Day Fourteen: Camino Real de Texas ends at the Alamo

I spent the night last night at Camino Real Motel.  It was clean and I felt safe.  If it wasn’t for the fact that I was zonked out tired I might have been annoyed by the late night basketball game going on in the parking lot.  Who puts a basketball hoop in the parking lot of a motel? 

I got a late start because I didn’t have much to do today.  I have two locations left on my itinerary Mission Concepcion and San Antonio de Valero (Commonly known as the Alamo ;)  Since my motel was near Mission San Jose the morning mission profile caught my eye and I took another picture. 

I then rode up the mission trail to Concepcion.  What a blessing.  There were lots of cars parked in the parking lot and people in Sunday dress going in for mass.  Someone told me the missions had evening masses but I didn’t know they had a 10:00 am mass.  The service was fully packed.  They had to bring out chairs for some of us to sit in.  The nave was full of voices singing and praying together as it has since 1731.  Year of our Lord: Seventeen hundred thirty-one.  A number of just tourists stumbled in.  The ushers were incredible.

Along with screaming babies and noisy conversation everyone just rolled with whatever happened.  The people that were there to pray and worship, prayed and worshipped.  They didn’t let the tourists or unengaged interlopers distract them from worshipping.  The ushers let the tourists go into the side chapel without a hint of annoyance or judgment.  It was graceful.

The sermon was good from Fr. David who sounds like is in charge of all the missions along the trail.  He preached on the Samaritan leper who was for many an outsider yet was the only one of ten to return and thank Jesus for healing him.

The service was bilingual and comfortable even when we held hands during the Lord’s Prayer.  After mass I was the last one out to greet the priest.  I explained to him my pilgrimage and he offered a blessing for a safe return.

After punch, off I rode on the quiet quiet streets of sleepy San Antonio.  It was 11:30am and the edges of Alamo Plaza along the Mission Trails (roadway) had nary a driver.  That changed as soon as I entered the Plaza area.  Cars and people traffic teamed along the downtown shops and eating establishments.  I’ve been to the Alamo a few times. 

So when I saw the line waiting to go in I decided all I needed was a picture with my bike in front. So I explained to the docent what I was doing and he gladly took my picture.  We talked a few minutes about the millions of dollars’ worth of artifact donation that Phil Collins made.  They haven’t been included yet in the museum because there is room for it all.  The state purchased the storefront property along the west side of the plaza and may convert some of the space to museum. Or they may rebuild destroyed portions of the northern wall and house them there.  They’ve got a big 10 year plan so it will be worth coming back again.

I was getting hungry so he suggested a hole in the wall Mexican Manhattan but it was closed on arrival. (Sunday—good for them.)  So I circled around and found Jalisco which hit the Tex-Mex spot.  A fifty yard walk to the bus stop and this pilgrimage is done. 

Kate joins me tomorrow to lay low for a day.  Then we come back to Houston.  Thanks to everyone who came along with me on this journey. Keep praying.  Keep doing good things. Blessings.

Day Thirteen: Final Things...Almost

It feels very close to ending.  Not sure how everything will unfold I’m just going with the flow.  First thing this morning was to put a little more air in my tire.  All I had left was one full and one partially used CO2 cartridges.  So on a squishy tire I loaded up and headed for what Siri told me was the closest bike shop.

Through beautiful Lyons Club Park I rode the wooded but well paved trails along Salado Creek.  I wanted to stop, but I didn’t let myself.  I’ve got to learn something from that.  (Treat yo’ self).  At the other end of this gently up and down rolling park was Hiawatha Rd. Or what I call Mount Hiawatha.  It was too early in the morning and I didn’t feel like contending so I got off and walked.  On the other side in a residential area was Abel’s Bicycle Shop. 

We had a great conversation about cycling.  One of his bucket list items is to ride from El Paso to Orange across Texas.  He just needs a SAG to ride behind him.  I hope I can help him out someday.  He filled my tire up and gave me two cartridges just in case.  And he gave me some encouragement.  This was one of the pleasures of the trip.  Meeting people and having conversations.  He’s completed the MS 150 from San Antonio to Corpus Christi and actually climbed the Harbor Bridge.  That blows me away.

When I left able I was all aired up and ready to finish this Camino.  I had wanted to visit the missions in order from south to north, Espada to the Alamo.  But as fate would have it, it just doesn’t make sense on a bicycle to add extra miles for the luxury of order.  My route took me to the direct middle of the missions.  So I started at San Jose.  The complex is a National Park of interconnected sites; they’re connected by roads and bike trails along the San Antonio River.

San Jose was incredible.  It’s hard to conceive of such an ancient preserved space in the middle of a modern city in the New World.  The park has a visitor center with a small museum and theater to show you a little history.  After I toured the site for a bit, I started south for San Juan Capistrano. 

