Dos Vesperados, Part 2: The Hills, Big Bend, and I can see Mexico from my Scooter. February 10-17, 2016.

The ride to Brad’s address took 4.5 hours, because I guess even when I’m gunning for a place I can’t help breaking for a Topo Chico. Fred and his friend (and host) Brad arrived back from a Tacodeli run shortly after I pulled up. I apologize to Brad if it took me a few minutes to notice he existed, I was busy hugging Fred to make sure he was real.

As we shuffled luggage into the house, I believe it was Brad that pointed out that although sometimes Austin authenticity means tacos similar to those available further south, this subset of Austin taco was distinguished for being in the style that ‘white people eat after yoga’. He went over more local favorites as we tore into our vegan-optional tortilla wrapped lunches, from reclined positions in his kitchen bean bags (what a great place for bean bags!).

The next step to add to the joyous surreality was to pick up the GL. I repeatedly hit the rev limiter on my bike keeping up with Brad and Fred in the truck, but soon I won’t be the slow one, heh heh.

Nic at Bat City Scooters is waiting for us.

Denver James, scooter delivery specialist, had whisked the GL from the gritty snowbanks of Boston several weeks earlier, and dropped it off a couple days ago with Nic Barton at Bat City Scooters. The burgundy bike came into view as we rounded the bend to Nic’s warehouse. For something so small and unassuming, this little piece of the Northeast was the center of attention.

There’s the GL, 2000 miles from home. Even further if you think of its birthplace. If it were sentient, I wonder what signal it would produce based on this quote from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
Poking around the warehouse while we’re here.
There’s a Rally glovebox in here somewhere…
Nice collection. Nice weather. Nice time for a ride.

The GL kicked over easily, like being transported across the country was no big deal.

Ride out with Nic!
I present: the Couch Fort.

Upon return to Brad’s crashpad with the GL, he gave us two sleeping arrangement options: we could push the two couches together facing each other to make an enormous Couch Fort, or something else so completely lame by comparison that I’ve forgotten.

We had a couple more tasks to complete before we could commence exploring the town. I’d arranged with my RI insurance provider to have an adjuster look at my bike in Austin for the rear end collision in Atlanta that afternoon – good thing I’m an old hand at logistical wrangling. My suspicions would be they’d try to total it but it wouldn’t be the first time, and that’s something to deal with further down the road.

It wasn’t until the last hours of sunlight we scooted out to Brad’s suggestion for Austin flavor: the Cathedral of Junk.

Scooting warmup, make sure everything is running while we’re in town.
More evidence of Topo Chico!
This is literally in someone’s back yard.
Inside the dome.
Hey that looks familiar.
It All Star-ts here.
Is that a 13mm?
It makes me think of a smaller scale, more freeform City Museum.
Something about the yellow paint makes this grosser.
P is for Parts of a Vespa.
That doesn’t look like a P series part though.
Sunset over the Cathedral. We climbed the wobbly steps up to the top of that spire.

I’m glad I took diligent notes because the next few days were a blissful blur of NRE (new relationship energy), which colors even the most mundane memories in a rose tint. I drank deep the small luxuries, like waking up slowly, curled up together in a couchfort. Watching grackles fight at Cherrywood Coffee. Working from the food court of the multi-floor health food mecca that is Austin’s flagship Whole Foods Market.

Somehow, between all the gazing into each others eyes, we managed to drop off my bike for a new rear tire.
Also poked around AF1’s collection. First V7 off the line?!

While my bike was in for service, I did my best from the back of the GL to show Fred what I remembered of Austin – it’s not often I get to play tour guide. I pointed out the bat bridge, and after dinner with Brad and Rebecca at Koriente, Jack (remember him?) limped in with a sprained ankle to meet us at Cheer Up Charlie’s (always an injury, I know the feeling). We actually hit quite a number of places, including the Firehouse Hostel bar that I haunted off the 6th Street party scene, BarberellaSwan Dive, and The Sidebar where I realized I’d visited before. I bid a drunken farewell to Jack at the end of the night and proceeded to dance to oldies in a smoky dive bar until we caught an Uber back. I wholeheartedly approve of this scene.

