of thundering motorcycles outside my door. This morning it was me breaking the early morning serenity, or would have if there was any serenity. Let me recap my previous motel experience.
My neighbors car at Motel Bien Venido, should have been a clue?

As stated, I should have stayed with a motel with an American name, the Smith Motor Inn would have been a better choice. The Bien Venido (Spanish for the "good sales pitch" was not ranked high enough to get any stars. In fact the only celestial body I saw was the drunk lady on the next wing over mooning the parking lot.
When I entered the room I quickly found, hunted down and killed a bug that would have been big enough to eat my keys. That would have been the end of it for Betty. She had a low tolerance for insects, especially ones big enough to have tattoos. But I am much less demanding.
When I was unable to get the Wi-Fi to stay connected long enough to upload pictures or post my blog I went to the office. The owner of this establishment appears to be from India and lives in a room off the back of the office with his wife and grown child. They also run another business from that room. If you've ever called tech support for your phone and talked to Bob, that's him!
He was just as much help with the Wi-Fi as he is with my phone problems. My problem wasn't listed in his script so he had to refer me to his wife, a lovely woman who is also a Doctor. 
So he called the Doctor, woke her up, he said "Doctor, ain't there nothing I can do". He said "DOCTOR, to relieve this head ache".
She said "let me get this straight, you put put the line in the password box and typed it all up, you put the line in the password box to wake it all up". After three verses she took my IPad, shut it off, turned it on, connected to Wi-Fi, published my blog and handed it back to me. By the time I got back to the room, it had kicked me off. 
I tried repeatedly to log on and became frustrated to no end. Once when I had a (temporary) connection I tried to start Pandora so it would know I am still using it. It played half a song (guess which one?), then froze. I couldn't get it to do anything so I finally shut it off and plugged it in. I shut the light off, laid down and instantly started getting notifications that I was receiving emails, even though I wasn't on line! 
I jumped up, ran across the room and grabbed the IPad to see if it was magically fixed, but it still told me there was no connection. So I again shut the light off. It was then that I became aware of other noises that had been hitherto unobserved.
The toilet was leaking and about every 15 minutes it would auto-flush. The shower dripped loudly onto the tile floor every 30 seconds. And either there were a pack of pachyderms living upstairs or the bug I killed was but a child. I turned the light back on and scanned the area, finding nothing. Light off!
Apparently there is a city ordinance requiring every train that comes through town to make itself known by sounding it's air horn with three shorts and a long, then repeat twice more. At least I assume it's an ordinance because all six trains that entered town on the tracks directly behind my room used the same pattern. 
In-between trains 4 and 5 (which would make it about 4 a.m.) I awoke from my second ten minute nap of the evening. I was sure I heard something on the floor in the corner. I quickly turned on the light and caught 'em! A group of six huge cockroaches were playing poker at an itty bitty little poker table they had set up in the corner. That was bad enough, but their cigar smoke was the straw that broke the camel's back. After all, I paid for a non-smoking room!
I got up for good about 7 and marched over to the office. I was bound and determined to get my money's worth from this establishment and they promised me, in addition to free Wi-Fi, free coffee in the morning. I picked up the pot and could tell it was full, so I opened the top and cut a large strip of the very, very thick coffee (I know it wasn't Espresso Tom, it was too thick), bit a piece off and threw the rest in the waste basket. That'll get even with them.
So I was on the road by 7:30, choosing to put Alpine and the Bien Venido in my rear view mirror before stopping at a saw mill for some piece and quiet. The sky was very heavily clouded and it didn't look good. I traveled all day however with my best friend moving clouds out of the way ahead of me!
There is a theory prescribed to by those of us who have shuttled vehicles on wash-board dirt roads, that every road as an optimum speed at which one can travel. Instead of the tires falling into and climbing back out of every rut they glide nearly across the top of these chatter marks that will knock your teeth out at lower speeds. Thusly, I have come to realize that traveling about five mph under the speed limit and stopping at a sufficient number of historical markers and bathrooms allows my personal weather escort enough time to move clouds around and ready the way. I wish I knew a pilot that could fly alongside some of these clouds and look for Betty's finger prints.
I put in 200 miles by noon and retired for the day at just north of 300, staying once again dry all day. That is not to say it did not rain. There was ample puddles alongside the road and every where I stopped people were asking me how I was handling all the rain storms that have plagued the Texas plains for days. I'm now over 3600 dry miles and it is a miracle.
I have seen some unique rock formations and a couple of very interesting river canyons; other than that it was 300 miles of desert.
From top: Eagles Nest Creek, a unique mesa at the Pecos County line and the Pecos River

