Day 32-33 Limping into Louisiana

After nearly two and half sometimes tough, sometimes glorious weeks, I've finally made it out of Texas and into the flat warm heart of Louisiana, but it it's been far from plain sailing, and I've had to significantly reroute back to I-10, especially annoying after planning a route that was explicitly designed "avoid I-10."

It all started well though. I woke early by chance yesterday, and flicked on CNN just as the vows were being read out. It looked all lovely, and I decided to delay my departure till after balcony time. I caught most of service on the news in the dining room area of the motel, in the company of a big delegation of coffee marketers from Nakuru, Kenya where I'd lived for 7 months odd in 2004.

I didn't actually blame the American truckers for looking a little peeved as we loudly discussed the best places to drink in a town in the highlands of Kenya, as David Starkey toadied on in the background about protocol and British History as ABC News waited for the wedding party to appear on the balcony, and the British Asian bloke from Paddington, who ran the motel, gave a second running commentary on his his favourite places in London. I've got no time for nonsense views about America being overrun by foreigners, but on this occasion the truckers must've had a point.

For the vast bulk of the day there is little to say about the ride itself. It's green, lush, flat, tree lined, and populated round here, and I was happy to be finally pushing North and clear of I-10, onto my planned route 50 to 100 miles north of the coast, out the tornado zone (although there are some concerning signs on the road about evacuation routes) and into the heart of Cajun country. For most of the day, to my great surprise even the roads were not bad, however on the 10 miles that were true to form, Texas had two final treats up it's sleeve.

First was Texas puncture number five, which in itself would've been no issue, but then my saddle broke. I guess the vibrations on the crumby roads had created a weakness, and suddenly the back prong sheared off. It was a pain in the backside, literally at first, and subsequently metaphorically as I realised there were no bike shops on my route for 6 days, and my temporary patch up would not hold. As a result I've have to take a route 25 miles south....and back to I-10. Once there it would be illogical and time consuming to head back to my originally planned route, so now I'm rerouting to parallel I-10 till Florida.

Texas roads really are such a shame. Without them I'd have nothing but good things to say about Texas - with the exception of far far east Texas, which I found to be bland, slightly grumpy and to have an quite staggering number of rather ugly churches, all in rather uncomfortably competitive proximity. Generally Texas was great. It's everything you expect it to be. Sure it's big and brash, but often that means brilliant, and stunning. And sure Texans are huge in character (although surprisingly not waistline) but that adds to the place. But it also has stuff you don't expect, funky cities, cool art scenes, coast lines, and cracking food. It should be one of the great cycling destinations of the world, unfortunately the joke state of many roads, and the very tedious minority of imbecilic farm boys that view running you off the road as amusing sport, mean I can't make that cycling recommendation. But do go to Texas, it's fun, just do it in a car, preferably a double axled Dodge pick up truck.

So today was supposed to be a boring but easy day, and bar the spitting rain all day it largely fulfilled that criteria, with one unnerving exception. Having fixed the seat in Beaumont, I road the I-10 frontage to the bayou (which I think means canal in French) that splits Texas and Louisiana, where I had a quick 4 miles to ride on the shoulder of I-10. I'd google mapped my route, and followed the photos to check the quality of the shoulder almost all the way to the exit to the first exit road in Louisiana. It was the "almost" that cost me 90 mins of my time, and a few years off my life.

literally 200 meters from were I would exit the freeway I hit a bridge where the shoulder quite suddenly reduced from 5-10 metres wide to under a metre. As I saw it, I was faced with 3 seriously unpalatable options, push forward across the 100 metre bridge, risking getting hit from behind by one of the lorries that were dangerously close, turn round walk back a mile where the freeway rose up over the bayou, go under the freeway, ride back into Texas and find another much longer route into Louisiana, or most unpalatable of all, walk back half a mile to the picnic stop area and beg someone to drive me the 150 metres I need, which would've bugged me forever as a failure. There was thick swamp and forest off the road and a river to cross, so off road was not an option.

Goodness.....Love the trumpets

I trudged back the half mile to the picnic area to get my thoughts together, and got talking to the gardener, who told me he walks the bridge against the traffic most days. So I thought bugger it, trudged on back half a mile, under the underpass, and a mile back to the bridge westbound facing the traffic. I then basically just stood there looking at the task for 10 mins rooted to the ground with fear. Then I'd had enough and just sodding went for it. It' s an experience I never ever want to repeat, and was not helped in any shape or form by the oversize load lorry that bore down on me halfway forcing me to lean out over the bridge.

I'm not ashamed to admit I practically skipped over the verge the other side and onto the peaceful country road, but I'm so glad I didn't crumble. After then it was heaven. Smooth roads, reasonable drivers and relaxed, decent little towns. And then Cajun cooking tonight was delicious. I think I'm going to enjoy the South, and having made my target of clearing Texas by the end of April I'm in a good mood.

Route - Houston - Liberty - Kountze - Beaumont - Orange - Vinton - Sulphur

Friday 29 April
Breakfast - Frosties, 2 bagels and an apple at the motel.
Lunch - Chicken Guacamole sandwich - Kay's Cafe, Liberty. Good solid sandwich, and a decent cafe in the town square full of cops expanding their waistline
Supper - Buffet - Mama Kays. Not sure it was worth the $22, but it was late and I was hungry. It was a shabby looking place, even if the staff were hard working. However it was worth $22 just to hear to the very sizable ladies on the next table discussing the weight watchers meeting they'd just been to, whilst tucking into a full deep fried buffet. "I'm going to use up all my weekly points tonight" has to be my favourite line.

