Dahveed
0
I'm looking forward to the next installment. Don't leave us hanging for too long. 
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Uncle's Round Big Bend via Mexico: Recon
- Thread starter miltonotto
- Start date
R
Red Brown
Guest
Eager readers are looking forward to the next chapter.
You are da' man.
RB
You are da' man.
RB
Drumboy
0
We called a friend when we lost our SPOT on a golf course in Vegas at the end of a Mexico Trip. He was able to tell us that it was on the 2nd green (he'd played the course before).
Can't wait for more...
Dahveed
0
Can you use the 911 button if your shooting a big number and will they send out an emergency swing coach to help you out?
Never heard of someone using a spot in golf. Maybe I've been playing it wrong all these years...
Robert K
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Geez, I'm gonna have to stay after work tonight to catch up everything I'm not doing now because I'm watching for Mr. Otto's ride report! Great reading and I can almost see the Bandidos and Federales just waiting for him somewhere in those deep, dark canyons!
Robert
Robert
Ixta
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I've been stopped along that road while driving late at night by the local game warden. Apparently, there is a big problem with poachers out there - Mexican as well as US-based poachers. Carrying only caving ropes and camping gear, they sent me on my way after a short and professional conversation. Needless to say, guns are a big no-no in Mexico.
I don't think much contraband passes that way. Smuggling is a business and that's just not an economical route. Most of the traffic is probably ranch and mine traffic. There are several active mines further west - west of the road to La Linda.
That area is the 2nd largest (thickest) limestone formation in the world (a much larger extension of the Edwards Aquifer). There are many caves and underground rivers in the area west of Acuna along with a really cool blind cave catfish that's only found in that area and down to Muzquiz.
I've never met anyone but good folks in that part of the world. I've known some of the ranchers out there since the '60's. Their ranches are like small states. Generations of workers have been born, lived all their lives, and are buried on the ranch. Some of those small settlements are built by the ranches and serve as mini-towns to serve remotely-housed ranch-hands. They used to include a place to eat (for the ranch-hands and their families) and usually a church, all sponsored by the ranch. Most have been vacant since the early 80's.
If the La Linda bridge ever reopens, it will make that part of the world more accessible again.
Nice report. That's a neat part of the world.
Joel.
I don't think much contraband passes that way. Smuggling is a business and that's just not an economical route. Most of the traffic is probably ranch and mine traffic. There are several active mines further west - west of the road to La Linda.
That area is the 2nd largest (thickest) limestone formation in the world (a much larger extension of the Edwards Aquifer). There are many caves and underground rivers in the area west of Acuna along with a really cool blind cave catfish that's only found in that area and down to Muzquiz.
I've never met anyone but good folks in that part of the world. I've known some of the ranchers out there since the '60's. Their ranches are like small states. Generations of workers have been born, lived all their lives, and are buried on the ranch. Some of those small settlements are built by the ranches and serve as mini-towns to serve remotely-housed ranch-hands. They used to include a place to eat (for the ranch-hands and their families) and usually a church, all sponsored by the ranch. Most have been vacant since the early 80's.
If the La Linda bridge ever reopens, it will make that part of the world more accessible again.
Nice report. That's a neat part of the world.
Joel.
In the morning after spending the night out in the desert, about 100 feet off the road, and hearing 4-5 trucks go by, wondering where these people could be headed, the next morning I stopped at the abandoned community near Santo Toribio (called Browning? or Bruno?). Anyway these guys, cattle ranch hands said even they didn't "live" there, they live in "town" and just come out to work with the cows. A few minutes later I came up on a bunch of guys doing something at a corral some distance off the road. My supposition was that it was Saturday, and all these guys came out in their trucks late last night to work with the cows over the weekend.
The ones that did pass my camp when the sun was up always tooted their horn and waved.
Ever since Santa Eulalia where Valdamar back in told me Ojinaga might be some 300 miles away, I'd been checking my progress. So far I'd been making some 20 mph, a rate that would take some 15 hours to reach Ojinaga. I was counting on the road improving once I reached Morelos, and being better on the west side of the Sierra del Carmens, at least part of the way, and I was prepared to ride at night from Presidio to Terlingua. Perhaps all somewhat unrealistic.
Well, the little jaunt backwards to fetch the lost belly bag wasn't supposed to happen. The whole round trip only cost me 45 min but it was screwing up my schedule.
