Day 10 – Rural Route Redux

Wednesday, June 17th

Plano, TX to Corsicana, TX

Yesterday, we decided to visit my boyfriend’s Uncle, Paul, who runs a restaurant in South Dallas, so we slept in to avoid rush hour traffic.  The kids were still asleep when we woke, but Judy was up and preparing breakfast.  We packed our panniers then sat down to some wonderful oatmeal with strawberries, brown sugar, and cinnamon.

We got a later start than we had hoped to, partly because we were running slow, partly because I had left the key to my bike in a pair of shorts I had already packed.  It took me a while to remember where I put it, but when I finally did, we went on our way.

We rode through Dallas to get to the restaurant – at first taking big backroads, then riding the Southbound access road of Hwy 75.

When we reached downtown Dallas, we were averaging 15.6 mph!  I asked Dad to stop for a minute so I could take some pictures and after about five pictures, he complained he was hot and wanted to get going again.  I joked at what a terrible tourist he makes.  He agreed, I finished with the camera and we went on our way.

Unfortunatly, our GPS had some trouble after that.  It had tried to route us down some roads which were under construction, but had trouble recalculating a route with so many choices.  We ended up under an overpass, next to the railroad tracks (an area where I’ve been lost in a car at least twice before).  We finally made it to Commerce and escaped the downtown jumble, passing into South Dallas (where 90% of the cars are driven with their windows down).  I thought South Dallas was a relatively level place, but we hit some BIG hills.  The traffic had been very polite throughout the morning, but that may have had something to do with what Dad calls my boom – a cpvc pipe on a spring with a blinkie at the end which extends out about 2 feet from the left side of my bike – or with the fact that we were almost always in traffic when there was more than one lane available.

We made it to Uncle Paul’s restaurant just as Judy’s amazing oatmeal was just about to wear off (it got us 30 miles down the road!).  He greeted us and helped us store our bikes in the restaurant’s delivery area, then guided us through the kitchen to the restrooms so we could refresh ourselves.  We sat down to eat and ordered some great food – steak fingers, greek salad and chopped sirloin – and some much-needed drinks.  We finished our meal and Uncle Paul came to chat with us for a bit about the bikes and the trip.  It was the lunch hour and he was pretty busy, so we didn’t get to talk long, but it was worth the ride just to get to see him.

When it was time for us to leave, after we took a minute to show him the bikes, he saw us off.  We rode South on Cockrell Hill and hit some construction zones where traffic was reduced to one lane over some rough hills.  Most of the cars dealt with our slow pace well, but one gravel truck who had to follow us for a couple minutes (less than 3 min total) suddenly had an narrow opportunity to pass and took it.  He zoomed around us, kicking up dust and disturbing gravel from his truck, only to pull off the road when he reached his destination perhaps a hundred feet ahead.  It was pretty ridiculous that he stayed behind us as long as he did, but couldn’t an additional 5-7 seconds to get where he was going.

When we got out of South Dallas, Dad notified me he was out of water, so we stopped at an Albertson’s to restock on H2O and powdered Gatorade, and to pick up some apples and peaches.  I also took a minute to ask if they sold postcards.  On this website, I had promised to send a postcard to anyone who wanted one and although some people have taken me up on the offer, I have yet to see a postcard this trip.  Albertson’s, like all of the other places we’ve visited, had none for sale.

For the next few hours of riding after leaving the Albertson’s, we rode some of the nicest roads through some of the prettiest scenery we’ve seen on this trip.  We zig-zagged along myriad small roads, working our way South and East on cool, tree-lined lanes through beautiful wooded areas and smooth streets across sunny rolling plains.

We even got to take a break at a Sonic to share to Route 44 strawberry limeade!

We enjoyed the scenery so much we rode two or three miles out of the way before realizing we had missed a turn.  The surroundings were so pretty and serene, we didn’t really mind having to ride through them again.