Saturday 30 April
Breakfast - Cherrios, 2 English muffins and an apple at the motel
Lunch - Beef salad sandwich - Subway in Orange.
 Supper - Cajun Crawfish soup, rice and salad - Hollier's Cajun Kitchen. Delicious. Well cooked, and beautifully spiced. Resturant was functional, but very very busy with good reason. Only complaint would be the tables were too close together for the rather portly customer base. Fortunately I was saved the indignity of a plus sized bottom in my soup, many were not so lucky. Maybe it's a blip, but people here seem much bigger than Texas.

Just giving page - A little request

I'm going to come clean. I always planned to do this ride sponsored, but honestly only really half backed my chances of getting over the mountains and through the desert, and didn't want the pressure of sponsorship to add a burden at that time.

As a result I've always had Eastern Texas/Houston as the place to set up a just giving page, hence please see below:

http://www.justgiving.com/wwhiteuscoasttocoast/

Any donation would be hugely appreciated, especially as it is going to help the excellent work the MS Trust do in the UK raising awareness of MS and supporting research and specialist training in the MS field. Thank you in advance for any help.

Day 31 - Short start to the second half

OK, having said I wouldn't write a post today, I've had a change of heart and decided to keep up to date. Not that a whole lot has actually happened in the 7 hours since the last post, so this one's going to be brief. Having realised very early yesterday that a second lie in appealed significantly more than rushing off to make some made up deadline, today's ride was simply about getting to the right side of Houston to launch off into the countryside tomorrow.

Seeing as getting out the cities can take time it just made sense to make the very short 15 mile trip to the North East fringes of the city, so I can push hard towards the Louisiana border from early tomorrow. It also gave me a chance to road test the bike, which seems to be riding well bar a slight clicking in the right pedal, and get comfortable with the latest very sexy addition to my already geeky attire....the helmet mirror, so I don't have to spend my life twisting round. It also hopefully adds to the overall look that I'm working on, as a form of protection. I figure the more geeky and downright mental I look, the less likely people are to get up in my grill and make trouble for me. No one wants to be seen hassling a nutter in public.

The drop in temperature and humidity made the riding hugely more enjoyable, and with it set to remain like this for the next week or so, it could be a very pleasant few days along the Gulf Coast. As for the actual route today, there isn't a whole lot to say. It was through 15 miles of reasonable, if dull, suburbs - Kate and Al are definitely on the more lively side of town. It would've been 15 mins shorter if I hadn't got stuck at the  level crossing with a braking train that took forever get over the road. And after nearly two days being so thoroughly looked after, spoilt and relaxed my body feels much better, and even my left side which I twisted in a tumble is feeling stronger.

However it's how I'm feeling upstairs that's the best change. I'm sure you've all got better things to do than listen to some git on unpaid leave whingeing, but it is safe to say before I got to Houston one or two things were starting to pile up and get a little out of proportion in my mind. Two days being thoroughly spoilt with friends from back home has just put the whole exercise back into the perspective it needs to be in. I'm firmly back to feeling keen and excited about the next three to four weeks. That said straight back to the motels and highway food this evening seems a shame after two days of yummy food and home comforts.

Route - West Houston - Far north east Houston

Breakfast - Kate's Eggy Bread bacon sandwich with tomato and grainy mustard. A hangover cure masterpiece from Kate, and much appreciated after the appletini that took me over the edge in Uptown sushi. On top of that, all the best things about british breakfast again, shredded wheat, a good cup of tea, jam, etc. I'm convinced breakfast is the one meal every human misses the most when they're away. I have no doubt Americans coming to London feel the same way. There is absolutely nothing wrong with breakfast here at all, in fact Americans put an amazing amount of effort and energy into it generally, it's just breakfast is the one meal of the day you want to feel like home where ever your from, and that is what made the Houston breakfasts such a treat.

Lunch - Cold chicken, salad, chutney, jacket sweet potato and Ice Cream. Final home cooked meal for a few weeks. A delicious send off.

Supper - Whataburger Meal 1 - Whataburger. Texan equivalent of California's In and Out. It's definitely fast food, but it was a good burger, and it's a solid step up from McDonald's or Burger King. It is also the only place to eat within two miles of the motel, so I tucked in guilt free.

Day 29-30 Houston, we have no problems

There is a very good reason for the two day delay in updates. I've been blissfully laid up in Houston enjoying the amazing generosity of Kate and Al, two friends from university who moved here last year. It's been bliss, pure perfect bliss, and the best half way stop I could've asked for. To be honest I've rather wanted to forget about the cycling for a couple of days, so this has gone by the wayside. However, before we get to the bliss, I must cover the grind of Tuesday.

The 95 mile slog into Houston has was never going to be the prettiest day of my trip and up till lunchtime, it was exactly as expected. Beautiful hill country flattened out into the dull flat, and the frontage road of I-10, on which I spent the bulk of the day, was as tedious as anticipated. Overcast skies and a crosswind did little to cheer up the mile after mile of freeway, petrol stations and odd small factory. When I did peel off the frontage road briefly I  started stumbling across gas and oil fields, with their creaking nodding donkeys and pungent smells, and I was surprised to cross over the Colorado River again, which I thought I'd got east of days ago.

Nothing to complain about though, this is what I'd signed up for. All that changed 35 miles short of Houston, to get over one of the larger creeks, I had cross over the grass verge and onto the I-10 shoulder, and it was from here things went wrong. First a truck with oversized load came concerning close to my head, pushing me to the fringes of the shoulder, where debris collects, and jolted me into cycling headlong for the next 500 metres. As soon as I was back on the side road I felt the depressing clunking of my wheel rim on the tarmac. Repairing a tyre in that humidity was cheerless enough for me to botch the job, and I was back on the rim a mile further on, a second puncture in 2 miles.

Having trudged cursing into the next small town I stopped in the first shop I hit, a basic looking dry cleaners, run by a friendly old chap, who let me change the wheel inside and brought me water. In fact he turned out to be a little over-friendly.... As I was trying to concentrate on fixing the wheel he started telling me all about the massage course he'd done in Houston, and then completely unrequested started massaging my back. 

