Suffering through 220 sweat-soaked miles in East Texas (plus another 31 in Dallas)

Starter home in East Texas

How do people manage to breathe and stay alive in East Texas? Or Alabama or Mississippi or any of those places where the sun hits brutally hard and the frequent rains are transformed into the type of humidity that one can slice with a butter knife? How did the European settlers ever survive the summers without the luxury of air conditioning? WTF do I go to places like this to ride my bike in the summer? Really, why?

The climatic conditions were quite different from what I had encountered a couple of weeks ago in the Pacific Northwest; sure it was warm up there, even with some humidity, but none of that wet-blanket-over-your-entire-body-and-especially-the-face feeling. Dallas is bad. Flint (close to Tyler, aka Rose Capital of the World) is far worse. It was on par with Missouri and Arkansas last year, and on occasion worse.

That occasion came last Thursday when after a night of torrential rains the area was under a flashflood warning until 8:30 a.m., the precise time when the sun started to come out, broiling the entire region with a ferocity that should be reserved for dystopian sci-fi movies. And I went for a ride. Honestly, it was 100% humidity according to whatever weather app I have. I should have known better.

I'm no longer fast, and I'm no longer fit. Age and injuries and too many bottles of wine and too many IPAs have taken their toll over the years. But I still enjoy riding, and I can still get up the hills, even if slowly. But man, riding in the beautiful Piney Forests of East Texas was tough. When at the end of the day your average speed is just under 11 mph for a 40-miler, you know you either suck big time or something has been grabbing you from the back the entire way.

And let me get this off my chest: The roads in Texas can be so unbelievably cruel that you may want to bypass the state. Sure, I see this from the perspective of a cyclist, but you can't tell me that the rough chip-seal does one iota of good for cars. Flying rocks, decreased gas mileage, and wear-and-tear for your tires are just part of it; add more noise and all those extra vibrations to get the full picture. I think I rode on some of the civilized world's shittiest roads. And then, when you think you can't take it any longer because your arms and shoulders and your back and ass are so sore, you suddenly find yourself on a stretch of asphalt that is smoother than a newborn's bum. And that's when you realize, there was a reason to come this way, after all.

I had a bit of time on my hands and a few timeshare points to burn and had found a two-bedroom condo in the Holiday Inn Club Vacations Villages close to Flint, on the east banks of Lake Palestine. (Make sure you don't pronounce it like a world-savvy person but rather to rhyme on Palesteeen.) On the way to East Texas I stopped over for a night in Dallas to reconnect with my old friend Mike, who used to cut my hair when he was still a Lubbock denizen. Now he works for one of Dallas' most prestigious salons, Osgood O'Neill, still applying his straight-razor technique. We had a wonderful evening of food, beverages, and much conversation. Unfortunately, Mike had to work on Saturday morning so that I went for an urban 31-miler by myself. Mike lives not far from White Rock Lake, and I had a chance to sample Dallas' bike paths and the fun 10-mile loop around the lake. Then I was off to Flint.

Just as last year, when I stayed in various timeshare condos for one-week vacations, I brought all the things a man needs: Dutch oven to make bread, pizza stone and wooden paddle, my preferred mix of cereal. Really, it's like living at home away from home. My daily routine was similar to that in Lubbock: read the newspaper (online) with coffee and cookies, pour a big bowl of cereal and fruit, go for a 35- to 45-mile-ride that could easily take four hours (or more, when I drove to the starting point of my ride), and start Happy Hour once back in the condo. OK, in Lubbock I don't have a pool at my disposal, but otherwise things were quite similar. A large Brookshire's supermarket just two miles from the resort meant that I could easily buy fresh food and replenish the beer stash with local IPAs. What more does one want?

After first exhausting the near-by ride possibilities I ventured out for three rides a bit farther away. Starting points were Tyler, Bullard, and Athens; in each case I drove the car to the starting point (about 15 to 30 miles away), parked, rode, and then drove back. With my Locus map I found altogether six loop routes that were fairly devoid of traffic. I found that most (but certainly not all) of the County Roads have much better pavement than Farm-to-Market roads and especially the larger state highways. However, in some cases the latter would have wide, smooth shoulders, while some of the CRs were nothing but potholes held together by a patchwork of decaying asphalt. In other words, there was no way to predict what I might encounter. I realize that this is supposed to be part of the beauty of exploring a new place, but at times it was also quite frustrating. I wish there were an app that would give reliable information on a road's surface!

The loops that originated in Tyler and Athens both had me end up at brewpubs. Actually, I had parked just a few steps away from ETX Brewing and Athens Brewing Company, so post-ride libations were easy to come by. In Tyler, I also visited True Vine Brewing where not only the beer was very tasty but the service exceeded expectations. Lately it seems that the folks who work in the hospitality industry don't really give a damn about their jobs, so this was a nice surprise.