The early afternoon was mostly uneventful with the exception of a pack of dogs that came running at us.  There were four or five in the group and Dad distracted most of them, telling me to ride on, but one of them followed me.  He was barking threateningly and I said “No!” to try to discourage him.  He stopped barking but kept running alongside me, trying to get close enough to dive at the wheels.  He looked playful when he wasn’t barking, so I talked to him in a babying voice: “Hi puppy.  Hi there.  How ya doin?”  Sometimes that calms them down enough to where they lose interest, but he kept running so I tried a new approach: “Sit!” This startled him enough to make him stop and stare at me momentarily with a look that said “How do you know that word!?!”  He started running again, but I think his surprise took the wind out of his sails.  Shortly thereafter, he stopped, turned around and headed home to contemplate the scope of his world.

We hit some big, long hills later in the afternoon and while cresting one, I told Dad I needed a rest.  Once stopped, we both realized we were about to bonk so I carved up an apple while Dad got out crackers and peanut butter.  We had pulled over by the Angel View Ranch – a large plot of land unfolding across the hills below us – with a HUGE home next to a private lake.  We were too exhausted to be jealous, but we at least had to stare for a bit.

After some time back on the road, we turned onto an older farm to market road. The aged pavement was deteriorating and had been patched in layers - newer patches partially covering the older ones, making the ride especially bumpy.  After a long while, this road ended in a gravel road which sloped down into a creek bed, rose out of the bed, turned a corner and led into a little valley.  Here the gravel road was replaced by a single concrete lane, then across the valley the single concrete lane was joined by a gravel lane to its left, and the two climbed out of the valley into a long stretch of hilly terrain.

Before this, the day had been a long, hot ride, mostly into a headwind, but we managed to keep our spirits and energy high.  This mess of a road (the whole combo, from the crappy paved road to the concrete and gravel lanes, was supposedly all part of the same county road) strained both of us, emotionally as well as physically.  We had an unexpectedly large number of cars pass us, most of them going too fast for the type of road they were traveling.  Then while riding the concrete and gravel part of the road, two cars approached us driving on the concrete lane – our side of the road.  They swerved around us, kicking up enough of the gravel road to coat us in a fine layer of dust, and honked. At us. For riding the right (and correct) side of the road.

Thankfully this horrible county road came to a T-intersection with a rideable asphalt road and continued to the left.  As we approached the intersection with Dad in the lead, we passed a herd of long-horned goats.  One goat near the road watched Dad pass, then (almost as an afterthought) ran when he saw me.  Though his flight initially had no effect on his fellows standing further back from the road, a while after we had passed, they all decided to bolt.  The whole herd ran around the field in some looping pattern that brought them to a rest at the side of the pasture bordering the other road of the T-intersection.  We stopped at the stop sign, checked for traffic, then turned the corner.  When they saw us coming after them again, with a single mind they chose to run.  Does that count as two stampedes?  I think so.

The rest of the ride into Corsicana was rough.  We were depeleted of energy, low on water, and I was running out of battery.  Additionally, my right eye was watering profusely from my irratated contact.  We stopped just after we crossed the railroad tracks into town and called home for help in finding a motel.  We decided to ride in the direction of the Holiday Inn Express hoping we wold find something closer on the way.

We ended up at a Motel 6 near the interstate and collapsed into our room.  After taking out my contacts I asked Dad, jokingly, if I could cry for real, then I did.  It had been a harder day than I realized.  We soaked in the pool for a while trying to cool down and rest our joints, then we walked to the nearest restaurant, a Waffle House.  As simple as the restaurant is, we always seem to find a joyful time in a Waffle House.  No matter our situation or the pain and trials we’ve faced through the day or will face in the day to come, each experience we’ve had on a bike trip with a Waffle House has been a good one.  I was exhausted and had no appetite, but I still enjoyed the restaurant.

Today’s Quick Stats:

Bike              Distance (mi)    Average Speed (mph)     Trip Odometer

MiniWini             95.78                  15.1                         747.45

Sti(ck/g)            94.36                  15.1                         749.43

Stampedes: 8

Roadside Pees: 1