Winter Diversion

When you trust the National Weather Service to forecast accurately, you sometimes sit out a cold sunny Saturday and ride on a cold gray Sunday. This particular cold gray Sunday, the ladies and I ended up at a small nature park on the outskirts of Rockport, TX that is one of many bird watching hot spots in our
part of the world.

The area was soggy and the trail through it was partly submerged. Abundant standing water means the birds aren’t flying around looking for it so bird watching gets pretty slow. Mid-forties for temperatures probably wasn't stimulating them none, either.

Easing through the brush, following bird noises is part of the adventure, though, so ease we did. Jill got excited over some tiny bird I had never heard of and, in fact, have still never seen. Looking like a couple of misplaced urban guerrillas, she and Jo went stealthing among the brambles till they spotted the thing.

Jo found and collected the shell of a Lightening Whelk. The park's hand crafted birth bath was a handy place to clean the sand out of it.

Birds watched, shell collected, participants thoroughly chilled, we decided lunch was entirely called for. We rode back into Aransas Pass and dined at Taqueria Guadalajara before wending our way back to the warmth of our respective hearths. A cool time was had by all.

Texas Amble

After my critique of last week’s challenging mini truck trip to Austin town, I guess it should come to no surprise that I spent part of the Labor Day weekend in that same danged truck. This time out we I was hauling the people and equipment required to perform Americana music as the trio, “Rosewood”.

Singer-song writer and friend, Al Barlow, had arranged for us to play Sunday afternoon at Oma Gruene’s Secret Garden, in historic town of Gruene
(Locally pronounced, “Green”) in greater New Braunfels, Texas. Oma (German for, “Grandma”) Gruene’s garden is a shaded biergarten, of course, where a variety of beers and German foods are served.

The laid-back atmosphere typifies that of the Texas Hill Country; it’s the kind of place where you can make new friends and meet their kids and their dogs, at the same time. Gruene is also home to “Gruene Hall”, well known to aficionados as the oldest dance hall in Texas and host to many musical heavy-hitters.

There is never a shortage of motorcycles in Gruene, either, since the Texas Hill Country is known for it’s scenic roads and biker friendly businesses.

Darryl and I with Tracy, the lady who makes it all happen at Oma Gruene's Secret Garden.

That said, we had a successful afternoon, saw familiar faces and met new people. We packed our gear, ate Oma’s excellent fare and put our fine selves on the road back to the third world.

The return was pretty uneventful except for the warning I was issued by a DPS trooper. I was going five mph over the posted limit but I believe he may have been driving 25 mph under it. I came up behind him pretty quickly before I changed lanes and passed. His lit up immediately. The consensus was that he couldn’t have clocked me, though I know he could have written me a ticket for something, if he wanted to. After we were rolling, again, Jill noticed that my state inspection sticker is expired; I don’t know how the trooper could have missed it.

During the drive back, Darryl, who I sometimes refer to as, “Guitar Boy”, invited me to join him and a mutual friend for a ride to Riviera, TX, the following day. I accepted.

Darryl rides a 650 Yamaha V Star, our bud, a Kawasaki Vulcan 800 and I followed on the Baby Shadow (1995 Honda VT600-C Shadow VLX).

The little Shadow is fun to ride, and while no “neck snapper”, she has enough power to get out of the way at 70 mph.

Since I’m considering riding the Baby Shadow, rather than my big Valkyrie, to an upcoming event I figured Monday’s 125 mile round trip would be illuminating.

To begin with the Shadow has forward controls that, combined with the stock handlebars and risers, cause me to lean back, slightly. Riding position on the Valkyrie is like sitting in a chair. I’ve replaced the Valkyrie's stock handlebars with ones that let me lean forward, slightly. At the end of the day, I could feel the difference in my back, not that I was hurting or stiff, I could just feel it. I may try putting some risers on backward to see if they’ll push the bars forward, a little.

The riding position wasn’t so much of a concern as the width of the seat. The stock Valkyrie seat is a couch compared to the stock VLX seat. The main problem turned out to be the seat strap, which tends to wedge in between the rider and pillion sections causing it to push against my lower back. That was fixed on the fly.

Mainly, though, I wanted to see if I could have a little fun on a Labor Day afternoon. I rode drag and the others took turns at point. The day clouded up, a little, and the wind was down.

We got out of town and ran into one of the isolated showers that have been occurring in these parts. It wasn’t enough to get us wet but it was enough to remind me now nicely rain stings the face when a bike has an ornamental, rather than functional, windscreen. We have enjoyed summer but the cooling effect of the clouds and the area showers was welcome.

