Ok, so after that really cool long dirt road coming out of Mosquero, I hit some pavement in the Logan area but just for a few miles…and immediately got back on some more dirt.
Open prairie country, pretty in its own way. Didn’t see a soul for like 25 miles of that stuff.
Snagged a FM road for just a smidge, crossed I40….and immediately hit more dirt. That felt like a milestone in this trek. I snickered in my helmet as I blew over the overpass. Something liberating seeing the rest of the world living interstate life as I live out the dirt life.
Terrain and soil was different in here compared to the several topographies I already went through this day.
Got a little interesting here and there with some funky red mud. Not a big deal, just proceed with caution.
Crawled out of that valley and got some good views. Pics do the view no justice.
And just like that, I was in Texas….after riding over 200 miles. There was a sign saying leaving NM and then just a FM road sign.
I knew this meant it was about to get less entertaining, dang ol Texas. I decided to use FM roads and county dirt roads to make my way east for a good while. At least that was the plan in my head.
I meandered out of some town and found some more dirt. I was hauling the mail. I was noticing some moisture, but kind of discounted it. Then almost lost it, the road went to a kind of saturated soupy concrete mix feeling. 100% an attention getter. It was a miracle I didn’t go down.
I held it together and pressed on. But it was getting worse and my travel was getting much slower compared to what I needed to be doing. And I was looking at a storm in my path.
I came up with Plan B, make my way towards pavement to the south and go around the storm. The road heading that direction was good gravel. Sounds good.
Till it wasn’t. The good gravel only lasted a mile or so. Then it got greasy again. I don’t think it would have mattered what tires you had, but I was wishing I had some much more aggressive meat.
I had enough. But what can you do? Too deep into this to turn around. I got off to the side where the vegetation was and fought the ditch, this was good for a while, but ultimately not good. It was like a skate board going down a curb, sliding sideways. I had to get back on the “road”. At least the road would have a bottom, the ditch didn't in places.
I made it a pretty good distance but it felt more like steering a boat. I stopped below to take a break and study my map and look at radar.
The intersection reminded me of a crossroads where a beautiful girl in an old truck appeared. But she was nowhere to be seen. I would have gladly slept in her barn.
The only good thing that came to mind was thinking about a farmer checking things out in a few days and laughing to himself as he looked at my story unfolding in my drunken tracks. Heck, I would like to ride with him, or my girlfriend, drinking some beer and laughing about it together. I only stopped for one more pic, this was an ordeal in and of itself getting on/off the bike. And add to this, now the bike is cutting out every now and then, I'm sure the kickstand switch was getting clogged.
The mud was so thick on the bike, it was hard to steer fender/radiator guard, and the front wheel was clogging up at the forks and the rear was no picnic. I was standing while riding and looking at my front fender dipping up and down from all the extra weight. I finally made it to pavement. I'm sure as people drove by they were snickering in their warm and dry cars, feeling liberated not living like a dirtbag. I did a make shift clean out and then stammered to the next town and luckily found a carwash. It was like caked sediment mud, like adobe. Glad to get it off so quickly, five bucks later.
Feeling better about being clean and the bike not cutting out, I had to make a new plan. My original route was no good, I’m not taking any more chances on the dirt roads. And storms were all around. I thought about beelining for Lubbock as it wasn’t all that far. But I hate big towns when I’m on a bike, heck I hate them all together. Looking at my phone, I saw a cheap motel in an itty bitty town. That will work, it’s only 125 more miles and in a more productive direction. I can make semi-quick work of that on pavement. I rallied my mood, put on my rain gear and pushed on. I got this.
I got about 80 miles down the road and was feeling rough. Body was tired but also had some brain fade going on I guess. I pulled over at this rest stop. I didn’t even read the signs, sarcastically raised my camera and snapped the below pics and went and sat down. I’m laughing now as I type this at my attitude. I took about 20 minutes, ate some jerky, cleaned my helmet visor, drank the rest of my Dr. Pepper. Ok, feeling better, what’s another 40 or 50 miles? You got this you old scallywag.
Pull into Dickens ready to throw in the towel. Guess what? Motel is closed for remodel. I could have beat the dickens out of someone. That would have been great to put on the web but I guess it was my fault for not calling, I normally do. Now what? It’s just simple problem solving when you break it down. Storms are all around, it’s 7pm. Stealth camp? That will be miserable in the rain, no tent, just an emergency bivy. Closest motel in my direction of travel? Snyder. It’s only another 70 miles. I was hungry and there was a café in Dickens. But the sun was fading, I would rather not ride in the dark, already been seeing the deer. Wishing I had done the Lubbock thing at this point, I would have taken a shower and been sipping silver bullets by now. Stop it, suck it up buttercup. Ride on.
On pavement this should be smooth sailing, what else could go wrong? I texted my wife to tell her that no, I did not forget to hit my Spot tracker the “All is good I made it to camp” button. Pulled myself up by the bootstraps, again, and headed south. I made it 30 miles on this FM road and came to a road closed sign. I should have taken a pic of my face or audio of my thoughts on the matter. I had to laugh to keep from crying. I stopped and looked at the detour route, it added 25 miles, you got to be kidding me. The road closed sign said it was closed 5 miles ahead. Looked at GPS, I bet it is a river crossing/bridge work. Ok, gamble the 5 miles out and back to see if I can clean the perceived gap, or eat the 25 mile detour head on? And did I mention I had already covered over 200 miles on this tank of gas? I decided to gamble on the river crossing and that potential 10 miles round trip to find out. Halfheartedly I went with my gut, we don’t need no stinking bridges! I got close to the river, big barricades, machinery also blocking it. I went around all of that stuff to get a looksee. I didn’t homestead but did take this one pic. I opened a gate, used their make shift bridge they were using to get back and forth, another gate, and I was out of there. Thank goodness. Big win at that point.
I am getting close to Snyder, sun about gone. Wife calls me, we talk while I’m riding. My helmet battery dies. I pull over. Call her back, I guess she felt sorry for me and booked me an Air BNB. My phone is about to die, down to 10%, have to hang up and ride. She texted me info, I take off.
Now my GPS is starting to lose it’s power connection, so every few seconds, it starts the countdown to shut down. I pull over, have to find cords/connections to plug in my phone so it isn’t dead when I get to town…..so I can find the dang Air BNB. I find the little house in the ghetto, riding one handed, it is now 9pm. But the day is not over. I haven’t had a meal since Angel Fire, I’m starving. I went to Whataburger, navigating with my flaky GPS. Got back, showered and passed out. Is that a day or what? The first half was glorious was what I kept telling myself. It was just two days’ worth of stuff in one. You live and you learn. One more day to go for this ride report. Am I coming in clear?