Terry and I have just been standing outside our tents gazing up at what is probably the most amazing night sky we have ever seen. Even with the naked eye thousands upon thousands of stars are visible and there are numerous constellations we’ve never seen before.
We are camping at an RV park just outside Marathon (named after the much older Greek settlement) and have just been listening to some local musicians putting on a jam session in front of a log fire. It really has been quite magical and it was fitting that the day ended with music as that’s also the way it started.
Shortly before 6am, the sleeping masses, dozing on their blow up mattresses in the Sanderson High School gym, were woken by the soft tones of Acker Bilk’s ‘Stranger on the Shore’ and then it was off for a full cooked breakfast with Bubba’s Pampered Pedalers. It appeared Terry I, Louis and Lloyd had become somewhat minor celebrities since our presentations the night before – and seemingly everyone wanted to talk to us, or have their photo taken with us.
This included of course the extraordinary Bubba himself and the pupils at the school who had worked so hard preparing all the food. Homemade cinnabons (that almost rivalled Schlotzsky’s) were a special treat and seeing some left over Terry and I took a few with us to snack on during the ride – providing ample opportunity for some mock outrage from Bubba.
Bubba’s generosity was extraordinary and it all dated back to his time on the TransAm. There have been so many people’s lives that been transformed by this remarkable ride. For Bubba the hospitality he was shown and in particular the support he was given after he crashed his bike-trailer rig, have shaped his life ever since and led to the setting up of his extraordinary cycling enterprise.
“It’s a testament to what an active life – and riding a bike – can achieve”.
What’s most extraordinary about the Pampered Pedalers is their average age is 65! Riding 3,000 miles across the U.S. as a pensioner – amazing. One of the chaps we sat with at breakfast was 73 and he looked so fit and healthy he could have been a couple of decades younger. It’s a testament to what an active life – and riding a bike – can achieve.
Inevitably after all the photos and chatting, the four strong British contingent were the last cyclists to leave. While Bubba’s crew cleared away all the bedding and baggage from the gym floor Lloyd and Louis got in a quick game of basketball with Terry. Even as we tried to hit the road Bubba’s staff were giving us t shirts and baseball caps to take with us on our journey.
Eventually, we all left Sanderson together, filming each other as we cycled out of town. As we were doing our nominal 60 miles today and our new best friends were doing 120 (to make up the time they’d lost waiting to see us), they soon disappeared into the cool, misty distance and onward to their record.
Terry and I only got as far as the gas station before we stopped to pick up provisions as our map indicated there were no services until our night’s destination in Marathon. We stocked up on plenty of water and our standard fare for lunch on the go – peanut butter sandwiches.
The gradual climb out west through Sanderson Canyon was no steeper than yesterday afternoon, but in the cool of the morning and with two incredible meals inside us, it was a different ride entirely. The day started misty – we were probably in cloud cover – and we were grateful the sun made a sluggish appearance which made for pleasant cycling weather.
This really is the sort of country you associate with the Wild West – long valleys looked over by jutting bluffs topped with a hard ridge of rock. You could almost imagine a Comanche warrior party appearing at the top of one of them – a perfect spot for seeing everything that passes below.
All around us were local peaks – Panther Peak at 4183ft, Spencer Mountain at 5191. I wondered what the original Native Americans had called these dramatic landmarks.
Just before we stopped for lunch I spotted a pair of roadrunners by the road which was a huge thrill. Before then the only company we’d had was the railway line, but it was a fair-weather friend. Most of the time the tracks ran parallel with the road but every now and then they veered away as if to say: ‘here comes a hill I can’t cope with, I’ll just follow the terrrain around it and meet you guys again later’. Its path gave us more of a clue to the gradient than our eyes or legs did.
We dined on cinnabons from Bubba’s breakfast, peanut butter sarnies and bananas before heading onto the biggest climb of the day – ‘Lemons Gap’ twenty miles before we reached Marathon. We knew it was coming as the train bottled out about 10 miles before and we amused ourselves during the climb by trying to guess how the place got its name.
“For the first time we were disappointed to not find a marker at the gap”.
Most of our imaginary scenarios were based on the names remembered from previous Historical Markers and involved grist mills or pump stations. They got more convoluted and silly as we got closer, and for the first time we were disappointed to not find a marker at the gap. Now we’ll never know. Hey ho.
Going through the gap at just over about 4,000ft we’d finally left Sanderson Canyon and rode across an expansive open plain, with distant hills on the horizon and a long straight road that went dead ahead, all the way to Marathon. There seemed little life here – and numerous bunds had been constructed to hold onto any rain that falls – but we did see a herd of deer and the occasional dust spout coming to life from the ground and whisping its way into oblivion.
Marathon proved to be a surprise. As the gateway to Big Bend National Park it attracts tourists and even had a posh hotel- The Gage – and a coffee shop where Terry and I bought lattes (yes lattes!!) and sat outside trying unsuccessfully to call home and chatting to a young lad and his girlfriend who had arrived on a burbling ape hanger Harley.
We assumed they’d rode into town Easy Rider style to raise hell, but rather than showing me his fists the young chap was more interested in showing me the badges on his leather waistcoat that he’d gathered geo-caching. With a smile the couple headed off down the street scanning their phones and hoping to discover a few curios and trinklets to take home. Dennis Hopper would have been horrified.
“Pathetic attempts at photographing the multitude came to nought, but we snuggled up in our cosy tents as happy as Larry”.
We’d got into town by 4pm, which always seems to be the hottest part of the day and today was no exception with the gauge hitting 30C and still rising. So after headed to the local grovery store for supplies we cycled to the Marathon RV Park, an attractive adobe style set of buildings on the edge of town and sat around drinking cold cokes until the weather cooled sufficiently for us to put the tents up.
Later, washed, tented and fed, we heard music in the courtyard and spent a pleasant hour listening to a local, low key jam session. By now it was dark … and I mean really, really dark. The stars were … well, out of this world! They were amazing. Pathetic attempts at photographing the multitude came to nought, but we snuggled up in our warm, cosy tents as happy as Larry.
Fearing even more hotter temperatures tomorrow we are planning an early start to try and beat the heat of the day. Remebering the difficulties I had in the heat on the TransAm Terry is doing everything he can to keep me as comfortable and hydrated as possible. Bless him.
As I try to drift off to sleep I can still hear a group of star gazers outside the tent looking in wonder at the heavens above. I don’t think you’d ever get bored of a view like that.
Today’s miles: 55.23
Total miles since Anastasia State Park: 1,818.61