A beautiful little chapel in which the cedar ceiling joists offer the scent as strong as incense.  I could have stayed there all day.  Along the path I ran into a couple from Ohio.  He’s an Air Force PA just stationed here in San Antonio.  Four years from retirement they’re enjoying their time in Texas. I shared with them some other places to visit in Texas. And wished them luck.  (Except as it pertains to A&M football.  He was a Volunteer and we were both itching to find a place to watch the game today.)  I offered them some water and they gave me a little bag of trail mix.  We were going the same way so they outpaced me on their touring bicycles and made it to Espada just ahead of me.

The chapel was uniquely Spanish with some Moorish elements in the door.  Quiet and peaceful I wanted to stay but I was hungry.  I grabbed and apple empanada and Gatorade and chowed down.   I started to eat it before I even paid for it.  But the lady in the church bookshop was very understanding.  She even confessed that she frequently does the same thing. 

Live music was playing in the background and a great festival was happening on the other side of the rampart.  The emcee spoke of unlimited fajitas, burgers, beer and more which sounded appealing; I asked the clerk the name of the patron of the church—“St. Francis.”  Today was the Saturday after the Feast of St. Francis.  They were having their parish celebration.  The significance is that they’ve been celebrating this feast in some fashion for several hundred years.  Though I was hungry the purchasing of carnival tickets was too daunting.  So after lingering a moment I hopped back on the cycle and looked for a sports bar to eat and watch the A&M and Tennessee match.  Success.

One final note I had hoped to camp in an RV park in the Mission Trails area.  But they don’t have tent sites. So I hunted around and found some local motels, Tejas and Camino Real were close by my location.  Both would be appropriate for my Camino Real de Texas.  I went with Camion Real.

Day Twelve: Big Day

After leaving the trailer behind everything seemed to move faster.  Without the drag from the trailer I seemed to have a bit more energy in my leg(s).   I expected to closer the gap between me and San Antonio by half, but after two hours of riding I had already passed twenty of the thirty miles I had hoped to cover. I was beginning to think I might make it to San Antonio and I still wasn’t 100% sure where I would stay. 

If I had only covered twenty miles I really had no place to stay.  I was seriously considering ghost camping at a park, country church, or find some brush near the railroad tracks. But I had moved so far that San Antonio was in reach.

As I turned out of Martinez, Texas toward China Grove (whoa-oa) I started hearing this thump, thump.  I developed a large blister.  The inner tube sprung a leak, but was sealed up against the inside of the tire.  The tire held the air in but soon popped.  The tube actually sealed itself a bit and I was able to gingerly ride another mile to get lunch at US 87 and then another mile to Walmart.  I purchased a new tire.  And was still able to ride another half mile to the Days Inn at Loop 410 and US 87.

After a long ride I jumped into the pool just as the rainstorm rolled in.  I watched the fat rain drops plopped into the pool.  I wasn’t fast enough to get a good picture of it.  By the time I got back into my room to fix the flat, the tire had lost all its air pressure.  I’m very thankful that the mechanical and maintenance failures have not left me out in situations where I was completely helpless.

Many times I have felt close to calamity when concerned about bike maintenance or shortage of energy to keep riding.  But I find if the worst case scenario happens you can just get off the bike and walk.  And for me if the REALLY worst case scenarios were to happen (like a blow out on my hydraulic knee) then I would just have to depend on the goodness of strangers to help me out.

Day Eleven: The plans adapt and change

Yesterday was my long ride from Flatonia to Luling.  It was the longest of rides and one that brought some anxiety.  I had to pass through a number of communities that had no lodging options so there were few options except to keep moving. 

Luling also presented with some food options.  Love’s versus Buc-Cees.  Love’s was on the right side of the interstate and had a Subway.  So I picked up a sandwich and a drink over fudge and beef jerky. 

I made it to Luling and rather than get into town to stay at an RV park I opted for a hotel.  Of course when I approach reservation counters I look funny with my cycling helmet and bright yellow jersey. So I get questions.  In this case the manager on duty was impressed by the endeavor and gave me a reduced rate for the room.  Very generous.  I hung out at the pool until I turned into a prune all over then went off to bed.

In the morning (the actual eleventh day) I got up early again as I knew it was going to be a somewhat long day with 20 plus mile ride to Seguin.  I had opted not to ride through Luling the day before in order to cut short the day and not double up on the climb in and out of Luling.  There was a gentle climb out of town and the air was cool.  The traffic was heavy but I was very visible with my lights and jersey on the wide lanes.  Drivers heading off to work or hauling cargo did well.  I hope that both my following the traffic laws and the visibility of my leg will help changed the attitudes of drivers toward other cyclists. 

People need to learn patience on the road in general and even more so with riders and pedestrians.  The road surfaces through town were the best.  Beautifully poured blacktop and freshly painted lines these have been the best roads of the trip so far.

