Burl’s Ride - Terlingua ... like Baja ... only a whole lot closer!

In the beginning ...

This ride started for me about 18 months ago when it became painfully apparent that there would not be enough $$ to make the trip LAST year.

To say that I was looking forward to the ride would be an understatement. I have not been able to make it to Big Bend since my annual December Grassy Banks visit, so I was jonesing for some riding.

The last few months have been consumed with laying out and building trails at Escondido Draw Recreational Area and opportunities to enjoy two wheels have been few and far between. Couple that with a dead DR and I was frustrated.

So ...

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Loaded up and trailer in tow, I headed southwest with a target of meeting up with Matt and Mark somewhere along I-10. They were heading west on I-10 out of southeast Louisiana and we planned on laying our heads down at Deer Camp at EDRA at some point late in the evening.

Timely communications lead me to navigate south out of San Angelo and drop in at the Sutton County Steakhouse for our impending rendevous.

I got in a quick nap and awoke as they pulled into the parking lot. It had only been a few months since Matt and I had seen each other, but I had not seen Mark since DirtWeek back in 2005. Mark filled me in with how Dawn and the kids are getting along over chick fried steaks with mounds of mashed potatoes ... sorry, no photo ... I forgot! It had been too long and I look forward to sharing the road with them!

Dinner behind us, we slipped into Deer Camp about 10:00PM and we were soon sawing logs ...

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Dawn came early! Dang, I am still not used to Standard Time!

Fortified with coffee, I gave Matt and Mark the nickle tour of EDRA showing them the various trail segments that are either complete or planned. Properly wowed by what they found at the park, we headed westward towards our cabin at Study Butte.

Lunch was at Bien Venidos in Fort Stockton ... again, no photo ... this is not turning into a pattern.

After a couple of other stops for supplies, we headed out towards Alpine. As the jumping off point for Big Bend, Alpine always heralds the promise of the desert to me. Seeing the Sul Ross logo on the mountain always quickens my pulse.

Highway 118 southbound out of Alpine is always a beautiful drive and within a few hours of leaving Fort Stockton, we found ourselves in Study Butte at the Chisos Mining Company Motel. Soon cabin 14 became home for the next 4 days and we were unloading machinery and supplies.

A cold convinced me that I had indeed arrived!

Soon hunger took command and the Starlight Theater became the focus of our travels.

Stumbling into the darkness, we caught up with friends and acquaintances from other rides and other lives.





The menu had a number of new items, but my favorite was still present and accounted for!



Pork Medallions with a Chipotle Raspberry Reduction Sauce ... yum!!!

Back in a bit ...

Friday, November 7, 2008

Early to rise ... remember my issues with daylight savings time?

Waking up to take a whiz, I noticed that the clock said 6:30AM ... I was wide awake, had been for a while and Mark and Matt were still sawing logs.

Quietly dressing, I figured on going to the Fina Station for coffee and breakfast. That would allow me to download all the spam that had collected in my inbox during two days of being off line. Mark awoke as I left and I told him I would be back in a bit ...

Well ...

As soon as I fired up my truck, I realized the mistake ... the alarm had not been reset to standard time ... it was 5:30AM, 30 minutes until the Fina even opened and I was only 5 minutes away. Rather than tuck my tail between my legs, I headed on down to the motel determined to log on a go ahead and clean up the email.

The lights came on in the restaurant, 1,100 offers went in the circular file and I answered one legitimate email ... all by 6:15AM. That made breakfast a pleasure!

Two Scrambled Eggs, Bacon, Hashbrowns, Toast and Coffee is always a great way to start the morning and knowing that an impending dirt ride was in the offing made it even better.

Back at the cabin, Matt and Mark were slurping down the coffee I left brewing. Soon, like kids bundling up to play in the snow, we wrapped ourselves in protective gear, ready to do battle with the rocks and sand of West Texas.

Steve T, Charlie and Terry would be joining us on our excursion today, as would Keith, whom we had met the previous evening. I had seen Keith ride TAR, so I knew he could make his XRR fly.

Bundled up against the morning chill, everyone topped off their tanks at the Fina and we slipped northward on 118, clipping of the South County / North County Road system as it was scheduled for the Saturday TDS loop. Terlingua Ranch Road came into view and we headed east into the sun.