Canyon El Colorado
At this intersection, some 18.7 miles from the last significant crossroads, I took the lesser road to the left.
After a few miles and a closed gate I came over a little pass and saw a town below at the base of a mountain.
That must be Morelos. Wrong.
Entering Escobedo, another ghost town
I found three men living here. With a sweep of the arm they told me Morelos was "mas adelante todavia". I needed to go back and "take the road to the left". Confused. I hadn't seen a road to the left.
Where are we, I asked?
They said a name I never did quite catch, it sounded like "Correo". Nothing of the sort was on my map. I dutifully turned back. The sweep of the arm indicated to me that Morelos was on the other side of the mountain. It wasn't long before I regretted not spending more time with these guys to fully understand the directions. The desert was so vast. Surley they didn’t mean for me to go back 5 ½ miles back over the pass.
But there was no other conclusion.
I was lost. Back on the main road I fumbled around, going back and forth down the road, trying to understand where I was on the map. A part of me wanted to just charge on down the road until I got someplace, but that “someplace” could mean to the north towards the Rio Grande, far from Morelos, and I was planning on gas in Morelos.
In a stroke of good fortune (I believe I have a Guardian Angel riding shotgun) a truck approached. I left the bike in the middle of the road. There was no way I was letting these guys by until I knew the directions to Morelos. The driver had two passengers in the cab of his pickup. He was very patient. He got out of the truck and drew me a map, complete with a picture of a hill with a black water tank on top of it.
And “Correro”, I asked?
"Don’t go the Correro."
Well I knew that.
Finally, after repeating the directions back to him from memory, I pulled out the topo. He pointed to La Rosita.
"La Rosita is here. We are at La Rosita," pointing to the earth at our feet.
"No, no," I found myself saying. "Rosita is back there."
And then I realized the absurdity of arguing with someone who lives here. It took a few seconds to get my mind around this premise.
And “Correo”?
"Correo is here, he pointed to Escobedo on the map."
Escobedo and “Correro” are the same place!?!!
A paradigm shift! I never knew if I had misunderstood the pronunciation of “Correro” or if Escobedo was really known by another name. It didn’t matter. A huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. I had based my position on false assumptions, and couldn’t get the map “to work”. I was trying to make it too hard. And the reality of it all. I had lost over 2 hours. What were the chances of me making it to Ojinaga without getting lost again? Slim! That would be all I needed, another fumble like this on the other side of the Sierra del Carmens in the late afternoon.
Down the road (todo derecho)to the next cattle guard, take a left at the cattle guard. That cattle guard intersection marks the end of the Canyon El Colorado, some 24 miles from crossroads to crossroads.
Back on track. A major landmark in this area. A white house at the base of the hill, with a black water tank on top of the hill.
The Sierra del Carmen range beyond the hills, extending south from Big Bend National Park
Well, the little jaunt backwards to fetch the lost belly bag wasn't supposed to happen. The whole round trip only cost me 45 min but it was screwing up my schedule.
Canyon El Colorado
At this intersection, some 18.7 miles from the last significant crossroads, I took the lesser road to the left.
After a few miles and a closed gate I came over a little pass and saw a town below at the base of a mountain.
That must be Morelos. Wrong.
Entering Escobedo, another ghost town
I found three men living here. With a sweep of the arm they told me Morelos was "mas adelante todavia". I needed to go back and "take the road to the left". Confused. I hadn't seen a road to the left.
Where are we, I asked?
They said a name I never did quite catch, it sounded like "Correo". Nothing of the sort was on my map. I dutifully turned back. The sweep of the arm indicated to me that Morelos was on the other side of the mountain. It wasn't long before I regretted not spending more time with these guys to fully understand the directions. The desert was so vast. Surley they didn’t mean for me to go back 5 ½ miles back over the pass.
But there was no other conclusion.
I was lost. Back on the main road I fumbled around, going back and forth down the road, trying to understand where I was on the map. A part of me wanted to just charge on down the road until I got someplace, but that “someplace” could mean to the north towards the Rio Grande, far from Morelos, and I was planning on gas in Morelos.
In a stroke of good fortune (I believe I have a Guardian Angel riding shotgun) a truck approached. I left the bike in the middle of the road. There was no way I was letting these guys by until I knew the directions to Morelos. The driver had two passengers in the cab of his pickup. He was very patient. He got out of the truck and drew me a map, complete with a picture of a hill with a black water tank on top of it.
