Circling the U.S. Chapter 73: The Rest of Texas

Thursday, February 13 - February 17, 2020

After leaving Austin our route took us on quiet country roads. Our plan to ride 50 miles and camp in Buescher State Park didn't take into account the cold windy weather on Thursday. Instead we stopped early, after 37 miles, in Bastrop, Texas, and checked into a Quality Inn. Except for the dogs that came running out after us, too many to count, the riding was pleasant, albeit with scenery that was less than exciting. 

Historic downtown Bastrop, Texas

It's not all about Trump in Texas.

Friday, February 14, began with almost 20 miles of relentless hills through Bastrop and Buescher State Parks. We pushed our bikes up the steepest ones. The scenery was pretty bland, young pine trees growing in a burnt forest. Then, like a switch was flipped, the barren brown gave way to a real forest when we crossed into Buescher State Park. 

After leaving the state parks we enjoyed green farmland and pleasant riding for 25 miles to La Grange.

We found a secular coffee shop (i.e., no Bible sayings tacked to the walls or  other Christian paraphernalia) in downtown La Grange where we stopped for tea and a snack.

The towns in this part of Texas often had their downtowns designed around a square with the courthouse built on the central green.

After leaving La Grange we had 16 miles of terrible conditions - no shoulder, rough road, speeding traffic. The road was lined with signs advertising spaces for selling antiques. Evidently, for two weeks every spring, there is a huge antique sale that spans 17 miles of this highway.

After 61 miles we arrived in Round Top where we found the Stone Cellar, a restaurant and dance hall. During the big antique show it is also an RV park and antique sale venue. The owner Rob, was very gracious in letting us camp since the only other campground in town closed down. He was going to charge us $10 but let us stay for free because, he said, "I admire what you're doing."

After we cooked our dinner we went over to the restaurant to listen to some music and have a beer. 

Before heading out of town on Saturday morning, February 15, we stopped in "downtown" Round Top, a quaint village with relocated historic buildings turned into shops and offices. A central green sported picnic tables and a fountain. It was all very inviting, a lovely place to enjoy a cup of tea or a picnic lunch, but, sadly, it was deserted, nothing open early on a Saturday morning. Some day, if we are on a driving trip through Texas, we'll stop by again, later in the day when the shops are open.

The Ellis Motel may have once been a motel, but today it is a lounge with limited hours.

The sign on the building on the right says, "Norman Reynolds, Attorney." What an ideal place to have an office.

Another view of the Stone Cellar, this one from the highway.

We stopped for a second breakfast in Burton, where we shared an eggs Benedict with salmon, spinach, cream cheese, and cherry tomatoes. It was absolutely wonderful. We've figured out that sharing a second breakfast helps the budget and also keeps us from stuffing ourselves to the point where we have trouble riding afterwards. We'd gotten out of the habit of second breakfasts because the budget has been eaten up by our nights in motels. And there hadn't really been places to stop, so this was a real treat.

A couple about our age stopped to talk to us as they were heading inside and took this picture, They said the Blue Willow Cafe was "the place" where the locals ate. The woman asked what we did about injuries. I pointed to Rob and said, "He complains." Mostly he complains about his knee and toe. I'm sure they hurt, but obviously not enough to quit riding. Just enough to give me regular updates. I tell him he's only allowed one whine per day.

We enjoyed the day's riding on quiet roads with rolling hills and lots of green. I could almost believe we were in Vermont. Not really. There aren't enough hills. And there are prickly pear cactusesand cattle with long horns, neither of which you will find in Vermont.

This picture doesn't show off the abundant greenery, but it does give you an idea of how quiet the roads were.

We passed a number of these old mansions.

After 51 miles we arrived in Navasota. The Adventure Cycling map said we could camp at the fire station. When we arrived, Wes, the fire fighter on duty, had just completed giving a tour of the station to two other bicyclists. Tyler and Bella were recent college graduates heading west. They had begun their adventure in St. Augustine, Florida. We were the first cycle tourists they'd seen. Bella told us that, as they started, they'd taken their bikes onto the beach and dipped their rear wheels in the Atlantic Ocean. This is a tradition lots of cross-country cyclists do. They then will dip their front wheels in the Pacific Ocean. "It was a real mess," Bella said. "Our bikes were clogged with sand." 

Wes was the perfect host. He told us that no cyclists ever camp outside; everybody stays inside the station. He and another fire fighter, Bobby, would be on duty overnight, but neither of them use the beds upstairs so we were welcome to them. We just needed to know that if a call came in, we'd be awakened by an alarm and flashing lights. Some nights there were no alarms, but sometimes they went off every 15 minutes. We were also welcome to find a place to sleep downstairs where we would hear the alarm but no lights would disturb us. We opted to take a chance and chose to sleep upstairs. Bella and Tyler did the same. It would be an adventure. We were also welcome to use the shower and kitchen, all at no cost. 