A stay at the Holiday Inn Express tonight will be just what I need (it doesn't get more American than that), With lightning quick Wi-Fi I have been able to upload all pictures, a couple of video snippets and six program updates. All is right with my world tonight!

Day 26 - Alpine to Carrizo Springs, Tx

Check out my 306.5 mi Ride on Strava: click here

Friday, May 20, 2016

Another day, another time zone

The "day" started early, too early. About 5 a.m. to be precise. A whole flock of dadburn motorcycle freaks were run in' their dadburn engines right outside my door. There must o' been a hundred of 'em, right there outside my door.
Turns out, they were launching on their own adventure. I truly don't know how many, but they were "riding to the wall", an annual event where cyclists ride to Washington D.C. for those who can not (POW-MIAs). I don't know how many stayed at the motel (I only saw 1 bike when I registered) and how many of them simply rendezvoused there.
I fell back to sleep and finally woke up at 8:30! Yikes, so much for an early start! The late start worked well for avoiding rush hour in El Paso however, which was a good thing because, even without heavy traffic, it took forever to get through the city. I said it before and I'll say it again. Even the lady at the gas station completed my sentence when I noted "they sure don't spend a lot of money..."
"On highway signs? I know"
I traveled down a state highway into Anthony, Tx, so that I could stop at the border and safely take a picture. It was a small, non-descript sign, not at all what you'd expect from Texas.

Another mile or so down the road I found a more ornate sign so I captured it also.

 From there it was a matter of trying to not lose highway 20, as it was to shadow the border and, the way I remembered it, take me most of the way to Laredo. My GPS was on duty again, but the girls were up to their usual antics, trying to get me on the Interstate. They can be quite entertaining if you are not following their lead. They begin to bicker; one says turn left, the other right. At one point, when I was running parallel to the border, she changed to meters instead of miles! Well, at least they're talking again.
I ended up on the Ceaser Chavez Parkway where the high speed lane was marked "H-C". Anyone know what that is?

 Anyway, the H-C lane was a toll road, but if you stayed in the other lanes apparently it was free. Go figure. 
I was shown that my exit was "Alameda Rd. Texas 20" and when I reached the exit I got off the CCP. That was the last time I saw a sign referencing highway 20 for 10 miles or more!
By the time I got to the southern most part of town it was after 11 o'clock. I put another hour in before I stopped for lunch. I had found, and was following highway 20 when it ended and, much to the delight of the girls, I was deposited onto I-10 East (I believe I even heard some high fives). I had to jump off a few exits later to ask directions so I decided it was an opportune time to eat.
I continued on I-10 as directed until I reached Van Horn and exited onto highway Tx 90. Just prior to my exit was a sign indicating I was only about 500 miles from Dallas. But that translates to approximately 1300 P48 miles! So my expected ETA for Dallas is still 6-7 days out.
Google maps shows my route cutting south through a long serious of small towns. The problem I have found is that some of the towns are two abandoned buildings and the third one has been vacated, er... make that three abandoned buildings. Other towns look identical on the map but are much more; complete with gas stations! Because I have about a 240 mile maximum cruising range on a tank of fuel I have to be careful when I choose to refuel.
So I rode for hours through rolling hills, cactus and yucca. I stopped at a few "historical markers" and saw a very interesting building.