And “Correro”, I asked?
"Don’t go the Correro."
Well I knew that.
Finally, after repeating the directions back to him from memory, I pulled out the topo. He pointed to La Rosita.
"La Rosita is here. We are at La Rosita," pointing to the earth at our feet.
"No, no," I found myself saying. "Rosita is back there."
And then I realized the absurdity of arguing with someone who lives here. It took a few seconds to get my mind around this premise.
And “Correo”?
"Correo is here, he pointed to Escobedo on the map."
Escobedo and “Correro” are the same place!?!!
A paradigm shift! I never knew if I had misunderstood the pronunciation of “Correro” or if Escobedo was really known by another name. It didn’t matter. A huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. I had based my position on false assumptions, and couldn’t get the map “to work”. I was trying to make it too hard. And the reality of it all. I had lost over 2 hours. What were the chances of me making it to Ojinaga without getting lost again? Slim! That would be all I needed, another fumble like this on the other side of the Sierra del Carmens in the late afternoon.
Down the road (todo derecho)to the next cattle guard, take a left at the cattle guard. That cattle guard intersection marks the end of the Canyon El Colorado, some 24 miles from crossroads to crossroads.
Back on track. A major landmark in this area. A white house at the base of the hill, with a black water tank on top of the hill.
The Sierra del Carmen range beyond the hills, extending south from Big Bend National Park
Another landmark. Cerro Conejo, the pyramidal mountain left of center marking Morelos.
The road to Morelos.
An actual road sign? The intersection of the Colorado Canyon road and the main road running north of Morelos to La Linda on the Rio Grande.
3 miles north of Morelos.
Approaching Morelos. Oh, no. Deserted?
Morelos, another ghost town? Well mostly. My morale takes a hit.
No wait, it that a store??
Yes, a store! I was starving and Senora Rodriguez served me up a hot plate of lentils with beef stew and tortillas, with a large portion of banana bread pudding. All right!
But it's 4pm, the warm part of the day has passed. I really need to be approacing Ojinaga about now. But no way that's gonna happen and Richard's group will be leaving Terlingua tomorrow morning.
And gasoline....??
The store in Morelos
Francisco and Valencio, Morelos
Cows and distinctive Cerro Conejo, looking south from the Rodriquez store.
The road to Morelos.
An actual road sign? The intersection of the Colorado Canyon road and the main road running north of Morelos to La Linda on the Rio Grande.
3 miles north of Morelos.
Approaching Morelos. Oh, no. Deserted?
Morelos, another ghost town? Well mostly. My morale takes a hit.
No wait, it that a store??
Yes, a store! I was starving and Senora Rodriguez served me up a hot plate of lentils with beef stew and tortillas, with a large portion of banana bread pudding. All right!
But it's 4pm, the warm part of the day has passed. I really need to be approacing Ojinaga about now. But no way that's gonna happen and Richard's group will be leaving Terlingua tomorrow morning.
And gasoline....??
The store in Morelos
Francisco and Valencio, Morelos
Cows and distinctive Cerro Conejo, looking south from the Rodriquez store.
Dahveed
0
Oh no, another cliff hanger ending. Did Milton ever make it out or is he posting from this little town?
jhansen
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I think you had a good time exploring instead of riding BB. Great pictures and words once again. 
JasonJ
0
this is great reading milton
Janet
0
My odometer read 128 miles since topping the DRZ's 2½ gallon tank in Santa Eulalia. (I'd wasted 35 miles in backtracking being lost and fetching luggage.) I had to be near empty. I carried an extra 1 gallon in an extra receptacle. Blanco Oro, the lady at the store, told me they usually had gas but not at the moment. ("Se cabó").
Not even 4 little liters?
She sent a son across the street and several houses away to ask at neighbor's, but they weren't at home.
Where are you going? Muzquiz?
Well, I had to face up to reality. Indeed, where was I going? I was pretty sure that the pueblo of Jaboncillos on the west side of the Sierra del Carmen's would have gas, and if not, surely Boquillas, across from Big Bend Park would. For some reason I felt sure I could reach both of those places with the gas I carried.
