Day 24, March 29: Sanderson to Amistad (Del Rio), TX

61 of 111 miles

Open range.
Border patrol.
Nothing, but nothing, for mile after mile.
Chip seal (now crudely referred to as crap shit).
Oh, and did I mention the wind?
30 mph, gusting to 40.
Unrelenting, in your face.
Noisy, the kind that makes people go insane during mistral.
Granny gear, my lowest of 30 possible combinations, on straight-aways.
Pedaling hard on steep downhills to reach 10 mph.
Uphills almost a treat on the leeward side.
Tractor-trailers and SUV’s brushing too close for comfort.
No photo ops. No time to stop.
It was brutal.

Six women finished the total mileage. They started at sunrise and pulled in to the motel at 7:45, 12+ hours later, after sunset with the sky streaked with pink. One completed a century, and then called it a day. Another, a strong rider, decided to bag the entire day when, at breakfast, the intensity of the conditions became evident. The remainder of us rode until our bodies would take us no further. This was an endurance event for which no amount of training could prepare you, as it would be next to impossible to replicate the conditions which, combined, gave this ride its difficulty. It’s over, and I cheerfully proclaim that I will never visit this part of Texas again. Well, maybe with Tony if he wants to soar in Marfa, but a vehicle with less than four wheels will be non negotiable.