In the morning, Fred used my touchscreen capable gloved finger from the back of his bike to navigate to AF1. I’ve become a 140lbs touchscreen pen, I knew I was good for something.

Trying out a new Heidenau K61 for my rear tire, it rides like a different bike. Fred picked up 4 liters of 2-stroke oil for the journey ahead.
28 Celsius in February!
The cats on GLs series continues, while configuring luggage at Brad’s.
Behind the scenes.
Our last day in Austin, we stopped by Gourdough’s. We were getting blue balls waiting for Blue Balls – blueberry filling with blue icing. It feels a bit like Portland, OR on this side of the bridge.
We kept waking up too late for breakfast tacos, until the morning we left. Torchy’s Tacos was convenient and adequate, but I think we’ll have to come back for a better sampling.

Finally, we said our thanks to Brad, returned the couches to ‘normal’ configuration, and scooted out. Our meticulously laid out plans over Christmas were going into effect! I even had this great map my uncle sent me…

When he heard we were riding hill country, my uncle sent me this photo he took (or saw?) of a T-shirt. I actually ended up using it for navigation.
The Salt Lick BBQ was crowded on a weekend, but I just wanted to grab takeaway and show Fred the fire pit.
BBQ picnic in a quiet spot in Blanco, TX where historical plates tell us about how dudes got shot and dudes got hanged.
First problem on the road.

Of course, our carefully laid out plans immediately started going sideways. My bike had its first malfunction – the modern bike broke down! Actually, the fuel line had just fallen off after not being fully attached following a search for an air leak that resulted in a replacement intake manifold, so that snapped back on with little trouble. Still, by the time we were wandering Fredricksburg’s quaint beer halls the sun was sitting low, and we found a Best Value Inn in Kerrville only 120 miles from start. I’m introducing Fred to slow travel rather quickly.

Scenery started to look like this… and would keep looking like this for a while.
Yup, still like this, but with less light.
Calling it a night at Seminole Canyon State Park.

We sampled TX 337 of the Twisted Sisters, spotted herds of wild boar cross the road, chatted at gas stations, got hit inflight by a small bird (bounced right off my shoulder!), and watched the landscape open up like crumpled paper unfolding. Up to about Leakey, TX I was familiar with the territory, but we’d made a point to break new ground. It was marvelous to have someone to share this huge state with, even if I was inhaling 2-stroke fumes the whole way at 45-50mph. Hmm, maybe that’s why I felt so giddy when we eventually made camp at Seminole Canyon State Park.

We kicked off our first night camping together wrapped in the intimacy of box wine and battery powered string lights, projecting the thin sound of Frank Turner as interpreted by two scooterists and a ukulele into the desert air. I didn’t realize until looking back that it was Valentine’s Day too. Aw, two scooters in love.

I woke up once that night. The desert cold pressed against the skin of my face and stars glittered through the mesh tent screen. The night was completely still, save for the warm lump of Fred breathing next to me. It was marvelous.

Sunrise in the desert is a symphony of pastels.
The helmet will tamp that down.
Touristing in Langtry, TX.
Far-flung, rustic, historical Texas.

Langtry, TX had some Wild West history, but was more memorable for me as where I got the call from my insurance that they wanted to total my bike (again) but didn’t and paid out damages instead (second time I’ve rescued her from being totaled). Serenity’s battle scars include a crooked butt now.

Continuing my view for hours.
Gater baby!

In the style of Top Gear, while I was at the French Market in New Orleans I found a gift for Fred. Baby Jesus was bundled in, since Caitlin and I couldn’t find any further traditions for which to abuse a tiny plastic baby. With the help of some twine, they’ll accompany Fred to Vegas!