Ten miles out of Seguin in Kingsbury I approached what first looked like a convenience store.  I thought I’d like a Coke.  It turned out to be a mechanics shop, Geno’s.  Geno was being visited by a cyclist named Tom who was from Seguin.  He was decked out in his cycling jersey, gloves, and clipless shoes.  We talked a bit about the terrain and road surfaces.  Geno gave me a Diet Coke which I enjoyed.  It was a great impromptu encounter.  They shared with me that Geno and his shop were in a video recording of a song “What was I thinkin’” by Deirks Bentley.  You can listen to the video and see the garage at the 2:28 mark https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fTqra4YSsaM

I set back out on the road and Tom followed a few minutes later.  He joked about my slowness as he breezed by on his road bike.  I made it to Seguin and connected with Jim who owns the bike shop there in town.  He also is a WarmShowers host which allows cyclists to have a free place to stay when on long tour.  Sometimes they provided a couch or bed, and in times like these it may be a patch of grass to pitch your tent.

I touched base with Jim and then went on to the local laundromat to wash my clothes.  I enjoyed engaging some of the folks and their children playing on the rolling baskets.  One woman was from Seguin but is down from North Dakota after working there for a while. 

Finishing laundry I went back to the bike shop and killed some time before Jim closed the shop.  We talked a lot about my bike and some things that would help me move down the road a little quicker.  He was a wealth and generous in knowledge as we discussed the gearing and weight benefits of different touring bicycles. 

He was also generous in allowing me to leave my trailer in storage until I could pick it up on the return to Houston.  I left for his home around 6:00pm.  Grabbed dinner at Sonic which was alright.  I arrived at his home, set up my tent, parsed down everything I didn’t need into the trailer, and cleaned up.  I slept well that night as I was physically and mentally tired.

Day Ten: A Mixed Bag

Today was a long ride. I’m glad it’s over.  The more I think about it the more I’m convincing myself that the major difference between my daily progress on the Camino de Santiago and Camino de Texas is the trailer I’m pulling with all of my camping gear and extra food supplies.  I think it has a cumulative affect on distances.

I’m gratified by the times that I can stop to pray.  They give me an opportunity to not only focus on God but also to let go of the need to be going.  When I get lost in the liturgy I actually forget about how slow I’m going.

A couple of things helped me see the presence of God.  On the several times when I just felt I had no energy to climb a hill I would stop and walk.  Then you can really slow down.  I watched this butterfly dance all around me.  At times he was twenty yards ahead and then so close I thought he would alight on me.  I secretly hoped he would. 

Another mercy that frequented me today were the clouds.  We’ve had clear blue skies the last two days.  Today there were thick billowy clouds.  The kind that look like a sheet of cotton balls.  With them came a gentle breeze and when the burning sun would hide behind them it was grace filled.  You had to stop soak it in.

I’ve seen a variety of wild life.  Not all alive.  (Deer, cats, dogs, lots of armadillos.  Lots of armadillos.)  Yesterday I saw a beautiful hawk lying on the side of the road.  He must have just been clipped by a car or truck.  I’ve watch deer jump away from me. I’ve unintentionally spooked two herds of cattle into a stampede.  I feel bad about that.

This is something that brings to my mind the sacredness of life.  Anyone who knows me know I’m not a vegetarian.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t think all animal life is valuable.  I’ve even tried to steer clear of harming spiders on this trip because they’re part of the circle. 

Killing indiscriminately is a crime against God’s creation.  Again as I think about the technological advances that we’ve made as a society it doesn’t seem that many of our inventions honor life.  Nor do they connect us to the Creation around us.  Being on the bike I can feel the wind, smell the smells, and see the shade from trees as I approach.  On the bicycle you can even feel the change in terrain beneath you rolling up or down.  You feel the heat in the asphalt.  You can’t do that in a car.  We have learned to completely control our environment.  In a car you hardly notice the slight changes in grade and temperature.

Who knows if this is important?  But I know I haven’t hit an animal with my bicycle.  Although a few dogs have come close.

Last thoughts for today.  If I lived in Gonzalez County I would be wondering how road repair budgets are being spent.  From Fayette to Gonzalez to Caldwell Counties the road qualities and bridge upkeep had (in my estimation) a large disparity.  Horrible.

Day Nine: A man's got to know his limitations

I had a great conversation last night with my RV park neighbor.  He’s a football coach and I was curious so I asked him in the smaller towns (really small towns) is the pressure as great to win from the communities as it is in the schools at the 6A level.  He didn’t say that it was greater but just present.  He remarked on how there is a pressure to win. 

But more complicated than that, there is also the pressure from parents to support their individual child.  I saw the same thing in my day.  One family is able to pay more to the booster club so their son got a starting spot or more playing time even if he wasn’t the better player. 