The terrain in this part of East Texas is a happy mix of rolling hills, lakes small and large, and extensive swaths of both private ranchland as well as piney forests. It is a pleasant countryside, and I am sure that during the months when one can actually breathe down here (months? Probably just a few weeks in the dead of winter!) the riding would be superb. I was astonished by the many large estates with fancy homes that are surrounded by huge tracts of verdant pasture with a few large, old trees. I'd like to know whether those places are owned by retirees or whether the owners commute to work to ... well, to where? The few Texas Longhorns certainly couldn't be their livelihood. 

I did not know that the pine trees are actively harvested and that there must be a healthy lumber industry. Even though I did not encounter any logging trucks I came across a large operation that grows pine seedlings for reforestation, as I learned. Around the lakes, tourism seems to play a fairly large role, but overall the area appeared to be a backwater for economic activity. 

On the way home I once again stopped over in Dallas, this time to visit one of Judy's in-laws, Shawn. It was nice to catch up with him and also his mom, Betty, who had been one of Judy's favorite aunts and with whom I always had a nice connection. Betty had seen some of my Facebook posts and messaged me, asking whether I was in the area. Social media once again served its purpose of refueling old friendships.

To wrap things up, this was an enjoyable 1,100-mile trip to a part of the world that is better visited in cooler months. Still, I had a good time and am glad I went, and spending time with Mike, Shawn, and Betty was icing on the cake.

Jürgen

Once around Puget Sound

After reading accounts of the PNW (Pacific North West) being hellishly hot over the past few weeks, it was with a bit of trepidation that I flew to Seattle almost two ago. The original plan had been to stay mostly centered in Seattle, go for day excursions to the city, and add a two-night bikepacking trip to the mix.

Sometimes the best-hatched plans need to be adjusted for reasons outside of our control, and I ended up with less Seattle time and instead a full lap around (at least parts) of Puget Sound. My trip encompassed almost 200 miles of riding in five days, with four free hotel stays that all came thanks to point redemptions with various programs. 

Lou in his kitchen

But before I embarked on my first real tour exactly five months post-surgery, the incomparable Lou and I terrorized his West Seattle neighborhood. Lou used to be a landscape architecture professor at Texas Tech, so we go back quite a few years. To call Lou a bit on the eccentric side is quite likely an understatement, but then who am I to question somebody's way of seeing the world, right? With Lou, expect the unexpected, go with the flow, and have another beer, even if it is poured into a wine glass! 

Lou and his buddy Paul in the kitchen

Actually, we spent more than the two-and-a-half days in West Seattle together, a time during which I met various of his local cronies and tennis buddies. Feeling the need to flee the city, Lou joined me for 24 hours on the Kitsap peninsula where we dined and rode together (even though the riding was rather limited in scope and speed, at least for Lou).

Alki Beach

After assembling my Ritchey Outback the day after my arrival I shook my legs out with a short ten-mile ride from Lou's home just a block off the Sound in West Seattle and riding the bike trail up and around Alki beach, ending up in a spot that gave me an incomparable view of the downtown Seattle skyline. It was one of only two totally clear days (no smoke from the current forest fires was interfering) during my stay, and the view was worth the flight to Washington. I couldn't go for a longer ride on that Friday because Lou had invited friends to a get-together to introduce me.

The next day, with an ever-so-slight drizzle (the roads never were truly wet, and this was the only precipitation for the duration of my trip), I headed out on my adventure. My first stop was going to be just six miles down the road, still in West Seattle, where Sabine's old study mate Tina lives. The two met during Sabine's stint as a Fulbright student back in the '80s, and the friendship has thrived since. I had met Tina a few years ago when Sabine and Jona had flown to Washington and I had joined them for a few days.

Lake Tapps

After catching up over a cup of coffee I was finally off to my first destination, Auburn. I spent most of the day riding on dedicated bike trails and routes, mostly away from vehicular traffic. This pattern would continue for the rest of the trip. The cycling infrastructure in this area is simply amazing. I probably spent three-quarters of my trip on dedicated trails that are well-marked and mostly very well maintained. On this first day I followed first the Duwamish and then the Green River trails and finally was spit out just a little bit before Auburn. On my second day I followed what is called the Foothills Trail, and on other days there were similar routes.

The first night I spent in a La Quinta, and dinner was taken just a short walk away at Rail Hop'n Brewing in the downtown area. The impact of the pandemic was visible not only in Auburn but later in Tacoma, Bremerton, and even Seattle: lots of shops and restaurants are closed, and there are "for lease" signs everywhere. Add to that the many homeless people in the larger cities and the notion of an idyllic Washington needs some revision.

Tacoma

Day two took me from Auburn to Tacoma. It was Sunday, and that made riding through the Tacoma port area easy and stress-free as there was no traffic at all. Of course, my Locus app guided me unerringly through the suburbs, under and around the Interstate, and straight to my Courtyard by Marriott, just steps away from the Glass Museum. I arrived with enough time to clean up and spend about two hours in this fascinating museum, which showcases much of Dale Chihuly's work. After that I enjoyed a few hazy IPAs at 7 Seas and E9 brewing companies; at the latter I ate one of the tastiest pizzas ever. Another good day, without drama.

