Day Sixteen
I woke up at 3 am, thinking about West Texas. Distances are great, options few, I have little backup and scant information. A discomforting number of people, upon hearing where I am going, said "I'll pray for you".
When planning a trip into the wild, I like to have an objective, a stretch goal (in case everything is working great) and hold short option (in case not everything is working). I want to have a Go/No-go decision point already in mind, where everything is re-evaluated for safety. It is a turnaround time of day, or a point when I determine if conditions favor continuing or backing off, or an assessment of my own state of wellbeing. Looking at West Texas from afar, it's been very difficult to get this mental handle on the place that gives me confidence that I will make the right Go/No-go decisions at the right time.
So I'm awake at 3 am, going over all of this in my mind, again. Then I remembered something I used to know. My original research into this trip started with the Adventure Cycling Association Southern Tier route maps. I studied them hard, and then decided that I could give the ride a serious shot. But I wanted to start in LA, not San Diego, and I wanted to ride north of Joshua Tree National Park, not south of it. This took me off of the ACA's ride route until...El Paso! Now that I'm in El Paso, I can refer back to the ACA route at least until Del Rio, where I will deviate once again, because the ACA Southern Tier goes through Austin, not San Antonio. But what this mean is that for the next week, in the exact area that has been giving me the most heartburn, I can follow the ACA route, which has the most complete beta in the business.
At 3:30 am, I get up, download the ACA map app, and buy the section from El Paso to Del Rio. Bingo. The information I have needed is all there. I'm tempted to start digging into in the early hours, but now that my mind is settled, I'm sleepy again, and off to dreamland until 6:30.
I spent the night in a corporate motel that has a complementary breakfast. I plan to eat twice before hitting the road. I gulp coffee and eat my first plateful at 6:45, head back to my room to pack, and with the bike loaded, sit down for a second breakfast. I also bag a few items for a third breakfast on the road. Should I feel bad about this? I don't!
The road through east El Paso is smooth, wide, and almost without traffic. I stop at a big Albertsons and stock up, because I don't know what the store situation is once out of the city. It doesn't really matter what I put in the basket, just need it to e real food, not junk, easy to prepare, and addd up to more than 6,000 calories. For the long stretches ahead, I also make sure I have at least 4 liters of water. I also have a quart of almond milk.
Assuming to find no food or water for at least all of this day and much of tomorrow in case I get stuck out overnight alone, I start pumping out the miles. The ACA route is quickly seen as the best one, on the best roads. I give Texas roads an A+: good pavement, smooth shoulders, and virtually no debris on the shoulders. I head south from El Paso first through newer subdivisions, then older neighborhoods of a mishmash of houses and small businesses, and finally into the agricultural region along the Rio Grande River, which is completely channelized here, more of a series of irrigation ditches. The area is flat, really flat, so the choice method of irrigation is not sprinklers but field flooding.
The crops I recognized best were orchards of pecan trees.
This goes on for more than 30 miles: perfect pavement, not too hot, wind at my back, light traffic, practically no turns. An ideal morning of riding. Eventually I reach the southern end of the farming area, and it's time to get back onto Interstate 10. In New Mexico, the I-10 shoulder was littered with destroyed, shredded tire retreads. As they explode off of a truck going 65-75 miles per hour, the shower the road with those dreaded steel wire fragments, which are invisible and unavoidable bike tire killers. But on this stretch of I-10, in Texas, these tire fragments are just not here. Do they clean the road? Did the wind blow it all away? Texas freeways seem to be mostly concrete, not asphalt. Do tires run cooler on concrete? What I know is, Texas I-10 is much louder, because concrete is louder and the speed limit is 80, not 65. And the shoulders are, well pristine is a bit much, but they are much cleaner. No flats today.
I have one hill climb of 1,000 feet (up, not long), which is as hard as they ever are, but I just slow it down and keep my heart rate at about 115. So I reach the crest not out of breath, not sweaty, and not bonked.
On the freeway is an INS checkpoint (US Immigration and Naturalization Service). A long line of trucks exits to have their papers checked. There are no non-commercial vehicles on this stretch of highway, except me on a bike. I approach the booth, where the drug dog wants to sniff me, but more in a play-way instead of a work-way. The agent just waves me through and it's all downhill to Sierra Blanca, the end of a perfect 93 mile day of cycling in West Texas.
I book a room at the very reasonably priced and charming Sierra Blanca Historic Lodge, shower and walk over to Delfina's Kitchen for the best shrimp fajitas I've ever had. After dinner I call Joan but the cell signal is flipping between one and two bars, and SOS. We agreed to finish our conversation in the morning, when maybe the atmosphere has settled some (that's a real thing, you know. I'm not making it up).
I'm feeling good. Tired but not achy sore every day, like I was for, well, the whole trip so far up until a couple of days ago. In week one, I was worried, had too much stuff, not yet organized, not settled into a routine, my whole body hurt, I was mentally overwhelmed and over-functioning, and emotionally unsettled.
By week two, I shipped a bunch of stuff home, my routine was better and I knew that I knew what I was doing. But my body hurt more than the first week, I was still mentally over functioning and little issues (like flat tires!) felt like major problems. I was also worried about the route, conditions, and if I was really safe or just choosing to be naive about the risks.
Now my bike is dialed in, my gear and processes are efficient, my body is fatigued but doesn't hurt, and as of today, I feel confident that I should feel confident that I know what I'm doing. Better information about the route helps a lot. And I'm feeling good that anything short of being hit by a truck is well within my ability to handle and keep moving.
I'm not quite ready to say this is fun yet. I'm no longer sore, but I need to be stronger. But...I can see fun, down the road but within pedaling distance. This is all about converting myself into the version of myself who can do this. It has never been a forgone conclusion that I could do this. But I'm getting there.
Tomorrow: my hold short option is Van Horn, TX at 34 miles, my objective is Valentine at 72 miles and my stretch goal is the El Cosmico campground at Marfa, 107 miles. If roads are good, wind favorable and I have no breakdowns, it'll be Marfa.
I’d love to hear from you. Donate to the ride and send along your words of encouragement and tell me why getting kids outside matters to you.
