A Parking Whee Will Go....
The past weekend was a wonderful respite from the cold and general busy-ness. Screw the cold. Wore several layers of long johns and stuffed overnight clothes and things into the panniers and duffel bag and rode into town for the weekend. Warmed my hands over the burners of the propane stove at my friend's place after I got off the bike.
Had a wonderful dinner at the Starlight visiting with local friends. Since I make it into town only once/week, these brief social gatherings are so much richer and wonderful. But usually after a day or so, I can't wait to get back to my mountainside and the quiet solace up north. This past weekend was exceptionally enjoyable!!
The next morning I rode up to the Farmer's Market at the Terlingua Community Garden. I was surprised to see the huge turnout! The excellent music combined with the sun and warmer temperatures to bring many people out of the desert and into town.
One of June's protein bars was my breakfast and I sat between Deb's table (from GSMMOTORENT) and India's table chatting with them and whomever wandered by. India may not have her restaurant anymore, but her excellent food can still be had at the Market. And June's baked goods sells out within the first two hours; her breads and pastries are well known and liked in town.
After visiting with folks, I geared back up to go for a Mental Health Ride in the Park. Besides, I needed to renew my annual National All Parks pass. Kinda funny when you know all the rangers at the entrances on a first name basis.
"How ya doing, Mary? Been busy today?"
"Not too bad, but it will pick up soon enough! Lovely day, isn't it?"
Picking up the speed and tempo, the Whee and I rode the Scenic Drive. Wasn't sure where I was going, but something called me south. The warmth of the river basin, perhaps? The colors of the tuft and ash? The gentle twists in the pavement and the undulating hills? The towering craggy mountains?
Probably all of that. And more.
One of my favorite pull-offs whispered a greeting and I pulled in to an empty parking lot. This bluff offers an amazing view over the tops of several mesas, down to the river, a sneak preview of the that slit in the plateaus and that separates one country from the other.
And there is a mountain on my seat!!
In another direction, I could see the Christmas Mountains and even the top of the mountain, where, at the base, I hope to be living in the near future. There's Santiago Mnt, too! Seems you can see forever from up here. But most of all, it's the quietness of that expanse that sometimes leaves you awestruck.
An older couple drove in to the lot in their little car. Smiles and nods; that's all that was needed. I changed the battery in my little Kodak video camera to find that the spare was dead, too. After chastising myself, I just shrugged; no more photos this ride.
I headed back south, hugging the road and switching my weight side to side with the curves. It felt like music in motion.
Castolon came into view and I realized I was thirsty. It certainly was warmer closer to the river. I bet the store had some nice cold iced tea!
Seemed I was the only person there. Even the store clerk was out judging by the sign on the door. Except for the truck, no other vehicles were around and I was the only human. For awhile.
It didn't take long before other people began arriving. A couple cars, a tourist van, and finally the store clerk. After picking out an iced tea and a small bag of crackers, I chatted with the clerk for a bit. Then sat at the picnic table, boots off, and enjoyed the warmth while reading a book I had stashed and quenching my thirst.
I took a stroll to the south end of the parking area when I remembered I had my iPad with me. Which has a camera! Better than nothing, I thought, to satisfy this compulsion to capture some of the scenes around me.
And the photos are quick to upload When I uploaded these few to my FaceBook page, a friend in El Paso, Federico Villalba, commented on the photo below. "That was Casa Albino. My father was born in that home, where the midwife often delivered babies to parents in the area." Another connection between the history of this immediate area and people that I know.
The grandparents of Toño Franco, another friend, were born and lived in La Coyota, one of the first small settlements along the river, and about 2 miles or so down the park road. Two of the descendents of Federico Villalba, one of the most influential and largest landowners of the land that would later become Terlingua and the National Park are my good friends. They have enriched my knowledge and connections to this area in many ways that most visitors don't have access to: the Mexican contributions to Big Bend.
Also, I have heard many stories from another connection, a Chihuahuan Mestizo of old Spanish and Tarahumara/Apache blood. Although Alfredo doesn't speak English, my good friend speaks fluent Spanish and translates his stories. And Alfredo is always so happy to speak to a Gringo that speaks and understands colloquial Mexican.
These people expand my perspectives and appreciation of this area in ways that all the informational displays and guide books lack. They share with me their personal connections, which deepens my own. I am grateful to listen to the Silent Voices of a people who were here long before the Euro-Americans came and flooded the region. Thier presence remains, as do their descendents. And I am honored and humbled to call them my friends.
After returning to town, I pulled in to visit with Dan and Deb Dickie, the folks here from Tennessee and renting out several motorcycles to visiting riders. We had some wine and chatted, then wandered over to the BB Motor Inn Store for some ice cream.
It was time to head back north soon. And, as usual, smiles and sighs of homecoming accompanied me on my ride home. After unpacking the bike and slipping into some comfy clothes, I enjoyed the remaining warmth with dinner and a wine cooler outside.
