Took a nice solo breakfast run to the Lost Maples Cafe in Utopia today. Rain was forecast, and although it threatened all morning, it never materialized.
Took this shot on 337 on the way back from Vanderpool...
It's what the early settlers called New Zealand, and also what I called the Hill Country last Sunday morning, as I set off to Joe's for a breakfast run ...
Thank you for making several fine products, (Quicken, Turbotax, etc.).
I would also like to ask you two favors:
1. When I install a program I’ve purchased, I would really REALLY prefer not to have additional icons (in the case of Quicken— 4 additional) for other products you’d like to sell me or products you are affiliated with also placed on my desktop. After installing Quicken, I had icons for “Best Card (credit) for Quicken users,” “Experian Free Credit Report and Score,” “NetBank,” and “Quicken Billpay” taking up my screen real estate.
2. Change your registration screen so it has a checkbox that says, “Never show me this again,” or a button that says, “Do not register,” or some other obvious way to turn off the registration. I was so annoyed at the constant prompting to register anytime I used the online updates that I nearly uninstalled Quicken and vowed to never use your products again. As it was, I had to do a Google search to discover that it can only be turned off by holding + and clicking “Online-One Step Update.” That is ridiculous.
We just returned from a showing of Flight 93, a dramatized version of the only plane highjacked on September 11, 2001, that did not reach its target.
The movie was shot very much like a documentary, and unfortunately too much of the camera work was the close, quick, and jerky motion favored by MTV music video directors. We had known going into it that it was directed by the fellow who directed "The Bourne Supremacy," whose camera handiwork was abominably shaky.
Apart from that, the movie was touching, heartrending, and inspiring all at once. The characters (even though many were played by themselves, not actors) were very believable.
Although we knew what to expect at the start, we kept hoping for a better ending. I suppose in some ways it did end well, in that it was a shining example of courage, decisiveness, and fighting spirit when it counted. And we find that very inspirational.
Amy has the best idea of any I've heard for a memorial at that site. It would be a statue, thirty or forty feet high. It would show the tail of flight 93 disappearing, in flames, into the ground of that Pennsylvania field, and rising above the tail, out of the flames like a Phoenix, an eagle…
I grew up reading science fiction, starting with Tom Swift, progressing to Edgar Rice Burroughs, and finally Robert Heinlein.
A while ago, a friend hooked me up with a book that I devoured in one sitting, between 8 p.m. and 2 a.m. (on a work night, no less!).
The book was "Old Man's War," by John Scalzi, and it feels very much like a Heinlein novel. I enjoyed it more than I've enjoyed any book in quite a few years. I have since introduced five other people to it, and all have raved over it.
The ... well sequel is the easiest word, but not exactly accurate ... second book set in the same universe has just come out, "The Ghost Brigades." I bought the first copy from a local Barnes & Noble, and repeated the at-one-sitting performance; I highly recommend it as well.
Here are the routes we took each day, Day 1 in blue, Day 2 in Green.
Dagger Flats was a plain old dirt road, well maintained for cars. The only notable part about it was that it had rained the night before, leaving the road with perfect traction. We rode to the end, then backtracked to Old Ore Road.
It started off a bit rocky, then turned into a great stretch of mild to moderately challenging terrain.
Here’s a short video clip:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=HPRzBeNDK9s
At one point, we went off on a side road for a short distance, then turned around. The part where we got back on the road was nasty deep sand. Lee was already gone as I wallowed and wiggled through on the GS, then waited for Tom a hundred yards down the trail where it turned back to a “normal” surface. And waited. And waited.
I kept looking back, and couldn’t see him, until I realized that the KLR was on its side, and Tom was bent over trying to pick it up.
I parked the GS and walked back to help, but not before taking this picture:
The last time we were in Big Bend and Tom crashed (many years ago), I ran back to help without taking a picture. I swore it wouldn’t happen again.
Most of Old Ore Road did not lend itself to great pictures, until we came to the mighty sand washes that the old couple had told us about yesterday. Lee was leading me by several hundred yards. I didn’t see him enter the first sand wash, but I did see a HUGE cloud of sand in the air before I got to it. I slowed waaaaayyyy down on the GS, and surfed on through, while Lee watched, hoping to see a crash. No such luck.
