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BB on the Break - 12/25-1/1

Knobby

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Out Standing in the Field
I hope the video is worth your while. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1r0rkjgNJUQ

Edited to include the trip report...

OK, here we go. We started out Tuesday morning from the Boerne Exxon in the Break between Christmas and New Years. I got there early and had 2 cups of coffee black, before Tom rode up. Tires and Tanks full. We were on our way to hook up with Frank at the J (Junction). No issues. On our way after a hearty breakfast. I ordered a Sausage Biscuit with Egg. I asked the girl if there was a limit on Strawberry Jellies. She said, You’re only limited by how many you can fit into your fist, they’re over there by the napkins. Yes!!!, I love Strawberry jelly. We saw a Disco chick in there. Had the whole large-necked shirt hanging off one shoulder with a bra strap showing. The circus begins. The trip is off to a good start.

Did the Juno road. No cops. Rode out to Pecos River Bridge for a smoke. No excitement there either. They got the bridge finished. The river is pretty full. Saw some kind of bird flying and that brought up the whole Tim/Errol/Frank Bird App on their I-Phones from when we were on the Blue Ridge trip last summer. The story behind that is we were sitting in a restaurant overlooking the parkway and these birds were flying around outside the window. It had been a long day but three of our crowd had enough energy to engage in conversation with the table next to us and start identifying the birds by pulling up a pre-loaded app on their IPhones. The fact that they even had a bird-app says something about them, although I can’t figure out what. My contribution on identification what that it was the type that had Wings. Nobody laughed.

Back on the road. Gas in Comstock. I wonder about a place that proudly advertises We Sell Worms. Is there a big run on worms there in the winter? Where do they find them out there in the desert? What do they do with those that they don’t sell?

On the road again. Through Sanderson, Alpine and then into Fort Davis.

Now this is where the trip takes on some excitement. Not a lot at this point because Tuesday is ultimately predictable. Randall only has a camproom at the Stone Village for Tuesday. We were Drifting, so we didn’t make any other reservations. Frank played hard to get, and told us before we left that if we were just going to stay at the Stone Temple he probably wouldn’t go. So we had to come up with something so different, so far out, so unexpected that Frank would enjoy the trip. We didn’t have far to go.

We pulled into the parking lot. Randall cleans out the camproom and we unload all our stuff. Randall broke out the Tito’s and lime for a Welcome Round. Its getting dark by this time so after telling a few stories and catching up we headed over to the Deli for a sandwich. Got back to the room and we broke out the libations and went over to the pool. I had had one McD biscuit all day, I was starving. We had a great time around the pool, teasing back and forth. Randall was with us the whole evening. Closed the place down late.

Wednesday we got up about 8 and went outside. I wasn’t really sure of the plan. Headed through Marfa for gas and then rode Pinto Canyon road, which is all dirt. The GSA just doesn’t do well in deep sand. It was to be an indication of bad times to come. Down to River Road above Ruidosa. Into Chinati Springs. We’d planned to camp there and go get supplies in Presidio. But Chinati was kind of a letdown. They had one hot spring pool that was about the size of a Motel 6 hottub outside. Then they had these rooms with the old nasty sunken bathtubs that could hold about 1 person at a time. Definitely not enough Man-Spacing. I tried to get Tom and Frank to get into one, but they wouldn’t go for it. It was a pretty place. They have this cold-pool up on a hilltop that was closed for the winter. But they’re definitely missing the customer-base by not putting a couple more group pools up there on the hill so you could sit out there at night and watch the stars, then go jump in the cold-pool to cool off. We all tried to figure out a way to make this place work, but it just didn’t seem like a good fit.

We were off. We stopped in Ruidosa at a little Cantina. And here is where the trip was Made for me. I did this type of place night after night on the trip into colonial Mexico a while back with Hank the mechanic. We heard some GREAT stories. The owner knew Frank from somewhere and so went back to the house and got us some Tamales, which they served up for free. We sat out there on their front porch drinking some ice cold cervezas and listening to stories of living there on the border. You can be sure of one thing, I could never live there. Heard one story of two Mexicans that came over and after buying beers for everyone told the locals they were to See Nothing and Hear Nothing. Other stories of beheadings, and the danger of living down there were just hard to believe when you’re safely relaxing in the living room here in the safe and secure hill-country. But sitting out there behind a cedar pole porch and seeing nothing but border patrol trucks go by constantly, it sure was believable at the time. Enough so that it made me nervous to think about camping along the river.

We finally finished the beer and all left big tips for the girls. I’d found my New Favorite Place in the world to let the poisons of civilization sweat from my pores. I used to think about the General Store there in Terlingua. But not any more. Ruidosa is my new nirvana. Time stops there. There are no worries as long as the sun is shining and the beer is cold. We sat inside at this table in the half-light that is only experienced in an old adobe barroom in the afternoon. 18inch thick walls. In the other room I saw an old pool table that looked like its better days had seen better days. Outside after the tamales, that giant old rocker would have been the perfect place to take a siesta if we hadn’t of had many more miles to go before hanging it up for the night. I can’t think of any other place to spend a few quiet hours.