How far is it to Muzquiz? (a return to civilization) To my surprise, no one had a firm answer. OK, it was 4pm, if I headed for Jaboncillos I'd really be out on a limb, and for sure would spend another night out. And for what? All my friends would be leaving Terlingua tomorrow morning. Even if I did make it to Ojinaga (Sunday night, now) I'd be faced with riding the DRZ all the way back to Austin, which wasn't in the plan. Make for Boquillas tonight and cross the rio in BB Park near Rio Grande Village? That sounds exciting, but no, it was time to bail. Nice trip. Nice recon. Go to Muzquiz and head home tomorrow.
[Note: After researching the area more throughly, Jaboncillos looks to be some 68 miles from Morelos.]
Time to bail. The road south of Morelos leads right past the landmark, Conejo mountain
Sometimes you find gas in the most unlikely places. One of Sra. Rodriquez's sons led me to this spot on horseback.
This is the guy who lived in the little shack near Conejo, who drained 4 liters of gas out of a brand new generator for me but refused payment!
I know, I should've left some pesos in the truck or something.
El Tule range, 24 miles of hard pack 40mph road to pavement at Melon
Still more to come!
Not even 4 little liters?
She sent a son across the street and several houses away to ask at neighbor's, but they weren't at home.
Where are you going? Muzquiz?
Well, I had to face up to reality. Indeed, where was I going? I was pretty sure that the pueblo of Jaboncillos on the west side of the Sierra del Carmen's would have gas, and if not, surely Boquillas, across from Big Bend Park would. For some reason I felt sure I could reach both of those places with the gas I carried.
How far is it to Muzquiz? (a return to civilization) To my surprise, no one had a firm answer. OK, it was 4pm, if I headed for Jaboncillos I'd really be out on a limb, and for sure would spend another night out. And for what? All my friends would be leaving Terlingua tomorrow morning. Even if I did make it to Ojinaga (Sunday night, now) I'd be faced with riding the DRZ all the way back to Austin, which wasn't in the plan. Make for Boquillas tonight and cross the rio in BB Park near Rio Grande Village? That sounds exciting, but no, it was time to bail. Nice trip. Nice recon. Go to Muzquiz and head home tomorrow.
[Note: After researching the area more throughly, Jaboncillos looks to be some 68 miles from Morelos.]
Time to bail. The road south of Morelos leads right past the landmark, Conejo mountain
Sometimes you find gas in the most unlikely places. One of Sra. Rodriquez's sons led me to this spot on horseback.
This is the guy who lived in the little shack near Conejo, who drained 4 liters of gas out of a brand new generator for me but refused payment!
I know, I should've left some pesos in the truck or something.
El Tule range, 24 miles of hard pack 40mph road to pavement at Melon
Still more to come!
The place where the dirt road from La Linda and Morelos meets the asphalt is called Melon, after a nearby ranch. There is no town there, just a truckstop-style restaurant and..... a military control check point. Oh, drat, and me without papers. It's either turn right onto the asphalt away from the check point or turn left towards Muzquiz and the check point.
Reluctantly I approached the check point and its soldiers. Dang, this was like getting caught with my hand in the cookie jar. (I crossed the border at the Amistad dam, you'll remember, without doing any border formalities or paper work.) It may have been my imagination but they seemed fairly cautious as they motioned me to pull over and stop. It was cold, all of them were wearing ear muffs and scarves covering their faces. All I could see were eyes and guns.
Where are you coming from, coming from that way? La Linda?
La Linda's closed, isn't it?
Si.
I explained my route. They didn't quite understand. Where did I cross?
"Amistad. Amistad," I kept saying, which is the name of the dam and reservoir and also means "friendship" in Spanish.
Amistad.
Finally they asked to see my papers. I gave a deep shoulder heaving sigh. OK..... Dismounted, started taking my gear off, made a big show of looking for my papers, opened the belly bag that had lots of baggie-protected paper work. Before I could show them anything, they grew impatient and motioned me on.
Oh, go on, they motioned to me. Go on. "Aren't you cold?"
Mexico sin papeles, no problem.
The Melon to Muzquiz road is 90 miles of boring pavement, no stops, no breaks, nothing in between. It's built 26 inches off the desert floor with no shoulder, just an abrupt drop off. No way to exit the road. During my night time trip to Muzquiz my tank finally ran dry and I had to stop right in the lane of travel on the hwy, and unpack my bike enought to get to the gasoline container buried under my luggage. At least momentarily I had to take the key out of the ignition (turning off my lights) to open the gas cap. I was more than a little worried of being accidently struck by an oncoming car, keeping one eye on the traffic behind me as I hurried along.