A mile or two later came the second sand wash, deeper than the first. Lee had ridden through, parked on the other side, and walked back to watch. Tom and I looked at it, I said, “Looks dangerous; you go first.” I pulled my camera out as he motored into it and snapped these shots:
After we got Tom out, I cruised slowly into it, too slowly. The rear wheel started to spin, and almost immediately was buried to the hub in the flour-like sand.
Lee tried to lift the rear alone, while I eased the clutch out—no go. I hoped we could get it out with Tom’s help, but I wasn’t sure. At that very moment, a Jeep Cherokee with a half-dozen guys in it pulled up. They saw the problem and piled out to help. We had the big GS free in moments.
Events like that re-affirm my faith in the Universe as a mostly benevolent place. We had seen a total of three cars in a day and a half of riding-what are the odds that a car full of husky young men would appear at exactly the right place and exactly the right time?
We finished Old Ore Road and headed to the Hot Springs for some lunch and relaxation. There were several people already there. Unfortunately, they were all old and showing WAY too much skin.
There were a couple of guys from Boquillas across the river, selling trinkets. It’s sad to know that the town is dying due to the cutoff of tourism after 9/11. The border patrol has disallowed the old “rowboat across the Rio Grande” trip that kept Boquillas afloat.
Lee threw the two guys some candy bars from his pack.
After that, we took River Road West up to Glenn Spring road, and the last turnoff, up to Pine Canyon. At the end of the road we found the best wildlife sign I think I’ve ever seen. The stick figures with the hair sticking out is the best.
Finally, back to Terlingua to pack up, hit the Starlight theater for dinner one more time, then a 0630 departure for San Antonio.
It was about 45 degrees leaving Terlingua. I took this picture of Elephant mountain about 45 minutes out of Study Butte.
My heated grips, Gerbing liner and Aerostich kept me nice and warm … until … we hit the mountains near Alpine. We climbed up into the clouds and the temperature dropped to the mid-30’s, and the dampness penetrated my gloves. It was a miserable 30 minutes until emerging into Alpine, where the clouds were once again above us—where they belong.
We stopped at the Gage Hotel in Marathon for breakfast.
The fine linen tablecloth seemed like a dream after the previous couple of days. I don’t believe I’ve ever eaten a better breakfast.
After that, we split up, Lee and Tom taking I-10 home, and I came back on Highway 90. I stopped for a picture over the Pecos:
And that was just about that. I came home, unpacked, did laundry, and waited for the sweetest woman alive to get home from the Oscar party….
After the relief of getting Lee’s DRZ working again, we continued north up Black Gap road. We came to the much vaunted “killer” downhill. It’s a narrow section with high rock walls and a blind curve near the bottom.
We stopped about 30 feet from the curve and Lee walked down to take a look. He walked back saying something that sounded like, “ … no problem …” He mounted the DRZ and disappeared around the corner.
Without taking a look, I fired up the Beemer and eased downhill. There was a bit of roughness, then a gap and a sharp drop to some rocks set in concrete. I swung my weight back and hit the gas as the nose dipped, and then was through it. I thought, “Well that wasn’t much.”
A short while further on, the road climbed in a right-hand curve, and we rode straight into it. I found myself hitting rougher and rougher terrain, and having to increase speed and commit strongly to my line without having any moment to check what lay ahead. The right side of the trail seemed rougher, and there was a nasty rock and cactus-filled ravine on that side too, which may have influenced my decision to stay left.
Suddenly, the left side started getting rockier , and I had to get really hard on the throttle and go up on the banked left wall. I remember thinking, “I hope I don’t hit something that bounces me off to the right, or that’s really gonna hurt.”
The bank didn’t get rougher, and the GS and I didn’t get spit off the cliff. Here’s what it looked like.
Next, we took pavement to the Chisos Basin lodge for lunch. Nice views…
After that, a long, boring loop through the north end of the park, and Terlingua ranch road. Then, Terlingua, showers, and the Starlight Theater.
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