Are we there yet?

 

Chris:   At exactly 1300 miles, my legs said no more.  I didn’t eat enough for breakfast so thought that a couple of delicious tacos in Coldspring, Texas might solve my feeling of fatigue.  It helped for a bit.  But after 35 miles of the hardest riding yet we ended up at a lovely library in New Waverly and had a great tour and talk with the library director.

The days all blend together and the only reason we need to know the day of-the week is to make lodging reservations.  It’s preferable to ride near bigger cities on the weekends when there is less traffic on the roads but we can’t always make that work. 

David is doing an outstanding job of finding places for us to pitch our tent.  This week alone we’ve stayed in a huge RV park, a Historical Society, an event and art Sanctuary and we are currently camping on a huge ranch down a very long dirt road of several miles.  It felt like we were driving to the end of the earth.  

 

 

Last night after eating we sat around the fire and recalled our various lodging situations and discussed how much meeting people in these situations has enhanced our experience and understanding of the places we are passing through.  For the most part they are privately owned places where the owners are friendly and welcoming trying to diversify their income streams and provide a place for people to stay.  On this ranch there is no electric for us to use, the outhouse is a long walk away and the shower water is cold.  But none of that matters.  The sky is so big and expansive and last night the stars were glittering and the Big Dipper hung so very low in the sky. It’s all part of this magical experience.

I’m not going to lie—sometimes I hate it.  Yesterday when I was just grinding out the miles and the hills didn’t stop and the wind was in my face I thought to myself:  I don’t really even like riding bike that much.  But then around the next bend I’ll come to a big ranch and a beautiful cow just stares at me or a dog that looks like mine will chase me or I’ll see a man mowing his grass or a woman on her porch giving haircuts to her family members or schoolchildren getting off the bus and the rhododendron is blooming so brilliantly in shades of pink that I want to use in a quilt and I’m transported to a different but similar life and reminded of all that we humans share in common even here in the heart of east Texas.