today is an exciting darn because we will finally be travelling through Orla, the famous west texas ghost town. it is only 35 miles down the road… which mine as well have been 350 miles. headwinds today. and these winds aren’t out for tickle fights. even though i was. tee-hee!
the brutality of the winds led to us taking refugee behind a strange store in the middle of… nothing. what was this place? it was closed but still a site of nauseating preciousness that i sincerely enjoyed. this included the lunchboard writings; “today’s special: and so are you” to the weather rock. a rock that told the weather. we took sanctuary on the side of the small house and ate lunch of fruits, honey and whole wheat bread, and… Busch’s tall boy! elder twin surprised me with a lunch time beer which made happy faces on this twin. it would not make us challenge the winds at a faster pace, but somehow, they would not feel so challenging.

we could have stayed at our lunch spot for sometime having lost the desire for pummeling… if it was not for the friendliest most frightening dog in the world. shortly after our meal a pumpkin headed grey pit bull came charging from a trailer half a mile away. the creature was a piling of pure muscle and a fun game of disproportions adding to the intimidation factor. sure, it was the kindest of creatures, but having no awareness of its strength, this dog was like taking on headwinds again. we decided it was time to leave.

with great pain we continued to fight against the winds. we had a date with ole timey ghost townery! it was already turning to dusk when we made it. but it was well worth… wait a minute. Orla isn’t a fun time creepy ghost town at all! it’s just some dilapidated  houses besides some very active oil wells and factory equipment. it had a working post office and a slue of refinery employees which gave us friendly waves as we passed. ghastly. i heard steve say, “Orla… more like borla.” but i didn’t laugh. i was grumpy just then. but it was pretty funny.

we only made it ten miles further before we camped off the road. we found  a nice little spot in the middle of an oil field which was possibly also cattle land. oily, oily cattle. we first tried a little plot next to some machinery, but the smell of death and signs warning of toxic gas emissions… and increasing unconsciousness, inspired a change in scenery.

tonight was yet again the most stunning sunset to date. the twins finished the Patron sent to us by Dway and toasted the scenic land and our high hopes of a windless tomorrow. i heard a dog barking in the middle of the night but nothing came of it. my crazy mind, perhaps. hero twins kate signing out.

breakfast was morning burritos and donuts for hero steve, and oatmeal and Killigan’s liquid bread for me. soon we were on the road and making excellent time even with the frosty air. what is this, the day before december?! a little early for sweaters, don’tcha think, texas?

with less than ten miles to go it looked like we would be at the post office before one AM allowing us plenty o’ time to nerd on our site at the local book lending! that is, if i do not get a flat. which… i do.

attempt one: the tube does not hold air. attempt two: it is revealed that the object had shredded multiple areas. these are soon patched and clogged. but then mayhem occurs. the valve tears. just six miles to go. you win this round, texas. we hitch.

we are picked up by 2 hunters (and for the 3rd time in a row the first pick-up that sees us pulled over. high-five texas back road drivers!) who’s pick-up bed is occupied by a gigantic freezer for their… boca burgers… which hunter love to take with them on camping trips. anyhum, with much finagling, pennyfarthing is wedged next to the freeze tank with my senior twin pegged behind her. meanwhile thunderdome is striped of her panniers (dirty little bicycle) and is belted to the top of the freezer (with my bags stored inside of it!). no room in the cab, i sit next to farthing; feet a danglin’ off the open tailgate, holding onto dear brother’s steed for good health. it was a sight to be seen.

mishap and happy days at the post office. our father’s package of new tubes did not arrive. thunderdome would be a burden and not beast this evening, it seemed. but then we receive Dway’s gift. surly a saint bearnard with a barrel of booze around it’s neck! the darn thing was like bursting open a pinata! not only did he send the tire liners i requested but a cornucopia of treats and liquor and… NEW TUBES!

it was a full night of bicycle o’ repairing and lushing for this baby twin. goodnight nurse! hero twin kate signing out.

ps. i took a co worker’s advice and switched our front and rear tires for greater longevity. also, as some have inquired, both us twins carry equal weight at this point and it has been mostly bits of wire which have caused the flats. although today we found some sort of spinney leg off a strange giant beetle. and thanks, as always, for acknowledging that i can not spell or grammar my way out of a paper bag… and this bag is filled with bees!

but it was only 10 miles left to Iraan and delicious coffee. nectar of my velvety gods. and wouldn’t cha knows it? it was a steep o’ decline all the way into town! and the hero twins were soon in a fastening zoom… until brother twin hit a rock and crashed into the side of a mountain. this caused a pinch flat too large for baby glueless patches. we had to hitch the last 3 miles. steve wore grumpy pants the whole way.

