I was well aware of the potential for a wet ride, but to be quite honest the roads were much wetter and the mud holes were much more plentiful than I had anticipated. It was a beautiful, grueling, dirty thing. It was truly epic.
Day One
I ended up riding with MuddMissile, Stingray, DannyBoy, Dustycajunsr, and DLDR, and it was a good crew. It's cool when a group gels, and we did. I ended up leading so I stayed out of the little dust that was kicked up, and I kept a pretty good pace. Waiting at corners was kept to a minimum, but I swear these guys have to pee more than my wife on a road trip.
I was set on riding as much of the track as I could. When we got to 2565 it got a little dicey, but I wanted to power through. I cross-rutted and fell softly in water somewhere along here. The crew thought better of it so we agreed to meet on the other side of the re-route. I made it to where I thought they would be (I do love this little stretch of road) and as they hadn't shown up after I changed my gloves, I circled around the route I thought they had taken. I didn't find them. I called Scott and the group was a little ways down the track and waiting at the next gas station. Oops. I took off down the track and had the pleasure of riding 2565 a second time! It wasn't long before I was gassing up and we were back on the route.
Before long we came to a long stretch of deep clay that had stopped the groups ahead of us. Again, after consulting my group, I throttled through and we met down the road. That one was just about keeping balance and momentum and not touching the clutch. These are the reasons I love a featherweight bike! To heck with comfort!
By the time we met up I had fallen softly again in water. It rinsed the mud from my right side and added some to my left. I only had one set of gloves remaining. I would have to be careful from here on out. Ha!
We came to a washed out bridge and there was a path around. I picked a line and went for it, only to have my front tire bury itself in a hole. I sort of fell over, but my gloves stayed dry. I was fine with that outcome. A new line was picked and the crew powered though.
We ate at a BBQ spot in Hemphill and it was very good. As soon as we were done we scooted on down the road.
The things that can slow down a ride are thus: Bad or very slow riders, too many riders, mechanicals, and injuries. We had good riders that kept a decent pace, in the right quantity, and no injuries, but...
I'm not sure exactly where it happened, but MuddMissile had a rear flat from a nail. We all got to work and we were on the road in less than 30 minutes, but almost at the next corner the new tube failed. We never figured out what caused this one, but the tools flew out, the tire thoroughly checked with a rag, and a new tube was installed. Edwin had used his spare 18" tube so Scott pulled out his spare and donated it to the cause. This tube was not ready for it's moment in the limelight and we could not get the bead to seat. In hindsight I believe that the pump was not latched onto the stem properly, but that was not to time to figure it out. I whipped out my rear spare and we got to work. A short time later we were back on the road. This tube split on the spoke side in under an hour, so we got to work and gave our only remaining tube, the one with stagefright, a second chance at stardom. It did it's job splendidly, quietly, and under the radar. After four flats we had a winner, but our time table was blown.
At the last tube change Dustycajunsr notified us that he had switched to reserve 20 miles earlier. I offered fuel from the buxom bosom of my beautiful mistress, but he declined. At that point he onloaded the 32oz of spare fuel he was carrying. Approaching the last section before Center, I recommended that he should skip this section of dirt and slab it to the closest gas station and we would meet him there. I wish I hadn't. Did I mention that his phone was dead and the charger not working? Jerome took of one way and we took off another. When we got to Center and filled up he was nowhere to be seen. I tried to call him but it went to voicemail. He lives close by, in Garrison, so I thought he might have skipped home. I called his wife and she hadn't heard from him but knew that he planned to stop at his house.
By now it was 6pm. The group remaining decided to slab to Rusk to enjoy dinner and beer, but I'm a stubborn coot and wanted to ride the rest of the route. While it looked like I would finish too late for dinner, I have good lights, don't mind riding by myself, and know a little bit about riding in the dark. We said our 'see you laters' and I started burning the track into the ground.
A few miles down the road Jerome's wife called and I answered on my headset. He had run out of gas on the way to Center. She was going to pick him up. He was safe but I felt like a jerk. If we had stayed together I would siphoned some of my gas on the side of the road and saved the day. I'm sorry I suggested splitting up with that potential hanging over his head. Lesson learned.
For the last hundred miles I had cranked up the speed, racing nothing but the sun. The sun won with 30 miles left to go. My lights came on and I slowed down, but I rode every foot of the first day's track and arrived at the hotel at 9:10pm.
Food and a couple beers was followed immediately by a shower and sleep.
Day one was in the books.