I had planned to meet a guy to buy some things a couple hours away this morning. The original plan was to take the long way around to avoid the interstate but I woke up restless at 5:30 and decided to just hit the road. Being as it was so early I figured I could be through Austin before the traffic started and sure enough I had no issues getting there on I-35.
Things were purchased. I only realized later that the things were the wrong things. I threw them in the side cases and headed out.
At this point it was still early and I decided to head towards the Texas hill country. It was a couple hours west. Decided to fuel up and got some gas station breakfast pizza since I hadn't had anything to eat yet.
By the time I reached Kerrville I had been on the road for four hours. The temp was starting to climb and my ass was starting to really get sore. I found some shade in a parking lot near a river and stretched my legs for a couple minutes. I searched for good motorcycling roads in the area and found that I wasn't too far from the roads called the Twisted Sisters. Apparently, these are the best motorcycling roads in Texas. Okay, new mission. http://www.ridetexas.com/the-twisted-sisters/
I left Kerrville following a really nice flowing road, lots of nice sweepers, rolling up and over hills and down into valleys. Barely any other traffic on the road for miles. Eventually I caught up to another motorcyclist who was enjoying a much more leisurely pace than I was. I decided to just stay behind him and take in the scenery. It's like a whole other planet compared to my little slice of Texas. Beautiful vistas overlooking miles and miles of open wilderness. Rock outcroppings mixed with cactus and mesquite trees.
Eventually my tour guide turns off and I find my way to the beginning of the sisters. There was a gas station that had a handful of bikes sitting there. A couple cruisers, a couple Japanese sport bikes and about six Ducatis. Legs cramping and numb butt dictated another brief rest before I tackled 100 miles of twisties. Temps were in the high nineties so I drank some water and then headed out. It was 12:00.
The views out there are spectacular. I've really never seen anything like it. Heading out 337 I got stuck behind the slowest car ever. I don't think they ever got over 25 mph. Not knowing the roads and not wanting to push my luck I stayed behind. The road started off really tight. Blind corner after blind corner. Blind crest after blind crest. It's really a very tight technical road. The surface of the road is like a cheese grater. It's ROUGH!
Down in the valley is a little town named Leakey. Thankfully my escort turned off. Up the hill on the other side of the valley with no traffic in front of me was spectacular. Towards the end of 337 coming into Camp Wood I was passed by a local on an FZ-09. This guy knew where he was going so I decided to follow him. He upped the pace as we turned unto 335. It was apparent he was very familiar with the roads. Do to my unfamiliarity I wasn't comfortable with the speeds he was going into the blind corners. But when it opened up I would real him back in again. We were well within our limits but setting a very quick pace and encountered practically zero traffic for the entire road. I wish I could have talked to that guy. 335 ends at 41 which you take over to 336 for the trip back into Leakey. I had been in the saddle for almost seven hours at this point and decided to stretch my legs again before deciding if I wanted to head back the way I came or head out a different way.
This is where things got interesting. I decided to go the other way on 41. My phone had no signal rendering waze and google maps useless and I had a half tank of gas. There were no road signs. There were no houses. There weren't even any telephone poles. Just miles of empty tarmac and hundred degree heat. I rode along hoping I was heading in the direction of a town. Mile after empty mile. It may have been 45 minutes before I passed one lonely truck headed the other direction. Still no service on the phone. Still no sign of civilization. I watch the fuel indicator lights flick off one by one. I know I have right at a 200 mile range on a tank usually. But I had just spent the last hour or so ripping it up through the canyons and I'm not sure how much range I have left at this point. At 174 miles the last light turns of and the reserve indicator starts flashing and the reserve odometer starts counting. I've got a little less than a gallon left. Mercifully, I start to see signs of people. Little ranches sitting down off the road and telephone poles. I pass a city limit sign, says population 1,874. That's gotta be big enough to have a gas station right? Thankfully they do. I fill up and got a good look at the map they had tacked to the wall so I could figure out where in the hell I was as I still had no cell service. I'm a long way from home and my legs and butt are done. When I rolled to a stop at the gas station I seriously thought I was going to drop the bike because I couldn't move my legs. So I do some yoga stretches and drink a Gatorade. At least I have a direction to head to get back to somewhere familiar.
It's 2:00 and I'm in pain. I'm hot. And I just want to get home. Miles and miles of empty roads lay ahead of me and I decide to give it some throttle. I did fifty miles in thirty minutes. I know it's hard to believe but I didn't see a single other person for that fifty miles. Finally get back into a populated area and I'm starting to get hungry. And I'm in pain. And I'm hot. Found a DQ and pulled in. Cooled off inside and ate a burger while resting my sore bum and legs. Fuel up for the final push home. It's 4:00 and I've got two more hours of torture left.
As I head out I notice a thunderstorm off in the distance. And another one to the south of me. It seems while I ate these storms just popped up. Rolling along and the temps start to drop 100, 95, 90, 82 and finally 78 as I feel the first rain drops sting my neck. In my mirrors it looks like all hell is about to break loose. It's pitch black in spots with rain bands and lightning popping everywhere. I'm barely out running this storm that's chasing me. I have a choice coming up. I can take the longer way to try and skirt the storm but I'm in so much pain I just want to get home. It sprinkles on me for about ten minutes then it's gone. Thankfully I outran it and managed to stay out of the nasty stuff.
I'm running along trying not to think about my butt and legs. I try to shift my weight around, realign my hips and stand up for a couple seconds of relief. Getting closer and closer to home and it's getting darker and darker. And thirty miles out it starts raining hard. One more fuel stop and temporary butt relief and the final push home. When I pull into the garage it's 5:45. I'm wet. I'm exhausted. I'm hurting. My head is ringing.
And I can't wait to do it again!