Helicopter parents pay thousands of dollars starting with 5 year olds in pee wee to send their kids to sports day camps at universities.  They give them good skills and experiences.  But the parents have dreams of scholarships and perhaps fame for their child.  And when ability doesn’t match expectations the blame has to be laid on someone else.  It's laid on coaches, teachers, anyone else.  Sadly, there really shouldn't be blame.  The only reason it exists is because our expectations were skewed.  That’s where are society has moved. 

(Related side note: It’s funny how outsiders complain about how the Church spends money or asks for money.  In all my years as an active Christian I’ve never seen a dime spent on anything that didn’t promote the worship of God or provide for the temporal and spiritual needs of God’s people.)  But we'll spend thousands on sports related futures that may never materialize.

As I was riding today it occurred to me that this mentality is a trickle down of American exceptionalism.  We are a great country with great values.  We have wealth like no other nation in history.  That mentality run in our veins.  WE ARE GREAT! (Lol)  Our/My child is exceptional.  The problem is: Not everyone can be exceptional.  That’s the very nature of “except-ion.”

As I was thinking about the German and Czech pioneers that settled central Texas their experience was wrought with struggle.  The people that came were middle class.  The landed gentry and nobility stayed in Europe because they were comfortable.  The poor couldn’t afford the journey.  The middle class risked life and what little property they had for a bigger future.  Many died in transit and some even after they arrived.  When faced with the harsh reality of the land their plans changed and found work in the cities.

But the harsh conditions and life teetering on the edge kept them humble…faithful.

Speaking of changing plans I’m adapting as I go.  When I originally plotted this course I estimated my mileage based on my experience in Spain.  I underestimated several factors in planning.  The heat, the hills and headwinds, and the trailer I’m pulling behind me with all my camping gear.  I didn’t have the trailer in Spain. 

I had estimated (conservatively mind you) thirty to forty on average.  It was a grand tour I had planned to get to Fredericksburg and back home.  In fact Fredericksburg was a long shot anyway but the plan was for this to be a round trip.  In reality the head winds coming from the north and the trailer I think have contributed to my miscalculation.  I’m riding just over twenty miles per day and I’ve needed more rest days than anticipated.  I am not ready for the MS 150.

Or maybe I've met my limit.  I don’t know yet.

Regardless, I’m recalibrating.  When I first began planning this pilgrimage of prayer I wanted to travel along the Old Spanish Trail (US 90) to the Painted Churches and culminating in San Antonio with the mission churches along the San Antonio River.  I am reverting back to that original plan.  I’ve got a couple of hard days riding ahead of me, but I hope to arrive in San Antonio by Saturday and visit the missions on Sunday.  If all goes well I’ll figure out how to pack my bike and trailer and catch a train back to Houston.  Otherwise I need someone to come get me… ... ... crickets.

Blessings to you all.  If you have prayer concerns you’d like to share with me, message me on Facebook, and I’ll talk to God about you. J

Day Eight: The Painted Churches

At this RV Park was given an RV site with water and electrical hookups.  The only drawback is that I have to pitch the tent on the gravel pad.  Not conducive to using stakes so I had to tide down to the trees.  Smart move because the wind had clearly moved my tent around in my absence. 

Sleeping was decent.  I was woken by train horns twice in the night.  After the second round I fumbled around and found my earplugs around 4 am.  That seemed to work well.  Woke up early and road down to St. James Street to find the old Black School that a parishioner’s mother taught at.  I found it and another little treasure. St. James Baptist Church.  The oldest African American Church in Schulenburg.

Came back into town and grabbed a ½ mini-loaf of banana bread, cup of vanilla latte, and a bottle of water before I caught the tour van that would take us to the painted churches.  I’m glad I opted to take the shuttle as it gave me time to rest.  But I also got to spend time with two catholic priests retired from Ft. Worth (originally from Pretoria, South Africa). 

We talked about ministry and the decline of civilizations.  Every great civilization that charted its decline first turned to moral decay.  I write this with no righteous indignation.  It’s not simply a judgement on the civilization; rather it is an objective reality.  Civilizations decline because the disparity between wealthy educated elite and the uneducated poor.  The wealthy/educated who are the societal leaders indulge themselves in carnality and set the example for the masses.  Everyone takes and takes, and no one gives.  This is the age we live in.  Our leaders both poltical and religious take us down the road to perdition. 

Now one wants to think that theirs is the generation that has fallen.  Indeed it's a slow generational process.  But it's happening.  And I think it's cyclical.  It's part of the human story that simply repeats over and over again.  I mean: Look at history.  What empire still exists today that was around 500 years ago?  Do you think that the United States of American will last forever?

But in our conversation today there is always renewal.  There are always those hanging on to the Truth and it will survive.  It has survived since history began.  So I’m not worried the long term.  But I for the short term I hope that we can have an impact in this world for those of us here and now.

