Day 44 – Corsa Flight
Wednesday, December 3rd
Brenham, TX to Austin, TX
We checked the weather report last night and knew the winds would be bad today. 20-30 mph out of the SSW meant we’d have to face some really rough crosswinds with a strong headwind component, plus there was also a chance of thunderstorms. We woke extra early trying to get a headstart on the winds, which usually don’t pick up until mid morning. The Coach Light Inn offered a continental breakfast, but we figured it wasn’t yet ready, so we had oatmeal instead. By six however, our bikes were packed and ready to roll, but the sun still wasn’t up. We killed time by wandering over to the lobby and found the motel breakfast laid out. We ate up, but even after our second breakfast, we saw little sign of a sunrise due to the cloud cover of the impending storm. We figured we needed to get going if we hoped to beat the rain and make some headway before the winds got going, so we set up our lights and rolled out into the warm, dark morning.
Riding through a silent, downtown Brenham under the glow of streetlamps and Christmas lights was a neat experience. There’s always something special about being up and about outside before the sun rises and before everyone is awake. You get to share the world with the select few who have bothered to be awake that early. We rode for at least half an hour before the sun began to peek through the clouds, and rode through some sprinkles before we escaped the cover the coming storm.
Of course, even though the winds were still mild, we couldn’t make much progress as we were riding on another one of Texas’ astonishing gravel highways. With the road the same color and texture of most of the road debris, we couldn’t identify many of the threats we faced. Dad eventually got a flat tire from a hole in the road, which neither of us ever saw, so we pulled over in the lawn of an antiques store to fix it. While Dad worked on the flat (our 5th or 6th in three days of riding on these nightmarish Texas highways), I took pictures of the road – a beautiful, smooth asphalt that TXDOT covered with rocks and tar. It might not show up that well in the picture, but next time you are on one of these pathetic excuses for a highway, pull over and look at the road beneath where it peeks out. I would bet money that there was nothing major wrong with it.
Back on the “road”, while watching the sky for signs of rain, I was amazed by the speed of the low level cloud movement. They were gliding by so fast it looked like time-lapse photography and what a weird feeling, having the earth zooming by all around you and the sky sliding off to the side.
Discouraged by the state of the road, we turned off at Burton (Spur 125 I think) and eventually emerged from the rocky horror onto a smooth, gorgeously rolled road with only a few patches here and there. We wanted to try another route, but found we had to go a bit further on the highway before we could turn off, so we took Main St. to SR 390 which took us back toward Hwy 290. We stopped at a Citgo gas station just before rejoining the highway to take a restroom break and get a Reese’s. We began talking with the lady who owns the station about the state of the roads around town, trying to find other options to ride and when we got onto the topic of the highway she told us what TXDOT had done. Hwy 290 near Burton used to be a perfectly good stretch of highway. She said that several months ago they came in and laid down this gravel and tar road and pissed off all the residents of the town. Even in a car, the new highway is a pain to ride – it’s loud and bumpy – and there was nothing wrong with the highway in the first place! Looks like Washington County sold out (or succumbed) to TXDOT because she mentioned that in the next county, the highway was still fine.
We thanked he for her help and got back on the road after taking these pictures of 390 just as it meets 290:
We rode on through Carmine and Giddings, and the Citgo lady was right; as soon as we rolled into Fayette county, the roads were untouched and lovely. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to take much advantage of them because the winds had picked up and we spent all our energy trying to stay on the road rather than move down it. We stopped in Paige: having faced full-force crosswinds for over an hour, I was hungry and tired. One station functioned as a bar and restaurant so we asked for a menu and ordered a third breakfast since they hadn’t started serving lunch. After downing some wonderful omlettes, hashbrowns, toast and tea, we figured we needed to press on.
The next few hours are a blur. Our speed usually topped out at around 12 mph due to the crosswinds. We spent all of our energy fighting the gusts and struggling to keep on the road rather than pushing ahead. Luckily, we interrupted the monotony with a couple of stampedes. These poor, innocent, sheltered Texas cattle just don’t know what to do about us. Dad got a few cows running in one field and when I came by the rest took off as a group, except for one. This black cow had been munching on some vegetation just beyond the roadside fence, and it must have been very tasty because she wasn’t about to relinquish her find. She looked determined to stand her ground and positioned herself to face me head-on. As I rolled past, she shuffled her backside around to keep me in front. I watched her as I passed and at the last minute, said “Hi” and her eyes, previously squinted in tenacity, suddenly grew wide and wild just before she took off running with the others.
We rode with the stampede for several meters and passed one bull, completely unaffected by the sighting. He stood still, hardly noticing us or the herd streaming around him, just taking his time, enjoying his lunch.