The baker and candlestick maker must be miffed

He told me I was all tense, and I needed to come into the back room for a full massage. Crippled by a toxic combination of being English and not wanting to offend, and feeling like I owed the guy for letting me change the wheel in the cool of his shop, I found myself in the darkened backroom of a dry cleaners being frankly man handled by a rather ugly oddball in a way that I'm pretty sure is not in any massage text book. Obviously I made my excuses very fast and fled. Maybe he was just a decent bloke with serious boundary issues, but I'm pretty I read the situation right.

It did have the useful flip side of doubling my pace out of that particular town and on towards Houston, but I was running late by now. The last 35 miles was a slog, and much of it down pavements of the vast vast suburbs of Houston. It wasn't all bad, and definitely fascinating in parts, but you definitely feel small walking under the intersection of two twelve lane highways.

Two miles short of Kate and Al's I also managed to wipe out for only the third time on the trip, catching an edge on a pavement, and twisting my left side again. Hot, sweaty, late, and bruised, I can not tell you how relieved I was to see Al on the balcony of their lovely flat calling me up.

In fact it was the start of a blissful day and a half. A quick facebook message to Kate for a drink in Houston, has instead been 2 nights of awesome generosity, and just the best way to see this city. From the second I arrived, to full roast chicken cooking away, it has been just the most perfect halfway stop. Waking up yesterday in a home, not a hotel was heaven, even if I was a little slower after my first booze in three weeks. Throw in a fully laid table with marmite, bonne maman, croissants, and tea, and I was in a place just above heaven. Perfect.

Whilst I've spent a good chunk of the time here either on the sofa or at the pool just relaxing, Kate has done a cracking sell of Houston, whilst also kindly driving me to yet more dull cycle shops to get the bike fixed. Houston is never going win the prize for prettiest town in the US, but it's a fun, hard working boom town, and as always with such towns seeing it with someone who lives here is ideal.

I've eaten in beautiful little garden cafes (where Al and I were the only non-yummy mummies), tasted the best sushi I've ever eaten, seen glorious parks and the opulent brilliance of the oil baron's mansions clustered around the country clubs. Sure the car rules, and there is a brash ballsy bigness to everything here, but it's fun, and it's busy and most surprisingly of all it's really really green. Kate says she's given me a PR pitch, but even if that's true, I'm impressed, this is a fun town and the amazing generosity I've been shown has made it a perfect half time rest.

A combination of a second hangover, and a realisation I needed further rest means I've woken up late again today and am going to set off for a short hop just out the city this afternoon. Before I go I've got to fit a third tyre to my back wheel after getting a full tear in the last new one (which was made of stab proof material no less), bringing the Texan Total to two tyres and three punctures, which I think tells you all you need to know about Texan roads. I also need to stash my unpleasant but vital new stock of Chamois Butt'r (I'll spare you the details, but google it if you are intrigued).

Watching the news this morning has confirmed my new route along the gulf coast is best. A wave of brutal tornadoes hit the South last night, the second in the space of three weeks. So with that I better crack on. Unless something earth shattering happens today, next update will come tomorrow evening, as I'm not sure 35 miles through Houston suburbs is going to make fascinating copy, but let's see.

Tuesday 26 April

Breakfast - Bagel, Oatmeal and apple at the motel

Lunch - Cliff bar and an indescribably revolting sandwich from a rough looking supermarket after the punctures in Brookshire. It was bread with a sort of Cesar chicken baked in. Horrible, and did nothing to improve my mood at that point.

Supper - Roast Chicken, all the trimmings and veg, chocolate cake, sausison to start - Home cooked heaven at Kate and Al's on the end of a bad day. Not sure I could've asked for a more perfect meal to arrive to.

Wednesday 27 April

Breakfast - Shredded wheat, bacon and eggs cooked by myself and with no buggering around, crossiant and toast and jam. Awesome lazy breakfast at a home not a hotel, I've been dreaming of this for weeks, and it did not disappoint.

Lunch - Tiny's Summer Salad - Tiny Boxwoods. A yummy mummy garden haven down a street behind what looked like a normal house. Kind of place only locals would know. Salad was fresh, healthy and delicious. No ranch dressing or deep fried wontons or croutons, just a delicious yummy salad. City heaven.

Supper - Sushi - Uptown Sushi. Best sushi I've ever eaten. After rather too much rose in the Tasting Rooms, a vast plate of perfection. Superbly cooked, amazingly presented sushi to make the tastbuds sing, and all in brilliant opulence of this restaurant, a very Houston spot, but I like big and brash when it's done this well.

Day 28 - Peaceful potter

 Today has been a peaceful little day's riding. It may've been a 110 miler over long rolling hills, but it was just a peaceful, decent days riding. Probably hugely tempting fate here, but if the rest of the trip is like this, it'll be seriously enjoyable.

I was out of the San Antonio suburbs in well under an hour, which was a relief. Suburban riding is the roughest, most stop start possible. Maybe it was just the route I came in and left San Antonio, but outside the city centre it looks tired and short of cash. That said, I didn't stop on either occasion or look further than the main drags, so potentially that's a very unfair statement.

Once out the city the next 3 hours odd was a pretty dull slog along the frontage road of 1-10. Essentially just trucking along the service road for the freeway. With grey clouds on all sides and the humidity up, I'd rather resigned myself to a dull days riding by 10:00.

All that changed when I pealed off onto highway 90 a Seguin, 30 miles in. The rest of the 80 miles was through beautiful, peaceful, rolling green fields. Maybe I've got desert eyes, and any blade of grass would look like home, but much of the day reminded me of rural far South West Surrey and East Hampshire. Which in turn made me feel like the quintessential cliched Brit abroad....."Cyril did like the Taj Mahal, it reminded him of Brighton" and all that guff.