Luncheon at Mexican restaurant in Sanderson, TX with a group of firemen riders.
The desert stretches on. Even at our steady 50mph it feels like flying, and the road is all to ourselves.
You got something on the back of your scooter there.
GPS coordinates indicate this must be chez Voni and Paul Glaves!

About two years ago I met Voni and Paul Glaves at a campground in Chotaeu, MT en route to Glacier National Park. It was a magical confluence of road serendipity. Upon parting they’d extended their Big Bend home to me should I find myself their far flung corner of this land (and if they’re not on the road themselves!). I finally found myself that way, I couldn’t miss the chance to see them!

The guest house has a little platform for our scoots.
Outdoor shower of win (and wine).
Someone had a camera glued to his face.
Bonus shower tenant.
Millions of miles between these bikes.
We arrived in town for burger night at the Starlight in Terlingua. I didn’t know you could die of pastels, but those colors are killing me so good.
A bit of wine to accompany the sunset while waiting for our table at Starlight.
Paul straightens up Voni’s gallery show at Earth and Fire.
We met the mayor of Terlingua!

After a brief recharge, we hopped in a car to check out Voni’s photography show at Earth and Fire Gallery in Terlingua, and take advantage of Starlight Theater‘s burger night. We couldn’t come through town without visiting ‘the mayor’, Clay Henry, the beer guzzling goat immortalized at the Starlight.

Although the Starlight no longer has the open roof that inspired its name, it’s still the place to be for live music and company, and has a porch big enough to accommodate all your sunset viewing pleasures. Spanish and English intermingled, and real cowboy hats – oily, worn, functional accessories – walked the dusty streets atop leathery stubbled faces and ponchos. Voni, ever popular, made so many introductions I’m sorry to say I can’t remember anyone’s names.

Terlingua seemed pretty hopping for a ghost town, and populated with the kind of individual that thrives on the fringes – does this kind of place attract that character, or is it those characters that make this kind of place? The vibe was contagious, on the car ride back I mused on an alternate timeline where I let years slip away studying the sunset paint soft rainbows over the pale desert rocks.

We hit one more Terlingua spot just to see the Penisauras specimen at La Kiva Restaurant and Bar. The landscape is so spacious, you can see your destination for miles before arriving. You know it’s the right one because there are no other establishments around.
Heading to the main house in the morning for more riding on our rest day, haha!
Paul is spoiling us with a hot cooked breakfast.
Voni and Paul, being the consummate hosts, hop aboard their little bikes to show us the park!
Big Bend is one of the largest, most remote, and least visited national parks.
At least two of these bikes look right at home…

The landscape utterly dwarfed out little bikes, but we steadily carved our way through the shrub. Sharp cliffs and canyon faces hung along the horizon, waiting patiently for our two-wheeled party to close the distance. It’s a feast of scale, following 3 bikes drawing nearer to these massive geological features until you’re so close they fill the sky, and glinting right at the base are these tiny determined buzzing machines. Especially that burgundy one, I doubt Italian designers had the dusty expanse of Texas in mind when they were producing ladies’ grocery bikes half a century ago.

We’re aiming for that little notch in the distance above Paul’s bike, Santa Elena Canyon.
4 little bikes in one big national park. Talk about anticipation.
Santa Elena Canyon, the notch from the above photos up close.
That’s Mexico across the water.
Snap snap snap.
Voni is a pop of bright color wherever she roams.
At other times of year, this is would be river.
Hiking time.
The Rio Grande, and borderline.
Taking photos of the other side.
When you look closely, there are fossilized shells in the strata. Yay, geology.
You can hire kayak trips up this perspective-twisting canyon.
The high point in the trail. Paul already bailed further down, he’s done this already.
Aww, a kitty shaped prickly pear leaf. Maybe a peccary munched on this one.
Fire-cloud over the cliffs when we returned from our hike.
A small vision of bliss, captured with radical inadequacy by phone camera.
Break for water and snacks at the ranger’s.
We recognized a plushy of the ring tailed cat…from the flattened one we saw earlier on the road.
More bliss.
The Window, and a beardy dude.
These cliffs though.
The Window is visible from one of the shorter Chisos Basin trails. There are many more trails from here, but the sun is low.
Even the Chisos Basin Visitor Center parking lot looks awesome.
Glad I’m not the only one who thinks it’s worth trying to capture in photos. An exercise in futility for me, it will never get the feeling across.

