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.
