Chapter 5 Texas - Del Rio to Austin
We were once again on our bikes and riding out of Del Rio. So far we had pedaled about 800 miles, hitchbiked several hundred and driven around 300 hundred miles. Rte. 90 had heavy, fast moving traffic which passed through Bracketville, the next town, about 30 miles away. The main store in Bracketville was a general store and we stopped to gathered information about the town. We found out about a campground at Fort Clark, located, of course, up on a hill outside of town. We pedaled up the hill and through the entrance gates of Fort Clark and were welcomed by a man sitting in a small building who was also helping other visitors. He gave us directions to the campground and we pedaled some more, uphill. The campground was occupied solely by RVs and had a small tenting area off to the side next to a wooded area. Everyone at Fort Clark was so nice, frightfully so. Each person we spoke to told us how much it loved living there and what a fantastic place it was. After setting up we walked through the woods to the clubhouse and met some more residents of the Fort. Mary and I were still trying to figure out what exactly Fort Clark was. We knew it was a historical fort, however, we had also seen sections of regular houses, groups of mobile homes, an area of condominiums, and the camp ground. There was also a golf course, a community center, a movie theater and a café. All of these different entities were contained within the area of Fort Clark. The waitress at the club house provided clarity to our question by sharing with us that the different parts of Fort Clark are, in a sense, small villages where the residents are willingly segregated into groups of people with similar lifestyles. The next morning started out with a $4.00 all you can eat pancake breakfast at the campground’s community building. The ‘come and get it’ bell started ringing at 7 AM and continued periodically throughout our time there. Mary and I ate our fill and then some!
Leaving Fort Kent that morning it didn’t take long to glide down the hill to the center of town where we held up our sign, Camp Wood. The narrow backroads that weave their way through this area are a favorite place to test ride fast cars and motorcycles and we decided we were much too slow to compete for the lanes. Traffic was light and we stood waiting for about 45 minutes when a man in a pickup pulled over to tell us we were standing in the wrong place to get ride and he told us where to move our operation. This was another lucky break since we then passed by an organic vegetable stand and were able to pick up some healthy and delicious foods. When we arrived at our new hitchbiking spot we discovered that here the traffic to Camp Wood was almost nonexistent, about every ten minutes or so a car or truck would turn towards our destination. Mary and I had developed a system of counting hitchbiking vehicles (HVs). For example, after five HVs go by it is the other persons turn to hold the sign, or after ten HVs we should reassess our situation. You really have to wonder about us, there we were, over sixty years old and standing on the side of the road with a sign asking for a ride and developing a HV counting system! Finally a retired border patrolman pulled over and then dropped us off about 18 miles from Camp Wood. Now the road had nice wide shoulders putting us at ease as we rode to the town. After surveying the town we headed to the motel that we had reserved, one of the cheapest one on our whole trip. The instructions over the phone were to go to Room Two, it will be open so just walk in, and, the payment would need to be in cash. The overgrown, pothole filled driveway headed through woods and when we arrived we discovered we were the only guests. Mary said that this scenario reminded her of a scary movie. After settling in, a woman knocked on the door and she explained that the owner was out of town and she was there to collect the money. After we paid up and she left I went to use the sink and the handle to the faucet fell off and then we found the shower’s water flow was just a dribble. As I have said, I seem to enjoy complaining; however there was no one to complain to except Mary. She cut me right off and reminded me how excited I was to get the cheapest room on the trip and perhaps I should just be thankful we were not settling into our tent, fighting the cold and wind.
We were once again on our bikes and riding out of Del Rio. So far we had pedaled about 800 miles, hitchbiked several hundred and driven around 300 hundred miles. Rte. 90 had heavy, fast moving traffic which passed through Bracketville, the next town, about 30 miles away. The main store in Bracketville was a general store and we stopped to gathered information about the town. We found out about a campground at Fort Clark, located, of course, up on a hill outside of town. We pedaled up the hill and through the entrance gates of Fort Clark and were welcomed by a man sitting in a small building who was also helping other visitors. He gave us directions to the campground and we pedaled some more, uphill. The campground was occupied solely by RVs and had a small tenting area off to the side next to a wooded area. Everyone at Fort Clark was so nice, frightfully so. Each person we spoke to told us how much it loved living there and what a fantastic place it was. After setting up we walked through the woods to the clubhouse and met some more residents of the Fort. Mary and I were still trying to figure out what exactly Fort Clark was. We knew it was a historical fort, however, we had also seen sections of regular houses, groups of mobile homes, an area of condominiums, and the camp ground. There was also a golf course, a community center, a movie theater and a café. All of these different entities were contained within the area of Fort Clark. The waitress at the club house provided clarity to our question by sharing with us that the different parts of Fort Clark are, in a sense, small villages where the residents are willingly segregated into groups of people with similar lifestyles. The next morning started out with a $4.00 all you can eat pancake breakfast at the campground’s community building. The ‘come and get it’ bell started ringing at 7 AM and continued periodically throughout our time there. Mary and I ate our fill and then some!