The next idea was to stay at one of the primitive campgrounds along the Rio Grande. Stopped in Ft. Leaton outside of Presidio for more information, and then proceeded to look for a good campground. We stopped at two or three of them along River Road and just couldn’t seem to get generate enough excitement to actually stop and set up camp. I thought they were all ugly, and when I stopped the bike for a moment the little gnats or flies would just invade the helmet. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind some primitive camping, but the one thing I need to make it work is a beautiful view, or a lake, or a river, or something to take my mind off the ugly little plot of earth I’m standing and sleeping on. When there’s better places I’ll always gravitate to the Easy Way. Then Tom said the magic words,…Starlight Restaurant!

Next stop Terlingua.

Terlingua was Hopping. Tom negotiated our usual campspot and we headed up to the Starlight. A sixpack later we were sitting down to order. It was a Great night. The temperature was perfect. Went to Study Butte for firewood and then back to camp. We got a little ambitious and bought 5 bundles of wood. By the time we’d burned three of them it was about 11pm and it was a good thing Tom and Frank conspired against me and hide the other two bundles. I came back from the shower and somehow the last two bundles had disappeared! Tom said, We burned them. Frank said, Some Mexicans came up and stole them. LIARS!!! It was a good thing though. The wind was coming up and we were all tired. Into the tents and the wind picked up even more. It wasn’t a Monahans type of night, but close. I read a book in the tent for about an hour til I got sleepy. Then woke up about every 30 minutes all night long with the wind whipping the tent flaps.

Up again by 8 and off to the GhostTown Diner for breakfast. This old guy took our order. We were one of the the last tables to finish so the cook came out. She and one of her friends were looking at pictures and talking intermittently to us. She kept making suggestive comments as we were gearing up. I went to the restroom and when I came out Frank and Tom were outside. I started putting on the Aerostitch and she looked at me and said, I love to see a Big Man getting dressed in the morning. The only thing I could come up with was, Well, good luck with that. I told the story to Tom outside and he said I Should have said,…. Me too!


I can Never come up with the best lines on the spur of the moment.


We took off for BB State Park. About 40 miles of dirt going in and then about 50-60 out the north end. Most of it was awesome. On the way in I was in front. I’d been on hardpack for miles, just railing along. Suddenly I topped a hill and there was a car on this one-lane wide dirtroad. I knew not to grab the front brakes, so I started slowing with the rear. About that time the front sank into this talcum powder like sand. I had the rear brake on to slow for the car, and I think that’s what caused the whole circus to come crashing down. The front caught a rut and jigged the bike sideways, headed straight for the car. The driver had stopped by this time and I could see his eyes getting bigger and bigger. I swear he looked like the Devil about to welcome me to the underside of hades. Me and the bike musta weighed about 800 pounds with all my camping gear. My left leg went out to catch the bike and it worked. Yeehaaa!!!! Now I’m headed head-on into the grill of the little red car and the devil. But I knew I’d scrubbed off enough speed to stop in the 30 or so feet between me and him. Victory said the Viceroy! Then the front hit another rut, Jigged Right. Another Rut, Jigged Left and the leg went out again. I felt a mound of dirt catch my Sidi and drag my leg back behind me. About that time the other shoe fell and the bike slammed down onto my left foot. I felt this excruciating pain as the left hardcase thought my foot was a crush-washer.

I just laid there for a minute. The driver got out and came up. He looked like he’d swallowed the last goldfish. I’m laying there struggling to get my foot untangled from underneath the bike and he’s muttering something about how lucky I am. I’m thinking, I gotta get out from under this mess before Frank and Tom come up and start taking pictures. I drug my foot out, twisting my ankle in the process. Stumbled up and said, Help me pick this bike up. He and I heaved it up and I got the sidestand down. About that time Frank and Tom walked up.

We rode around Nosferatu and were back on the trail. I came up 3rd because my foot was hurting so bad there were tears in my eyes and I was having trouble shifting. We got to the Ranger Station for BBSP and sat outside smoking cigars for about an hour. There’s a north trail out of BBSP that eventually connects to the paved road near an abandoned old railroad station. Brian (another buddy) and I rode the paved part about a year ago but didn’t have bikes for the dirt and so turned around. I’d finally connected Marfa to River Road.

Into Marfa and the Paisano. We were covered in dirt and dust. Our faces looked like something from The Little Rascals. Went inside and Carlito made us Meskin Martini’s. I’m not sure what was in them but they were good. These two salt-n-pepper haired women were on the other side of the bar. The better-looking one said to me at one point, If I were marketing a martini I’d want you three guys to be in the commercial. I thought it was a strange comment coming from across the entire bar, and yet again I couldn’t come up with a good line, so I used the one Tom had given me earlier, I just said,… Me Too.

