Day 2 – Short Leg, Dog Day

Wednesday, October 22nd

Flatonia, TX to Navasota, TX

After a good night’s rest in the old gas station cafe in Flatonia, we got a late start and took a while packing.  We talked with Tom about the history of the place and he showed my dad the different rooms – all styled in a unique ways.

The first 22 miles to La Grange flew by – I spent most of the time on the rolling hills watching the cows and singing to myself.  Dad was in the lead and his back wheel – a tri-spoke aero wheel – tends to sound like a little helicopter, so every time we passed a herd of cattle almost every single cow would stop what they were doing to watch him.  It’d start with the cattle by the fence near the road and cascade to those way in the back of the field; every cow confused or intrigued by our presence.

It’s such an strange feeling to have a whole pasture of cows watching you.  When you’re in a car, they might watch you but you’re going fast enough so that it’s over in a few seconds – no big deal.  But on a bike, it takes 30 seconds to a minute to pass the width of a pasture.  So close you eyes, count to 30 imagining a *field* full of cows watching your every move – all the heads moving in unison as you pass.  Creepy, itsn’t it?  Some of the cattle would stop mid-chew to inspect us, big bites of grass hanging motionless out the sides of their mouths.  The horses are even worse because they look startled and frightened and get a crazy gleam in their eyes.  Only the longhorn cattle were to lazy to check us out.  We’d get the over-the-shoulder glance, but little more concern than that.

Heading to La Grange we rode a scenic, two-lane, wide-shouldered country road through rolling hills and fragrant fields – really a pleasant ride.  Then just before the turn off from 609 onto 71 to ride into La Grange – less than a quarter mile from the intersection’s stop sign – the shoulder narrows to about 2 feet.  Around that time an 18-wheeler toting construction equipment roared up behind us.  We assumed he wouldn’t try to pass us since the intersection was just seconds away and the oncoming traffic was even closer, but he amazed us by making the pass anyway.  Crazy truckers.

Having burned off our breakfast, we stopped at HEB in La Grange, bought some fruit and vegetables and sat with some employees at an outdoor picnic table.  We chatted about the bikes and our trip and when they all had gone back to work, I mentioned to Dad that the back of my right knee was hurting.  His response: “You leg is probably short.” My reply: “What?” Him: “Your right leg is shorter than your left leg probably. That’s why your knee is hurting.” (The funny thing is that last Saturday I was complaining that my right foot was bigger than my left one.  Looks like somebody formed my ankle in the wrong place.)

I went back in to the HEB, bought some shoe inserts and installed only the one for the right shoe.  Sure enough, later into the ride my knee gradually stopped hurting.  Unfortunately, there was no flat land between Flatonia and Independence, so the rest of my leg parts were aching immensely, but Dad agreed to a break in the next town (after a steep climb that wiped us both out).

The town of Round Top was very quaint (population 77).  We sat down at a picnic table across from the main square, ate our snacks and took some pictures of the Tiny Plastic Joker I brought along for the ride, then headed out for Burton.

The break did us good and we were cruising all the way to Burton, when suddenly the weather changed and almost immediately we both lost all of our extra energy.  We don’t know if it was the road or the wind, but we were losing power rapidly.

We fought the wind and crossed all the hills we came up against and then happened upon Old Baylor College Road and Old Baylor Park – the original site for Baylor University.  The site was interesting looking, but we were too tired to stop; we just pedaled by and pulled into Independence.  We had barely missed the rain so we walked our bikes over some of the more slippery parts, but found a nice store at the top of the hill and stopped for root beers and peanuts.  The store’s fenced yard had an open gate and a “Beware of Dog” sign, but no sign of a dog.  We broke out the English muffins, peanut butter and honey – our standby lunch – and suddenly there was a dog trying to make friends with us.  A little mangy, but a sweetheart.

We left Independence and had to turn on a smaller road that turned out to be rough with LOTS of hills, but right at the turn while we paused to get our bearings, a pack of dogs came running out of a yard after us.  They were all the same breed and color, just of all different ages and sizes.  It was a strange sight that turned adorable when the family of dogs – probably multiple generations – refused to come anywhere near us and the young dogs worked intensely on mimicking their elders in fierceness: they’d bark their biggest bark, then look to one of the older dogs to see if they were doing it right.

Eventually, after climbing a lot of hills, we arrived in Navasota but, too tired to bike around to look for a motel, we pulled onto a side street and went to knock on the front door of the nearest house which happened to be an antiques and jewelry shop named Pink Champagne.  The door had a posted “open” sign, so I walked in without knocking.  Not seeing anyone, I said “Hello?” and immediately a small dog began violently barking somewhere.

“Hello?”
“Bark!, barkbark!, barkbarkbarkbark!, bark!, bark!, barkbarkbark!”
“Hello?”
“BarkbarkbarkBARKBARKBARKBARK!”

A schnauzer tumbled down the staircase and bounded up to me, furious I had obeyed the “open” sign.

I addressed it: “Um…hi there sweetie. You’re a nice little doggie,” (thankfully dogs aren’t equipped with a keen sense of sarcasm).
From upstairs: “Hello.  Coming.”
From schnauzer: “Barkbark! Barkbarkbark! BARK!”

The home/store owner came down the steps and I commented on what a lovely store and what an effective doorbell he had, then I asked him about a place to stay.  He told me what he knew about the local motels and we started talking about his business and the pieces he had on display.  Most of them were intricately carved pieces from Germany and France – all of them stunning artistically, and in wonderful condition.  His wife sold some beautiful jewelry and interesting purses, which he had on display but unfortunately nothing for sale was anything I could carry with me, considering our limited space.  He came out to see the bikes, helped us find some phone numbers and wished us a safe trip. (The schnauzer wished us, “Bark, BARKBARK, bark!” naturally.)

We took a room at the local Super 8 (which came with free wifi and a continental breakfast) and ate at the next door restaurant, a tasty Mexican place.  Then a cold front blew in while we were eating. Tomorrow will be a chilly ride.

Today’s Quick Stats:

Bike              Distance (mi)    Average Speed (mph)

MiniWini            92.93                   18.0

Sti(ck/g)           92.37                   17.9