Darryl took us to visit his kin and we all met for cold drinks in Riviera where amazing true stories were exchanged. On our return trip we enjoyed the night air on motorcycles that performed the way God intended. I’m calling the day an unqualified success.

Three Sisters

A long awaited meeting.

We packed our tent, gassed our scoots and pointed our wheels northwest for the Texas Hill Country. Our purpose was not only to enjoy a change of pace and scenery but also a long awaited meet with Christine, from the Land of Wisconsin.
After renting a Harley-Davidson touring bike at Dallas and riding to San Antonio, she was to meet the luckiest woman in Flour Bluff, and me, at the historic town of Bandera, "Cowboy Capital of the World".

Saturday morning, as planned, the big yella bike and the Honda Magna I like to call, Black Magic, were on the road. We knew a cold front, with accompanying heavy rain, was predicted for later in the day, and that night, but we reckoned we could probably make camp at Kerrville, TX before then.



Though we caught a few sprinkles on the way, it wasn't till we were just 160 miles into the trip, leaving the town of Devine, that we knew how far off the weather forecast was. The dark clouds seem to reach the road and rain was beginning to blind me when I finally found a place to pull over and don my Frogg Toggs. The wind was picking up, complicating things, and the rain was beginning to soak the back of my denim jacket when Jill U-turned and asked if I wanted to return to Devine.



We pulled into a Shell Mart, gassed, coffeed and sheltered from a downpour that flooded the intersection so that a pair of Corvettes couldn’t pass. One of the women driving had been partner in a motorcycle dealership and came into the wash bay to smoke and talk. Since there was no public phone at that particular store she let us use her cell to make a status report to Christine, who had already made Bandera.






When the rain let up, some, and the sky lightened, some, we were back in the wind, a pretty darned cool wind, now.

We made Bandera, quick enough, but, while our friend’s bike was at the appointed place, she was still wandering the town. Since a pay phone robbed me of my last four quarters, we wandered some, too, admiring the unusual cowboy souvenirs displayed in the shop windows.



Finally, after what seemed like a year, we met Christine of Wisconsin. We celebrated with lunch at Old Spanish Trail Restaurant and a quick ride to Kerrville-Schreiner Park, at Kerrville, TX.




The Guadalupe River flows past the park where, during the “season”, visitors swim and fish.



The sun set on weary adventurers who stayed up late enjoying a campfire.



We Meet the Sisters.

Sunday morning, we rode SH-16 from Kerrville to Medina in hopes of snagging some breakfast. This piece of road is everything the famed “Dragon”, through Deal’s Gap, is, only shorter.
The restaurant was closed, as are many privately owned businesses in this part of the world; we didn’t find non-corporate eats till we made our way to the town of Utopia and the Lost Maples Restaurant. Lost Maples’ staff cooks and serves genuine “home cookin’”. This was our jumping off point to ride the State Highways known as the Three Sisters.

One of our first stops was the Lone Star Motorcycle Museum, outside of Vanderpool.




The Texas Hill Country, like any place worth riding to, cannot be brought home in a camera.



It’s not just that parts cannot be photographed, safely, from the pillion of a motorcycle (Jill was photographing from behind the bars, this trip), the peculiar smell of burning cedar cannot be captured, neither can the sight of a hawk swooping close to the road or the roar of tires in the curves.





The ride was fantastic, the weather cool and sunny. While, over the years, Jill and I have covered most of these miles, this is the first time we’d ridden the Three Sisters in their entirety.



Along the way, another rider fell in with us, keeping his distance, but not trying to pass on the straight stretches of road. When we finished the loop we took a break at the Hog Pen, in the town of Leaky. There, the unknown rider told us that his big custom Honda cruiser had just been finished and it was his first time on the loop. He thanked me for letting him tag along and complimented us for being safety conscious and told me, yes, the ride had been everything he'd hoped. I'm glad we could be part of a good first experience on the Hill Country roads.



We had a full and rewarding day and then it was time to head for some eats and another campfire.
During our last visit to Kerrville, Jill and I ate at El Sombrero Jalisco Restaurant. We were impressed so we ate there, again. We were not disappointed.

Riding 250 miles in the beautiful Texas Hill Country on Sunday was icing on the cake of getting to meet Christine in person. I mean, the gal gave me wood, that ought to tell you something.



The ride home started cool and calm and ended warm and windy, hardly remarkable when riding in Texas.
We stopped for a great lunch of sandwiches and pintos at McBee’s BBQ, in Jourdanton, then worked on our butterfly collections between there and the ramp to I-37 and the City.
I guess we just know how to live.


The Road goes on forever