Now while I was at this operation, two cars and a semi-trailer passed. (The semi was probably coming from the Encontada mine.) And of these three, two of them stopped to offer assistance. One of them was the semi, which took a long time to slow down and come up abreast with me.
Need any help?
Now, what would be your chances of that happening in the States??
In all, I clocked 115 miles from Morelos to Muzquiz. If I hadn't scored the 4 liters of gas outside Morelos, I never would've made it.
Reluctantly I approached the check point and its soldiers. Dang, this was like getting caught with my hand in the cookie jar. (I crossed the border at the Amistad dam, you'll remember, without doing any border formalities or paper work.) It may have been my imagination but they seemed fairly cautious as they motioned me to pull over and stop. It was cold, all of them were wearing ear muffs and scarves covering their faces. All I could see were eyes and guns.
Where are you coming from, coming from that way? La Linda?
La Linda's closed, isn't it?
Si.
I explained my route. They didn't quite understand. Where did I cross?
"Amistad. Amistad," I kept saying, which is the name of the dam and reservoir and also means "friendship" in Spanish.
Amistad.
Finally they asked to see my papers. I gave a deep shoulder heaving sigh. OK..... Dismounted, started taking my gear off, made a big show of looking for my papers, opened the belly bag that had lots of baggie-protected paper work. Before I could show them anything, they grew impatient and motioned me on.
Oh, go on, they motioned to me. Go on. "Aren't you cold?"
Mexico sin papeles, no problem.
The Melon to Muzquiz road is 90 miles of boring pavement, no stops, no breaks, nothing in between. It's built 26 inches off the desert floor with no shoulder, just an abrupt drop off. No way to exit the road. During my night time trip to Muzquiz my tank finally ran dry and I had to stop right in the lane of travel on the hwy, and unpack my bike enought to get to the gasoline container buried under my luggage. At least momentarily I had to take the key out of the ignition (turning off my lights) to open the gas cap. I was more than a little worried of being accidently struck by an oncoming car, keeping one eye on the traffic behind me as I hurried along.
Now while I was at this operation, two cars and a semi-trailer passed. (The semi was probably coming from the Encontada mine.) And of these three, two of them stopped to offer assistance. One of them was the semi, which took a long time to slow down and come up abreast with me.
Need any help?
Now, what would be your chances of that happening in the States??
In all, I clocked 115 miles from Morelos to Muzquiz. If I hadn't scored the 4 liters of gas outside Morelos, I never would've made it.
Dahveed
0
Between slim and none. Here in the US people might have called on their cell phones for the police or highway patrol to come and get you, but they never would have stopped. Why would they when that's the job of the government? In Mexico, the government doesn't do these sorts of things, so the people rely on each other.
Muzquiz, 9:30 pm Saturday night. I arrived in a foul mood, PO’d at the drunk in Melon who’d told me it was 120 km to Muzquiz. It was more like 145. That's 90 cold dark miles. It had been a long day. No hotels or motels were immediately apparent. I found my way to the central plaza, which didn’t have any either. It didn't even have a church, or one that I could see anyway. A cop directed me to the Sabino Gordo hotel (on Adolpho Romo street, a continuation of 5 de Mayo) but it looked a little over the top to me, on the edge of town with garden like grounds. (Researching it back at home it looks very affordable, 3 stars with prices starting at $31, only 9 rooms.) Here's the link.
OK, I was cranky. OK, I went the wrong way down a couple of one-way streets before I realized it. Now I’ve got the colored lights flashing behind me. It’s the state troopers, the guys in black with the combat boots, kinda like a SWAT team, they pile out of a pickup truck and surround me with questions from all sides.
“I.D.”, one demands.
Well, that’s encouraging, he didn’t ask for “papers”. Only “ID”. I fished out my passport and he disappeared with it back to the truck. One of them was bent over copying my license plate numbers. Another wanted to check my bags.
"You’re not from around here," I heard someone say.
"Occupation?"
“I’m just trying to find a hotel,” me trying to keep my cool.
“Hotel? The Sabino Gordo.”
They were impressed with my blinking SPOT transmitter. “What’s this?”
OK, bag check. Armas?
No, señor.
Drugas?
No, señor.
No armas?
At this point I was starting to feel playful. “Armas? What would I be doing with armas, señor?”