The churches are beautiful.  They are a testimony to the faith of pioneering Europeans from German and Czech cultures.  They came here and worked hard.  Built towns around their church and faith communities.  Were obliterated by the cotton collapse in the Great Depression.  Cotton went from one dollar per bail to five cents.  Families lost everything they had worked for over two generations.

Some will ask, “Where was God’s protection for them.”  Well that’s one way to look at it.  But better questions are, “How did their human family take advantage of them and the banks support them when they took away their land and homes?”  The fact is, that when all the worldly possessions disappeared they still had their faith.  They still had their relationship with the Almighty.  That is all God has ever promised.  The only thing left of their thriving communities are these testimonies to their faith in God.  People still worship in these buildings.

Like other rural communities across the country many left looking for work in the cities.  The War came and they sent their sons to fight and die.  Serving as Americans they fought against their native homelands.  Staggering to consider that.

There was another couple a mother and daughter both older ladies in the van with us from Sugar Land. We laughed and joked with one another and marveled at how small the world is.

I’ve returned to my tent, drying laundry, had dinner and waiting for the morning.  A short ride to Flatonia tomorrow in anticipation of a 32 mile ride to Luling, Texas.  There appears to be no lodging in between.

I hope the next two days are fruitful and prayerful.

 

Day Seven: Should I stay or should I go?

Leaving Columbus was kind of difficult.  I haven’t mentioned the eclectic personalities that greeted me at the RV Park.  Clay and Abby were essentially my hosts for the time.  Clay is busy running the place. Keep the water and electrics flowing and building Tiny Houses. 

Abby watches the desk and runs errands for Saundra the owner a bit of a recluse.  She drives in and out of the park, going somewhere while holding her lapdog high enough to stick his head out of the pickup truck window.  All were friendly. 

Clay was particularly interested in theological conversation but was kept busy working.  I rested well enough that I didn’t really want to leave.  But then Clay and Abby were just passing through seven months ago and they haven’t left.  It’s best that I left.

On the road again.  Same story, but this time I was mainly heading west.  This is the first day I wasn’t pedaling into a headwind.  I was on US 90 and a couple of county and FM (Farm to Market) roads the whole way.  The smaller roads were nice with a few steep climbs that ended in gentle down hills.  I like those best.

I arrived in Weimar and saw a beautiful gothic steeple above the store fronts of the “downtown” street.  The town felt like a ghost town.  Everyone must have slept in or gone to church-and gone home.  There was nary a car on the road.  It was great.  So I road in the direction of the steeple and found a beautiful gothic church named for St. Michael the Archangel.  I parked and snuck in the side door.  It was around noon and a baptism was going on.  It was a quiet little family service.  I sat in the back and listened.  The language was familiar to our liturgies and words.  They even said “Ah-men” as opposed to “A-men.”  I haven’t heard catholics say it properly like that in a while.

After the service I went outside to eat a turkey sandwich I purchased at Brookshire Brothers in Columbus.   Went back inside and the priest was playing at the organ.  I asked if I could get some water.  As in most old churches there’s no bathrooms or water fountains except in the sacristy.  So he showed me to the sacristy to fill up my water bottle.  We talked about my journey and its inspiration from the Camino de Santiago.  He mentioned he had been to Santiago recently but to walk the camino is still on his bucket list. He was very encouraging and offered a blessing which I gladly received.  I snapped a few pictures of the church and was on my way.

The final 8 miles to Schulenburg were good but tiring.  I had to get off and walk one climb just because I was tired of pedaling and feeling the burn.  Drivers as usual have been good to me.  And like I said, the county and FM roads were well surfaced.

I’m finally in Schulenburg.  I’ve pitched my tent and met my neighbors in the RV Park.  The Wades are an educator couple.  He coaches football in Weimar and she is an elementary school librarian.  I knew I’d like them because when I rode up to my site they have their Texas and American flags flying on the stumps of two old trees.  It’s 7:06 at the Dairy Queen.  I’m surprised they haven’t kicked me out yet.  It’s late.  Off to the showers, final things, compline, and sleep before a good day tomorrow.

 

Day Six: Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath as a day of rest

I know; it’s the seventh day you’re supposed to rest.  But it was Saturday which is technically the Sabbath God was talking about so…I rested.

I’m resting today. I spent the morning talking to Kate on the phone.  Then I had Morning Prayer in my folding chair in the shade of a Black Walnut tree (Watch your heads). Then I took a shower.  Then I sat in my chair again and vegged in front of Facebook.  The days seem a lot more productive when I’m riding the bike, no? 

I’m also thinking a lot about the paradox I’m having about prayer.  What is the purpose of asking God for something that is or is not already going to be.  The bible, tradition, and common practice point us to ask for each other’s prayers.  Since the beginning of the church we have sought the intercessions of the saints in heaven.  And yet God knows already how things will be.  So I am at a theological paradox.  I’m compelled and taught to pray for God’s will (often articulating a preferred outcome) in the lives of loved ones; at the same time those prayers are already answered. “Yes, No, Wait.” 