breakfast was scrumptious mexican food. the meal time conversation was immobility. we are still 2 days away from our emergency care packages being sent to Pecos (courtesy of hero twin papa and dway. thanks guys!). we have no spare tubes to remedy this new aggressive flat. i mean flats. the slow leak in my rear tire… eh, not so slow anymore.

enter auto garage! across the street and not so a world away was a motor emergency room where the gear heads and grease monkeys were more than pleased to help two lonely pedal poppers on their way. soon i was rubbing nuts and bolts besides the best of them and the hero twins got an industrial patch work make over. we were back on the road! well, almost, for soon we are stopped by a chatty cathy who revealed himself as a biking enthusiast… here… in no man lands west texas. who knew? this kind sir did and proceeds to give strange advice and encouragement to pursue Interstate 10 to Fort Stockton, thusly quickening our route to Pecos. Bikers on the interstate? wha wha what?!

so we do. and it is incredible. we’re talkin big broad birthin wide shoulders and smooth as those birthed bastards’ behinds. it was a long awaited glimpse of road paradise.

fort stockton was a hookers and blow type trucker lay over. it did not take much before we were getting some heebies followed by the jeebies and thus decided not to camp in crime city but find low income housing instead. we were instantly scammed into the “only room left” which was the most expensive (albeit, still cheaper than any chain motel) but was also the “honeymoon suite.” ooh la la. the twins decide to live it up and be a couple of fatties spending the night drinking Killigans, eating cookies and ice cream, and watching how camera lens are made on the discovery channel. it is complicated. hero twin kate signing out.

We woke to SSW 16 mi/hr winds. It encouraged us to return to the country cook’n convenience store for some additional morning time heckling. it was not long before the county judge had words for us:

“i like to keep tabs on who comes through these parts! now you must’ve had jobs before this? bicycle mechanic, eh? not sure if we could use you. you know, its supposed to blow like this for the next two days… mine as well stay here till then… put a little of that money into our town…” and so on with discouraging words for the road ahead. you had to admire the man.

we set off, against the winds, against the hills. it is 79 miles to the next signs of human intervention. we only had to make it 65 to stay on schedule. after 10 i felt my body go into collapse. pains in the upper body. what the devil was this?! elder twin stopped and picked a piece of cotton from a passing plantation.

“i’ve never felt raw cotton before.”

“what’s it like?”

“like a… sort of… cotton ball like.”

after 45 miles both the twins felt peril. the flesh was weak. but hero steve laughed and said the adventure was back. he was the phoenix from the flames. and being the magical beast that he is, my pointy faced brother drafted this fragile twin the whole darn day. thanks steve!by 55 miles i had run out of water (more like 48 miles and then i put the less than quarter bottle away to conserve for the 15 miles to Iraan [pronounced eiree-ann... darn texans] in the AM. i’m gunna mix it with raspberry emergen-C!). Steve put his camel pak away for extra conservation. water is for babies. and so is air in my rear tire. the leak was quickening.but the last 2 miles were a victorious downhill cruise with a maxing speed reaching over 33 mpr into… the texas oil fields. say what you will, oil wells mean people to man them and life essence water to sustain those fokle. seeing a shanty, i biked up a driveway to meet a squirrelly owl eyed man poured on top a tractor. he gave permission to use the water dealy-hoo in the car port beside his trailer. the area was bombarded with trash and children’s play toys, but no signs of other people. i dug behind motor blades, pogo sticks, floaties, and rusted shrapnel for precious agua. no avail.

“uh, kate,” hero steve beckoned. “i think we should just go.”

“we can’t give up! it’s too important!”

“even with that?” he pointed to the decapitated deer’s head i was standing beside.

“hey, you want to get the fuck out of here?” we rode an extra 7 miles and camped on the side of the road. hero twin kate signing out. 

the last few days the twins have been developing great concern over my chronic numb toes. yea, son! my toes are the chron! but instead of being super heady, they spend half the day flip flopped between feelingless and hurty. i am up to 3 pairs of wool socks with no change in my body’s inability to retain heat. the impact of this development is undecided.