The junction of Cedar Springs Ranch Road came up and we stripped to fighting weight, storing jackets and such as this was the end of asphalt for a while.

Eastward, leaving contrails of dust we fled civilization and raced into the suspended past of Big Bend National Park.

The roads were fun, but the sand was deep ... very deep. My DR was having a time, floating about as we slid between the hedgerows of mesquite and other unidentified thorny plants reaching out to grab us.

Stopping to allow the group to gather back up, I marveled at the quietness of the scene. Only the sound of approaching motors could be heard over the whisper of the winds.

US 385 dictated a quick run to Persimmion Gap for entrance permits to the park. While there, I realized that Steve, Terry and Charlie had turned south instead of north. Mounting up, I hoped to find them at the junction of US385 and Dagger Flats Road ...

Heading south, we adhered to the posted speed limit as the park has had some problems with bikes of late and I didn’t want to give them any more ammunition. It was a long 15 mile ride and upon arrival, we did not find Steve and the gang. With hopes up, we headed east towards Old Ore Road and soon we found ourselves southbound on a road I can almost ride in my sleep. The desert was alive with plants and actually overgrown in places.

Vistas tugged at my senses and finally we stopped for a few minutes in an area full of bittersweet memories. The most beautiful part of Old Ore Road, this is also where Stevie had his accident in 2005 that resulted in his death. That days still haunts my memories and no ride down Old Ore will ever be made again with reflection on the loss.





Old Ore came and went with no signs of our lost brothers, so south we turned towards Rio Grande Village for fuel and food.



The prefab sandwich was easily forgotten, so forgive me for not photographing it.

The River Road was next up and there was some question as to whether or not it was open all the way to Castellon. Time would tell ...

Back in a bit ...

Pondering our chances to be able to ride across the entire length of the River Road, I took the fork often less traveled and followed the River Road south from the intersection with Glen Springs Road.

I figured if the River Road was closed at some point we would just double back onto Black Gap and then follow Glen Springs Road north to the slab.

Slipping westward across the bottom of the park, Keith Mark and Matt all followed my dust cloud across the park. One of the advantages of being the routemeister is that I usually had clear area to ride in!

About 2~3 miles past the Talley Cutoff, the road was blocked. At that point we kicked into plan B and headed up Black Gap Road. Not near the adventure heading northbound, Black Gap still presented some challenges to us. Mark had his straps for his tank bags break on one long climb and we were forced to shift the load to my bike. Not to worry ... what is 5 pounds to bike that teeters between pleasantly plump and portly ... the worst that could happenis she could be accused of being HDD aka Heavy Duty Delux!

The hill where Mark lost his load ...


Don’t jump!!!


Action shots ...

Keith


Mark


Matt

Mark off loaded his bags to my bike and we were soon on our way.

Do my bags make her look fat?


Some random scenery shots while I waited ...

Soon we were on the asphalt and heading back to Study Butte ... into the setting sun ...

Arrival at Study Butte brought cold beer and dreams of dinner.

Dinner was at Long Draw Pizza and boy was it great! We got the Grumpy and it was yummy. Sorry no photos though!

Tale of the Tape: 176 miles, most of which was dirt.

Back in a bit with Day one of the Terlingua Dual Sport Ride aka Burl’s Ride

tx246 said:

Lets go! What is the hold up Tony? J/K. Great read and nice photos. Even though that trip in 05 had its nightmare, there were profound moments in that ride. I do want to go back. Sounds like you got the DR sorted out. Carry on Mister.

Click to expand...

I'm typing as fast as I can ;)

I learned a lot about the DR over the weekend ... she is very particular to fuel is one thing. We finally drained my tank entirely and Mark ran it in his XR400.

Super made her purr ... until she took a nap! Boy, did we all learn something then ... but that is later in the report.

There was an XT600 there ... almost as old as your's :nod:

I miss getting out. Now that she is running again, we need to hit some dirt. Maybe after the Christmas rush ...

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Well, the bedside clock got reset before we hit the sack! No one was going to mess with my sleep patterns for the balance of my stay.

