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