Leaving Fort Kent that morning it didn’t take long to glide down the hill to the center of town where we held up our sign, Camp Wood. The narrow backroads that weave their way through this area are a favorite place to test ride fast cars and motorcycles and we decided we were much too slow to compete for the lanes. Traffic was light and we stood waiting for about 45 minutes when a man in a pickup pulled over to tell us we were standing in the wrong place to get ride and he told us where to move our operation. This was another lucky break since we then passed by an organic vegetable stand and were able to pick up some healthy and delicious foods. When we arrived at our new hitchbiking spot we discovered that here the traffic to Camp Wood was almost nonexistent, about every ten minutes or so a car or truck would turn towards our destination. Mary and I had developed a system of counting hitchbiking vehicles (HVs). For example, after five HVs go by it is the other persons turn to hold the sign, or after ten HVs we should reassess our situation. You really have to wonder about us, there we were, over sixty years old and standing on the side of the road with a sign asking for a ride and developing a HV counting system! Finally a retired border patrolman pulled over and then dropped us off about 18 miles from Camp Wood. Now the road had nice wide shoulders putting us at ease as we rode to the town. After surveying the town we headed to the motel that we had reserved, one of the cheapest one on our whole trip. The instructions over the phone were to go to Room Two, it will be open so just walk in, and, the payment would need to be in cash. The overgrown, pothole filled driveway headed through woods and when we arrived we discovered we were the only guests. Mary said that this scenario reminded her of a scary movie. After settling in, a woman knocked on the door and she explained that the owner was out of town and she was there to collect the money. After we paid up and she left I went to use the sink and the handle to the faucet fell off and then we found the shower’s water flow was just a dribble. As I have said, I seem to enjoy complaining; however there was no one to complain to except Mary. She cut me right off and reminded me how excited I was to get the cheapest room on the trip and perhaps I should just be thankful we were not settling into our tent, fighting the cold and wind.
One of many old buildings at Fort Clark
|
Hitchbiking to Camp Wood
|
Camp Wood was the beginning of the Hill Country of Texas and the road out of town was another winding road with fast moving cars. Once again we made a sign and found our spot for hitchbiking. We were just about to hold up our sign when Martinez pulled over and said, “This is your lucky day”. We loaded the bikes into the back of his truck and hopped in. Martinez was a local housebuilder who was born in Mexico and has lived in the US since 1961. He pointed out one the houses he built while we were traveling along the mountainous road sharing stories and political viewpoints. His main concern was that government handouts were ruining our country. He thought that if the government had to be involved in handing out money that there were plenty of things that needed to be done in our country and maybe we should revitalize the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) of the 1930’s. If people had to work for their money then perhaps it would be an incentive to look for a better paying job.
We were dropped off about 30 miles from Kerrville, our destination for the day. It was bitter cold with a strong headwind so we made a sign that read, “Need a Ride” and hung it on the back of Mary’s bike as we kept riding. We were both skeptical about hitchbiking while riding but with so little traffic and the fact we had to keep moving to stay warm, we had no choice. A car drove by with an empty bike rack and Mary yelled back to me, “They had a bike rack”. Several minutes went by and then we saw that the car had turned around and pulled off onto an open area on our side of the road. “Do you need a ride”? Dan and Jacob had been hiking and camping in the Lost Maple State Park and were going to Kerrville. They helped us load the bikes and off we went. We had a great conversation in the car and during lunch in Kerrville where we gained insight into the Texas Hill Country. Dan and Jacob had biology and backpacking backgrounds and had a lot of information and one of the complex topics we delved into was that the geology, plant life, and animal life lived in balance; all working together to fight off disease with not one sector using too many resources, which would upset the balance.. In this part of Texas limestone lines many of the creeks bottoms and provides the environment for certain plants to thrive while others decline in health which allows healthier plants to fill in the environment. In other words, the water was supplying the minerals to these plants and animals that they need not only to just live but to thrive. It was great to connect with people with common interests.
There was no tent camping in Kerrville and it was still frigid so it was another night in a motel. On the train out to Los Angeles, a bicycle tourer gave us some advice, “On your trip take half as much stuff and twice as much money.” At this point in the adventure Mary and I were finding this to be true. This motel stop was my chance to really relax and to make a Facebook Christmas card. I took out my colored pencils, drew the design, then took a picture of it and sent it out. Especially at this time of the year we were missing everyone back home.
