Wednesday April 3rd, 2013. In Vanderpool Texas
I’m sitting in front of a glowing fire of logs and kindling
(which I collected earlier) burning red and warm in an imposing stone fireplace
in a beautiful old western lodge with two horned deer heads up on the wall
looking down at me, and big old sofas around the fireplace. This is Vanderpool TX also a blip on the map in
Foxfire Cabins, where they have a dozen or so lovely individual cabins
with big old fashioned rooms and heavy wooden furniture. Nancy and I are in the
Main House with the two leaders, Linda and Carol, and we each have a bedroom
and I have the bathroom but she’s sharing the other one.
Today was my Day Off day. After yesterday, when I rode 30
miles but did not have the energy to do the last 18 miles, I thought I would
ride in the van for today’s big hills of West Texas and the long downhill on a
day which was cold and rainy and windy. The van was almost full because several
of us had the same feeling but the Super Speedy Cyclists set out in fine fettle
– and they all finished in good time. It was a lot more restful getting up in
the morning for breakfast at 8:30 a.m. without the pressure to go out and
bicycle Big Hills, which these were. There were lovely views over the rolling
hills and cliffs unlike the stark bareness of Colorado mountains, and the trees
were turning a bright fresh new spring green. The sky was gray and it was about
50 degrees – not hot at all. I could never have climbed those hills, though Jo,
Pat and Donna – all in their 70s! – did the whole thing. Carla was more my
level – she stopped at the van after 21 miles cold shivering and hardly able to
move her hands in her gloves or feel her feet. Barbara and I made her take her
gloves off and the inner gloves were sweaty and cold and couldn’t dry out so we
held her hands to warm her up when she got in the van. She slowly warmed up.
When we got to Laekly, which is pronounce Lay-kely in Texan,
we had a lunch stop and I went for a walk up the road and went into one place
which said icecream and food. The woman said they’d stopping making sandwiches
but recommended Ella…..which had looked like a secondhand store when I walked
past. I went in and found a delightful young woman called Bonnie wearing a 19th
century style dress and apron who said she’d come from San Antonio three years
ago and bought this place a year ago because she needed to get out of the city
“and I feel God called me to come here.” She made me a delicious Panini of
cheese, egg, tomato and spinach, and a fabulous cappuccino to take out, and I
thanked her profusely and paid $10 including tip. By then the others from the
van AND the hardly cyclists had discovered the place too so we van people got
take out because we had to get back in the van, and the others took their time
as their lunch break.
Not much in the town. The Hog Pit was preparing a cookout in
a big metal round cooker outside smoking meat for a big motorcycle rally the
next day so wasn’t offering any food. There was a hot dog store, an everything
food store which had some interesting hats and camping gear for hunters which
is what people do around here. I don’t think I could survive in a place as
closed as these places feel because everything looks so depressed though there
was a small public library in the last place, and I found one bookstore in
Marathon.
Judy joined us in the van – she said she’d had enough – but
everyone else went on. I think it’s partly the mind set and partly knowing what
I can do in climbing. But I shall start tomorrow and sees what happens. I will
have nothing else do but ride….
Tonight, sitting in this delightful lodge room, I’m on one
sofa writing and Julie is on the other doing her blog, and Nancy is
reading. When I got back I helped unload
the luggage and bicycles from the van with some of the others. I checked in
with the nice woman in the office, to find my room in the main lodge, which is
delightful and so big with a huge bed and windows looking out at the river and
the garden. I went for a walk up the road for half an hour, to go past the Lone
Star Motorcycle Museum, which is open
March to December, Friday Saturday and Sunday.
Mel was helping Carol start a fire so I collected small
kindling pieces of wood to help start the fire, and looked at tomorrow’s rides
and decided I’d start out and try it. That will be my challenge. And I actually
sat on my bed for an hour resting and read the excellent book by Tony Hurwitz
on his travels around Arab countries and the chapters on the insanity of life
in Dubai – awash in unbelievable wealth – like the Emirates – and the poverty
and hopelessness of Cairo and Egypt and how the Pyramids are slowly falling
apart because no-one is looking after them. And how the work is done by
immigrants from India, Pakistan and a dozen other poor countries. Interesting.
There is a radio playing or CD so there’s music filling the
room with someone singing popular music that I don’t know, but it’s lovely to
have some music to listen to. Linda is in the kitchen area with Ann preparing
the snacks for 6 p.m. and dinner at 6;15 p.m. We can make coffee in the morning
here too. The riding is fun for me when it’s warm and sunny, as in Colorado,
and not too hilly. But I am here and there is riding in the cool grayness and
there are hills. I shall accept it and go with the flow.
This place is remarkably restful, like my own private
country place – and Julie and Nancy joked that this is our family estate and
we’ve all come to visit. There’s no wifi – so I don’t need to look at anything.
There’s a big TV but no-one is turning it on. I shall be here for this moment
and take tomorrow’s ride as it comes. As one of my pairs of bicycling socks
said: “GO BIG or GO HOME.”
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