 I also crossed into the Central Time Zone! I'm not sure if I'll hit the Eastern Time Zone before I leave the state, but it's possible.
I had planned to stop for the night in Marfa, if only for the Patriotic Historical significance of its name. If you are not familiar with Marfa let me explain. The town name came from an excerpt of one of George Washington's famous quotes, "Marfa, I can't find my teed". And now you know the REST of the story!
By the time I reached Marfa I was ready for a Blizzard at DQ, but disappointed in the mileage covered today. In order to get to Dallas near schedule I need to do close to 300 miles a day, and I was only at 230 with the late start, slow going through El Paso, and losing an hour. So I inquired at the DQ to see if any of the little towns showing on my GPS map were large enough to have fuel and motels. The only one likely to meet this criteria was Alpine, a mere 30 minutes further down the road. 
As the highway climbed for most of the 30 minutes to Alpine I rode through some interesting topography. I also stopped at a historical marker noting where, for over a hundred years, people from Marfa had been seeing strange and unexplained lights. Over 70 reports of sightings have been made, surprisingly all of which were by teens who had gone out there at night to watch for the lights but were caught by local police. They used to call it "watching the submarine races" in Cleveland.

So I'm sitting in my room at the Motel Bien Venidon (first mistake, never stay at a motel with a foreign name unless you are in Paris). The only thing worse than the big bug I killed crawling down the wall is the WiFi signal, which was last seen in Ford's Theater in April of 1865 (and it was reported by the Lincolnshire to be spotty at best)!
I'll have to go to a bigger city tomorrow to see if I can find dependable Wi-Fi, a cit big enough to play 8 man football!
(I'll insert a couple more pictures once I can get them uploaded, or downloaded, whatever)

Las Cruces, N.M. to Alpine, Texas

Check out my 266.7 mi Ride on Strava: click here

Thursday, May 19, 2016

From A (to) Z, bookending state lines with a time zone, a continental zone and a mileage benchmark

RAfter the night I had last night I eventually regained consciousness around 7:45. I walked through the foyer and saw a guest book so I stopped and signed in. While writing my neighbor (from the Last Chance Room two doors down the deck) stopped and pointed out the other book that was sitting on the same desk. 
"Ghost stories and other guest experiences" read the cover. He added "it's an interesting no read. We didn't see anything strange last night but if you did...". Perhaps an epilogue to my previous post?
A quick banana, oatmeal and coffee at the hotel, a splash and go at the pump and I was off for a day of riding across nearly 300 miles of desert. With hundreds of miles of desert in every direction at least I wouldn't be needing a weather escort, or so I thought.
From Bisbee I headed south along highway 80 until I came to the outskirts of Douglas, Az. There the road split with truck route 80 bearing left and historic route 80 diving directly into Douglas. It was my assumption that after riding through beautiful downtown Douglas the road would pop out on the south side and rejoin the highway. You know what they say about assuming.
The town was about what I thought it would be but without the bi-lingual signs. There is only one language in Douglas, and it isn't English! (The clerk in the store spoke very good English and was very polite and anxious to point me back to the highway).
On the south side of town, all streets dead ended onto a street running east and west. 

Directly on the south side of this road stood a tall wall with a barbed wire fence on the other side of it, a narrow no-mans-land zone, then, presumably, another fence. This extended as far as I could see in both directions. I had found the Mexican Border!

After snapping a couple of photos I turned around and went north on the eastern side of town, through a residential neighborhood. The houses were all small but well kept, set amongst a very nice school with an LED sign announcing upcoming events.
I found the highway and continued east toward Rodeo (this WAS the first time I've been to Rodeo!) which sat just across the border in New Mexico.

