Here’s an approximate representation of our route on a Google Map. Each letter shows our daily progress. Fun to see it layed out now that we’ve done it.

Spent much of this morning’s ride thinking about the bicycle journey across the southern tier of United States (admittedly in two sections). Beyond the initial fun planning and organizing the ride itself, beyond the training and psyching yourself up, more than the chance to see new country, interesting places and “slices of life” – is the challenge and adventure.

Challenge and adventure seem hard to differentiate. Adventure is the challenge and the challenge is the adventure. Challenge, for me, is not just learning if you can do it, endure it, complete it, but also be happy you took it on in the first place. Was it a worthwhile task, effort or experience, rather than just something to say you did or check off the list? Adventure is discovery, not knowing, figuring out, solving, experiencing what’s unfamiliar. Stanna often quotes the parable, “the trouble with learning by experience is the test comes first.” I’d submit that the challenge or adventure comes first as well.

Obviously, cycling across the US isn’t experiencing the great unknown. This second half has been more comfortable in terms of lodging and food options (thanks to Jean meeting us every night with a car), but it still meets my criteria for adventure and challenge. I’ve learned that it wasn’t so bad cycling across the desert; that temps over a 100 weren’t that bad if you are moving; that consecutive days of cycling distances under a 100 miles eventually add up to crossing states; that bad roads eventually turn good; that uphills always go back down; and that people manage to live anywhere and everywhere.

What’s great about long distance cycling is that, like passage-making, your mind wanders and trips-off on visual clues. You can think about lots of things or nothing. You can focus on the road, the hill, the cadence, or your own heartbeat. Like looking out a train window, you can experience those “slices of life”, and make-up scenarios to fit the images. I’m not sure what metaphysical or Zen experiences are, but the rhythm and pace of distance cycling must also produce some sort of endorphic high.

Somehow I’d like to fit in the axiom, “how many summers do you have left”, but I’m bent on not wasting mine. Tomorrow, we’ll be in Austin where three years ago I left for St. Augustine, Florida, for the first leg of this adventure. I look forward to the next long ride, but more than anything, to be able to still have another adventure and challenge.

I’d resolved to say some good things about Texas, even before I got feedback about Bubba Bellies and their shirttails. Not all Texans are obese, the Trash Cowboy wasn’t and today I saw a couple more that weren’t.

But on the positive side: most the highways have 8-10′ shoulders, there is far less roadside litter than New Mexico. We know and saw more evidence today that Texas is the largest producer of wind energy in the US. Drivers and truckers especially are very respectful of bicycles on the highway. The AT&T cell network has worked much better than in Colorado. I’m sure there is more, just doesn’t come to mind with our limited perspective of cycling highways, eating out and staying in a different motel each night.

From the lead photo you see that it’s not all work. We’ve had 3 pools and 2 hot tubs and one of them was warm enough to get into. This pool shows Ivan soaking his feet and checking to see if his A-Fib is at bay (not a single occurrence since the one that put him the hospital two weeks ago).

Two more days to go for me and I close the track in Austin, thereby completing a cycle across the Southern Tier of the US, albeit in two sections, three years apart.

Texas finally got to me today. I have been ignoring a number of things but today the straw broke the camel’s back. I’ve been trying to ignore the virtual army of US border patrol vehicles parading back-and-forth hour after hour in a charade of defense and strength. I put little import in Alpine to the comment the bike shop owner said about 47% of locals being on some sort of dole. I’ve looked the other way with all the Bubba’s who have their shirts outside their pants because they can’t keep them tucked in or around their seemingly pregnant bellies. Or the numerous businesses that only accept cash (but do collect tax from you – they just don’t pass it on to the the gub’ment). Or the pickup loads of bagged “deer corn” so that they can salt and chum around their hunting blinds. They feed the deer, which become like livestock – which they then hunt as wild game.

But while we are at a historic marker rest stop, a Marlboro Man driving a brand-new shiny. king cab four-wheel-drive pickup, steps out of his truck, with his Wrangler jeans hiked up around his waist, a crisp long-sleeve button-down one-tone muted pink oxford shirt and sporting a white cowboy hat, looks furtively around and reaches into the bed of his pickup – takes a bag of household garbage and calmly places it next to the highway department litter trashcan with a sign above it saying “no household garbage – thousand dollars fine payable.” He looks around again before stepping back into his fancy truck, and drives off..