Day three started out with quite a bit of climbing, straight out of the door. It was a little bit like riding in San Francisco with steep streets leading to the next level. And the spectacular bridge across the Tacoma Narrows rightfully can be compared to the Golden Gate Bridge. There is a dedicated bike path that is securely segregated from traffic that leads from the mainland to the Kitsap peninsula, and I took a bunch of photos. The bike path continued, away from traffic, northward, and I finally ended up in Port Orchard, just across the water from Bremerton. I took the foot ferry that takes pedestrians and bikes for $1.50 (if you're a senior) on a 10-minute ride from one side to the other. The ship dates back to 1907 and is simply beautiful.

Lou had taken the car ferry from West Seattle to Bremerton, and we met up over a beer at Local Boys Taproom. He had booked a room at the Baymont Inn & Suites, a step above the Super 8 where I spent the night. Both are Wyndham properties and I had made my choice on perceived distance from downtown, but as it turned out the two were very close together and I certainly wouldn't go back to the Super Ocho, as I like to call it. At least it was a freebie. Another freebie came—totally unexpectedly—in the form of a free dinner. Lou and I had set out in his spanking-new blue Jeep Gladiator and had found the Boat Shed, a small seafood restaurant right below the Manette Bridge. We had a perfect table on the small pier that juts out from the restaurant, and on the way to our seats Lou had chatted up a woman who sat at one of the other tables. Lou is good at chatting, and he often forgets that his beer is slowly warming up when he saunters away to hold court with whoever is willing to listen. We enjoyed an excellent steamed clam appetizer and then two healthy portions of lightly battered cod, plus a few beers, and then said woman sauntered over and told us that we were the chosen ones and that she'd take over our bill. Merci bien!

From Bremerton it was only about 25 miles to Kensington, a small port from where the ferry to Edmonds (on the mainland) leaves. While I started the day from the Super 8, Lou drove to Brownsville where we eventually met up. The plan was for us to ride together for about 5 miles up the coast; Lou would then turn around and go back to the truck. Well, as it turned out riding his Cannondale mountain bike was a bit more difficult than playing his daily game of tennis, and after less than two miles of alternating between riding and walking (yes, there was an incline) Lou decided to turn around and head back to his Gladiator. The next time we saw each other was at the ferry terminal, where we reunited for the ride back to the mainland.

After libations at Salish Sea Brewing Company in Edmonds Lou headed back to Seattle while I continued the final eight or nine miles to Lynwood, where I spent my last night in the rather comfortable Homewood Suites close to the Alderwood Mall. 

Back in the rather congested area that spans from Seattle to Everett I was thankful for Locus and the bike paths. I followed the Burke Gilman Trail along the west shore of Lake Washington, an incredibly beautiful area with gorgeous real estate. This was the second day of the trip with totally clear skies, and ending my tour on such a high note made it all doubly enjoyable. The trail system took me along the university area, across the Freemont bike bridge, and along Lake Union. The only thing I regret is that I bypassed Fremont Brewing to stay on target for a lunch meeting with Lou and buddies that kept changing location and time. No biggie—next time! Seattle on a Wednesday was almost totally devoid of traffic, and it seemed more like a Sunday. The only area that was busy was around Pike Place Market where tourists were strolling and dining outdoors.

I rode the final few miles along the harbor, marveling at the mountains of containers, and the trucks loading and unloading constantly. The Seattle skyline receded, and finally I closed the loop when I rolled the West Seattle Bridge. A few more miles and I was at our lunch spot at golf course in Puget Park where Lou and his cronies were already holding court.

Wednesday afternoon I re-packed the bike and got all my other stuff together for Thursday's flight. That evening, Lou, his buddy Daryl, and I had a delicious crawdaddy dinner (the restaurant was run by a Vietnamese family) in the Westwood area before having a nightcap or two while watching the sun set over the Sound. The Olympic mountains seemed just a few mile away, and the water was serene and beautiful. What a fine spot, what a fine evening.

Thursday morning Lou took me back to the SEATAC airport. Five minutes before boarding we were informed that our flight to Phoenix would have to be cancelled because of a mechanical problem; I quickly got on the phone and was rerouted via DFW and actually made it home that evening. Unfortunately, my paid-for First Class seat became one in Economy since the front was completely sold out—almost a week later I am still waiting for American Airlines to refund my purchase price. My luggage, of course, didn't make it with me to Lubbock, and I waited all day Friday in vain for it to show up. Saturday morning I had to leave for Temple for Martha and Alan's 25th Wedding Anniversary dinner on Sunday, and after much calling and confusion I was able to pick up my bags at the airport when I was already supposed to be on the road to Central Texas.

In other words, it was one crazy trip! Thanks for everything, Lou!

Jürgen