A cold snap has overtaken this area. It was 36 degrees when we left the hotel and it remained at that temperature for the better part of the day, only rising to the high 40’s by mid-afternoon. There was all manner of dress out there today—there was absolutely no visible skin for many riders. This is where NH/VT riding in the spring and fall comes in to play for preparation. I had all the proper equipment and I couldn’t have been happier. It’s easier for me to control the cold than the heat, so it was my kind of riding.
There was a very brisk four-mile downhill to Fort Davis. The fort was a Confederate supply point and frontier outpost on the military road from San Antonio to El Paso.
The morning colors were subtle with the grasses taking on a slight pink hue. I was fortunate to see a herd of pronged-horn antelope approaching the crest of a hill.
The entire riding crew virtually invaded the local coffee shop in Alpine in an attempt to defrost. Some of the local customers chose to completely ignore us by turning their backs away as we sat down. Others were quick to engage in conversation and had a flurry of questions. This elderly gentleman in the cowboy hat sauntered in, supported by his cane, and was quickly engrossed in a conversation with his cronies.
There were a few wildflowers along the side of the road.
We paralleled the train tracks for the 30 miles from Alpine to Marathon. It is a very active line.
Tonight we stay at the Gage Hotel, a Texas classic. It was built in 1926 for Vermont native Alfred Gage, a cattleman. Gage founded the largest ranching operation in the Trans-Pecos area and was a successful banker in San Antonio. The hotel is beautifully appointed and filled with every manner of Western memorabilia.
Our group is afflicted with blogging mania. This is what we do every day after our ride.
Robin Sewell has the dubious distinction of having had nine flats so flat, several of them blowouts, by far the most in the group. Robin has handled her travails with an optimism that I would have had an extremely difficult time mustering. Replacement rims were deemed to be the solution, and the Fed Ex truck pulled in at 9 pm with said rims.
Robin rode in the van today as she awaited the shipment, and put the finishing touches on this poem, which she read at dinner. She gave me permission to share it with my readers.
There once was a bike rider named Robin,
With 8 flats in 3 weeks, you'd be sobbin',
But no tears did she shed,
Let the truth be said,
She went on with her trip with no problem.
Many women among us felt pity,
Changing tires can be really gritty,
Especially when,
Gusty, strong winds blow in,
In Fort Hancock which isn't much of a city.
She learned to change tires by looking,
Take your levers and just start hooking,
Spin the lever around,
Put the old tube on the ground,
Insert the new tube and you're cooking.
Her back tires exploded, KAPOW!
Michelle to the rescue, WOW!
New rim tape and file,
New tube, tire, that's style!
Back biking the roadways for now.
My thanks to to Ann, Susan, and SAG,
In helping me out, though I lag,
Behind most of the crew,
I stop to admire the view,
Don't feel sorry for me, that's a drag.
Some setbacks, I've had quite a few,
But my new friends, you've always come through,
With a big caring hug,
On my heartstrings, you've tugged,
Kind words, sage advice, I thank you!
This group of bike women is great,
Chef Linda's meals really rate,
Michelle's always about,
To help us all out,
As we bicycle from state to state.
Over 1,000 miles we have ridden,
Butterflies,desert flowers are not hidden,
Back roads, highway shoulders,
With unique, huge boulders,
More adventures lie ahead, no kidding!
Love to all, Robin
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