We needed to get dinner so after cleaning up Rob and I set out to explore the town. We figured that we'd treat ourselves to a dinner out if we found a restaurant before we arrived at the grocery store. We didn't. Navasota did not appear to be much of a tourist destination. We cooked a dinner of noodles and sauteed vegies and afterwards sat down and talked with Bella and Tyler, sharing advice on what to look forward to.

Sunday, February 16, after a restful night's sleep - no fire alarms -we were in no hurry to get on our bikes as fog engulfed the town. We chatted with  Bobby and Wes. They grew up in the area and we talked about race relations. They told us that Navasota has a terrible history with regard to segregation and racism but that things have gotten a whole lot better. Bobby said that while most people vote Republican, they're not necessarily straight party line voters and will have a conversation about the issues.

From this point until the Florida Keys we would no longer follow any established bicycle route. Although we could have taken a more scenic route through the Sam Houston National Forest, we were both ready to be done with Texas so we followed the state highway 105 which, after a few days would take us directly to Beaumont, our launching off point for Louisiana. 

We had lots of traffic and around Conroe lots of strip malls, but the shoulder was smooth and mostly wide enough and we made good time, with easy hills to start and then mostly flat and slightly downhill. Tyler and Bella said that it would be flat all the way to the Atlantic coast. I wasn't complaining, looking forward to cranking up the pace and getting in some fast miles.

Rob wanted to ride 44 miles. I wanted to ride 63. I won.


As is our usual custom, when we found a bakery/cafe in the middle of the afternoon, we stopped for tea and a treat. Then, as we set out to leave the small city of Conroe, Texas, a curious thing happened.

We had to stop at a railroad crossing. At first we didn't think that was so odd, except that the train was stopped. We waited. It didn't move.  I asked the driver of the truck beside us how long he'd been waiting. He said maybe ten minutes. I asked if he knew what was going on, "No idea." I checked my phone and all I found was that there is a ten-minute limit on how long a train can hold up traffic. 

Traffic backed up waiting for the train to move. I took off my helmet and got comfortable sitting on the brick wall. I said to Rob, "In London the trains stop because someone jumps onto the tracks." We probably waited for twenty minutes. Some cars gave up and turned around, but as far as we could tell, there was no alternative route. Finally, the train began to move. We never did find out what caused the delay.

We did make good time, covering 63 miles in just over five and a half hours riding time. Even so, we were pretty tired when we pulled into a Best Western in Cleveland. Our routine is that, since Rob lost his driver's license months ago, I always take care of checking in while Rob stays outside with the bikes. Before I went into the office, I noted a Popeye's fast food fried chicken place right next door. That's what I wanted for dinner. 

When I came back out, room key in hand, I said to Rob, "That Popeye's is looking pretty good to me for dinner." He said, "I was thinking the same thing." Neither of us had the energy to walk half a mile to a Walmart Supercenter, or even a quarter mile for Mexican. After showering, we dragged our tired selves over and ordered chicken, fries, and cole slaw. It wasn't great, but it was good enough.

Monday, February 17, we rode 66 miles to Beaumont, for our last night in Texas. The riding was pretty good, all highway, but mostly decent shoulder and flat so we made good time. It was overcast and rainy all day, but not cold so the rain didn’t bother us.

Everywhere it was green again, with lots of trees lining the roads.

We started to see flowers blooming. I never did find out what these were.

Moss Hill is nothing more than an intersection along a highway. Redd's Grill & Cafe looked so rundown that at first I didn't even think it was open. But as I waited for Rob a truck pulled into the parking lot and three young men in jeans and T-shirts got out and walked inside. We decided to give it a try. Formica tables and boxes stacked along one wall served as the interior decor. I noticed fried Boudin balls on the menu. I wondered if it's like scrapple, a meat conglomeration made up of whatever is left over from the slaughtering of an animal. "What is Boudin?" I asked the server. She had to think about it. An older gentleman sitting at a table by the door heard my question and said, "It's pork and rice and spices." I decided to give it a try. It was okay. Not something I’d make a habit of. Usually it's served as a sausage.

We'd ridden to Beaumont because that looked like that was the best way to get into Louisiana. But we blew it. Upon further study of some cycling notes I found on the internet, it didn’t look like the route we'd planned was such a good idea. It all came down to having to cross waterways and which bridge to ride over. The one I thought we'd take had a really bad review for cycling.

We shouldn’t have ridden to Beaumont after all. But there we were. None of the online cycling route planners we tried wanted us to ride over the river on Interstate 10, but we've decided to go that way anyway. Is it legal? We'll find out.