Makes towns easy to spot

The ride was not without issues. Google maps failed me again. The dead flat terrain, was distinctly hilly. The wind never really worked out what it was doing, making some stretches tough. And unfortunately the majority of the day was back out on Texas tarmac. Someone seriously needs to come down here and teach the Texans to tarmac. Some stretches were laughably bad. But none of this took away from a great day.

The icing on the cake was the little towns passed through today. Some were better off than others, but they were all interesting little places. Main streets oozing the faded glamour of frontier towns, with long main streets stretched out either side of the railway line that cutting straight down the centre of each town. With the push towards drive thrus and out of town shops, all the town centres looked well past there prime, and semi-deserted. There is still something very cool about them though. It's difficult to see where they go from here with the historic town centres. All the pressure is away from them, and there's clearly a glut of such communities round here, but it would be a shame if none are preserved in tact.

My favourite was Luling. Despite looking significantly more frayed than the others, some how the town centre was still thriving and farmers market busy. I stopped at the main BBQ joint in town, and was treated to some of the best food of the trip, in a packed little restaurant. Here's hoping this is the start of a shifting trend over the next few weeks.

Bar that I have made only one other discovery today, and it's not a good one. As I move into more populated areas I have a new challenge to face.....dogs. 95% are caged, and 100% seem to view aggressive barking as their soul's sole function. It's the 5% that aren't caged that are the problem. Suddenly they appear by your foot snarling and bellowing till you are out their patch. It's clearly an annoyance and tedium I'm just going to have to get used to.

Breakfast - Granola and yogurt, and half a bowl of oatmeal at the hotel. Delicious and set me up for the day.
Lunch - BBQ chicken, coleslaw and cucumber salad - Luling Bar-B-Que. Fantastic locally produced fair. One of the best meals of the whole trip and such a joy. The restaurant was a basic little place, but right on the money for a proper Texan experience. Understandably busy.
Supper - Beef brisket sandwich, potato salad, and green salad - Frankie's, Schlumberg. Not going to set the world on fire, but was a reasonable little feed. Polished off with a could of complimentary cookies from the hotel.

Day 24-27 - Onto the green

Above is a picture of a very dull road. It's a flat, well tarmaced dual carriageway with wide shoulders. Despite what the picture shows, it was busy all day with traffic bustling small town to small town. And most importantly it's green, not scrub brown and dusty, deep dull agricultural green. It's about 10 miles East of Uvalde Texas, and it was the of the happiest sights of this trip.

For months now "getting east of Uvalde" has been the focus. In fact, in strange way, because the problems prior to the town were more immediate to me, it's been more of a goal than NYC up till now. Hours staring at Google maps had given Uvalde a mythical place in my mind. It was were the world gets green and towns appear every few miles, not every few hours. It was were the mountains and the deserts stop, and where just the cycling becomes the toughest part, rather than weather or geography.

What I had not anticipated was "West of Uvalde" was tough, really tough. After a noisy night in Comstock's rather basic motel, things didn't get easier. In fact the three days to get to the San Antonio and the Sheraton Gunter Hotel was divided exactly in two by Uvalde. The first day and a half was as close as I've got so far to throwing in the towel, and the second has restored my confidence.

I guess I thought after the horror day in the desert stuff would just get better instantly, which of course it didn't. In fact the constantly rolling hills, whilst horrendous were really only the part of the horror. In fact the riding conditions were so dreadful I can only really give you facts and an image to help you, as I'm out of adjectives.

The facts are as follows: Humidity constantly hung around 70-80%; the temperature started daily around 75-80F, rapidly rising to 95-100F (in fact as the local weather kept unhelpfully reminding me "it's like mid-July weather," which is why I'm in Texas in April, best laid plans and all that); the wind blew 15-20mph straight in my face, gusting up over 30mph at times; and the icing on the cake, the roads were consistently what is know as "3rd grade tarmac," which basically means it has no top surface. In fact the roads were so bad it stripped my brand new back tyre bare of it's rubber (see photo right). I didn't even know this was possible.

For a day an a half it was like sitting on a exercise bike, on top of a washing machine on spin, in sauna, under 5 studio lights 3 inches from you face, in a wind tunnel. Of course were you to sit on exercise bike, on a washing machine, in a sauna, under studio lights, in a wind tunnel, back home people would probably advise you take some time at the Priory to cool off. Strange how people are impressed when it's "for a challenge."

Unfortunately Del Rio and Brackeville, which were the only two towns on route, were frankly pretty uninspiring. Del Rio has to have possibly the highest fast food joint per head stats in the world, comprising as it did of basically one long strip of fast food drive thrus. Bracketville on the other hand was a strange little town bolted onto the old army camp at Fort Clarke Springs. To be fair the guys in the old barracks were trying hard to make into a tourist attraction and a working new town, and the motel itself was on the old base, but there is only so much you can do, and it basically still felt like what it was, an ex-army camp. I ashamed, to say I was glad to move on.

The one high point was I finally got to go through one of the border patrol checks, and the experience did not disappoint. I made the mistake of asking if I could use their loos before they checked my passport, as it was deep in my panniers, and I was bursting for a pee. I was promptly surrounded by four officers, three who all rather menacingly kept their right hands on their holstered guns, whilst the forth watched over my rummage through the bags. There was a palpable disappointment when I produced a correctly stamped British passport. I rapidly used one of the loos in their cells, and hurried off, without pointing out the front page of our passports clearly states her "Britannic Majesty" will come down like a ton of bricks on anyone not allowing the "bearer to pass freely without let or hindrance."

