South Of The Border And More: 3/2/15 Watchtower

Each new road is winding piece of twine that binds us closer. Today we tied some knots!

Waking up to sleet and 36 degrees, we lingered over a warm breakfast. When the mercury hit 40, we ventured out, wearing much of the clothing we brought with us. The lure of a fabled river run drew us into the wind and weather and south to the Rio Grande.

West on 67 to Marfa, then south to Prosidio we devoured miles of desert, being sucked in by that now familiar one point perspective that characterizes many roads in Texas. Excited by a few twisties that broke the trance, we navigated some mountains, but then again, we were riding toward that worm hole in the horizon.

T- boned at Prosidio and the Rio Grande, we were excited to see the river stretch out beside us. Then things got serious!

Winding east along the river, we made our first attempt to picnic at the entrance to Big Bend Ranch State Park. We were totally alone. Wild, windy and beautiful, we accessed our lonely table with me walking and Jules muscling the rocky, rutted dirt path. I held my breath until he reached the top, sitting proudly on Rascal, the King of the hill. The sight of them, with the mountains of Mexico hovering in the background and the river far below, burned another vivid image in my brain that will be pulled up at random for the rest of my life.

Keening wind joined us as we tried to keep it from taking our wine and cheese. Huddled together, alone at the brink of our world, strains of a haunting song whirled around us...."Outside in the cold distance a wildcat did growl, two riders were approaching and the wind began to howl!"

Swept away, these two riders made an exit. As Jules negotiated the moguls, I followed on foot. Glad to be reunited at the bottom, I happily put my boots in the stirrups, ready to ride.

And it was a ride to remember. Cliffs ledging the river so far below, climbed to hills that seemed to end in the clouds. Sometimes screaming into the wind on straightaways, then gearing down into free falls, we ran the Rio. This beautiful and lonely road is only feet from the border, yet there are no patrols or fences. Nature provides a wild and impossible barrier to cross.

A second and more sheltered picnic took place in a teepee, were we savored the break from the wind. Our continuous companions on this ride were the blue bonnets of Texas. Flowering prolifically where little else grows, these brilliant desert flowers lined the roads, adding artistic accent. Here, by our teepee, they rioted.

In Alpine, we knew that we were heading into an isolated part of the country. Few accomodations flashed up on the internet, so we booked in advance in Teralingua, the only "town" in proximity to Big Bend National Park, our next adventure. The Chisos Mountain Mining Company Motel was our choice, and when we arrived we quickly renamed it the Cheesy Mountain Motel! But it was warm and dry and a starting gate for the next day and the ride that had tempted us across the desert.

At home we wait for the perfect day to leave the garage. Never would we ride out below 50 degrees when the wind was a battle to fight. But traveling, we join the forces of weather, riding with them, maybe cursing a little, but ending the day, red cheeked and numb saying "Holy shit ....

What a ride! " And that's why we take to the road.