I have experienced, firsthand, prayers have been answered with physical healing or a particular desired outcome with no outside influence..  Not just through medical science have I seen healing but also in times that doctors even said it was miraculous.  I’ve also known times that prayers were asked for healing and the person died from their sickness.  All these things are true.  They happen.

What I conclude from this is that when I say "I believe in God," that belief is not just intellectual assent to theological precepts and doctrine.  To believe in God is to have a relationship with him.  Relationships are hot or cold depending on how much you communicate with the other. 

Prayer is the most basic vessel apart from the sacraments that we communicate with God.  If the bible is (as some say) God’s love letter to humanity then our prayers are our letters back to him.  And so regardless of the outcome of requests or desires our prayers tell God our hearts and minds.

Prayer then, isn't boiled down to what we are asking of God.  It's the pouring out of ourselves to our Lover.  It is self revealing because what can we hide from him that he does not already know.  We cannot lie to him, and therefore we cannot lie to ourselves about our wants, needs, shortcomings, sins, hurts, pains desires, joy.  Prayer helps us to articulate all these things.  And the more we do it, the more we become our true selves.  Honest with ourselves and with who we are to others.  Which in the end is God's sanctifying work.

Day Five: "Keep rollin', rollin', rollin'; Gee my ass is swollin'! Rawhide!"

It was a lovely stay in Eagle Lake.  The Dairy Queen’s junior burger still tastes the same after all these years…But it costs more.  The Launderia was only a block away so that was a pleasant surprise.  I had actually forgotten that at some point I would need to do laundry.  Fortuitous, as I was out of riding clothes. 

I had stayed at the Sportmens Motel; I was able get a quick jump on the day.  Which meant cool weather from the start of the ride and rush hour traffic on the FM 201.  Don’t worry mom, the drivers were all very kind and gave me a wide berth to the T.  I was very grateful as the shoulder shrinks to about eighteen inches for the majority of this ride.  I don't know if it would have been better to head due west on US 90 with wide shoulders and gravel trucks?

I made it to Columbus through Alleyton.  Alleyton really feels like an Alley Town.  Just a few side street and with a dubious history of its own.  It ironically appears to be the remnant of a segregated community.  Three white clapboard churches served the half square mile of the alleys I saw.  It was a sleepy little community.  I would have like to stay to meet and mingle. 

Only an 18 mile ride but my butt still hurts from yesterday.  I made a command decision to not ride the next day and just let my rear end rest.  Saving for going to lunch and finding a place to watch the Aggies play, I won’t be on the bike tomorrow.

From Alleyton I picked up US 90 (the historic section) There’s 90 and then there’s Old 90.  Old 90 is sparsely used at all.  Sixteen foot segments of poured concrete it was a smooth ride except for the expansion joints.  It’s an amazing piece of history.  Reconnected to US 90 and rolled across the Colorado River on a truss bridge.  Awesome-Sauceome.  Columbus downtown square is picturesque of Classical revival and Victorian building and homes.  Lots of churches with the Gothic and Romanesque arches. 

City streets were lined with oak trees and modest single family dwellings (houses).  I’m staying at Columbus RV Park and Campground back across to the south side of I-10 along a creek that feeds the Colorado.  It’s a work in progress.  A hybrid of RVs, Tiny House Construction, a couple of mobile homes and a car junk yard.  But damn they have a swimming pool.  Don’t mind the frogs.

Day Four: The Lord is your shade at your right hand.

Day Four:  After yesterday's craziness and fortune I have to say I rested very well at the Tee Pee Motel.  I understand more clearly a major difference between the Camino de Santiago which I cycled in Spain and this Camino Real de Texas.  Setting up and breaking down camp each day is a major time burden.  It slows you down on both ends; Breaking camp, there’s little time to get started when the air is cooler in the morning.  And arriving and setting up gives even less time to rest the body.  Staying at the Tee Pee last night and at the Sportsmen’s Motel, Eagle Lake have made that clear to me.  Learning as we go.  But you pay for the convenience.  Motels versus tent sites are a significant difference.  Hostels like in Europe would facilitate this type of recreation.

Another difference is the lack of frequent accessibility to water and food.  I guzzle water like it’s…water.  I have a regular water bottle that fits on my bike rack and a 6 liter bag of water in the trailer.  Without that I’d be up the proverbial dry-creek.  I am greatly thankful for Freddy in Guy and Raymond along FM 1301? who bought be a bottle of cool water in town and brought it back to me.  What a gracious thing to do! 