The next day, we rode to Fredericksburg, a tourist town surrounded by wineries, where we stayed in yet another motel due to the temperature and winds. When we were in Big Bend we thought the cold spell was over but another one worked its way in. In the morning we started down 1631 Farm Road. I guess the people of Texas got tired of thinking of names for all the roads in such a huge state and now many of the roads were just numbers. It was a fantastic day, the cold spell had moved on and it was warm and sunny as we made our way up and down through the hills heading to Johnson City where the late President Lyndon Johnson resided when growing up. Outside of town we had to bicycle for 2 miles on Rte. 281 a very busy and stressful ride. In the center of town there was a brew pub, the sort of spot we’ve always found to be a great place to gather information, so we locked the bikes and walked in. As we sipped our beers we received the directions that we needed and then the waitress told us about a display of Christmas lights in town. When we rode up to the display on our bicycles we witnessed an incredibly beautiful sight of trees completely covered in lights. The display was set up by the local electric company and viewing it I had such mixed feelings. The thousands of lights really got my throughput hairs standing on end, yet at the same time I appreciated talking with some of the people there and seeing everyone enjoying the lights. It was totally dark by now so we turned on our bicycle lights and rode to a RV campground for the night. Often it was hard finding campgrounds that allowed tents. When did it happen that as a culture we defined camping as only in a RV? Since we were finding only a few RV campgrounds that allowed tents we learned fast that we had to call ahead to see if they would accommodate us. In the RV campgrounds we visited that did allow tents the RVs tended to be smaller and frequently as soon as we pulled in people walked up and wanted to share their stories, as well as hearing ours. In this campground, the RVs were definitely smaller; unfortunately we arrived late, left early and didn’t meet anyone, however in subsequent campgrounds the conversations started easily.
The Facebook Christmas Card
|
Christmas lights in Johnson City
|
We foresaw the next day as an easy one. In fact when I was describing it to Mary I said, “It’s kinda like a day off”. We began the day on a road with an interesting name, Farm Road 2766 which would take us through more of the ups, downs, and arounds of the Hill Country and to the Pedernales State Park only 9 miles away. What was so great was the camping was only $10. The road into the park was a few miles further than we thought and when we reached the Pedernales Park road, we found out the visitor’s center was 4 more miles through the Hill Country. After the roller coaster ride, the visitor’s center was a welcomed sight and we went to the office to find out that campsites were actually $20.00 and there was a $5.00 fee per person fee to get into the park, making our site costing $30.00 instead of $10.00. Another valuable piece of advice for anyone who is traveling by bicycle is when asking questions over the phone it is important to be very clear and repeat what information that you have heard. We went outside to discuss our options and the options didn’t look to good. We could get on our bikes and head out, riding up and down hills for miles and possibly riding into the dark looking for a campsite, or stay here and pay up. Two minutes later we walked back into the office and handed them $30.00. Since the ride to the tent sites was quite a bit further on, it was now late afternoon, but we still had time to take a short hike to the river and back. “It’s kinda like a day off”.
Beautiful fields of grass in the Texas Hill Country
|
The roads had little traffic
|
Packing up at Pedernales State Park
|
Our stop the next day was Austin, Texas, the capitol. Mary and I planned to stay with friends, Eric, Seneca and family. We began on the up and down 4 mile Pedernales State Park entry road to Fitzhugh Rd which led us to the outskirts of Austin. Fitzhugh Road was beautiful with woods on both sides and little traffic. It was very hilly but by now Mary and I were in better shape and we were able to look around as we traveled. We had stopped to look at the map when a road biker rolled up and asked if we needed help. He helped us with directions and told us that Lance Armstrong lived there and he pointed to a nearby hill. It was here that Lance Armstrong trained and after riding through there it made total sense that he would train in Texas Hill Country. It was quite satisfying pedaling up a steep hill then flying down the other side. On one hill as I was flying down I came around a curve and there was a creek flowing across the road. I stopped in time, jumped off the bike and waved Mary down. It was a great break and taking off our shoes, we walked the bikes through the creek to the other side. When Fitzhugh came to an end we turned on the GPS-tablet and started weaving through residential Austin, past the Austin Waldorf School, until we found the Horn of the Moon, Seneca’s and Eric’s homestead in Manchaca south of Austin. Our hosts gave us a tour and we settled into our temporary home, an old renovated school bus with a comfy bed. It was great to see Wilde and Kai, our host’s sons, Victoria, Kris, Loraine, Stu and the rest of the family. They made Mary and I feel like we were part of the family.
