Leaving Texas for Michigan

 

I run into an old friend again, this time he wasn't wearing shorts like he was in this picture, nor was I!

As I got ready to leave Brownsville I had one last stop to make at a sporting good store. Since my gortex hiking boots had been stolen in Costa Rica I wanted to price some kind of insulated boots. I also wanted to get some better rain gear. The rain gear I had was either too tight to go over my other clothes or just a hassle to put on quickly in a storm. I had sent my insulated clothes back to Michigan before I came south of the border so outside of my Carhart winter jacket and a couple of pairs of wool socks I didn't have much cold weather gear either.

Getting the right mix of riding gear like everything is a matter of experience and finding what works well for you. I could not afford a full Gortex riding suit nor was I into buying boots just for riding that are both protective and waterproof. Both of these things are significant investments and while certainly worth it for serious travel, are not worth it if your not going to use them enough for that. For me at my level and commitment a combination of backpacking, kayaking and general cold and wet weather living clothes (don't forget I lived in Alaska for 10 years where wet and cold is everyday weather along the coast!) have to be made to work for riding as well. While maybe not ideal, one can get by with a lot of "dual purpose gear" as to not have to invest in things you are only going to wear for one activity. This being said, there is no substitute for having great gear designed for exactly what you need it for.  You just have to be willing to pay for it and use it.

So since for this part of my journey at most I only had 3 or 4 days of travel left, and while riding in the 30's was probable, I was hoping for relatively dry weather in the 40's. And with this short window of time in mind I  wasn't going to buy any gear I felt I couldn't use beyond my trip. Plus its hard to find arctic gear in Southern Texas! I ended up buying some gloves and a set of Frog rain gear which I had heard good things about. They seem to work well for keeping you dry, though I have yet to use them in a total downpour. They are lightweight and pack up into a small carry bag, and they are very easy to put on. For now without getting into more expensive gear like gortex and protective suits, a suit of this seems ideal, and can also be used for other activities as well, like fishing or even backpacking though I don't know how well they breathe. And at $60 a suit they aren't expensive.

So with a new rain suit and some insulated  gloves I decided to hit the road. I do have some boot covers for rain which with my wool socks and tennis shoes was going to have to be enough to keep me warm since I really couldn't find any good boots I would want to wear beyond this trip. Eventually buying good water proof boots will probably be something I address for future trips.

With checkout at noon and me running late after my shopping I managed to get out of the motel by about 12:30 and start my trip north. Kind of a late start but I had gotten a lot done in my two days in Brownsville, and as many of my days seem to go, a late start didn't necessarily mean a none productive day, nor that I wasn't going to put in a lot of miles either that day.

It was 90 degrees when I left Brownsville and very humid (here it was the 15th of December). With weather reports ranging from freezing rain in Houston to temperatures in the 30's in northern Texas this balmy weather seemed somewhat ominous. None the less I took off heading north debating if I should put on my new rain gear or not since the clouds were dark and rain looked probable in the north.

About 40 miles down the road from Brownsville the weather started getting cold. The wind was coming from the north and the temperature had plummeted to 40 degrees. The wind chill felt like it was in the twenty's. It was cold, and I felt it. As I moved into this new front a sign said that there was no gas for the next 60 miles. I looked at my gauge and it was just over half full. I only get about 125 miles to a tank when the bike is fully loaded. Driving between 60 and 70 mph's into a stiff wind I knew it was going to be close. I can put in 75 miles and still have three quarters of a tank on the gauge, and then watch it plunge to empty quickly over the course of 50 miles. I had filled up the previous night on my way home from San Padre Island and should have been alright except I had driven 30 or 40 miles out of the way when I got lost going back to the motel. This difference was going to make it closer then I wanted. And while I was glad the sign let me know that there would not be gas for  60 miles, I thought it would have been a lot more helpful if they had put that sign before the last exit where I could have gotten gas instead of 10 miles past the exit. My lazy side did not want to turn around and go some 20 miles back now to get it.

I bundled up and slowed down to about 45 miles per hour to conserve gas. Several times I even thought about pulling over and asking a rancher or someone on the side of the road if they had a gallon of gas I could buy. As cold as the weather was getting I didn't relish the thought of leaving my bike on the side of the road  to have to hitchhike to get gas. There was also a highway patrol or a cop every 10 miles it seemed with radar. I thought about even stopping and asking them for gas. Why this stretch of road needed so much speed protection was kind of beyond me, though being a main route from the border must have had something to do with it.