The ride today started out great.  I was fueled with oatmeal I cooked with the coffee pot water.  I got out early and it was cool and calm.  There’s a plethora of Baptist churches out here to stop and pray the Divine Office.  So I do.  Coming out of Wharton I really wanted to stop at Buccees but I didn’t need to and didn’t want to backtrack a couple hundred yards so I turned north. 

Along the way there were some sweet dog’s (beagle mutts I think) that curiously watched me approach.  Then ran with me along the way.  It was fun.  Their tail wagging as they raced alongside in the grass.  As I watched them I was ambushed by another bullish dog whose color blended into dry grass along the road.  I didn’t even see him before he started his threatening bark.  Maybe five feet away and closing he scared the crap out of me.  He’s lucky he didn’t get pepper sprayed.  He disrupted my happy mood for a moment. 

Then I got back to thinking and praying about friends and family who are sick and need healing.  I pray they will feel God’s love and presence in their struggles and sorrows.  And may God heal them.  Through doctors, caregivers, and miracles may God heal them.  At this point I had a conversation with God about the purpose of prayers.  There are theological arguments about whether an outcome can be changed by prayer.  That’s because we attribute to God omniscience and immutability.  That is, that he knows everything that is going to happen and he is unchangeable.  These are usually comforting teachings for the little things.  Decisions we have to make about our lives' directions.  But when it comes to suffering these opening a painful understanding about God.

How could prayer change what is inevitable?  I am at an understanding that God does not change what might happen in response to prayers when someone is sick.  Rather we change when we pray.  When praying with an open heart and mind we become aware of what God is doing.  If it’s healing, it’s God. Praise the Lord!  If it’s death and entrance into heaven, it’s God. Praise the Lord!  "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.  Blessed be the Name of the Lord."  (Some where in the Book of Job.)

So if God's will is immutable why ask at all?  Prayer (conversation with God) brings us to a peace that brings our will in line with the will of God.  I think of Jesus in the garden. “Let this cup pass from me, yet not my will.  But thy will be done.”  Prayer brings us in line with God.  This is hard, and I’m afraid I’m too tired to think through what this means for people who are suffering.  When you believe in God you have to be prepared to let go of the things and people you love the most.  Better stated: you have to be prepared to give those things over to God.  Eventually we will lose them.  None of us lives in this world forever.

The last ten miles into Eagle Lake were horrible.  At the FM 1301/FM 201 JCT I was met with a nasty headwind.  On a walking day or standing still it would have been bliss.   But not riding into it. If I stopped pedaling I was standing still.  What should have been an hour took 1hr and forty five minutes.  That’s when Raymond brought me the water. Bless his soul.  It gave me hope because it was still cold when he handed it to me.  It made me think of the dove that brings back the olive leaf to Noah telling him that the water was receding. (Picture from my childhood bible). 

Sitting that long in the saddle is painful for me. All I could think of was that Jesus’ pain was much greater than this.  Lord help me.  So my thoughts turned to my sin.  My selfishness.  Would I have been/Have I ever been as thoughtful as Raymond? Or as wonderful as my ever patient wife? God help me to be.

I’m in a motel again and thankful.  I’m going to try to crash the public swimming pool behind the hotel’s fence.  But now my clothes are drying. They smell terrific.  Blessings all!

Day Three: When it rains it pours, or God was very good to me

Day 3: Though I was insect free inside my tent for two nights the high pitched buzzing from mosquitos can drive you crazy.  That’s one of the most annoying sounds I can think of.  I tolerate being bitten on the ankles and arms but when they buzz by the ear I want to go Kung Fu on those mosquitos. I can’t tell how many of them were out there but it sounds like close to a billion. 

I cleared out of my campsite late.  Lugging all this camping gear is a bit of a hassle.  It’s a big difference from riding the Camino Frances.  Every night your lodging is taken care of. It’s easy to find a place to get a sandwich or snack.  It used to be that way (I think) in America.  When the US routes went through all these small towns.  Then the interstates and big cities drew people away. 

I started the morning with Morning Prayer at 9. ( I need to start earlier).  Ate an apple and pecan bar.  I checked out of the state park with full water a long ride ahead but with a good route planned.  I found some county roads that were relatively well paved asphalt but coarser grained.  Before I hit Texas 36 I stopped for the Noonday office.  Making good time I hit 36 to Guy, Texas and was about to make the turn south toward Wharton on FM 1994.  That’s when the blow out happened.

So here I am sitting at the Shell station typing up the day’s events and waiting for my wife.  A few helpful folks got me water and pointed me to the Shell station is.  If you ever want a good burger I suggest the Guy Food Mart Shell station at Texas SH 36 and FM 1994. Waiting and Waiting.

Kate saved me.  She is the best.  Not only did she come get me but she also bought a new trailer.  I think I’ll like this new double axel trailer better.  It’s more stable.  I waiting for several hours while Kate worked behind the scenes to help keep me going. She picked me up and we began down the road following my original route.

