El Camino Real Tour Update - October 23, 2005

Crystal City to Pearsall
Change of plans. Our friend and trip photographer Blake had a mishap on his bike while on a short ride last night. He has injured his shoulder and needs to go back to Austin. Frank is scheduled to drive SAG today as he has covered all of the mileage yesterday. So, I pull out my trusty BOB, i.e. “Beast-of-Burden,” a single-wheel trailer that I can connect to the rear axle of my touring bike. I load up some gear to sustain myself for two days as Mikail will be heading back to Austin to get Blake home and to address a minor electrical problem with our van. We hope Blake heals quickly.

Mikail will drop Frank at Pearsall, the destination for today. I ride the 70 miles from Crystal City to Pearsall, on Frank will get checked into the motel there and do some modest mileage coming back to meet me.

And the plan works! We start out and Blake photographs the Popeye Statue in Crystal City on their way through. That’s right, Crystal City is the Spinach Capital of the World (remember all that alluvial ground water because of the Nueces River channels in the area) and Barbara’s father was the driving force behind getting the Popeye statue up in 1937, about the time those cartoons that we all watched as kids were being produced.
My compadres pass me on the road on the way to Pearsall and Austin and I am alone and on my own. Good ride – just like the other “self-contained” journeys I’ve been doing in Texas since last March. In fact, when I finish this one, I’ll have close to 2000 miles of Texas Touring for the year.

Ranchers passing on the backroads between Crystal City and Batesville are very friendly. For you non-Texans, here in West Texas, as you drive past an oncoming car or truck, you frequently encounter “the finger wave.” First off, no, its not THAT finger. The driver will lift the index finger (sometimes two fingers) off of the wheel as he comes by you from the opposite direction. I thought it was THAT finger the first time I encountered it near Uvalde in the 1970’s when I still had out-of-state plates on my car. But by the third one, I understood that it is simply a friendly “howdy.”
It’s done typically when there is only one person in each vehicle and, with few exceptions, it is always the men. It can be interpreted as “here we are out here alone in the boonies” but I’ve come to interpret it as “here we are fortunate to be in “God’s Country.” And I’m here to report that the friendliness out here extends to touring cyclists!

Whether in the spectacular Big Bend or Guadalupe Mountains or in the more “plain” part, there is for me always a sense of calm and relaxation to be in a place where there are no crowds, no traffic jams, and a sky where, as my wife Clemmie puts it, “there is always something going on.”

Texans, for all their pride that some might even interpret as bragging (how could that happen?) are a very welcoming people. Texas has always been a land of newcomers, even long before the European arrival, and many of the greatest deeds in Texas were performed by newcomers. I will always be proud to be a born-and-raised Hoosier. Now, at 35 years since first coming here in the U.S. Air Force and 25 years since coming to live, marrying a Texas girl and having two little Texans (now big), I am proud to carry the title Senior Newcomer Texan. I love the Lyle Lovett lyrics “That’s right, you’re not from Texas, but Texas wants you anyway.”

After watching thundershowers to the north and east (I’m traveling northeast,) I arrive in Batesville. At a house on the edge of town, a bunch of kids in the yard shout out, “Stop, mister. We want to talk to you.” It’s the Hinojosa family of four kids and two friends. They call out their dad and ask if I’m coming back through and I told them some day they can ride the El Camino Real themselves. I gave them my card and website so I hope the Hinojosas are reading this.

As I leave the country store in Batesville, it starts to rain. Not heavy as I am on the edge of the storm. After all of the 100 degree plus heat I endured riding during the summer, the rain is light enough to be borderline refreshing. Nice smooth seal coat and wide shoulders on US 57 eastbound. But nothing lasts forever. Crossing into Frio County, it turns into chip seal. Not the worst, but chip seal, nonetheless. For the next two hours, there is a lot of traffic, boosted by all of the bird hunters returning from the South Texas brush country. I climbed a bit out of the Nueces River watershed and into some rolling hills. Nothing big if you’re driving it but it is always work on a bicycle, especially if you are hauling gear.

I hit the turnoff to Pearsall and there comes Frank down the road. He escorted me back, got me a Subway sandwich while I showered and the rest of the evening was bliss eating and watching Game 2 of the World Series.

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