I guess he just forgot to give that bag of trash to his kids before they got on the school bus today, so they can drop it off at school. Just why does this modern Texas cowboy (and the 10 other households of trash stacked around the litter barrel), think they have the right to place trash so that the highway department needs to deal with it? Or worse, if the bag breaks open, then all the nice “adopt a highway” folks need to go around picking up after them. Is this why all the rest stops looks like trash transfer stations?

Maybe it was just the road conditions that sent me reeling. I spent over an hour trying to figure out why Texas can’t afford oil or asphalt to go along with the grit they spread on the highway. It can’t be good for the tires and this kind of roadway is the noisiest I’ve heard. Ivan, behind me, sounds like a passenger car; pickups like tractor trailers. The smoothest part of the highway is the narrow white line and that’s hard to ride true.

We’re currently in Bracketville at a former military outpost – Fork Clark – now transformed into a golf resort/RV park and motel. There are nicely preserved grounds and officer’s barracks that have been converted into motel rooms. Very comfortable and picturesque.

We finally met a west-bound cyclist named Pete, who was 32 days out of Jeckel Island, Georgia. Traveling on a Surly Long Haul fitted with all around Ortlieb panniers and a total weight of 35 pounds. He’s averaging just over 50 miles a day depending on towns, water and food. It was fun to pass on tips about the route from San Diego and learn of an alternate route into Austin.

We got an early start out of Sanderson which afforded the above view of the sun rising out of the scrub bushes. Not the great tailwind we had yesterday, only 7 out of the north which helped. We needed the help too, because the road turned to 18 grit surface, which for those who’ve never “wooded” a boat bottom or stripped fiberglass off a boat bottom to fix blistering, it’s like pebbles on a sanding belt. For the first time ever I started to be concerned for the tread on the tires, which reminds me, I should go check.

By mid-morning we were in much greener low rolling country just off the Rio Grande and a stones throw from Mexico, where the Purple Sage is in full bloom. We also traveled thru the Silver Spike location where the east and west railroads met up completing the southern rail link across the states. Seems the big challenge was spanning the Pecos River which according to the Historical Marker took $250,000 in 1864.

Photo is of the highway bridge just south of the railroad bridge location. Mileage was again over 90 but only 5,200 calories. We’re just 30 miles north of Del Rio, Texas where we turn toward San Antonio.

Interesting day after our lay day of rain in Alpine, Texas. Determined to get back on the road and with the Doppler radar showing no rain in the immediate vicinity, we headed out shortly before light on the pooled and puddled town streets. You could feel, but not see, the water coming up off the tires, as west Texas towns don’t have storm drainage or even grading for run-off. Guess they just wait for it to evaporate.

Just as the natural light turned up,so did the clouds come down. We must have ridden in wet misty clouds for a couple of hours. If we’d been driving at higher speeds you’d have to call it a dense fog. It was actually okay, because we soon picked up a strong tail-wind that gusted to more than 15 knots. This old highway used to be the main highway between El Paso and San Antonio, but since they built I- 10 traffic, as well as the towns has virtually disappeared. We probably saw less than four vehicles in the first couple of hours. One of those was a local Sheriff making his patrol some 30 miles from our start. Only reason I mention him was that I was doing about 36 MPH down the middle of the south bound lane in a tuck, just to see how fast the wind would let me go on that flat deserted highway. No indication from him I was a bother, then or either of the two times he passed us in the next hour.

The other notable milestone was that we passed the 1,000 mile mark on our Southern Tier tour, but who’s counting. I took this panorama photo (new iOS 6 photo feature) when Ivan’s cycle computer turned 1,000 miles.

We’ve bivouacked in a highway junction town of Sanderson, where almost everything has moved on. Most every store front has a Closed sign posted and we’re lucky there are still two motels and a Cuba, New Mexico style gas and convenience store for food. Dinner and provisioning for the next 90+ mile day takes imagination.