Day Twenty-Five
I wasn't planning or expecting a monster day, but it became one on its own. My actual mileage today was 85.95. In my plan, I had written 71 miles for today. Oops.
I slept not great. At 6 am I got up in the dark because it was clear I wasn't going back to sleep. Even though it was dark, strangely, the sky to the south was darker. I looked at my weather radar app: rain, coming this way. I hustled to get the tent emptied, struck and packed. Drizzle started so I moved everything out of the open and into the lee of the bathroom building. The wind was blowing strong enough that this would keep things dry.
My campsite was in the tenting area of Lady Bird Johnson Municipal Park in Fredericksburg.
It was a 3-mile ride into town for breakfast, a spinach omelet and about 6 cups of coffee.
After breakfast, I had a choice: stick to the direct highway to Austin, US 290, or follow the scenic route which wound to the north before turning east. It was early, breakfast was satisfying and I felt pretty good. Why not? I turned left towards the scenic route. It WAS scenic, with wildflowers, open fields of horses and cattle and copses of oak trees. I rode past LBJ's ranch, which was his "Western Whitehouse" while in office. East of the ranch the road went straight into further rural country, or turned right to return to the highway. Still early, so why not? I went straight. It was up, and down, and up, and down, for forty miles. This was the northeast part of the Texas Hill Country, and though it was more settled with people and grand homes than yesterday's Hill Country, it was just as much a roller-coaster. Again, I was shifting through the whole gear range, yo-yoing between 5 mph and 25 mph. But was nice country, and my legs, so long as I watched my heart rate, seemed to never fatigue, never burn, much.
Eventually I rejoined the highway, US 290 eastbound. By now it was late afternoon, and the whole character had changed. It was packed, fast, and manic. Everyone was driving like they were late to something, like the day had gotten away and they had to make up time behind the wheel.
As I got closer to Austin, I reached a section of highway under construction. The shoulder disappeared under Jersey Barriers and I was in the traffic lane, with few gaps between tailgating, urgent traffic. I could feel the pressure of the cars backing up behind me, then the loud scream of a downshift as a car attempted to accelerate to slip into a gap in the left lane, when there really wasn't one.
Ahead was a wide spot, a gap in the Jersey Barriers. I veered off to the right, hit a piece of metal construction debris, and heard the PSSSHHH of a deflating rear tire.
It emptied fast because it was a large gash of the tire's sidewall. The tire was ruined, and the tube was slashed.
I found a good spot in a safe place to do the work, ate a bit, drank a bit, methodically laid out all my tools and ingredients like a French chef and began the work of a full tire replacement. At least it wasn't raining.
After everything was reassembled and stowed, I consulted the map for any way off this highway. I was too tired to face the traffic safely, and I just used the last of my spare tires and tubes. Time to get out of here. Google gave me a new route through neighborhoods, several miles longer than the direct highway route, but much preferred given my fatigue and the the relentless traffic.
It was a great route, through quiet neighborhoods and onto Austin's very fine network of dedicated bike lanes. At one point I entered a large park and was soon on gravel and then dirt tracks, but they were peaceful and nice. We've all heard stories of Google Maps sending people into the middle of nowhere. I've had a case where I ended up at the top of a 200-foot cliff face, with Google assuming I could just flop off the cliff and keep going from the base. But not this route. It steered my through the park on the dirt paths, and right onto a bike lane on the far side. What's more, the last 10 miles to my motel were gently downhill. It was a perfect riding conclusion to a wild and difficult day.
I checked in, got to my room, mixed my recovery drink, showered, washed my riding clothes, ironed my to-be-seen-in-public clothes, and got downstairs to the bar before the kitchen closed at 10:00 pm. I had a Stella and a Cobb salad.
And that's that, my last serious day of riding before my mid-trip break of three days in San Antonio. Tomorrow's plan is to ride just 32 miles to rent a car in Bastrop, Texas, east of Austin, and drive back to San Antonio with the bike in the boot. By doing this, I'll be 100 miles ahead when I start riding the second half of my trip next Tuesday, April 30. From Bastrop it will be just a quick, 130-mile hop to my friend Gerry's home in Houston. Then I'll have a day to visit NASA's Johnson Space Center in east Houston before traversing the Piney Woods of East Texas and on to the Cajun Riviera on Louisiana's Gulf Coast. After so may days in the west deserts, things are chasing fast.
I'll be changing some gear in San Antonio, now that I'm out of the West and into the South. I'll write about that tomorrow.
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.