We opened a saddle bag, it was stuffed with bungy cords. A second one: oily shop rags and tools. Nothing exciting here.
In the end they led me thru town, yes, a police escort, to a modest hotel tucked among the back streets of Muzquiz, 200 pesos ($15) with a secure parking area. The manager kept a weary eye on me as I’d been delivered to his doorstep by the state police. I never saw the name of the place but it was at the corner of Menchaca and Xicotencatl.
Settled into hotel about 10pm. Hot water. Fajitas to go, from take-out down the street. What in the heck am I doing in Muzquiz, I kept asking myself??
Cold night, I slept in my sleeping bag.
OK, I was cranky. OK, I went the wrong way down a couple of one-way streets before I realized it. Now I’ve got the colored lights flashing behind me. It’s the state troopers, the guys in black with the combat boots, kinda like a SWAT team, they pile out of a pickup truck and surround me with questions from all sides.
“I.D.”, one demands.
Well, that’s encouraging, he didn’t ask for “papers”. Only “ID”. I fished out my passport and he disappeared with it back to the truck. One of them was bent over copying my license plate numbers. Another wanted to check my bags.
"You’re not from around here," I heard someone say.
"Occupation?"
“I’m just trying to find a hotel,” me trying to keep my cool.
“Hotel? The Sabino Gordo.”
They were impressed with my blinking SPOT transmitter. “What’s this?”
OK, bag check. Armas?
No, señor.
Drugas?
No, señor.
No armas?
At this point I was starting to feel playful. “Armas? What would I be doing with armas, señor?”
We opened a saddle bag, it was stuffed with bungy cords. A second one: oily shop rags and tools. Nothing exciting here.
In the end they led me thru town, yes, a police escort, to a modest hotel tucked among the back streets of Muzquiz, 200 pesos ($15) with a secure parking area. The manager kept a weary eye on me as I’d been delivered to his doorstep by the state police. I never saw the name of the place but it was at the corner of Menchaca and Xicotencatl.
Settled into hotel about 10pm. Hot water. Fajitas to go, from take-out down the street. What in the heck am I doing in Muzquiz, I kept asking myself??
Cold night, I slept in my sleeping bag.
Small World
Are we talking Melchor Muzquiz here?
My son's Univ of Texas roommate is from there
Are we talking Melchor Muzquiz here?
My son's Univ of Texas roommate is from there
Si señor. We talking Melchor Muzquiz here. I'll try to come up with some maps.
Maybe someone can teach me to use the gpsvisualizer with googleEarth?
You know, Richard, Roger, Scott and some others explored this area in 2007.
Maybe someone can teach me to use the gpsvisualizer with googleEarth?
Kool.
You know, Richard, Roger, Scott and some others explored this area in 2007.
Melchor Muzquiz
Historic Namesake of Muzquiz...
That is...if you're into history
That is...if you're into history
Sunday morning Feb 28, 2010.
Time to go home. Depart Muzquiz at 9am. Eagle Pass border 1½ hrs later. Very cold. Bucking a head wind.
30 mph head wind upon re-entering the States
I take the scenic route home. Eagle Pass to Uvalde.
North on Hwy 83 past Concan, Garner State Park, right at Leakey
Hwy 337 Leakey to Vanderpool, then on to Medina.
Hello, Texas Hill Country.
Hwy 337 and the Medina Valley
Camp Verde, Center Point, Comfort. All the bros and sisters were out on their Harley’s. And I’m loving my DRZ.
Sisterdale, Kendalia, Blanco,
Dripping Springs, Driftwood, and I’m home.
410 miles today, 10 hours.
Time to go home. Depart Muzquiz at 9am. Eagle Pass border 1½ hrs later. Very cold. Bucking a head wind.
30 mph head wind upon re-entering the States
I take the scenic route home. Eagle Pass to Uvalde.
North on Hwy 83 past Concan, Garner State Park, right at Leakey
Hwy 337 Leakey to Vanderpool, then on to Medina.
Hello, Texas Hill Country.
Hwy 337 and the Medina Valley
Camp Verde, Center Point, Comfort. All the bros and sisters were out on their Harley’s. And I’m loving my DRZ.
Sisterdale, Kendalia, Blanco,
Dripping Springs, Driftwood, and I’m home.
410 miles today, 10 hours.
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Milton,
Excellent story and great pics, as always. Thanks for sharing!
Excellent story and great pics, as always. Thanks for sharing!