Day 46 – Run for the Border
Friday, December 5th
Austin, TX to Helotes, TX (via Laredo)
My sister and her boyfriend have planned a trip to Central America and had to leave this afternoon by 3:30 to catch the last bus from Nuevo Laredo to Mexico City. I haven’t seen her in about two months and wanted to at least tell her hi before she left the country. We should have departed my aunt and uncle’s house earlier, but when the temperature dropped last night, we decided we’d take our chances and delay our departure in hopes of warmer weather for our last morning of travel.
We left around 8:30 or 9 and it took us about an hour and a half to get through Austin. While the roads posed little obstacle, the stoplights severely slowed our progress. Around the UT campus and downtown Austin, it appears that the city has done a bit of work, synchronizing the stop lights to accommodate vehicles traveling at the speed limit. Consequently, on our bikes we caught nearly every light red. Though not at steep as Tallahassee, Austin still has its hills and stopping and starting among these can wear you down quickly, especially since some of the red lights last 2-5 minutes. Climbing a hill from a dead stop with cold legs would put a sour look on anyone’s face. The locals on bicycles deal with this frustration by running the red lights after quick looks left and right.
Once through downtown, we followed Congress over the lake formerly known as Town Lake and rode it all the way to Slaughter Ln. We passed more homeless people (or homeless-looking at least) in this stretch from downtown Austin to Slaughter Ln than we have in our entire trip. I’m not exaggerating. We got a lot of laughs from the homeless people, and one old black guy, wrapped up in a blanket sitting in a wheelchair at the corner of Congress and the access road of SR 71 just pointed and almost burst laughing. We smiled and waved.
Near Stassney, Dad got a flat. He joked about it because every time he’s pedaled this route South of the Congress bridge, it has always felt like he’s pedaling with a flat. This time he actually was.
Traffic, for the most part, behaved well around us. The two major exceptions occurred within 30 seconds of each other. On Congress, South of William Cannon, the road is 2-laned with a moderately-sized shoulder. A girl in a tan car wanted to turn left out of her apartment complex into the South-bound lane of Congress. She could have waited a few seconds for us to pass, but I guess she thought she could make the turn without entering the shoulder, or maybe she wasn’t thinking at all. Either way, she turned right as Dad passed and nearly hit him when she didn’t turn tight enough. Shortly after, a gravel truck came barreling down the South-bound lane, riding the white line along the shoulder, going at least 10-15 over the speed limit. He passed us without slowing down, nearly crowding us off the shoulder. He honked, we yelled – the usual.
We finally made it to 35 and enjoyed relatively unspoiled access roads for the most part. We passed one patch where they’ve covered what used to be a wonderful, smooth, fast road with gravel and seal, ruining it for cars and cyclists alike. Though the shoulder hadn’t been redone, the crew failed to clean up the gravel left from the installation on the road, so the shoulder – though it’s asphalt was in perfect condition – turned out to be as unrideable as the road due to the sea of loose gravel left by the road crew.
The Southbound I-35 access road runs almost interrupted from Austin to San Antonio. The only exception is a detour around Kyle where the access road veers away from the interstate takes you along old Hwy 81. To get back, we had to walk our bikes through a field just North of the HEB.
Around sixty miles, we stopped at a rest stop North of Selma, cold, exhausted, tired and hungry, not to mention full-bladdered. I watched the bike as Dad used the restroom, then we switched. The restrooms of the rest stop surprised me with their cleanliness, spaciousness and relative modernity. When confronted with the prospect of having to sit on cold, stainless steel toilets, I was also surprised to find that my thighs have grown strong enough over the course of the trip that I don’t have to sit to pee. I can hover instead.
After a snack of Fig Newtons and Dole peaches, we returned a missed call to my sister. Concerned that we wouldn’t make it home in time to see her, she wanted to check on our progress. Dad talked her into meeting us on the Northeast side of San Antonio to relieve us of our boxes. You may call this cheating; we think of it as a wise use of our resources. She met us on Evans road and after lots of hugs (and squeals between her and me) we removed our panniers, placed them in her car and said our goodbyes. She took off for home and we embarked on our last leg of the trip, up and over the hills of Loop 1604’s access road.