Menard was a site for sore brown eyes as we, once again, gracelessly wrestled the hill country. elder twin was having rectum (darn near kill ‘em) dislodging the whole morning which led to a twice clogging of the gas station facilities. awesome.

we held up at the tiniest of swankiest cafes for sometime enjoying a bottomless cup o’ joe and plush recliners. we considered making a home there based solely on the music selection. Elton John, Heart, The Cure; it seemed possible that hero steve’s iDarn wan pumpin jams through the power outlet. it was at this cafe that the waitress informed us that hill country, eh, doesn’t end in the route we’re going. wtf?

and it truly hasn’t. and the winds are coming. after 15 miles spirits soften and the twins pulled over for a pow-wow.

this isn’t fun anymore.

the twins are no babies, but girls just wanna have fun, alright?! going home? nay, that is the last option. but maybe a hitch or two and a chance to actually see some sights. we agreed to two more days in order see if the adventure flame rekindles. and thus we rode 15 more miles.

and steve’s tire went flat.

we hitched to el dorado.

we ate at a quaint mexican joint (one of two restaurants in town) and a kind stranger picked up the bill. we then set our tent in the local park and dreamt of better days and our fears of texas.

the hours before dinner were spent in a local gas station (staple of our stays) which doubled as a hub for aged townies to gossip and chatty cathy the strangers. they mused at out journey and gave tid bits on roads, weather, and distance.

“don’t forget to visit Orla!” one included, and they all laughed maniacally. hero steve flipped through his map and found orla on our route, “that’s one of our stops! what’s it like?”

“The end of the world!” they cackled in delight. senior twin wikipediad it from his iDarn:

Orla; a ghost town in texas that is believed to have 2 residence. there is a post office.

Brother twin gave the frumpy face. hero twin kate signing out.

PS. my elder twin’s flat today was a twofer; a pinch flat caused by a slow leak which brought his tire under pressure. very impressive! i’m still living with a slow leak which means a pump up at every rest. fun! and lastly, el dorado was a strange melting pot of a town. from the increasing mexican population, to the two asian children at out diner spot, to the middle eastern young fellow driving with the while dude who asked us our business, to the full spectrum of economy array. the devil is this multicultural utopia? 

We snuck out of our gracious stay in the wee hours as to not disturb the hosts. they specifically asked us not to do this and our punishment was instant. brother twin had a flat before the end of the street. despite the cold, it was a treat to change it while sipping hot gas station coffee which i’ve developed a strange affinity for. this flat means hero twin steve’s last life. combined we are out of replays. Llano had no patch kits. It is 35 miles to Mason.

Fast forward 6 miles.

My tire goes flat.

despair hits heavy as we assumed the hitch position. hero steve laughed. “the hero twins are no boy scouts.”

i furled my brow. no boy scouts?! defeated by pointy rock?! i despertily begin peeling off old patches from senior twin’s abandoned tube and hastily asphyxiate it to my own (and sexily steve waited by, and piratily a bird flew on). it held. suck an egg, legion of boy scouts.

the road to Mason was darn arduous. darnuous. have the twins truly gotten fat and lazily from our Austin stop? …yes. yes they have. combined with the increasingly aggressive hill country terrain (hill darn!) and gravely shoulders, the twins were moving slower than a june bug in… something that makes it difficult to move in… very fast.

But Mason had patches, even if they are the darndy glueless sort. and its good that they did because half way to the town of Hext we discover my rear had a slow leak. bike jargon is filthy.

we’re camping behind what we think is an abandoned firestation but what we are positive is a very active hunters’ outfitters/ taxidermy shop. steve confessed that he’s never seen “Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” i am jealous of this.

the most amazing sunset of our lives tonight. i understand that is what is said of every sunset, but this one WAS. i fixed the new leak, ate my whole wheat with local honey bread, and dreamt of a new day outside of hill country… heck hills. hero twin kate signing out. 

Our route is HWY 71 and our destination is Llano (pronounced locally as “land-o”). Joey drove us to the Pertinale River where the shoulder finally picks up. He consistently asked if we were sure about what we were doing. We weren’t, but we could not delay our fate any longer. Hero twin power activate; form of regret.

It was soon after that fate meant a rear flat for Thunderdome. And that is when I remember the thing i forgot in Austin… riiiiight… buy more patches. We were on our last one. The chilled air bit my fingers as I went through the procedure… but it did not hold. 6 flats and the last patch won’t hold. I was strong armed into using my spare tube. This meant I was out of extra lives. We hummed the Super Mario tune as we continued through the rain.

But fate was yet again a titty twister when 25 miles later the shoulder gave out. We found ourselves blindly navigating through hill country on a one lane highway… in  the rain. By 35 miles our thumbs beckoned for a savor. We are crazy and all that jive… but heck. This was suicide. And the hero twins are no cutters.

It wasn’t too long before Terry and his red pick-up pulled over to evacuate us the last 14 miles to Llano. The first bumper sticker I noticed said “if you don’t love Jesus then you can just shut-up.” The second image was of Hitler giving hail. I held my breath and read the text; “If you’re for gun control, raise your hand.” I was once again relieved that our company loved guns. I got in and shut-up.