Rapidly becoming their best customer

After Uvalde it all changed. The world flattened out, towns cropped up every 10 odd miles, and world turned green. In fact the next day and a half were blissfully normal. This was like riding back home, gone are the worries about breaking down in the middle of no where, with no one around. Gone is the need to ride weighed down by litres and litres of spare water and food. Gone are the fears of deserts and mountains. It really is bliss, and bar a couple of miles getting into San Antonio where the GPS and I had a falling out the roads are great; smooth, good shoulders, and full of cars, which is great.

I've had to stop in San Antonio for a day for two reasons. Firstly to get a new tyre to replace my baldie and to rest my knees which are now starting to ache unpleasantly at the end of days. San Antonio is a decent city, even if I'd rather be in South Cornwall, seeing as it's Easter. I got a great rate in the decent Sheraton right in the middle of downtown, which is satisfying. Whilst compact, the city has made a solid effort at making it feel busy and friendly, no mean feat with the sprawl of suburbs sucking the life out of many city centres here.

The Alamo

It's maybe a little touristy for my liking, a little too much Madam Tussards and a little too many fat people with bum bags eating a the Hard Rock Cafe, but this is me being mean spirited. It's fun and the riverside area is buzzing testament to a successful urban renewal programme. I remembered to go a have a look at the Alamo (a little historical joke for any students of American history), but bar that I've taken it very easy today, lots of rest, Easter calls home, and a visit to the local church for their Easter service.

So that's it, finally I'm up to date. I hit the road again first thing tomorrow, but it is only a short hop over to Houston for the next stop. Which leaves me with just one finaly piece of advice: Don't wear red esperdrills to a steak house in rural Texas, even if your flip flops are broken. The looks I got from the locals did not say "how natty even if the style is two season's old" they more conveyed agressive suspicions about interests in my private life. An unnerving experience all round, even if some of the looks came from the elephantine individuals at the all you can eat buffet bar, who looked like they could be easily outrun.

Route - Comstock - Del Rio - Uvalde - Hondo - San Antonio

Thursday 21 April
Breakfast - Banana, apple and cliff bar. Nowhere was open in Comstock, so that was the only option.
Lunch - Beef salad sandwich - Subway - Have discovered this is the best place to eat lunch if fast food chains are the sole option. You choose what goes in the sandwich and you can request the half size sandwich, although the servers make every attempt to make you buy more: "Would you not prefer a foot long, sir?" "Is that really all, sir?" "Do you want chips with that sir?" It's relentless.
Supper - Grilled chicken sandwich and Strawberry Milkshake - Burger and Shake, Bracketville - Yup that really was the name. It was the best of very slim pickings.

Friday 22 April
Breakfast - Egg muffin, powerade and banana - Petrol station, Bracketville. A depressing start to the day.
Lunch - Chicken salad sandwich - Subway, Uvalde.
Supper - 8oz Sirlon - Hudson Brothers Steakhouse, Hondo. Good food, although for the reasons stated above, slightly ruined by the fear I was going to get lynched for my sartorial choices.

Saturday 23 April
Breakfast - Cornflakes, waffle and an apple at the Motel
Lunch - Tuna sandwich - Shabby looking deli in San Antonio
Supper - Grilled Chicken sandwich and cesar salad - Room service. Turns out the cesar salad was a "full meal" and the chicken came in fried bread, defeating the whole healthy idea.

Sunday 24 April
Breakfast - Dissappointing assortment from the Hotel buffet.
Lunch - Mexican Salmon, rice and broccoli - Iron Catus, San Antonio. Delicious and healthy, spot on.
Supper - Asian Salad from Room Service. Most places are shut up because it's Easter, so I figured relax in the hotel.

The next update will be along in minute

Have finally made it to San Antonio, out the desert completely and back into the world of wi-fi.

Bike and knee strain mean tomorrow will be a stop over here to get stuff sorted. Full update to be provided in the  in the morning, because right now I'm in a seriously comforty bed and about to pass out.......

Day 23 - Harsh hike out of the desert

Today's update is going to be brief and rather short on photos, because I'm knackered and need to go to sleep, and because I didn't take many. Today's little hike has been keeping me awake at night for months now, and last night was no exception. I must have planned and replanned today's route 25 times, but it still stepped up and did not disappoint.

I'm genuinely struggling to think of adjectives to describe the day. I was brutal, violent and extremely tough. It's been the toughest day's cycling of the trip and, it is no exaggeration to say, it's been one of the thoughest days of my life.

The plan was to ride from Sanderson to Del Rio on the Mexican border. 120 miles through the desert with only 2 hamlets/villages with very limited services to break up the journey (amazingly this is the only realistic cycling option to get East at this time of year, that does not involve the Rockies or completely unsupported desert). I had that much clear in my mind, and set off 30 mins before sunrise to make the most of the day, however the reality was horrific.

The ride was a rollercoaster ride through canyons and river beds, with endless grim climbs. The roads were the worst I've travelled on, and littered with debris on the shoulders. The 5-10 mile tailwind, promised by the Weather guys, was instead a 15-20 headwind that gusted all day, making it a struggle to hit even 10mph downhill, and led me to walk up the final 10 hills. And then their was the heat. It was always going to be hot in these parts, but at 103F in the shade it was well above 110F on the tarmac for a good 5 hours of the day, even the locals deem this heat wave extreme. Throw in a puncture on my front tyre and the fact much of the scenery was ugly dry shrubs and you have, to make use of a hack cliche, a "perfect storm."

It was a horror show from start to finish, and for the first time on the trip I've not made my original planned destination. I'm 30 miles short of Del Rio in the rusty little village of Comstock, which whilst ugly, dust strewn, and shabby, has the friendliest locals I've yet encountered.