So as I continued to drive slower and slower, and watch my gas gauge go down more and more I just couldn't believe I was going to make it. I came upon a military check point for traffic heading north and was stopped and questioned for my country of origin. I asked the soldier how far before the next gas and he said about 20 miles. I almost asked him if they had any for sale there, but they all looked a little too official to be selling gas! My reserve tank which I had just gone onto might be good for 25 miles under ideal conditions, these weren't. So I pulled out of the check point and headed into the cold north wind keeping on. I couldn't believe I was working on 9000 miles and here I was in real danger of running out of gas for the first time, in Southern Texas of all places...

Fortunately the total distance turned out to be about 50 miles instead of 60 or I don't think I would have made it. I pulled into a gas station and filled up. It was so cold and the wind was just howling. Hard to believe just a couple of hours ago it was 90 degrees in Brownsville. I stay'd in the station for awhile and had some hot cocoa before putting all my clothes on and heading out. I think a snowmobile suit with winter boots and a full face mask might have been enough to keep me warm in this cold, I don't know.

In a short time I came to a small town west of Corpus Cristi, I kind of recognized it from when I had come thru the first time down. It was also the place I had met and made a friend. As I was passing a gas station I spotted him, this guy with a cross standing in the howling wind... Steven, I pulled up in front of him and of course he remembered me. We laughed and looked at each other. Both of our faces were beat red from the cold and wind, and with the traffic noise and the wind howling it was like we were meeting on another planet. It is hard to describe how cold it was, or how cold we were. We talked for a few minutes and he asked me if I wanted to get something to eat, his treat. For some reason Mexican food was out! And we decided on Pizza. He put his cross in the back of his pickup and we drove to a place down the road.

We ended up ordering a large Stromboli and splitting it, it was sooooo good.....Between the cold and a diet totally lacking in anything Italian for a couple of months, this was a real treat. I did not want to face the cold again so it was easy to sit there and talk for two hours. I told him about my trip and he told me about his calling to carry the cross. We also talked about the difficulty of giving up ones personal desires and trying to hear what god wants for you instead. I have my respect for Steven because like he says, he could be doing many other things, but he feels carrying the cross and spreading Jesus's word is a higher calling. I had to question my own trip compared to his in ways, and it reminded me as well that most of the happiest and highest people I know are all people who in some way are giving something to others. Quite often in ways, giving them selves.

Can you imagine Mother Theresa saying something like, "well I think I'll go do something I want to do today instead of helping the poor". You kind of get the picture. Sometimes also I think when pursuing spiritual paths and ideals it is "responsible" to enlist the aid of a teacher or guide, someone who has been where you are at or trying to get to.  I suggested this to Steven as well, the dangers of going it alone in spiritual matters are evident. Even the highest of the high have their friends or teachers they check in with to make sure they aren't making huge decisions based on their own information alone. Of course the other side of this is that each person in the end must make their own decisions based on the present circumstances as they see them and their own conscience.

At one point a waitress had to come over and ask Steven why he had a cross in the back of his truck. His answer was straight from the bible and retold the tale that Jesus died so we could live. I added, it also was a symbol of suffering of which in ways we all have to endure. Each of us have our own crosses to bear, and our greatest lessons and opportunities for growth come from our willingness to embrace our own suffering, make it holy, and allow it to transform ourselves. The required amount of faith to approach life this way is the highest pursuit or endeavor we as humans can achieve. Its a beautiful thing to see and to know. The fact that our own suffering like Christ's can be viewed as also our greatest opportunity for growth and change is something that is not usually taught in traditional Christian circles, or at least not quite in that way. Christ is often viewed as a super being that was perfect and the best we can do is try to be like him, in ways this is a useful belief and no doubt true. But I also believe his message was more, It was," just don't worship me or idolize  me, but become me." Whatever I have achieved so can you, it not only is your birthright, it is your duty.... This message comes more from monks and people leading contemplative lives perhaps then simply people preaching the word of God. But I think the more one actually study's mysticism or read writings of people who do, one begins to understood the deeper meanings behind all ritual, faith and beliefs.

As we finished our meal and long conversation Steven had mentioned he had some friends north of there that could probably set me up for the night. He said they smoke and then kind of backed off the invitation perhaps thinking I wouldn't want it for that reason. I was hoping to get on the other side of Houston and hopefully get into Louisiana that night if I could, which was pretty ambitious, so I wasn't really interested in a place anyway. Here it was nearly six o'clock and I had barely come 100 miles on the day. It was bitter cold and dark, and for the first time on the trip I really didn't look forward to riding my bike. After exchanging  addresses again and a hug I left Steven. He was driving to a warm home and I was envious, as I headed out into the cold Texas night.