Paul fixed a salmon dinner at the ranch, and it was wonderful to stay in.

I’d stuck to my 4-days riding and then rest day rule, but I knew we’d find ourselves pushing that limit on our short stint to Vegas. After careful consideration (water is a precious resource here) we let the washing machine handle our meager but thoroughly depleted laundry, and finally Fred and I found some private downtime in the luxury of the pillow top mattress of the guest house. By that, I mean we watched episodes of the new X-Files on his laptop until we fell asleep (I don’t think I even made it through one episode).

Time for a BMW? Just a few miles on this one (ha).
Voni’s favorite color.
Our attempt to visit the secret swimming hole fell flat.
These were moon rover test grounds. Now we’re just testing our tire changing skills.
Rock collection is a great pastime for a live-onboard scooterist. But they look like red moon rocks! These ended up staying with Voni.
I left a little piece of Serenity in Texas.

A flat tire scrapped our plans to visit the secret swimming hole in the morning before departure, but I suppose we should leave something for next time. I owe Voni and Paul a huge debt of gratitude, for taking in and feeding Fred and I in their corner of the globe. Paul even put some witches brew into my gas when it had trouble starting/idling (bad gas, go figure), and I took the time to install my new tin skeleton. Old wingless skelly is a permanent guest at the guest house now. Thank you both so much!

The land starts to fold gently like a blanket, on the way to the River Road (FM 170).
The landscape continues to be stunning, I continue to be inadequate at capturing it.
We have a hand signal for ‘I just hit reserve’ (usually I’ll see Fred duck down to switch the petcock before giving the signal), shortly followed by ‘Pulling over to use the spare gas’.
So futile, so blurry too!!
GL is holding up admirably.

Voni suggested taking the River Road on our way out, which revealed itself to be one of the most beautiful roads I’ve ever ridden. Swaths of bluebonnets, the Texas state flower, were in full bloom on the roadside. The road itself was a marvel of smooth pavement that gently bumped and curved with the shape of the canyon. Across the Rio just to the left was another country. Not a soul was in sight, just two scooters sailing past the hoodoos.

It was too beautiful to break the rhythm by stopping for photos, and I didn’t pull over until this lookout before Presidio, TX.

All of that back there? We just road through all of that.
Nothing is more real than this moment.

As we crested this hill the tip of my raccoon tail finally had enough of the wind, sun, and rain, and broke off. I thought it was gone for good, another donation to the road gods, until I passed a familiarly colored ball of fluff tumbling down the roadside a little ways on. I pulled over, grabbed it, and tucked it into my bag. It’s a keychain now.

Fred was wondering why I was so happy at the next rest stop. It’s because I got my tail.
View is pretty nice too, for a spark plug check break.
4pm dinner break in Presidio, TX.
Burritos and beasts of burden.

Even plain things take on a quality in the desert. Like fast food. Maybe it’s the dust.

Our destination for the night wasn’t originally in the plan, but anyone who’s been there will tell you Marfa, TX is not to be missed.

Pitching tent at Tumble In RV Park at the far end of Marfa, TX. The GL’s pack looks especially ridiculous from this angle.
Gator guard.
Geared up for groceries and to poke around town.
Not much open, but we found some essentials, heh. Fred got a photo.

Much of Marfa was closed this time of year and it was a cold, dark scoot through town. Despite this, just from our brief glimpse of Marfa, I wished we had more than one night to spend there. See the next installment!

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