In fact the day one saving grace was the people I met. The day was broken up by a visit to the ramshackled petrol station at Langtry, a village of almost impossible remoteness and harshness, where thank goodness, my puncture occurred. Inside the owner called Mike and hit mate, whose name I never got, provided the good light relief. Over the best BBQ sandwich I've had to date, they entertained me with their rather glib local safety advice, and because I'm British I guess, their unsolicited views of the royal wedding, which consisted of some well thought out, if very crude views on Middleton's anatomy, as opposed to flowers or Westminster Abbey.

I'm very glad today is over, it's put me back a day, but finally see the light at the end of the tunnel on the desert portion. From tomorrow or Friday I should start to pull into the more populated farming country, and I can not wait, even if the wind is set to blow straight in my face till at least Monday.

Route - Sanderson - Langtry - Comstock

Breakfast - 2 Egg tacos - Stripes petrol station. It was the only choice in town, and the only food available at 06:30. Disgusting and greasy.
Lunch - BBQ Sandwich - Mike's Gas Station in Langtry. A complete surprise. In a dark broken down little room, a man and his mates serving up fantastic food in the middle of nowhere.
Snacks - 2 Cliff bars. One in the morning, one to get me through the last 10 miles.
Supper - Cheese Burger. J&J Holley's place. Literally the only place to eat in this village, and burger was the only choice available. A smokey bar in a trailer, where 2 large bottomed ladies were holding court over the only cafe or watering hole in town. To a person everyone was friendly in there, and the burger is not going to win prizes, but it was edible.

Day 22 - Cruising through Cowboy Country

First off apologies to anyone who read yesterday's post today. I wrote it very late whilst half asleep. Have just reread it, and it was peppered with mistakes. It's updated now, so should read better, and you also got the bonus treat of finding out how poor my spelling is when I'm not concentrating.

Today has been another good solid 85 miles cycling, and with a large chunk of it downhill it's also been fairly relaxing for the most part, if seriously warm. It's 100F in the shade. Out on the unsheltered road, I have no idea. Add to the mix the fact from 12:00 the tarmac is so warm it's cooking you from underneath and a 20mph wind, and you have the uncomfortable sensation of being in a fan oven. I've given myself blisters on my feet because in the heat of the day the clip-in black pedal shoes get so hot you have to keep wriggling them around to stop the feeling of your toes burning. Uncomfortable.

As breakfast was not provided in the motel I ate in a great little cafe in town, and got chatting to the old bloke on the table next door to me (well technically on my table, because when he arrived in the cafe he strode straight up to me and politely, but firmly informed me "this is my seat, please can you move." Love Texas). In amongst telling me about the area, which consisted of cows, dinosaur fossils, the national park, and cows on loop, he did drop a staggering fact: It has not rained in Alpine since 22 September.

On a narrowly personal front this explains why my lips are brutally cracked, but on a wider scale explain the bush fires that are sweeping West Texas. Mile after mile of my journey today was through scorched blackened earth stretching off into the hills. It must've been brutal when it came through, and the odd charred home are errie to see. Seeing as people have died and the governor is trying to declare a federal emergency, it seemed wrong to take pictures.

Not that anyone would've seen me for most of the day. The day split neatly into two. The first half, when not in burnt areas was through more of the vast empty open savannah lands, and the second through the slightly stifling gullies and canyons of the Davies mountains tail, where the sudden high cliffs either side trapped the heat and made riding very hot. The big feature of the day however was long long stretches without seeing anyone. The longest was well over 20 mins; no cars, no buildings, nothing.

Not that I was complaining. The tarmac round here is so rough, I was forced to ride out in tire track grooves rather than on the shoulder for chunks of the day. Most drivers where great, but a few displayed a country trait I'm not a fan of.

In every rural community all over the world there is a minority of individuals that view anyone who's either not from their community or doing something they perceive as different, as not only someone to be suspicious of, but to actively teach a lesson to. When this is in the form of a tirade in a Dorset pub this is faintly amusing, if tedious, when it involves a multi-ton farm lorry or cattle bar bearing pick-up truck racing down on you at full speed, on roads where they is plenty of room to over take, it very tedious and unnerving. I spent the second half of the day endlessly looking over my shoulder defensively, mostly at an empty road.

Not much else to report. In 85 miles I passed through only one town/village/ human community. It was the tidy little town of Marathon, and I'm laid up in the village of Sanderson, which is basically a petrol station with a few buildings attached. Whilst the countryside round here is beautiful and the small towns look decent, give me a big city any day. If you're bought into and succeeding at the whole cowboy dream, this must be heaven, but just the thought of being a kid out here with other plans or aspirations this far from anywhere, makes me feel claustrophobic.

Sanderson is fine, even if the dining options appear to be limited to the deep fried food available in the petrol station, but today is definitely the first time on this trip, and possibly ever, that I've wished I had a tent. I got into the village at 14:30, and with the next motel a full 86 miles on, I had no option but to stop for the night. I would much rather have pushed on this evening and camped, so I'm going to buckle up, take on the rehydrated delights at the petrol station, go to bed....and then leave before dawn.

Route - Alpine - Marathon - Sanderson

Breakfast - Cinnamon roll and Bacon and Egg Croissant - Judy's Bread and Breakfast. Went for a big breakfast so I could push on through lunch. Nice little spot even if the student waitress yawned twice without covering here mouth, whilst taking my order. These things annoy me.
Lunch - Almond Cliff Bar (a favorite) and beef steak nuggets. Lunch for kings, whilst on the road
Supper - Well it's going to have to be something from Stripes petrol station, pretty sure it's not going to be a culinary treat.

Day 21 - Happy day in the desert

Turns out after all the fretting over today, it not only went well, it went superbly. Pack horsed up with 5 litres of water, trail snacks and fruit deposited around my bike and my person, I was on the road at 07:05 a full half hour before sun rise.