Man, it was chilly when we arose ... heck ... it was downright cold to this thin skinned Texan. Of course ... if it is below 60F, it is too cold in my book.

Up early, I headed over to Kathy’s for a Chorizo Burrito and coffee. Arriving about 6:30AM, I found the place hopping and Greasemonkey busy tending the fire. Familiar faces filled with smiles were everywhere. Kathy was busy and I asked her if there was anything I could do to help. The next thing I knew, I was inside relighting the pilot on her deep fryer, which has gone out at just the wrong time!





Soon, Steve gathered us about his stage, which happened to be the rear of his pickup. People were razzing him for being is shorts and he retorted words made famous by Burl ... y’all shut up and listen!

Soon, we were teaming up and heading out. Although many of the people present were there for the first time, there were no newbies for me to lead, so Keith, Matt, Mark and I decided to head out on our own.

There was only one problem ...

None of us had a roll chart ... what the heck ... we would just head out ... try and find the few survey flags and enjoy ourselves. I know most of the roads in the area and had ridden all but one many times ...

It was easy to ride actually as Steve had filled me in regarding the general route. Time after time, we rolled through intersections and passed groups scratching their heads as to which direction to go.

Like a machine, we just kept moving ... all the way to the Terlingua Creek Crossing on North County Road anyway. Approaching the creek, I shifted left to avoid someone taking a photo and picked the worst line I could have taken as I exited the creek.

Well, pigs may fly on occasion, but floating is deep sand is another matter. El Petrolero augured in like a worm into an apple ... or like that Mars lander when they confused the location of the decimal point ... of course if they had used Imperial Units maybe they would have noticed the problem ...

But, I digress ...

This led to me realizing that maybe the gremlins that had been living in my carb had been awoken by the sudden stop. Trying to start her proved to be a rather large challenge and we all decided it was break time anyway!

Soon, she sputtered to life indicating that she had been severely flooded while napping ... Clue Number One

Sorry, no photos were taken, so under the by-laws of motorcycling ... so ... it never happened!

Well, back on the road, we hurried on, chasing dust clouds that lead to lunch. Heading into Terlingua Ranch, we were treated to a new road that I have not ever had the pleasure of riding. Lake Ament Road has been considered off limits for a long time and frankly, it should continue that way ... but that is just me. In any case, the road would upwards into the ranch, following topo lines around mountains as the road meandered southeast towards the main road that lead into the ranch office and lodge area.

We stopped for fuel at the gas stop just as Chris arrived to tell them they were in the wrong place!

Onward towards Marathon ... now this is familiar ... oops, how did I forget that S curve? Wow, I tore out into the pucker bushes like I knew what I was doing and what happened but everyone followed me!

Reversing course at the entrance to the park, we ran backwards the same section we ran yesterday. Fun, Fun, Fun!!! Cedar Springs Ranch Road crept into view on my GPS and a quick turn to the left and we soon connected up to the asphalt.

Remember the flagging?

I knew we needed to turn left, but I didn’t have a clue where.

So, as it turned out, the 5th or 6th left turn was the first one to have flagging ... so we turned there.

Whoop ... we were golden!

A quick jaunt across the flats and we came out on 118 just north of the North County Road. Slipping southward, we noticed an unnerving sight. Phil Conner was making revenue for Brewster County ... writing tickets. Duh, at least the bikes should “look” legal! Like the application said ... “street legal bikes”!

Phil checked us out as we rolled by, but we were all legal, so we waved and motored on.

Back at the creek crossing, my bad juju had left me and I made the crossing in an uneventful, but not boring manner ... that tank still had 4 gallons of gas in it and that is a lot of weight to fight in the sand when going slow.

Anyway, the road back was familiar as we had ridden much of it on the way north. We passed the sweeps at an intersection dealing with a flat tire and soon we showed up in Terlingua for lunch.

So ...

I finally took my camera out of my pocket!

The row of bikes ... that is Keith removing his jacket


Lunch Stop!


Gladys

The scene






Brandon is not usually that tired looking ... the red eye removal worked ... sort of anyway ... he had flaming eyes the first time I saw the photo ... scary!

