Day Twenty-Three
This morning started at Montell, Texas. Pronounced “maantell” and per the website, “There is no ‘downtown’ or collection of businesses.” Various organizations cluster on TX-55, near the CR-415 intersection. Moreover, the primary businesses are ranching, hunting, and vacation homes.
The Episcopal Church of the Ascension is known for its stained glass window, donated by the estate of John Jacob Astor.
The Spanish Nuestra Senora de la Candelaria del Canon Mission was established by Fransicans in 1762 and abandoned in just five years. A post office opened in 1879 and closed in 1930. In 2000 the population was twenty.
I was staying at Alice through the Warm Showers program and I heard her truck start at 5:30 am, when she left to work at the hospital in Uvalde, 30 miles southeast. Alice had given instructions the night before about closing up the house before rolling away and down the road. She didn’t expect a cyclist to be up and about to say goodbye at 5 am, so we had said our thank yous and goodbyes the night before. I made my coffee, scarfed some energy food, packed up and was on my way at 8:12. The map showed a good breakfast spot in Camp Wood, about a 45 minute ride to the north.
I arrived at Casa Falcon restaurant at 9:00 am for more coffee and huevos rancheros. I also ordered a couple of small burritos to eat later in the day.
Right out of Camp Wood, the hill climbs began. The Texas Hill Country is a place of narrow valleys referred to as “Hollows”, and lots of steep, convoluted terrain surrounding the hollows. The roads go up and over the hills because the hollows all seem to be cul de sacs rather than long stream beds. Steep climbs, steep descents, for 40 miles until I reached my destination, Lost Maples Natural Area. Fortunately, there was a broad cover of clouds, not unlike our “June Gloom” in the Seattle area. With the clouds keeping temperatures in the mid-sixties, and a generally favorable southernly wind, I had perfect conditions for riding this area. And the hills? That’s what gears are for. At one point I was grinding up a hill at 2.9 miles per hour, barely enough speed to keep the bike upright and going in one direction. But I knew this was a day devoted to low gears and slow rises. That’s why I planned to ride only 52 miles—they would be hard-earned miles.
It was so nice to riding through a forest again. Though not comprised of towering evergreens, this forest has a full three tiers: grassy ground cover, a distinct mid-story of shrubs and small trees, and a forest canopy dominated by large, ancient oaks. Trees have been coming into their foliage at different rates through the spring, so there is a rich variation of greens across the forest canopy.
Lots of motorcycles. I passed a motorcycle rental shop with dozens of motorcycles ready to go, mostly Harleys, but a few sport and adventure bikes. At the general store in Vanderpool I struck up a conversation with a motorcyclist named Mark, from Jacksonville Florida. Mark is a few days into a 40 motorcycle trip across the Southwest. He was astounded to learn that I was bicycling—pedaling— across the country, and asked great questions. I was equally interested in his motorcycle experience. He has a great trip ahead of him, all through the Southwest and Intermountain West national parks and lots of places in between.
Honestly, this is my first and last time bicycling this route. But there is so much more to experience out here, and carving turns and chewing up miles on a motorcycle looks like a good way to do it. The entire travel infrastructure here is built around vehicles that travel at the posted speed limit. I am getting so much reward by bicycling it, the direct and intimate contact that moves slowly in the elements, under my own power. But getting through the SW deserts by other means will have its challenges and rewards.
Slow rises, fast descents, over and over, surrounded by thick forest punctuated with steep cliff faces, make the Hill Country feel similar to parts of Appalachia, but it’s obviously more arid here, and the Hill Country abounds with warning signs and physical infrastructure to deal with flash flooding. Apparently it doesn’t rain much here, but when it does, rain falls hard and fast.
After meeting Mark at the general store in Vanderpool, it was just a 4 mile, gently rising ride to my campsite for the night at Lost Maples State Natural Area. Rolling into the campground I see a cyclist in a campsite and ask if I can join him. Of course! he says. His name is Jeffrey and he’s also riding west to east. Super interesting guy whose Instagram handle is Juicymelt_. We of course had so much to talk about that wouldn’t translate well to non-cyclists. He’s taking more time than I am. Check out his Instagram to learn why. Jeffrey is a remarkably durable and persistent man, with a terrific, ironic sense of humor.
With my early start this morning and a shorter mileage day, I got to camp in late afternoon rather than early evening. It was nice to have a few more hours at the end of today’s ride to relax and recover. I left my burrito somewhere along the road, so dinner was Fig Newtons (VERY calorie dense), a protein recovery bar and a tuna salad snack. With each successive camp, I get a little more efficient in my routine, so days no longer feel like work-work-work from get up to lie down. And sleep hits hard.
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.