Sun rise in any desert is always spectacular, and if I’d know how well the rest of the day would go, I’d have stop to savour it. As it was I flapped around like a pregnant hen, putting jumpers on, taking them off, readjusting the bike rack, checking my water, etc. 

With the sun up I hit my groove and pushed hard through the 74 miles of unsupported road, even if the road was surprisingly busy, given I really am in the middle of bugger-all nowhere, half way between two very small towns, where houses of any variety appear roughly every 10 miles on average. The riding itself was good, if a bit relentless, as it was almost permanently on a slight incline. 

The scenery however, was as spectacular as the road was straight (3 slight turns in 74 miles). West Texas is the definitive Big Sky country. With the Davies mountains (where Lance Armstong trains) brooding to the East, this is pure cowboy country of a 1000 Marlborough adverts. Even though it's technically desert, this is proper savannah. Sun bleached grass as far as you can see, broken up only by the odd long horn cow, or ranch sign.

It’s stunning, beautiful and breathtaking. Unfortunately as I was so focused on getting through it, I took precious few photos, and those I did take do it no justice, including the one of the most surreal sight to date. About 30 miles short of Marfa, literally in the middle of nowhere, no houses, no cows, nothing, there was a solid building with full shop display and CCTV camera claiming to be Prada. It had to be a joke, an ad campaign or some artists work, but it was genuinely strange.

I was so focused I was in the pretty little arists' town of Marfa by before 14:00. After grabbing some lunch I decided to crack on to Apline, 25 miles further on. And whilst I’m very happy about the decision, I do feel guilty cancelling on the motel I’d booked in Marfa. 

There is a terrible temptation when you are travelling across the US to stick to the chain motels, as you know roughly what you’ll get every night. This has led to one of the saddest sites on the road here, the broken, rusting signs of the old independent motels. Whilst the buildings are rarely noteworthy the signs are deeply cool; defining the futuristic optimism of the 50s and 60s. And for once the guys in Marfa had restored a motel to it’s full 60s glory. I feel bad but I needed to push on.

Alpine has come as a surprise. As I never meant to stay here I’d done no research on it. It’s a bustling mid-size town with a small university and a thriving classic small town town centre. I’m staying in a decent little motel on the edge of town, right next to the local Coke factory, which is obviously exciting. Glad I made the 20 mins walk into town though for a great supper, although from all the stares I got I must’ve made a serious faux pas, by a. not driving and b. wearing shorts, as I seemed to be the only grown man not in jeans. 

Either that or a staggeringly high proportion of this town, of both sexes fancy me. To be fair they could all also be laughing at my very weird tan lines, compliments of cycle shoes and socks, cycling mits, aviators, and bandaged knees. The tan is not even, lets just leave it at that.

Route - Van Horn - Marfa - Alpine

Breakfast - Corn flakes, cream cheese bagel and apple at the motel

Snacks - Cliff bar

Lunch - Grilled chicken sandwich and half a pack of bad chips - Dairy Queen, Marfa. Only place open in Marfa after 14:00. Kind of like a Texan Wimpey, and equally as unpleasurable to consume. That said the ladies behind the counter were very kind to me, so I feel bad laughing at their days work. Also oddly I was the only male customer, and the only customer under 60.

Supper - Herb crusted trout with shrimp, in a lime and jalapeno sauce - Reata, Apline, Texas. No cheap, but delicious, really delicious. Stylish place as well, highly recommended.

Day 20 - Deep into the Chihuahuan Desert

Van Horn - Quintessential bleak desert highway town

Having not made Van Horn yesterday, today was my shortest day's riding to date. A quick 35 miles deep into the very sparce ranching country of the Chihuahuan desert. After Arizona I didn't think it would get any more lonely, I was wrong. There really is no one living out in the sticks here. 

There's not a lot to say about the ride, it was along the I-10 frontage road with the freeway one side and the Union-Pacific railroad the other. With the wind tucked in behind me, and a long downhill into Van Horn I made good time, but the whole ride confirmed I am right to be holding here for a day.

With 74 miles of completely unsupported riding through the desert ahead of me from Van Horn, it would've been very dense to push on today. A mile out of Sierra Blanca I picked up a puncture from some sort of thorn that looked like a one inch nail. Repairs took well over 30 mins, as the tyres are still very stiff. Add to that the rather alarmist signs declaring "Extreme wildfire risk" and the fact I lost an hour crossing into CMT zone just West of Van Horn, and I would've been racing against the clock unsupported in the desert, not bright.

Full service drive thru banking

The puncture did have one upside, luckily it happened right by a petrol station and for the 40 odd mins I was there I got to see all of Sunday West Texas life go through; hungover students, truck loads of cowboys, complete with hats, jeans, boots, spurs....and a trailer full of very noisy cows, the county sheriff, state troopers (I don't understand the difference either), the border police, soldiers in uniform, mexicans, hicks, you name it. Given it was a fairly ropey little outfit, they were doing roaring business. 

The customers I found the most interesting were the minivan of what I assumed to be fundamentalist Mormons. This is just me guessing, but it looked like one chap, two wives, and 11 children. All the ladies/girls were dressed in the very old fashioned ankle length dresses plus socks, and head scarves you always see on the news. I'm not a million miles from Eldorado Texas, the Zion ranch and Warren Jeffs and his gang, so I guess it makes sense. They seemed like nice people, to be fair.

I'm laid up in rather bleak highway town of Van Horn. To give the town credit they're trying to make it friendly, but a town of 2,500 odd stretched over 3 miles of desert with 15-20 motels is never going to ooze charm. It's certainly not designed to be explored on foot and the 3 mile round trip to lunch, along dirt pavements in heat of the day, was thankfully worth it for the quality Mexican lunch. I was sat next to an old school Texan couple, complete with Stetson and jeans shirt for him and hairsprayed boofant hair and pearl set for him. Both were clearly deaf so I got to listen into their whole conversation, without straining.