I love sitting outside here where the rich diversity of plant and animal life soothes any residual stress. Gone are the town noise, the vehicles, the lights, the rush, and dust. Here the mountains sooth me. And I love where I am.
And the moon jumped over the DR, welcoming it home from its long absence!
The past weekend was a wonderful respite from the cold and general busy-ness. Screw the cold. Wore several layers of long johns and stuffed overnight clothes and things into the panniers and duffel bag and rode into town for the weekend. Warmed my hands over the burners of the propane stove at my friend's place after I got off the bike.
Had a wonderful dinner at the Starlight visiting with local friends. Since I make it into town only once/week, these brief social gatherings are so much richer and wonderful. But usually after a day or so, I can't wait to get back to my mountainside and the quiet solace up north. This past weekend was exceptionally enjoyable!!
The next morning I rode up to the Farmer's Market at the Terlingua Community Garden. I was surprised to see the huge turnout! The excellent music combined with the sun and warmer temperatures to bring many people out of the desert and into town.
After visiting with folks, I geared back up to go for a Mental Health Ride in the Park. Besides, I needed to renew my annual National All Parks pass. Kinda funny when you know all the rangers at the entrances on a first name basis.
"How ya doing, Mary? Been busy today?"
"Not too bad, but it will pick up soon enough! Lovely day, isn't it?"
Picking up the speed and tempo, the Whee and I rode the Scenic Drive. Wasn't sure where I was going, but something called me south. The warmth of the river basin, perhaps? The colors of the tuft and ash? The gentle twists in the pavement and the undulating hills? The towering craggy mountains?
Probably all of that. And more.
One of my favorite pull-offs whispered a greeting and I pulled in to an empty parking lot. This bluff offers an amazing view over the tops of several mesas, down to the river, a sneak preview of the that slit in the plateaus and that separates one country from the other.
And there is a mountain on my seat!!
In another direction, I could see the Christmas Mountains and even the top of the mountain, where, at the base, I hope to be living in the near future. There's Santiago Mnt, too! Seems you can see forever from up here. But most of all, it's the quietness of that expanse that sometimes leaves you awestruck.
An older couple drove in to the lot in their little car. Smiles and nods; that's all that was needed. I changed the battery in my little Kodak video camera to find that the spare was dead, too. After chastising myself, I just shrugged; no more photos this ride.
I headed back south, hugging the road and switching my weight side to side with the curves. It felt like music in motion.
Castolon came into view and I realized I was thirsty. It certainly was warmer closer to the river. I bet the store had some nice cold iced tea!
Seemed I was the only person there. Even the store clerk was out judging by the sign on the door. Except for the truck, no other vehicles were around and I was the only human. For awhile.
It didn't take long before other people began arriving. A couple cars, a tourist van, and finally the store clerk. After picking out an iced tea and a small bag of crackers, I chatted with the clerk for a bit. Then sat at the picnic table, boots off, and enjoyed the warmth while reading a book I had stashed and quenching my thirst.
I took a stroll to the south end of the parking area when I remembered I had my iPad with me. Which has a camera! Better than nothing, I thought, to satisfy this compulsion to capture some of the scenes around me.
And the photos are quick to upload When I uploaded these few to my FaceBook page, a friend in El Paso, Federico Villalba, commented on the photo below. "That was Casa Albino. My father was born in that home, where the midwife often delivered babies to parents in the area." Another connection between the history of this immediate area and people that I know.
The grandparents of Toño Franco, another friend, were born and lived in La Coyota, one of the first small settlements along the river, and about 2 miles or so down the park road. Two of the descendents of Federico Villalba, one of the most influential and largest landowners of the land that would later become Terlingua and the National Park are my good friends. They have enriched my knowledge and connections to this area in many ways that most visitors don't have access to: the Mexican contributions to Big Bend.
Also, I have heard many stories from another connection, a Chihuahuan Mestizo of old Spanish and Tarahumara/Apache blood. Although Alfredo doesn't speak English, my good friend speaks fluent Spanish and translates his stories. And Alfredo is always so happy to speak to a Gringo that speaks and understands colloquial Mexican.
These people expand my perspectives and appreciation of this area in ways that all the informational displays and guide books lack. They share with me their personal connections, which deepens my own. I am grateful to listen to the Silent Voices of a people who were here long before the Euro-Americans came and flooded the region. Thier presence remains, as do their descendents. And I am honored and humbled to call them my friends.
After returning to town, I pulled in to visit with Dan and Deb Dickie, the folks here from Tennessee and renting out several motorcycles to visiting riders. We had some wine and chatted, then wandered over to the BB Motor Inn Store for some ice cream.
It was time to head back north soon. And, as usual, smiles and sighs of homecoming accompanied me on my ride home. After unpacking the bike and slipping into some comfy clothes, I enjoyed the remaining warmth with dinner and a wine cooler outside.
I love sitting outside here where the rich diversity of plant and animal life soothes any residual stress. Gone are the town noise, the vehicles, the lights, the rush, and dust. Here the mountains sooth me. And I love where I am.
And the moon jumped over the DR, welcoming it home from its long absence!