From the left ... Steve, Charlie, Terry in the blue, with Matt and Mark in the background


Some scruffy derelicts ... actually David and Pat ... they took the SWECO course with me in April. A couple of great guys dedicated to keeping the SHNF open and rideable. My hat is off to y’all fellows!


Some more people shots ...


Chris, Howard (?) and Steve ... can anyone tell me what Steve is trying to say?


I’m guessing someone took Ken’s bowl of stew!

Scott and Tim


See, Brandon is not tired, but I swear his dad’s eyes are closed. Terry is in the orange and my hat is off to him of all of his help with the trail system at EDRA.


That is Jack in the back waving!


Back on the porch, we surveyed the scene and played sidewalk superintendent to a rock mason that pretended that he was the only person in Terlingua. Judging by the way he parked, he probably was when he arrived. Little did he know what he was in for!

And on the porch ...

Front to back ... Matt, Mark and Keith


From the left ... Charlie, Steve, Steve’s new found friend and a tired rider that I don’t recognize ... help!


The scene in the parking lot


Ian and his permagrin!


and last but not least ...

Mounting up for the afternoon loop


more in a bit ...

OK ... I’m back and we are off ...

The afternoon loop was back out into the hinterlands northwest of Terlingua.

Climbing the hill above the Starlight, we crested a hill that allows us to see for miles and miles and miles ... just like the song says ... of course I only barely remember the song and couldn’t come up with the artist if my life depended on it ... too much fun in the 70's ... yea ... I inhaled!

Now where was I?

Oh yea ... on the road again ...

Well, this route took us northward towards what we refer to as top of the world. Some 15 or so miles northwest of Terlingua, Top of the World reminds us of the trail in Moab with the same name.

I ramble, don’t I?

Well, the route wrapped around the west flank of Sawmill Mountain before descending in a zigzag pattern down a ridge towards the west.

The exit wash from the single track ...



Did you notice the flagging? Made you look! There isn’t any in the photo ... it was taken two years ago!

Our first stop for the afternoon was to be at David Hilton’s place.







For those that don’t know David ... you will not get a chance to meet him ... he died a while back.



The whole place has been a mystery to me and I have wondered if David actually lived there or if he vacationed there.

Some photos from an earlier trip ...

Back on the bikes, we headed toward Hen Egg Mountain Road ... the back way!

The balance of the ride was a series of intersections and we negotiated them all until we came to one spot where the roll chart and the flagging had balled up a number of folks and everyone was debating the direction to head.

Charlie, Terry and Steve had gone with us and we were all lost. At least I didn’t lose them ... like yesterday.

Ken came along and got everyone pointed the correct direction and we were off like a herd of turtles. At the intersection of Hen Egg Road, we held up and allowed Charlie, Steve and Terry to catch up. Charlie told us to go ahead as he didn’t want to hold us back, not that he was. In any case, they said that they could get back to town by following the flagging.

So ... we headed off ... Matt, Mark, Keith and myself anyway. We waved and slipped eastward following the lengthening shadows towards Hen Egg Mountain.

Arriving at the intersection of South County Road and Hen Egg Mountain Road, we turned south. The shadows were longer still and we slipped down the road at a quickening pace, buoyed by the knowledge that cold beer awaited us.

Remember what I said about how the morning route doubled back on the morning route and how I saw the sweeps working on a flat?

Well, about the time I approached that intersection the third time it dawned on me that the sweeps had swept the trail ... of flagging ... oops ... no flagging meant Charlie, Steve and Terry ... who had never been to Terlingua Ranch before ... were without a clue of how to get back to town. Steve did have his GPS, but it didn’t have topo in it ... Mmmmmm ... what to do?!?!?!

Well, I rationalized the there were still folks left out there and they all needed to get back. And of course, there were the sweeps ... assuming they stayed on the correct road to begin with ... a lot of ifs ... but then there was the cold beer.

So, I made the executive decision and knew I would suffer the grief of losing them twice in two days!

I soothed myself with a glass of on the rocks.

More in a bit ...

OK, so it was more than a bit ...

I forgot to post the tale of the tape for Saturday ...

The tale of the Tape for Saturday is 156 miles

[applause light]

Thank you, thank you

[/applause light]

Queue the music, maestro!

Imagine the sounds of Willie wafting through your speakers with the refrain of on the road again.