Guess what!  My route that I used multiple apps to route would have lead me down miles and miles of no outlet and dead end roads that would have me cross private property.  This blow not only was just a mile from the gas station kept me from miles and miles of back tracking.  I stayed calm even when I knew this big malfunction.  I had a major blow out, air csartridge malfunction.  And God was great to me today.

Day Two: Alligators and drying out

Day two I decided I was pretty achy from the long ride yesterday and I need to dry out a bit so I decided to stay at Brazos Bend.  I spent the day praying and relaxing.  Breakfast was an apple and Nature Valley pecan bar.  It was delicious.  After a long morning I had to ride down to the park headquarters in order to renew my campsite by 2:00pm.  I ate lunch.  Pre-packaged Bumble Bee Tuna and Crackers was either really delicious or I was really hungry.  I ate two of them.

After lunch I hightailed it to park HQ.  The ride was easy without the trailer behind me.  I spotted about 50 keys on the side of the rode, but had no way of carrying them on the ride.  When I got to the HQ everything went smoothly a renewed for another night.  I reported the keys and they sent someone to go check it out.  I ran into him on the road on the way back.  It was likely that contractors doing construction work on the cabins had dropped them off the truck.

I took the scenic road back with time for a peaceful rest on a bench listening to the alligators click and moan.  I got back to camp in plenty of time to “cook” some soup (chicken broth and noodle) mostly salt with no meat.  That’s probably not the best for replenishing nutrients.  Shower, writing, Evening Prayer, and bed down early before the mosquitos come.  Long ride tomorrow.

Day One: Wide roads and friendly traffic

Yesterday I started out about mid-morning as opposed to early.  The night before I was still packing and getting things ready. I stayed up late.  I should remember that trips like this ought not to be scheduled on the cusps of Sunday worship which is already exhaustive for most clergy.

Leaving the house and my neighborhood was a little odd.  Everything around me was so familiar I didn’t quite feel like I was going on a long trip, just a bike around the same places I’ve seen and been to before.  The only thing worth noting was that I was facing a light headwind which I never care for on a bicycle.

As I turned down FM 521 I was coming closer to unfamiliar territory.  I’ve ridden down this road once before but driven down it several times to go to the state park and to take MK to her horse riding lessons.  In most places it was a very comfortable road to ride on.  Broad shoulders except for when a turning lane was created.

I passed the prison and thought of the folks in are church that supported ministry there for so long.  As I type this it occurred to me I wished I had thought to pray for them.  Salvation and a new beginning for all of them.  I haven’t a clue what it’s like for them. Next time.

Along the road I have to say that I was relatively calm when it came to traffic.  Not that I was peaceful.  Just that I didn’t feel much pressure from motorists.  In fact most of them gave me wide berths whenever possible and no one came too close.

Most of that road was familiar so since the map indicated an alternate route I chose it. Sandy Point Rd CR??  Was a pleasant surprise.  Three different Baptist churches dotted the trip down a shaded corridor of live oaks dripping with Spanish moss.  It was the best part of the day really.  I stopped at Pilgrim Baptist Church to say the Noonday Office.  I hope they don’t mind a little liturgy.  And I ate the last slice of pizza from two dinners before.

The only touchy moment along the road was when I was passing a small mobile home.  There had been a few occasions when dogs had ran out to greet me or chase me off as it goes.  But to this point they were always hindered by well-built fences keeping them in.  On this occasion a white bullish looking dog was charging toward me and had made it under the fence barking and threatening me to get off his road.  That’s when I blasted two quick bursts of my air horn at him.  The first startled him and the second stopped him in his tracks.  As I kept pedaling down the road I kept my eye on him.  He just sat there dazed and confused.  I half to admit I was pleased with myself at the outcome and the ingenuity. I’d never heard any cyclists suggest an air horn for this problem.  I was glad I didn’t have to hurt the dog.

After the relatively peaceful ride along Sandy Point I hit FM 14?? for the final long stretch of the ride.  It was more of the same trucks and cars.  I did cross the Brazos river and noted the access road that went down to the river underneath the bridge.  I was tempted to stop and camp there but being alone I didn’t feel it was terribly secure so I continued on to Brazos Bend State Park.

At FM 762 I stopped at a local station to sit on a picnic table and eat a snack. I was pretty tired so I laid down on the table and took in the cool breeze.  In the distance was thunder and I knew I would have to run from the storm.  But it was so comfortable I stayed a while longer.

The rest of this is very predictable.  I rolled into the state park checked in (bought a well-earned coke which I guzzled) and headed toward my campsite.  The rain came on a long stretch of the park access road.  I was drenched.  Most of my gear stayed dry.  The rain let up.  I set up my campsite and bedded down for the night.  Other than an apple I was too tired to eat.  And the rain, rain, rain, came down, down, down all night.