a little burro at the last SAG stop before Cleavland
We are nearly across and out of Texas. Tomorrow will be our last night here before we cross over into Louisiana. As the ride has gone on and passed the middle point, and as the environment begins to look more and more southern, I find myself constantly thinking back about all the different areas and microclimates we have seen, not only throughout the ride, but especially here in Texas. This 18 days has really openened my eyes and changed my mind about a lot of things that are Texas or Texan.
After a day off, it is always difficult to get back into the get up, get on the bike, go until you get there and then stop routine. With the new chain and derailleur, my bike is riding beautifully and shifting without pause or jump. Of course now we are out of the hill country, this is not quite as important as it has been. It is also comforting to see how comfortable we have all become with our bikes and how instinctively we ride over the rough spots, lean over and grab our water bottles without breaking rythm, fish in our rear jersey pockets for snacks and cameras, look around behind ourselves without swerving all over the road, signal obstacles, slowing and stopping to other riders in the group. Of course with all this confidence and comfort there is always the thin edge of being too at ease and becoming careless as was exemplified today when Laurie, feeling hot in her armwarmers and not wanting to make her three riding buddies stop while she took them off, tried to take them off while riding. The taking off part went ok but then as she tried to stuff them in her rear pocket, one got loose, fell into her chain and jammed her derailleur outwards at a 90 degree angle, bringing the bike to an abrupt halt and pitching her over the handle bars. We were the next group behind and by the time we had gotten up the hill, Laurie was up, her riding buddies had stopped and pulled all the bikes off the shoulder and were checking out her and the bike.
Laurie escaped with a banged up knee and a good case of road rash but her derailleur was destroyed. Quick calls were put in to the SAG wagon explaining the problem. Normally the SAG would have picked Laurie and the bike up and in the process of moving on to the next town, detoured by a bike shop and gotten a repair if possible. As it turned out, the van had gone in for service in Navasota and wasn't ready yet so it looked like Laurie was going to be off bike for the day and possibly two. Fortunately, Marci's boyfriend had come up to Navasota to spend some time with her and hadn't left yet. Marci got on her cell phone and connected with him about taking Laurie and her bike to the bike shop in College Station and then bringing her back out on the road to catch up and ride in with her group.
It was a good plan and everything seemed set to get Laurie back on the road in the most expeditious way possible, so we pulled out and went on down the road, very sobered because we all knew that anyone of us might have done the same thing. We found out at the lunch break that Nancy, the SAG driver, had loaned Laurie her bike to ride for the day. We found out much later, at the end of the ride, that the bike shop in College Station had not had the correct hanger for the derailleur so Michael, Marci's boyfriend had called around and found a bike shop in west Houston, and hour and a half away that could make the repair and had driven down to Houston taking Laurie's bike with him. The general opinion is that he has earned his halo, wings and whatever he wants to claim as the hero of the day for the tour.
Other than the pretzeled derailleur, the ride was uneventful. The ride was routed to pass through the Sam Houston National Forest for most of the day so we spent the time riding up and down gentle swells with ranks of pine trees on either side of us. The paving was decent, the shoulder was two bikes wide for the most part, with a grassy verge beyond. The roads were almost straight so it was possible to look ahead down a corridor of pine trees. It could have been anywhere on the Natchez Trace Parkway, or anywhere along the coast in North Carolina, or even portions of Virginia. As soon as we entered the National Forest and left the farm fields behind, the bluebonnets disappeared and were replaced with lots of yellow daisies, small, blue delicate blue bell looking trumpets on thin stems and lots of clover with a deep wine red bloom. As the day progressed, the traffic thinned a bit except for the big logging trucks, who by and large, slowed down a bit and gave the bikers wide berth, and the ubiquitous big white pickups which didn't slow down or give and inch, and in fact, seemed to take joy in riding with their wheels just far enough inside the white shoulder line to make us ride single file.
The sky was over cast for the most part and the temperature mild. Around noon there were a few scattered spatters of rain, but not enough to even get the lenses on my glasses wet. We stopped at the New Waverly House, in New Waverly for lunch. The waitress Bonnie seemed unphased when 12 hungry women suddenly appeared and took over the largest table in the back room. She disappeared and came back with three trays of ice water and menus and then went off to check and see which flavors of pies had just come out of the oven. Everything on the menu looks good when you have been up since 6 am and have ridden 50 miles on Comfort Inn's faux scrambeled eggs and muffins, along with a banana or a couple of handfuls of nuts, or bites of a protein bar along with electrolyte drinks and water at the SAG stop. Several of the ladies are enjoying the Texas bar b que and ordered brisket plates or sandwiches. I settled on fried green tomatoes, a grilled cheese sandwich, and a slice of fresh made buttermilk pie which I shared with three other ladies.
Freshlly fueled by my lunch, and especially on a sugar high from the pie, the last 20 miles passed by smoothly with both Janet and I just putting our heads down, setting a pace and going. The only excitement was an exceedingly cute and very friendly little burro and his much bigger horse friend who were eager for love and attention from each of the riders as they stopped at the SAG vehicle. He was a feistly little guy and wasn't about to let the horse get anymore than it's equal share of skritches and nibbles of apple and dried fruit.
The last two miles were through the interstate exchange, which is why Cleavland exists at all. We had a hard time finding the Motel 8 which is located at the back of the Walmart parking lot, but spotted it just as we were passing a little side alley that swung back.
Tomorrow's weather looks like it might be warm enough to break out a sleeveless jersey, but I will probably end up wearing arm warmers, at least to start out with. I will be on the alert to carefully stop and step down before I take them off however.
Today's stats
distance 72.15
ride time 5:17
speed 13.6
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