Terry was a classic outback Texan. He was also a chatty cathy who’s hypnotic drawl made his words impossible to follow. It was not until he would break into, “ya know wha I mean? ya know wha I mean?” that I would snap back and be flustered for a response. Something about Willie Nelson’s  town 5 miles past, the scull and bones conspiracy, and the flat lands. “man, ya’ll in fo sum desolate shit!”

i was shocked to find that Terry was anti-bush… although possibly also very racist. but other than that a good guy. salt of the earth. he put on Pamala Nelson’s new album (autographed to Terry) and brother twin and i bobbed our heads to the rhythm. “man, ya’ll can jus download this shit fram the internet.”

Llano (who’s entire economy relies on the hunting season between november through december) was a series of wasting time till it was appropriate to camp under the town bridge. it will reach freezing tonight. fun.

steve eats two deep fried burritos at the gas station were we’ve decided to take up residence. it is here that we learn that the unusually high traffic on the road into town was due to the weekend hunters returning home. the route out will be about the same topographically but fairly vacant of vehicles. we plan on attempting it.

we come to the conclusion to watch “bee movie” at 7:30 at the cinema and close the bar next door in wait (Buds and Lone Stars). Then we ride over to Subway for dinner. it is here that the town congregates to inquire about our journey. here we also meet Melony and Ken; yet another set of benevolent folks that give us a warm home for the night. We watch films and chit chat about Melony (from Paradise, CA like our WSM!) who schools at roller derby. And then there’s Ken who was a bicyclist in Las Vegas (which apparently is ripe with trails!). and the twins listened with great interest until we become too cozy on our respective furniture and fell into tiny bicycle related slumber. hero twin kate signing out.                                                                                     

This entry could easily become (further become) an homage to Erin, Joey, daughter Abby and her friends (even son Evan who is hilarious and has made it so that I will forever equate things that decline over time with Free Willie… genius). But instead of turning this log into yet another dry hump to the kindness of strangers, I just want them all to know how much we deeply, deeply love them, and will now thumbnail through our Austin experience:

-We fired guns.

-We drank everclear margaritas and flaming Dr. Peppers. Later I vomited in a bar bathroom.

-I milked a goat.

-We surpassed our aim for the best blue berry pancakes by have a no name blue berry crumble made by Erin.

-In fact, Erin’s cooking was one of the most amazing aspects of this… life.

-We rode the veloway (hey, it’s Lance Armstrong country… we are geek darns).

-Joey desecrated a Hindu temple.

-We fired guns. Seriously, kick ass.

-Progressive Thanksgiving dinner. Heck your turkey! Hello steaks and enchiladas!

-Every conversation with Erin and Joey. For reals, they are hilarious.

-Making sushi and getting Erin hammered on sake.

-Sleeping under a Precious Moments comforter.

-Firing guns.

-Drinking goat’s milk. And it was really good. Weird…

-We fired guns.

Please refer to our photo gallery for more information. Hero twin kate signing out.

PS. Austin is notorious for its poor bicycling conditions with Armstrong himself proclaiming he would never ride here again. Yeah… it is pretty bad. So… be aware of that.

Hero twin steve, having perked up in the slightest, buck’s up for the day’s ride. We have no intention of pushing the 93 miles to Austin. In order to make any distance I’ve taken on all the weight as steve wrestles the evil he has swallowed. My load includes all the food, all the tools, the tent, the u-lock and cord, and four sleeping bags. Steve carries the cold grip of death.

Today’s ride leads us into Texas hill country, flash rain storms, and a decrease in rest stops. The shoulder also gave out and we found ourselves riding in fast paced traffic in fast paced rain. The anxiety stimulated pumps every muscle with concrete and soon I can not feel the weight of my bike or the hunger from having no location of which to lunch. This is when steve gets a flat. 93 miles later we are Austin. It makes no sense.

Tonight we stay with well traveled, generous and couch surfing gurus Kimberly and Tom. Somehow we pushed through our insanity and took up their advice of Mediterranean cuisine and local music. Unfortunately senior twin grew ill after dinner and was forced to return to our domicile. Out of love and concern I ditched the baby and went on alone to Ginny’s Little Bighorn Saloon. There I partook in Lone Star beer and watched rock-a-billie music in a tiny tiny venue. It was an elegant mixture of hipsters and blue collars that spoke of true beauty. Austin, take me home. Hero twin kate signing out.

PS. Austin is hub for couch surfers, going so far as to have a Thursday night meeting of us freeloading travelers as a chance to swap tales and toss a few back. There is even a couch suffers’ thanksgiving hosted by the benevolent Tom and Kimberley who we lament about not being able to join. Thank you again for everything and good luck! Also, I lost my cyclometer today. And I was electrocuted by my generator in a rain storm which short circuited the darn thing. Bummer.

-Hero Twin Steve