Though I became suspicious of it several blocks earlier, just before the hill leading up to Huebner from Blanco I realized I definitely had a flat tire. Though I yelled at Dad several times, trying to save him from pushing up the hill, he couldn’t hear me over the traffic. I wheeled into the driveway of an upscale apartment complex and began taking the back wheel off. When Dad reached the light at the top of the hill, he found me missing and turned around. Going through our remaining supplies we dreaded that we had sent all our repair kits with my sister, but finally found the one in my top box. We installed my only extra tube, which had multiple patches, and went on our way.
Though our time was cutting close, we couldn’t finish the trip without stopping by Helotes Bicycle to visit Hank. He’s one of the few who have been following the blog diligently and we wanted celebrate the end of our trip with him. The connected man he is, Hank was already waiting for us on the side of the road, camera in hand to document our homecoming. While he snapped pictures, he told us he had an informant down the road – a customer of his heard tale of our trip from Hank and happened to be at the local Dairy Queen when we rode past en route to Helotes Bicycle. He called ahead to let Hank know we were back.
We took a moment to run next door to Floore’s Country Store for sweet tea – the final sprint along 1604 into Helotes left us thirsty and more than a little winded. While chugging our tea and catching up with Hank, my sister called to say they couldn’t wait for us any longer. I told her I’d see if we could leave the bikes at the shop if she could pick us up on her way out. After hanging up with my sister, I told Dad the plan and he said he wanted to finish the ride, so we thanked Hank, jumped on the bikes and took off. We passed my mom, sister and her boyfriend on Hwy 16 and circled around to tell her goodbye. Dad talked her into waiting a few minutes more so we could ride the bikes to the house. Instead, we hit them in the grass and bushes inside the gate at the foot of our quarter-mile, steeply-graded driveway and were running out of the brush to close the gate when a Helotes police officer pulled into our driveway. He was blocking the gate as he asked, “What are ya’ll doing? Is this your place?”
“Yeah, we live here.”
“Oh. Okay.” Not the answer he was expecting, I think. “I just saw you running in and out of the woods and wanted to see what you were up to.”
While he backed out, I closed and locked the gate as Dad asked him to keep an eye out for anyone not us messing with the bikes. Once the cruiser drove off, we literally jumped in my mom’s van, closing the doors as she took off for the border. Finally we had the chance to remove our helmets, headsweats and gloves and visit with our loved ones (…and my sister’s boyfriend – it’s ok, he knows he’s still working his way up to “loved one” status).
We shared stories from the last few days of the trip, and I told my sister about my hover-pee as I’m particularly proud of that. When we made it to Laredo, we dropped them off just short of the border, said our goodbyes several times and watched them walk away, silhouettes against the lights along the Rio Grande.
No longer needing to rush, we stopped for some fast food at a Jack-in-the-Box. Standing in line, Dad and I stood out in our bike shorts and jerseys. The sun had long been set and the temperature persuaded most people into long pants and sweaters or jackets. Needless to say, we were a little chilly just standing around.
While eating (something we hadn’t done since our stop at the rest station several hours ago), we got a call from my sister. They couldn’t find a cab to take then to the bus station and had missed their bus. We began to make plans to find them a motel for the night, but eventually they found a taxi and caught a later departure not listed on the schedule. After confirming they had caught a bus, we headed home. I napped and awoke just as we arrived at our gate around 10:30. By this time, both the temperature and our legs were cold. With the motor, I could still make it up the hill without damaging any muscles, but that wasn’t an option for Dad.
So while Mom lit the way with the van’s headlights, I pedaled the Agio with the assistance of the motor and Dad ran the Corsa up the hill to our house. My parents’ Boxers were there to greet us, wiggling in anticipation. They showered us with nearly seven weeks worth of kisses and snorts accumulated during our absence.
It’s good to be home.
Today’s Quick Stats:
Bike Distance (mi) Average Speed (mph) Trip Odometer
MiniWini 98.01 18.8 3191.9
Sti(ck/g) 97.50 18.6 3179.6
Stampedes: 4 and a little bit over
Roadside Pees: 2
Almost 3200 miles!!!