There was nothing to do but drive and persevere. I found if I held one arm up cross ways in front of my chest it would block the wind from hitting my face and head. My face and my feet were the most exposed parts it seemed and if I could have found a scarf for my face it would have helped a lot. I was about 4 hours from Houston and that was my first goal.

I stopped mainly just for gas and at one place I stopped I went into a McDonalds to warm up and had a cup of coffee. It was also a bus stop and there were people waiting everywhere. I sat there and again sort of felt like a alien, or someone coming from a different place and seeing our culture in the states differently for maybe the first time. Probably not unlike a soldier who has been out of the country for awhile and then after coming back everything may feel familiar, but it doesn't quite feel the same as it did when you left. I guess time to a degree changes this, but as I wrote in an earlier blog, the feeling one gets from traveling outside one owns culture and to exotic places I don't think ever totally wears off, and on some level home will never be the same because you've had a chance to experience something else that is at times a deep contrast to it. Maybe again, not so unlike a soldier coming home.

Somehow I seemed to be able to keep warm, do alright, and just keep heading for Houston. At least after I got on  highway 59 off of 77 I was heading Northeast and it was no longer directly into the wind. I reached Houston about 10 or 11 and it had started to rain, which meant it had warmed up a little, and it wasn't snow. Being that late, traffic was light and as I wound my way thru the skyscrapers looking to pick up Interstate 10 east I was reminded of my night riding, floating and yoga post I wrote earlier in my trip after traveling thru Chicago late at night. Again traveling thru the skyscrapers on winding freeways late at night at 70 miles an hour in light traffic is like floating, it is one of the neatest experiences of motorcycling, and a great way to experience some of this countries biggest cities.

Unfortunately the rain started to come down heavier as I stopped for gas. I knew I wanted to at least get 50 miles on the other side of Houston before I stopped for the night. This would get me closer to Louisiana and  ahead of the weather front where the warmer air should be. Houston was also forecasted to be on the edge of possible freezing rain which would have stopped me cold, no pun intended. It was a little warmer here in Houston but it was still cold as the rain continued to come down and I found myself on a 5 lane Interstate heading east. I drove for another two hours before I started looking for a hotel, and the rain was becoming too heavy to drive any further.

Unfortunately I was just north of Galveston and the hurricane that had come thru there this year had left many people homeless and living in motels. This meant that even if I could find a room I would be paying 2 to 3 times what I would normally have to pay. After checking with several different hotels with prices ranging as high as $120 a night for a room I found one for about $90. It was 40 degrees, raining, cold and 1 o'clock in the morning, I took it. I had managed to drive over 400 miles for the day, this after leaving Steven at 6 o'clock at night and maybe having drove only a hundred miles for the day.

I had done some of the worst riding of the trip but had managed to get ahead of the front and into slightly warmer weather. I was about 50 miles west of Beaumont Texas and would be into Louisiana early in the morning and for some reason just the sound of Louisiana seemed to warm me up. Of course I did not realize that just the previous week they had had a rare snow storm and their winter was also turning into a hard one. And with at least another 1400 miles to Michigan, I wasn't sure how many  more of these kind of days I could put in, especially if it was going to get colder. I was now more or less in survival mode, the rain gear had worked well and I was staying dry, but the cold and damp was starting to get to me. This kind of riding I needed to take a totally different approach to, or none at all, like maybe just not riding in it! But like riding in the mountains in spring if your going to do it you have to prepare for weather similar to this. And I have thought of riding to Alaska for my next adventure and I would need to look at perhaps getting different gear. Of course preparing for winter and the tropics on the same trip does complicate things a little.

This post is was my first one without pictures, or at least any new ones. While there will be a few on the rest of the trip and my next post, for the most part for these two or three days I could have taken one picture and that was basically what all three days looked like traveling across the south. A big cloud bank of mist and cold with visibility at about a half a mile or so. It wasn't ice fog and it wasn't raining hard, but it was just cold and damp. My Frog rain gear made me feel like a frog, but it did well and kept me dry and blocked the wind.

Tomorrow Louisiana and Mississippi, some more great food, and a great Art Gallery and its owner. And more of the same weather......