My last blog entry was dated exactly a month ago, and at that time I was already going stir crazy. Add a few more weeks of social distancing and what boils down to continued self-quarantine, and things started to become outright un-fun. A man can ride the same bike routes in Lubbock and bake loaves of bread only so many times before the first signs of insanity start to manifest, so I figured it was time to escape.
Every year, I get an allotment of 20,000 RCI timeshare points. Most of the time I have a hard time using them because one needs to make reservations not just weeks but several months ahead of a desired stay--and I mean not just a few months but more like close to a year. So I was really surprised when, on a whim, I checked some properties in Texas and saw that there was actually availability, and at a vastly reduced points rate. With all my races cancelled or postponed and really nothing better to do, I went through the process of booking what is called an "exchange vacation" in a resort in the Texas Hill Country. And since that's a lot of driving, I added a second week at another resort that showed availability.
Of course, things were not as easy as they seemed. A couple of days after booking these two consecutive weeks I was informed that, unfortunately, one of the resorts would not be open, after all, because of COVID-19. Full refund for points and the small booking fee, but just one week of vacation. Dang.
So back to the drawing board, but there was nothing available in Texas before or after the week that I had booked in Bandera. Next step: expand your horizons and think outside of the box. And thus I ended up with a second week (same point level) in a place in Ruidoso (where I am writing this blog post).
Early on Saturday, May 9, I left Lubbock heading south to the Hill Country. The Beemeer was loaded with two bikes (one road, one gravel), a big duffle with mainly cycling clothing, a few tools and spares, the Silca floor pump, a case of CH wine, five pounds of flour, and of course my Creuset--I'm way beyond buying shitty bread in a store. The Z4 may be a babe magnet, but not even the slimmest honey would have fitted into it next to me!
Once I turned off US 87 and headed toward Colorado City, the early morning clouds had burned off and it was time to drop the roof. Ah, what a glorious feeling to go on vacation in a cool car, with the world green, the sun shining, and places to be explored! I rolled through San Angelo, made good time to Eden, hung a right at that spooky taxidermy place that always freaked out poor old Jude, stopped for a couple of gallons of really cheap gas in Menard, and then hit I-10 at Junction. Humming along for another 45 minutes I was already in Kerrville where I exited and headed for Bandera. All these places I hadn't been through in forever--for political USAC reasons--and it was interesting to see the changes (some wider roads, lots more wind turbines, new convenience stores) but also comforting to see that it really is all still the same.
By mid-afternoon I arrived at The Homestead resort, about six miles outside of Bandera. Check-in was easy, and I was delighted to see that the place was rather empty; my complex, the Antler, had four condos and I was the only occupant, and the Buckhorn next door was completely deserted. Nice. The riff-raff lived on the Elkhorn side.... My two-bedroom condo featured a large kitchen with every amenity I could ask for, had a large living/dining area with view of the Hill Country, and featured two full bathrooms. Dang, should have brought somebody along and sublet part of the place! And as an added chi-chi I had my own porch/balcony with table and chairs, looking upon (dry) Bandera Creek. Nice!
Compared with other RCI properties where I have stayed, this one was definitely a notch better--less dated, more roomy, not stuffy smelling, you know, just better. Had it not been for the gazillion stray cats that roamed the otherwise immaculate grounds and even somehow managed to climb up to my balcony (nothing like a good squirt from the water bottle to transform them into flying squirrels!!!) it would have been perfect. OK, it would have been nice to have a gas grill on the porch (instead, shared charcoal fire pits like in a park, and not even right in front of the condo), but that was really the only negative that I put into my exit survey.
So, this was my home for seven nights. Bandera has a Lowe's grocery store, and there's also a liquor store with some fine craft brews. Needless to say, I lived well. My daily routine consisted of sleeping until I woke up from the sound of the wild turkeys, make a pot of coffee and fire up the range to make a few fresh cookies, and read the news on my tablet (OK, the internet connection was a bit spotty, but I think that was more the local provider's issue than the resort's). After my cereal-and-fruit breakfast I'd kit up and go for a ride that I had mapped out with Locus the night before. Initially I rode from the resort, but for the final two days I used the car to get me to different starting points so I'd see a nice variety of countryside.
Once back home after my excursion, I'd shower up, grab a couple of beers, and go to the nice pool area, which even featured a jacuzzi in addition to the two freeform pools. Had it not been for two families with screeching children (not always present, but most of the time) it would have been heaven. I don't understand that some people simply cannot fathom that other guests might not enjoy their screaming children, their poolside boombox, or their way-too-loud conversations. But that's the way it is.
The evening continued with either bread making or dipping olive oil and opening a bottle of vino and preparing dinner. You get the idea. Since the Antler was away from anybody else, it was heavenly silent, with just a bit of soft jazz coming from the Bose. What a wonderful week!
The weather ranged from good to great.
Good was some cloudy skies but no rain (which we had only twice, in the middle of the night) but still muggy, the way you encounter it in Central Texas.
Great was after the overnight storms, with brilliantly blue skies, a crispness of the air that makes you feel twenty years younger than you are. By the time afternoons rolled along, it generally was hot, at times so humid that I'd think my head would explode in the next uphill section. That's the eay it is down here. Nothing that a really cold beer and a dip into the pool won't cure.
My rides ranged in length from about 35 to 56 miles, depending on what I could accommodate with the existing roads. I have to say that for me the sweet spot is around 45 miles. My speed is no longer what it used to be, and I often stop to take pictures and just enjoy the places that I am riding through. Obviously, riding the gravel bike required more time, while the road bike is a bit quicker, but no by much. If my average speed is only 12 mph, well, so be it. Nothing left to prove. Medicare doesn't come until next January....
I remembered the Hill Country as a much more remote, much more secluded part of the world. When I rode my first Easter Hill Country Tour in 1980, I believe, encounters with cars were rare. Well, since then Texas' population has pretty much doubled, and the influx of affluent Austinites and San Antonians is undeniable. Still, I was able to map rides that avoided much of the traffic, and those were the most enjoyable moments of all the riding--until another F-150 or Ram or other monstrosity came blasting by.
In my six days of riding I covered 280 miles. Most of the countryside was fenced in, with "No Trespassing" and "Posted" signs when there was not a physical 8-foot-tall fence to make the message clear. I understand, people have their property and hunting is a big deal down here. Still, do you really feel welcome here? Honestly, most of the time I didn't. You ride across a low-water crossing of a pristine creek, but there are half a dozen signs on either side warning you to "Stay Off" anything that's not part of the concreted roadway. I felt lucky to run into a (definitely non-Texan landowner) on the day when the road that I followed turned into a dirt-track and then a path and then a pasture and I ended up on the inside of a big gate, with the highway on the other side. I didn't get chewed out and I didn't get shot; I never crossed any announced property line yet I ended on somebody's property, and I didn't feel good about it. The gate combination was 8888, just for future reference.
And that's what my trip to the Hill Country was like. It took another 570-mile trip from The Homestead to Ruidoso, NM, to get to my next one-week getaway, but I'll write about that some other time.
Stay sane!
Jürgen
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