You bunch of word junkies ready for a chapter of the trip?

Well then, let’s get this show on the road ...

OK, so I’m in a weird mood, but I’m not PWI!

Onward into the fog, but first some thoughts on the Big Bend region from a twenty year perspective.

In twenty plus years little has changed about the region and yet everything has changed.

Regarding the people ...

The area is still sprinkled with misfits that stare blankly into the inner reaches of their mind. There are just enough of them, like seasonings in a tasty stew, to keep you on your toes as in many ways their persona and stories are what make Big Bend unique. This is one of the few spots on earth that seems to tolerate and celebrate the singularity that makes life really interesting. Nothing bland exists in Big Bend. The sand, the heat, the lack of rain all combine to strip away the sleepy insipidity that infests America. With the nearest shopping mecca four hours over the horizon in any direction, there is a simple satisfaction, a poineer spirit if you will, that seems to infect every resident. Tourists sometimes slow to the point of reflection, but the residents exude it.

The place is still full of tourists, as witnessed by the need of the cook at the Fina to set out a buffet the morning we departed, rather than act the role of a short order cook.

While we ate, in filed well scrubbed individuals bent on “seeing” Big Bend. All bore name tags reminiscent of days gone as convention attendees as teachers, government employees, office workers, etc ... the softer side of life. Just like going to a convention, the tags were to fiend off the embarrassment of having to remember a persons name. They all bore the name of the individual, but it was under the large logo declaring that all these folks “belonged to” Elderhostel. Just like the tag line says on the website ... they were going to have an Adventure in Lifelong Learning. Well, they for sure were expecting adventure!! All were clad from head to toe with the latest offerings from L.L. Bean, REI or any of the other places that tourists shop before going on an adventure.

One, not quite ready for the adventure of a buffet breakfast as traditional in Texas as the heat, implored the waitress that she had to have cereal, another wanted tea. Such is the beginning of adventure.

I sincerely hope they all found some adventure, because I was, at that point, heading back to civilization with a sore body and a soon to be broken truck that demanded a little smaller dose of adventure ... if only for a day or two.

The places ...

The fallacy that Lajitas became under the tutelage of Steve Smith (not our Rocketman, but the other one) is slowly being eaten away by the desert. As they say, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Mr. Smith traded money for experience and walked away a poorer man for the knowledge. The desert is a very harsh mistress and it takes a quiet and respectful person to learn the ways of the desert.

As I said, Lajitas is gradually decaying, dissolving back into the desert. The majority of the shops appear deserted, and the golf course is gone, swept down the Rio Grande like a boat down a gutter. The river left in its’ wake as evidence of it’s fury sand, sand and even a bit more sand. It is everywhere in the flats on both sides of the river.

Terlingua appears unchanged except for an additional statue, or two, at Passing Wind. The Ghost town turns 100 years old about now according to one resident and they are gearing up, halfway through or winding down the birthday celebration based upon the information he imparted on us. As I said, time moves at a slower pace and the happiest individuals are those that live in harmony with the passage of time. I’m not entirely sure if this fellow knew which century we were in!

OK, I’m going to say it ... Dang it, I miss Miss Tracy! I miss her accent and her fish and chips. They were so out of place and yet so commonplace. How can that be? It is no different than asking a waitress in the Starlight what steak is best and having her answer that she is a vegetarian. For some crazy reason, absolutely nothing appears out of place in Big Bend.

Speaking of places, Kathy is slowing growing her little piece of the desert. She has added another small travel trailer to the menagerie that is Kathy’s Kosmic Kowgirl Kafe. I’m not sure of it’s purpose, but it makes a great backdrop. Soon, Kathy will be forced to install restrooms and another piece of natural world will succumb to the pressure of civility.

The Starlight Theater continues to be the hub of tourist life in the area. No one can go to Terlingua without stopping in. That being said, there were fewer locals there this last trip and the staff all looked unfamiliar.

Long Draw Pizza is the genuine article and Cathy, or is it Kathy, runs a tight ship. She said she had owned the place for ten years and loved being there. It showed in her infectious smile and the casual comfort of the regulars at the bar.

