On The Road Again

I’m writing from the Roadrunner RV Park in downtown El Paso within sight of I-10. Not only have I left Austin 450 miles behind me but I’ve also entered another time zone—Mountain Standard Time. West Texas is characterized by its mountains or hills, depending upon your perspective; dust and yellow-brown grass, and clouds that fail to produce rain. A few large drops spilled out of a cloud over Marfa the other day but served only to dirty my windshield. I’ll take that over the rain bomb described to me that dropped 19 inches of rain in 15 minutes on one small town. The ever-present washout repairs along the highways testify to such events. Being vigilant to such possibilities even though the sky above you is clear is good policy. Tomorrow I will complete my 880 mile crossing of Texas along I-10 and enter New Mexico.

West Texas NPR Stations play more ‘corn’ than I’ve heard since I got out of broadcast range of CKBW Radio in Bridgewater, NS. Do you remember: The Witch Doctor—Ou Eee, Ou Ah Ah, Ting Tang, Walla Walla Bing Bang; Heavenly Shades… …at Twilight Time; Running Bear Loved Little Widja, with a love that’ll never die? Thought not! On Saturday night Marfa Radio broadcasts the local Stockyard Auction Live! I’m not in Austin anymore.

It’s been two weeks since my last blog entry first because I was busy getting ready; then I went on the road, and finally my laptop which has been complaining for the last 3 months finally gave up the ghost just after I prudently did one last backup. I was forced to replace it with an American-Bought model. My new baby has 6 GB of memory and a 300 GB hard drive along with all the requisite bells and whistles. It also sports Windows Vista 64 Bit. Exactly what that means I really can’t say except that the OS is fussy about what drivers it will let you use; it seems to be willing to run most of my software but for some reason Mozilla Firefox doesn’t seem to like it’s new home and freezes up and refuses to close with disgusting regularity. I’ve spent the last three days attempting to bend the new beast to my will so I haven’t been out much.

Backtracking two weeks we’re back in Austin on Barton Springs Rd in Pecan Grove Park. Did my best in my last week there to bike around as much of Austin as I could and to indulge in some restaurant-cooked meals. Ran into a young soldier with a Roadtrek 190 on which he was busy flushing holding tanks that obviously had not been treated with odour suppressants. The litter on the floor of his unit was over 1 foot deep. By comparison I’m a marvel of good housekeeping. On Tuesday the 13 I cleaned up me and then set to getting the RV ready for colder climes. Got out the owners manuals and learned a few more tricks my appliances are capable of doing if I know how to push their buttons correctly. Took advantage of $2.00 pints—16 oz—at Uncle Billy’s Brew&Que and indulged in BBQ while I used their Wi-Fi to catch up on CBC news. Just before my laptop failed I took the fateful decision to renew my anti-virus licence. If I’d waited?¿

On Wednesday in partial recompense for all that hedonism I went to Mid-Week Service at Gethsemane after first grocery shopping and picking up the first season of the Series “Life” at Best Buy. The ulterior motive for the visit was an invitation to lunch with Rev Karl Gronberg. We ended up having lunch in the Narthex rather than go out and Karl kept himself busy during and after with rather unpastoral chores. Finally we got away after we’d delivered a parishioner to her home in the church’s Red Van and transferred to Karl’s own vintage car to spend a brief time in the Gronberg’s own home. The Christmas Tree that still graced his living room was the most perfectly formed I’ve seen since my father scoured his 300 acres of Christmas Tree Country for the ideal model. I was also impressed with the Grand Piano in the living room, the creative turmoil that was Karl’s office, the tasteful décor of the rest of the house and the basketball court in the large backyard. Soon we were off to make pastoral calls and back to the church where I was dropped off for supper while Karl went to a basketball game.

On Thursday January 15 I finally hit the road again. Gasoline, when I finally found it was $1.59 a gallon and the road out of Austin did its best to allude me; apparently my GPS minding skills had deserted me. Eventually I found 290 Westbound and almost immediately started gaining altitude among the hills. When I finally reached I-10 I was a bit taken aback to realize that the posted speed limit read 80 mph! Under a cloudy sky with no crosswinds the best I could muster was 65. Among the barren hills of West Texas Interstate 10 does its best to avoid the worst of the obstacles in its path spreading the east and west bound lanes as far as a mile apart in places. The rest areas featured unique picnic table configurations including giant wagon wheels to hold up the shelters and rest rooms with open air washrooms and ceramic tile mosaics one of a horse and his rider and another of a stagecoach.

When I’d run out of energy for the road I stopped at a place called Ozona, the Crockett County Seat, a city of 3000 which has a three storey museum to their native son and a larger than life statue. The Circle Bar RV Park is a level compacted sandpit with curbs holding in crushed rock between the drive-through campsites. Across the fence is open dessert and creosote bush. Not particularly homey but $15 a night with full hook-ups and Wi-Fi. Once the curtains are drawn who cares? It was quiet.

Friday morning stuck out with the determination that I’d reach Fort Davis before nighfall. It was during this passage that my laptop failed. When I find more time I have ten pages of notes to transcribe to my journaling software. The local gas station in Ozona being under construction I left without refilling my tank. The Truck stop had five diesel bays to cater to their principle clientele. At Bakersfield I filled up for $2.19 a gallon and at last saw my first oil pumps working away; the sour-gas odour impossible to miss. From that point it was a matter of a few more hills and curves to Hwy 17 which led through more hills and winding roads to Fort Davis—the site of a military post that closed in 1891. Finding a particular campground in a rural area can be a challenge but after exploring a few backroads I found MacMillan in the Highlands RV Park where no one was home. Driving into town sent chills up and down my spine—it was like driving onto a movie set, the movie in question being Dancer Texas, Pop 81. The small period town with the Sleeping Lion Mountain as backdrop was unmistakeable. Having watched my VHS copy of the movie many times I suddenly felt like I’d come home. When I rode into town later on my bicycle and found the little Presbyterian Church used in the movie I met its pastor and received an invite for Sunday Service. The pastor lives on a working ranch, drives a pickup, and wears a cowboy hat. I felt as if I should be tending to a paper route on my bike. Ranching is a way of life here; deer and peccaries wandering around my campground. And so began the next series of adventures.