I found a safe place to pull over and take the requisite stateline photo, then it was back to business. I did not realize until I stopped for lunch that 
I had, concurrently, crossed into the Mountain Time Zone
In a very short time I found an unmarked intersection that was, it turned out, N.M. 9, the tiny thread of a highway that paralleled, more or less, the border nearly all the way across the state.
I had chosen this route in an attempt to stay as true as possible to my intended mission: to ride the perimeter of the lower 48 and, wherever possible, avoid Interstate routes and seek out the back roads and their inhabitants.
The outline of highway 9 on Google Maps was so faint that I wondered if it was even paved and/or safe to travel on it. I didn't need to wait long for the answer. The road was indeed paved and, as it turned out, in pretty good shape. As for safety...
I was only about two hundred yards down the road, still accelerating, when two large buzzards swooped down and landed on a piece of roadkill that lay directly ahead of me. One took off again almost before stopping. The other hesitated long enough to show me his best deer-in-the-headlights imitation, then, as quickly as a bird with a six foot wing span can, took off in a belated attempt to stave off danger (his and mine). As all of this was happening I was decelerating, hoping to reach a maneuverable speed by the time he showed which direction he was headed. We managed to avoid each other but I could have plucked a tail feather for a souvenir. I decided that I would eschew the cruise control for awhile, at least until my heart rate returned to normal!
TRIVIA TIME:
Does anyone recall the tag line that appeared on posters and advertisements for the movie "Easy Rider"?
That battle cry echoed through my mind numerous times while planning for this trip. A mere 14 miles down the highway I found what Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper and Jack Nicholson could not, America. It was hiding in PW's diner at the corner of highways 9 and 338 in Animas, N.M. This was what America is, or was, or should be.
It started with a plethora of thank you's and yes sir's during the order taking process and continued through my examination of the well conceived Americana decor. Along with displays of times long since lost were two specific pieces that captivated me. The first I was able to capture in a photo.
If you can't read the printing let me know and I will email a larger copy. It is from a book that I own (words I never would have thought possible for me to utter).
The second piece I may need to seek out because the photo can not possibly do it justice. It is titled Words of Freedom.
At first glance it appeared to be a slightly soiled 50 star American flag. Upon closer examination it is covered with names, facts, quotes, the Declaration of Indepence and the Bill of Rights. Each star is labeled with the state it represented, the date of statehood and names and events relating to the state.


These people are the forgotten America. The people who don't ask anything of their country but the freedom to live their lives without the interference of a political body that can't help but trip over itself and defile the rights of polite hard working people in the name of political correctness and securing votes to an office they have forgotten about in search of power. No politician running for Federal Office will ever go to Animas, but a ham and cheese sandwich and conversation with PW should be a prerequisite of any office.
If you've never seen Easy Rider let me suggest this - don't! It doesn't age well. Instead travel to Animas and meet the wonderfully polite waitress who works there.
Somewhere near Hatchita, N.M. I crossed the Continental Divide, a major benchmark of the trip. About 15 miles further down the road I passed the 3,000 mile threshold also, then shortly after my bike turned 15 (15,000 miles that is). 
Near the small town of Columbus, N.M., where I had been forewarned to stop for gas (last gas station on highway 9), I noticed that the dips in the road where flash flood warnings had been posted for the last several hundred miles were still dry but surrounded by water on both sides. Both in Columbus and here in Las Cruces I was told of a horrible hail storm that swept through yesterday. Had I not decided to get the room at the Castle Rock Inn, I may have ridden directly into that storm.
My plan was to angle north near the Texas border and spend the night in Las Cruces but someone in the New Mexico Highway Department didn't get the memo. My little gem of a road suddenly came to a stop at a T intersection. By itself that would not seem so unusual. However, the stop sign was the only marking at the intersection. No identification of the intersecting highway, no indication what was to the left or to the right. This was a major highway! There had been no announcement signs during the approach (highway XYZ to El Paso), not even an indication that highway 9 was ending!
Three was a sign of to the right that was written in Mexican, saying something about vehiculas comercialis so I knew I didn't want to go that way. So I turned left and went several miles, through several intersections before they gave me a highway number, 28! Without my GPS working that did me know good. I knew I wanted to go near, but not into Texas, then go north on highway 136, but none of the intersections told me where I was headed.
I had wanted to cross into Texas tomorrow and take a picture of the Welcome sign at the border. Once highway signs did start to appear (still without destinations) I could tell just how lost I was. First I crossed the Rio Grande, then saw a Texas shaped highway marker to confirm that I was in the Lone Star State. But then I was on N.M. 128, then back in Texas getting on I-10 east toward Anthony. I saw a "you are now leaving the Enchantment State" but never a "we really don't give a rip about your sign project". So I turned around, being careful to use the west bound lanes (whew, that was close), and rode another 20+ miles to Las Cruces so I could figure it out tonight. 
So tomorrow is another state (hopefully including another sign), as I quickly leave New Mexico behind.
Wish me luck finding Texas!