Having lost an hour I don't need to leave till after 07:00 tomorrow to catch the dawn riding. I'm going to spend the rest of the evening checking the bike again and finding space in my bags for the 5 litres of water and trail food (aka M&Ms) I'm taking. After yesterday's little effort I'm taking no chances.

Route - Sierra Blanca - Van Horn

Breakfast - Two Bananas and a Powerade Zero - The budget motel didn't serve breakfast and there was precious little else I fancied from the Chevron petrol station

Lunch - Pecado Chicken - Chuy's Mexican, Van Horn. Decent grilled chicken and rice with tortilla. Solid little restaurant; sports memorabilia all over the wall, Basketball on the TV and Mexican food done well. Not worth a detour, but if you need lunch East of El Paso, sack off Wendy's and head here.

Snack - Strawberry Lemonade crush thing - McDonalds next to the motel. Wi-Fi is rubbish in the motel, so I'm using Maccers as my office, and needed to buy something.

Supper - Pass, not going to be big. Lunch was a big old feed and I didn't eat till 16:00ish.

Day 19 - Testing times in West Texas

Its been a day of contrasts. Was on the road by 07:00, which is just past dawn in this part of the country, and the ride out through El Paso was interesting, on superb roads. A quick fly through the empty streets of the small downtown and I was out on the Rio Grande plain, right next to the river, and hence the border.

For 5 miles odd I was hard up against the fence, and underneath the bridges that link the two cities. I rather scuttled through, and only took one photo unsure what the rules were. It's safe to say it's not pretty (I'm yet to find a land border that is, even the India-Pakistan one in the Punjab with it's high camp competitive military drills every evening, is dull, functional and dusty in the day), but I'm glad to have seen it up close.

The rest of El Paso was decent enough. Clearly the council has shoved most of the industrial stuff right next to the border, but there's a strange appeal to those kind of areas. All very Sopranos opening credits. My main focus however was the road. The promised headwind seemed to have been stifled, the surfaces were great, and I was flying along well above 15mph. Feeling bullish I decided to change my plans on the hoof, and aim for 125 mile run to Van Horn for the day over the 95 to Sierra Blanca. As a result, I have discovered a new rule of desert riding; do not change you plans last minute.

Since the shake up North of Palm Springs I've been obsessive about planning my routes daily, with a special focus on where I can get water and where I'll sleep for the night. Today was no exception. It being Saturday however most places were closed early doors, and the two final petrol stations I had on my planned route, both turned out to be out of business. 

The rather dull farmland ran out fairly early on, and I was back out in hard desert ranching country, on isolated farm roads, and then the parallel road to the I-10 freeway for the bulk of the day. The headwind suddenly whipped up around 10:00, and the "reasonable" slope I faced towards the end of the 95 miles, turned out to be a 15 mile relentless climb, not steep but relentless. I was also in the wind shadow in the heat of the afternoon. It must've been well above 100F in the sun.

As I was pushing it harder than planned, I was flying through the water supplies, I was now unable to top up. In a sweaty mess somewhere half way up the 15 hill I realised I was not only not going to make the more distant Van Horn, and of more immediate concern was starting to run worryingly low on water.

As always with these more unnerving situations the juxtaposition is so odd. You are being battered around my the wind in the desert, feeling your legs get heavier, and you're head get lighter, and yet 300 metres away you can see signs off the freeway for "picnic areas." If you're in a car round here you just get no feeling for quite how wild it is, quite so close. I rationed myself to water to every 30 mins, and started to walk up the steeper areas, to conserve energy and to my great annoyance. To my surprise however, I was eventually saved by the federal government. I stumbled across a border patrol car staking out a mini van in the bush. The guy couldn't have been nicer and handed over a bottle of water without the blinking, and went back to his stake out.

Slightly unnerved by the whole experience I headed off the road at 18:00 into Sierra Blanca, and in a funny way I'm glad I did. This town is pure film set. Clearly there was once a big plan for a highway and railway town here, but for what ever reason it died, and almost everything on the strip is closed. With no rain to rot anything, the whole town is slowly bleaching and weathering in the wind. In the light of a West Texas sunset it had a unique derelict beauty. 

The motel is basic, and supper was in the only restaurant in town: a cluttered BBQ joint by the truck stop. The BBQ sandwich was superb, and the other customers could not have been politer or friendlier. A trucker, an old boy in a stetson (which never came off), his wife and their mid-aged son. The son worked for Shell and I got chatting to him first, but then the old boy decided he'd test me on some Rodeo terms. By chance I'd been to the Western Stock Show in Denver in January and well that was it. He was thrilled, and from there on in wanted to advise me on everything he could about my trip through West Texas. There was no question on leaving the restaurant that I was expected to shake everyone's hand, and I headed off into the dusk more than happy with the whole experience.

The only annoying part of getting only to here is it puts my plans back a day. Tomorrow will be a very short 30 miler to Van Horn; but today has taught me that it is really not worth taking on the next 75 miles of unsupported riding later in the day, in these conditions. Will use the day in Van Horn to prep for a pre-dawn set off on Monday, and read up more on the local fires that have been raging. The weather channel scaremongering on TV is unhelpful (even if their website is great), but I just want to get some local input.

Inside Curley's

Route - El Paso - Fabens - Fort Hancock - Sierra Blanca

Breakfast - Cherrios, bagels and peanut butter, and juice at the hotel

Lunch - Peanut Cliff bar. Was planning to eat at one of the closed petrol stations, so this was my lot.

Supper - BBQ sandwich and onion rings, the owner insisted I have too, even though I'm not a big fan. Curley's BBQ, Sierra Blanca. If you are ever in the area, go. It is not polished, but is the most authentic place I've eaten in years. The real deal.