La Kiva has changed little in the recent past. The decline was rapid for a few years when the cottonwoods all died for lack of attention, but these days the decline seems to have flattened out and La Kiva has found its’ nitch. The beer is cold, the drinks strong and the food variable but good, assuming you listen to the suggestions of the waitress.

The mind ...

The most fragile component of the entire scenario is the mind. Your mind is played like a fiddle by the region. No one can go to Big Bend and leave the same. The freedom infects all that dare to allow Big Bend to touch their inner soul.

Big Bend first touched my soul many moons ago, but many trips have left impressions that color the very fabric of my life. Some of the brightest threads in my tapestry are those dyed with the unforgiving touch of nature. Walter Prescott Webb said that nature was an unforgiving and yet passive mistress in “The Great Frontier”. He also stated that America’s definition of the word frontier is unique. Our frontier is within our boundaries and is rich and bountiful beyond our wildest dreams, while much of the rest of earth sees the frontier as the border region, the demarcation, between political entities. I have to agree with Mr. Webb’s assertion. The frontier is alive and well in Big Bend. Creativity knows no limit there on the edge of civilization. It lies within easily our grasp and yet slips quietly through the fingers of those unwilling or unable to appreciate what it passively offers.

There are other spots on earth equally remote, but none closer to me than Big Bend. It is eight hours and 200 years from my house, but not my home. The frontier is my home, so I am home, I am at ease, in Big Bend. It is where all the voices in my head sing the same tune, so ... Perhaps I am one of the crazy ones, if for no other reason than I smile more where the pretense is false and honesty, resulting from the daily struggle to survive, is king ... or queen ... but then again ... even women become “one of the guys” in the desert.

Go grab a cup of coffee, or a beer depending on what time of the day that you are reading my tale.

I’m going to get a cup of inspiration and be back in a minute.

As I write, the window in my room is filling with the light of a cool, cold to me, morning light. Clouds cover the sky, reminding me that nature is a force that cannot be tamed except by becoming part of it. Man has always battled nature and sometimes even manages to win a battle or two, but nature always wins the war.

The many lost treasures being unearthed across the globe stand as a stark reminder of the force we call nature.

Tikal remains one of my targets for a ride in the next few years. I expect to lose a great deal along the route and yet gain much more than I lose. Travel is never a zero sum activity. The best travelers are those that come home with a deeper understanding of where they have been, mentally and physically. Travel often teaches us as much about ourselves and it does about the places we visit.

Traveling aboard a motorcycle increases the speed of the devolution as well as the length of the distance traveled within our souls. I would have to guess that is why we do what we do. To find that quiet spot within ourselves. That place where honesty and goodness knows no limits.

It is sad to watch people rush through life unaware of their surroundings intent on the destination, not the experience, of getting there. Look at the edge of a crowd, they are easy to spot. Their clothes are clean, new and pressed. Their cameras the latest in technology and their fences the strongest. Like the patron at a bullfight, they cheer safely from their seats, not exactly sure why the demise of the bull is so enchanting, never grasping the culture that is the bullfight. They were at the rear of the crowd in Chichicastenango Guatemala as I witnessed the change of the patron saints just before Christmas a few years ago. I hope they could see, but my vantage point I could feel the processions, awash as I was in the emotions of the crowd.

In any case, I guess I should get back to Burl’s Ride ... Big Bend always leaves me more alive with every visit. Perhaps someday I can say I truly understand, but for now I am still a student.

So ...

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Well the day started back at Kathy’s with a rider meeting and giveaways. Steve told tales from the experiences of the previous day as he handed out raffle prizes. Two Clark tanks were raffled off and the proceeds forwarded to Rider Down. If I remember correctly, just over $600 was forwarded in the name of ride participants. I will say in and I’m sure Steve will chime in ...

Thanks!

Anyway, onward to the photos!

Anyone got a guess who that is in the white boots?


Steve telling everyone to move to the other side of the truck, so we could look into the sun instead of him.






Ian always stands out in a crowd

This wide!?!? Really?


Candid photos of the gang ...

The crowd ...





The gentleman in the green chest protector would learn to rue the day he rode the singletrack. Does anyone know how bad his knee injury turned out to be?


Aww ... shucks, it was nothing


And so went the rider’s meeting.

Back in a bit ...