Further down the road, Dad missed it, but I caused a second stampede. This one, a little more half-hearted, looked more like the cattle were out for an afternoon jog rather than a full-blown, terrified run. But the whole herd participated, so I think it still counts.
We also passed our first live snake of the trip. On our second or third day, we passed our first roadkill snake, and yesterday we passed two snakes that at least looked dead. They might have been alive, but they didn’t move when we rolled by. This snake was definitely alive. The two yesterday appeared short, fat and purple-reddish from what I could tell in the half-second I watched them. This one was a small, slender, black snake, working its way across the highway, who jumped back when I passed in front. I’m surprised we haven’t seen more snakes on the trip and what surprises me more is that we haven’t seen any frogs. We found alligators, but no frogs. Seems odd.
Back to the monotonous crosswinds blowing us all over the road: I had trouble keeping my front tire aligned with the road and the wind, pushing against my panniers, constantly threatened to shove me off the road. My big boxes acted as sails, but Dad’s bike was much lighter and more aerodynamic, which, in this case, worked to his disadvantage. His bike was so light, the wind actually lifted his back tire off the road and set it down a few feet closer to the edge. He’d kick his inside leg out to pull the rest of his weight against the wind, back on the road. Later, we joked about him being this close to flight on his Corsa.
We had another close call with a white truck and later realized that an abnormally large number of the incidents we’ve had on this trip involved white vehicles – usually trucks, SUVs or luxury cars. Not all white vehicles have given us trouble, but of the ones troubling us, most have been white – or in Texas, white or grey. What is it about people unkind or inattentive to cyclists that also inclines them to drive white vehicles?
Exhausted, strained and distressed, we stopped in Manor. As we sat in the shade of a gas station, I tried not to think about giving up for the day. I tried to numb my mind to the voice that kept saying “I can’t do this any more. I can’t deal with this wind.” Dad, though obviously fatigued, somehow retained his enthusiasm. We sat drinking tea and he shared the memories it brought back – stories I’d never heard before. That’s been one of the neatest things of this trip – spending time with my Dad, and getting to know about his life. In everyday life, we’re always too busy to take time to share stories and experiences with each other, but on this trip, that’s half of what’s kept us entertained and tolerant of each other.
His enthusiasm encouraged me to keep moving and soon, we found ourselves riding into East Austin. I tried to talk him into taking the Westbound flyover for 290 at I-35 – it would really give him a chance to see whether the Corsa can achieve flight – but he declined and we rode into town, amazing drivers, pedestrians and other cyclists alike.
We stopped at Mike Librik’s shop – Easy Street Recumbents – and shared tales from the trip while he and his Minister of Culture, Sam Placette, looked over the bikes. Mike even agreed to pose for some pictures with us!
Since we planned to be in Austin for another day, he said he’d put a notice in his online newletter to see if anyone wanted to come see the bikes or ask questions about the trip. We bought some tubes (since all of ours now have at least one patch), said our goodbyes for the day and took off along some of Austin’s bike trails for my aunt and uncle’s house. We arrived and since they were’t yet home, had to convince their dog that we were family. We figured out the password, which surprised and startled the dog, but he let us in and eventually warmed to our presence.
Since our last meal had been our third breakfast around 10 am, our stomachs growled with hunger as we brought our panniers into the house. Out of Reese’s and craving our Dole fix, we wanted to make a run to the grocery store. When my uncle got home, he agreed to join us on his Goldwing, leading the way, with Dad right behind. Typical of brothers, the common, everyday errand quickly turned into an undeclared challenge as they zoomed ahead. I tried to keep up, but facing a motorcycle and a bionic man on a bike, I had little chance. The two of them turned several heads as they raced through the neighborhoods (don’t worry, no children were endangered – their top speed was just over 30 or so). We pulled into the grocery store, parked the bikes while patrons in warm pants and long sleeves wondered at our strange rides and our bare legs.
We walked in and wow, is it nice to be near home! We’re finally getting back to the food prices we can afford! We stocked up on fried chicken, Dole Mandarin oranges, Dr Pepper, Reese’s and oatmeal, packed everything into my uncle’s motorcycle trunk and (they) raced home. I had intended to attend a stick fighting class that evening, so after dinner we planned out a route, then sat around resting, watching TV and waiting. When it neared time to leave, I moved to get up and found that nothing below the waist worked. My legs were completely dead, my muscles cramped and were frozen up. It took about 20 minutes to get things moving again and by that time, it was too late to leave for the class. We also found that in the time we rested inside, the temperature outside dropped 15-20 degrees. Maybe it was a good thing I didn’t go…
Today’s Quick Stats:
Bike Distance (mi) Average Speed (mph) Trip Odometer
MiniWini 95.90 15.9 3083.6
Sti(ck/g) 95.23 15.5 3071.9
Stampedes: 4 and a little bit over
Roadside Pees: 2