Fitzhugh Road
|
Cows grazing along the roadside
|
Walking our bikes across the creek
|
View of the creek
|
The next day was our day to experience the city. Eric, Seneca, and Wilde joined Mary and I for breakfast downtown and gave us suggestions on what we should do and see. After leaving the restaurant, Mary and I started walking toward the historic Capitol Building across the Colorado River. Wait a minute, the Colorado River, how can that be? Walking along we came to a sign, “Caution, Never Handle Grounded Bats”. What a strange sign and walking further along we saw a plaque that told us that this area was a bat sanctuary and during the warmer months, hundred of thousands of bats lived under the bridge that was above us. These bats are a tourist attraction as well as doing their job at insect control. We continued our tour at Doc’s, a local pub. Patrons that had been coming for years were celebrating Doc’s last day. The whole block had been bought up and high-rise condominiums were scheduled to be built there. It felt like serendipity and we lucky to be able to join the celebration. Our last stop for the day was the Saxon Pub. Wayne, who we had met at Big Bend, encouraged us to go to The Saxon Pub at 6:30 and there would be a band that would play until 8:30. The timing was perfect because these days, by 8:30, we’ve had enough. We walked in at 6:30 and sure enough Denny Freeman and his band started playing pure, old time Rock and Roll. The place was packed and we danced for almost two hours straight. Exhausted we walked to the bus stop and made our way back to Manchaca and our school bus home.
Our comfy home over the Christmas break
|
Modest home of Victoria, Seneca’s mother
|
Eric’s and Seneca’s airsteam home
|
The Texas Capitol building in Austin
|
Mary greets Santa Claus
|
Bat sanctuary sign
|
The bridge that is the home for hundreds of thousands of bats
|
The Denny Freeman Band
|
The Christmas Holiday at the homestead was sweet and low key. For Christmas Eve Seneca made a delicious shrimp-sausage soup, we lit the candles and sang carols the ended the day around a campfire. There was a reverence for the sacred holiday as well as humor and discussion. Christmas morning came early when Kai came by the bus to show us his stocking. This was followed by coffee at Kris’ house leading into a Christmas brunch with the whole extended family. An Ultimate Frisbee game, Hot Spot, ended the day making everyone, except maybe Wilde, exhausted. Kris offered to drive us out of Austin the next day and we left early in the rain.
Kai and Mary on Christmas morning
|
The whole family on Christmas day
|
Mary and I had started this section in Del Rio, another somewhat depressed town. As we walked around to do laundry and shopping before we left we noticed that there were more loan companies in this small city then we had ever seen before. After we left Del Rio the atmosphere of poverty disappeared. In many ways the section after Del Rio was a reprieve from the reality of poverty. The towns along the way to Austin were flourishing and the tourists and residents seemed to be much happier as a whole. There were no shacks or homeless people to be seen and the trash along the road was minimal. As we rode we were more relaxed and could enjoy traveling on the country roads. When we arrived at Seneca and Eric’s homestead, Horn of the Moon, the buildings were quite modest and Seneca and Eric were living in an old Airstream RV. From the outside looking in, it looked as though they were of low income yet when meeting them, along with their family, we realized that they had something special going on. Yes, they were using discarded materials and some of the projects were half done, but the difference between the miles and miles of poverty that we had seen and Horn of the Moon? It was that our friends have a vision of what the homestead will be in the years to come. Educational and spiritual growth is more important to them than getting ahead financially. Of course they have to make a living to pay their bills and purchase materials; however, making sure they create living soil on their property is like money in the bank to them. When I saw so many people along the way that were living in shacks I also saw many boarded up buildings and piles of pipes and other materials laying around. It seems like our schools only teach one way to live in our culture. You often hear, ‘To be successful college is a must’, yet many who graduate find themselves saddled with debt and with no job opportunities. The next statement they may hear is, ‘If you only had your master’s degree.’ I don’t want to sound as I am against higher education because for a number of people it is the right choice. What if our schools provided another choice altogether? What if at the same time students learned about living a low cost, low impact lifestyle? What if they learned how to build a beautiful, adequate dwelling from the materials from boarded up buildings and piles of junk that are now just eyesores which reminding us of better times? What if students learned to carbonize the ground around them and plant an edible forest garden that would provide nutritious food without many inputs? What if the standard of living didn’t depend so much on how the economy was doing or which political party was in charge? The main difference between the low income people that we saw along the way and Horn of the Moon is Eric’s and Seneca’s freedom to choose. There lifestyle is not even considered by our educational system and yet, without a lifelong continuous love of education, Eric and Seneca could not move forward. I was one of Wilde’s teachers years ago and this love of education is passed on from generation to generation. One more What If; what if as a culture we see the value in the love of education over accumulating money and stuff?