After some initial confusion of what the time was (daylight saving had kicked in but we had no idea if that meant it was 6am or 7am) we awoke to find Merryville blanketed in thick fog which meant our arrival in Texas, just four miles down the road at the mist covered Sabine River, was a rather muted affair, although we still managed to get the obligatory selfie. We’re getting quite good at this – if you ever need a photo of someone standing next to a street sign we are your men.
Crossing the Sabine River Terry said it instantly felt different. It was probably psychological, just knowing it was the biggest state we’d be going through, but it seemed bigger somehow. The ‘Welcome to Texas’ sign was certainly very large – or maybe we were shrinking.
In the 1800s this area was prime logging country with large quanities of timber rafted down the Sabine from the numerous sawmills that thrived here. With the coming of the Jasper and Eastern Railroad the town of Bon Weir (our first Texas town) was laid out in 1905, taking its name from the Kirby Lumber Company officials B.F.Bonner and R.W.Wier.
We know all that because the Texas Historical Commission has kindly put up a sign next to the road. But the one we were really looking for said ‘All you can eat Texan breakfasts for two hungry cyclists’. Sadly that never materialised, not because we couldn’t see it through the gloom but because, contrary to what we’d been told, the doors of the diner in Bon Wier were firmly closed. It could have been because it was 7am in the morning. To be honest it could have been 5am for all we knew.
“It seemed either they were expecting a lot of people to turn up, or they’d heard there were two hungry cyclists heading their way”.
Instead Terry treated us to peanut butter sarnies made up on the back of the bike and we rode on through the fog towards Bleakwood, past the remains of a gutted house which was still smouldering from a recent fire and yet more abandoned homes and businesses. It was hard to believe that Texas is so rich if it were a country it would be the 10th largest economy in the world.
By the time we reached Kirbyville 16 miles later, the fog began to lift and so did our spirits – mainly because the first thing we set eyes on was Janice’s Dinner Bell Cafe – and inside was a true Texan welcome if the vast amount of food was anything to go by.
A heaving dinner bar boasted pork chops, beef tips, chicken strips, baby green lime beans, mac n’ cheese, fried yellow squash and sweet potatoes, as well as scores of pre-prepared puddings all lined up and ready to go. It seemed that either they were expecting a lot of people to suddenly turn up, or they’d heard there were two hungry cyclists heading their way.
In the end the staff at Janice’s got both. Just after Terry and I sat down a steady stream of families began heading in to eat, having spent their morning building up an appetite in church. It was clear this was more than just a place to grab a quick bite, this was a real social occasion bringing the surrounding community together.
“In Kirbyville the local folk came together over Christ and chicken and we were happy to join them”.
Unlike most places in Britain neighbourhoods in many of the central U.S. states are spread over such large areas it’s hard to work out how and when people meet up with each other. It’s certainly not strolling along the deserted sidewalks of Main Street and is much more likely to be at church, at the local gas station (which can often service as a one-stop shop for everything) or the local diner. In Kirbyville the local folk came together over Christ and chicken and we were happy to join them.
Refreshingly they didn’t have wifi. A sign on the wall explained: “We do not have WiFi, talk to each other, pretend its 1995”. It seemed entirely appropriate.
After filling up on loaded hash-browns (hash browns mixed with onion, peppers and sausage) and Terry delighting in meat-free beans (it’s much harder to find these than you’d think!) on toast with an egg on top, washed down with copious quantities of coffee, we were back on the road, now clear of fog and headed up the busy and noisy road towards Buna, another former lumber town.
The roads have been so much better over the past few days that we were rather surprised to find ourselves on a wide shoulder battling to hear each other speak. Concrete slabbed roads and noisy trucks thundering past on studded tyres don’t aid a flowing conversation between two men who find it hard to hear at the best of times!
Texas is pick-up truck country and the bigger the better it seems. What was also clear, as we rode south, was that Texas was becoming cleaner and smarter with bigger mansions replacing deserted shacks and open pasture transformed into ranches. As a result there were fewer dogs as well. Result! Because a hound rushing out onto this road could only end badly for everyone involved.
Buna was another former logging town and it made you wonder what this area looked like when it was all primary forest. It’s estimated that by 1860 there were 200 sawmills in the State. The Atakapa must have thought the end of the world was coming as they watched their world disappear in a cloud of sawdust.
“It turned out the cottonmouth we’d innocently corralled between our bikes a few weeks back to get a decent photo will kill you in 30 minutes”.
Buna had the usual strip of retail outlets with the ubiquitous Family Dollar and Tractor Supply stores and we turned into a gas station for coffee where we got chatting to Sydney who worked in the attached Subway franchise. Being a horse rider she appeared to be an expert on local snakes and which ones to watch out for. It turned out the cottonmouth we’d innocently corralled between our bikes a few weeks back to get a decent photo will kill you in 30 minutes. Whoops.
We should also be aware of rattlesnakes and copperheads, she told us, but grass and king snakes were fine. Sydney assured us they even encourage the king snakes as they eat other snakes – and explained there were lots of cats around here to kill the snakes. She accompanied each description of the killing power of each snake species with a photo from her I-phone. Terry and I looked at each other in alarm as we remembered previous close encounters! While we were chatting one of the customers joined in the conversation and warned us about the number of ‘crazies’ around. Snakes, crazies or trucks – the locals seemed convinced one of them was going to get us.
She also warned us that the town ahead … Everdale … was known as Eversmell due to the stench of the local paper mill. She was not wrong … bring back the smell of rotting roadkill! As well as the smell the traffic also seemed to get steadily worse and at one point we took a slight detour over a flyover which gave us splendid views of a parked pick-up truck sporting confederate and Stars and Stripes flags, a confederate cross made out of an old pallet and the ‘Rebel Armory Gun & Ammo’ shop. “It really does feel like the south here doesn’t it?” Terry remarked. “It stinks,” I replied – and it did.
In Silsbee a freight train took so long to cross the road I had time to cycle into a drive-through ATM (they had around eight lanes and I was the only one there) get out some cash and I still had to wait for the multiple mile long train to pass. A short hop along a much quieter road and and we were at the Super 8 motel just outside Kountze, which was surprisingly luxurious.
After swopping rooms (why they allow smoking in US hotels we have no idea but at least it’s better than Eversmell) we then proceeded to break out the cookers and boil up our standard fare of ramen noodles, mixed with chilli beans topped off with chocolate pudding, or chocolate coloured chemicals as Terry described it! The meal actually tasted better than it sounds … but then that wouldn’t be that difficult would it? Once we’d done our daily washing the room looked like a Chinese laundry.
Once again we had arrived just as it was getting dark, despite having plenty of time to get to our nightstop. Our problem – and also the reason why the trip is so fascinating and interesting – is that we can’t help talking to people.
The touring bikes are a conversation starter alone but once you chuck in an English accent that’s half an hour gone – and it all adds up. Today we did just short of 65 miles, but we were only pedalling for around 5 and a half. That’s an awful lot of time off the bike.
But there’s no point in cycling in a vacuum. If you are not going to take time to chat to the locals and learn about the places you are passing through you might as well just sit on the turbo trainer at home. Mind you much of what we were told we’d rather not have known. After an interesting chat with a woman outside Walgreens in Silsbee today she spoilt it all by warning us this was not a particularly nice area and to be careful. But there aren’t many options for escape on a bike weighing 84lbs.
Total miles: 64.91
Miles since Anastasia State Park: 1065.3