About that time these 6 completely Alien people came in. 3 guys and 3 girls. Carlito said he’d bet a drink they were from New York. I bet San Francisco. Frank said Dallas I think. It was Carlito’s job to find out for sure. But he never did. And I was just too tired at this point to drop in on them and start asking questions. So we’ll never know.

We called Randall and he had some rooms. We got one and headed out for FD.

Checked in and went over to the Deli again. Meanwhile Randall built a giant fire. The wind picked up and when I called home Julie said the reports were 60mph winds with 90mph gusts for the area. It was so violent there were sparks flying 30-40 feet into the grass, the roof and out into the street. I banked the fire some and we were able to eat and smoke a stick before heading inside. No real excitement. We had a good time talking to Randall as always and as always we can argue and have a great time and live to ride again. The one constant on our trips is that nobody takes anybody too seriously. That’s what I love about these things, we have a great time no matter where we go.

Friday morning we got up and headed out. Frank wanted to go to the LaWanky Steakhouse. I think that’s how they spell it…. La ‘Wanky. I hated to miss it, but the way I’m geared, on the day I’m headed home, I just want to BE THERE. If I could snap my fingers and transport myself home I’d do it. But if that had been possible, or if I’d gone to LaWanky, I’d have missed the absolute Weirdest Moment of the Entire Trip.

So we rode together as far as possible before Frank split off. Me and Tom decided to go to Ft. Lancaster. I had one Fuente Hemingway left. We rode into the parking lot and it was about 30 degrees and the wind was howling. We lit up and it was only a few minutes before we heard this BLARING music coming up the road. I looked up and this *** old Ford pickup was driving up. You could almost see the doors and windows bulging out as the music blasted inside the cab. This little black-haired witch-looking woman stared at us and actually turned around in the passenger seat she stared so long as the truck drove by. We thought it was so weird we both commented on it.

They pulled up to the next table, about 50 feet away and as all 4 doors opened the music got louder and they all piled out. 4 guys and 2 girls, a blonde and the black haired witch. The girls immediately both went to the other side of the truck and pulled down their pants to urinate. The guys got out, all with beers in their hands. Finally the blonde went over to the picnic table and started trying to do pull-ups from the roof. The witch started dancing to the music on our side of the truck so we could see her. 3 of the guys were wearing t-shirts and short pants. One had on this Salvation Army giant overcoat. The driver looked about 35 and had long stringy hair down his back. He looked over at us and yelled out something. Then he went to the back of the truck.

Tom asked if I was packing and of course I was. So I didn’t worry too much, the only one that could have concealed anything was the Overcoat guy. But then they all came dancing over. Eyes so red they looked like feral hogs. The witch never said a word. The blonde walked up to me and asked if I had a lighter. I said No, but he does,…and pointed at Tom (…what are friends for anyway?), so she would go bug him. I looked over and Tom was telling Long-Hair that he didn’t want a beer, he’d had too much the night before. I’m watching Overcoat to make sure we don’t end up in the next Rob Zombie movie. About this time the short fat guy walks up to me and just stands there staring. Never blinked, never moved. I swear I’ve never seen a guy still walking that was as absolutely Wasted as this guy was. Blondey is telling me about she’s from Tennessee, by way of some campground, and now she runs the RV park there in Sheffield. I’m half listening while trying to see if the crack-induced marks on her face are in some pattern and at the same time keeping an eye on Overcoat. The witch is dancing over around Tom now. Feral Pig is just staring at me. Blondey is holding out her hand to give me the whole jive-brother fist clap. Overcoat is on the edge of the asphalt with his back to us, which I don’t take as a good sign. Finally long-hair says he needs another beer. Blondey goes over to talk to Tom. Feral Hog slowly backs away toward their truck and Overcoat has disappeared. I look around and he and the Witch are over against the truck searching for the meaning of life in each other’s throat. Blondey is telling her Tennessee story to Tom. She finally finishes and comes over to give me another fist-clap before going back to the truck.

We figured they were completely Stoned and we were lucky we didn’t end up in some ravine somewhere. All in all it was a perfect ending to a great trip. I wish Frank had been there. He’d have known how to handle these freaks.

The rest of the ride home was uneventful. Home by 3:30. My foot was completely blue and swollen about twice its size. I just parked the bike and my gear and that’s where it sat for a week until I felt like cleaning everything up.

…end of report.
 
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"I felt this excruciating pain as the left hardcase thought my foot was a crush-washer." OUCH !

Hope your on the mend. Glad you made it to BBRSP. Hope the scenery and roads made up for the excruciating pain.
 
Thanks DoctorDR. I don't think you can have a bad time in the Big Bend area. We've been going there several times a year for about 15 years, mainly because its close and there's just a different feeling there. Plus its close and we can do it in a long weekend. Probably the same reasons most of the regulars go.

We still always somehow find something new.
 
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