Bandera courthouse

Castroville

Taqueria San Juan, Castroville

Mi Tierra, San Antonio

Christmas Letter 2011: The Year of Living Dangerously

On the River Road at Big Bend

With the above title you may correctly presume we enjoyed some (mis)adventures this year. But first, the usual stuff that is boring for you to read year after year and equally boring for me to write: I remain involved with  Houston Investors Association; Bettie continues actively in Allen's Landing Band and president of North Boulevard Park HOA; we both do a bit for Houston Early Music.

Allen's Landing Band

Allen's Landing Band grows better each year, and we are very pleased with its artistic quality. There have been changes in membership, but the core of Bettie, Bobbie, and Renna has lasted intact for several years. Though it remains only a part-time activity, unaffiliated and unbiased enthusiasts have deemed it the best vocal bluegrass band in Houston. If you are in Houston, please try to catch one of their performances at Hickory Hollow.

Riding the "Three Sisters" in the Hill Country

And now for the adventures, centered around (surprise) our motorcycles. Since taking up the sport three years ago I have ridden over 40,000 miles, and Bettie in one year 12,000 miles. In our 2010 letter I described the bikes, and we are still riding the same. During the first half of the year we went to the Hill Country twice, to Arkansas, to Big Bend, and I completed the de rigueur Iron Butt SaddleSore 1000. These are blogged separately (follow the links and read forward in time) so I won't repeat.  Bettie achieved her own "mini Iron Butt", riding 600 miles in one day from Fort Davis to Houston. So at this point I think we can claim to have graduated from apprentice to journeyman motorcyclists.

All of these trips were very enjoyable and without regrets other than sore butts. Now about the misadventures ... In July we left Houston on bikes for a two week trip to Colorado. We endured two days of hellish heat getting out of Texas, and then the fun began, motoring across northern New Mexico, through Raton Pass and into Colorado. But as we approached Denver in a rainstorm, in executing an ill-judged rest stop Bettie's bike tipped over on her foot, breaking three metatarsals. This misadventure is also blogged separately, so I will just say that she recovered completely from the injury, enough so that we were ready for our next (mis)adventure.

The instructor showing us what not to do.

 Our "enduro" bikes are primarily road bikes but also capable of modest off-road travel with riders of sufficient skill. To gain those skills we enrolled in the highly regarded two-day BMW Performance Center off-road motorcycle training in Greer, South Carolina. There, riding school bikes similar to our own, we would learn how to negotiate trails, sand, gravel, hills, ruts, and rocks. And to add to the fun, four other friends from our local "BMW gang" signed up as well.

Most of the first day went well, and all of us gained knowledge, skill, and confidence. We all took a few falls, of course, but that's part of learning and our gear prevented any injuries. ... until
in the mid afternoon, Bettie caught a bad mud patch on a slope, spun out, corrected, then fell as the bike headed for a fence. Dejas vu all over again: the bike landed on her leg (same one), this time breaking the distal fibula and tearing the ligament. So back to Houston, to surgical repair, and now she is on crutches for a couple more weeks.

A dollar bet won by the Texans from the instructor

An old joke goes "Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?" Well, we actually did enjoy the experience in spite of the injury. Later as I was on the phone describing the mishap to a couple of friends, one a psychiatrist and the other a psychologist, I could well imagine them trying to decide exactly which section of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual applied to our particular psychopathy, and perhaps you are pondering a similar question. Why subject ourselves to this risk and damage? I can philosophize about the need to accept  life's risks etc etc but that will be unpersuasive for non-motorcyclists and for motorcyclists, unnecessary. Suffice it to say Bettie and I are eagerly waiting the time when she can get back on her bike and we can again be off. Our plans are to ride to Arizona this April and see the Grand Canyon, including a ride down to Phantom Ranch (this last on mules, not motorcycles).

Thus, we look forward to 2012, and another year of living dangerously but hopefully accident-free. And we wish the same for you.

Leigh & Bettie

A few more photos

BMW Offroad School "incident"

 Our "enduro" bikes are primarily road bikes but also capable of modest off-road travel with riders of sufficient skill. To gain those skills we enrolled in the highly regarded two-day BMW Performance Center off-road motorcycle training in Greer, South Carolina. There, riding school bikes similar to our own, we would learn how to negotiate trails, sand, gravel, hills, ruts, and rocks. And to add to the fun, four other friends from our local "BMW gang" signed up as well.

Most of the first day went well, and all of us gained knowledge, skill, and confidence. We all took a few falls, of course, but that's part of learning and our gear prevented any injuries. ... until
in the mid afternoon, Bettie caught a bad mud patch on a slope, spun out, corrected, then fell as the bike headed for a fence. Dejas vu all over again: the bike landed on her leg (same one), this time breaking the distal fibula and tearing the ligament. So back to Houston, to surgical repair, and now she is on crutches for a couple more weeks.

A dollar bet won by the Texans from the instructor

An old joke goes "Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?" Well, we actually did enjoy the experience in spite of the injury. Later as I was on the phone describing the mishap to a couple of friends, one a psychiatrist and the other a psychologist, I could well imagine them trying to decide exactly which section of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual applied to our particular psychopathy, and perhaps you are pondering a similar question. Why subject ourselves to this risk and damage? I can philosophize about the need to accept  life's risks etc etc but that will be unpersuasive for non-motorcyclists and for motorcyclists, unnecessary. Suffice it to say Bettie and I are eagerly waiting the time when she can get back on her bike and we can again be off. Our plans are to ride to Arizona this April and see the Grand Canyon, including a ride down to Phantom Ranch (this last on mules, not motorcycles).

Bettie practicing for BMW offroad school

Bettie & I are planning to go to BMW's off-road riding school sometime this fall. Former students glow with enthusiasm, turning from total neophytes into competent off-road riders in a day or two of professional training. We don't plan to tackle the Trans-America Trail or ride to the North Slope; we simply want to handle the occasional dirt/gravel road without stressing out.

WRAP UP OF OUR COLORADO TRIP

This is a bit late in coming, but here are a few more details of the final days of our unlucky Colorado adventure. When Bettie broke (we did not know at the time) her foot, we were out of cell phone range, so we could not simply call 911. No problem: I had acquired a SPOT satellite emergency communicator designed for such situations. What a great opportunity to try it. So I popped open the lock and and pressed the 911 button. The device determines your location via GPS and sends a signal to a satellite network that causes the monitoring service to send local emergency responders to your aid. OK, press button. Lights begin blinking. Just to be sure, press again. 

Now we wait for help. And wait. And wait. After about 1/2 hour, when we could have been bleeding to death, no help. Eventually I gave up and rode my bike a few miles further on until I got cell phone service to call conventional 911. Help came right away, and based on the paramedic exam, we decided against immediate carriage to the hospital. Instead we chose to be transported to a local restaurant (biker bar, actually) from which we intended to call friends for help. The ferrying back and forth from the accident site to the restaurant provided me with my first (and hopefully last) opportunity to ride locked in the back of a sheriff's car. 

At the restaurant things didn't work as we expected, and Bettie's foot was hurting more and more. So we arranged for a taxi to take her on into Denver (about 45 miles) and I followed on my bike. I first stored her bike in a lockbox provided by the bar. Did you know that biker bars have storage lockers for motorcycles? When a patron has celebrated to the point of incapacity, the bar persuades him to take a taxi and leave his bike safely stored at the bar. I was able to avail myself of this arrangement.

The hospital did its thing and determined that indeed there were broken bones. So all doubt about continuing our vacation on motorcycles was resolved: we made plans for Houston. The next day was full of scrambling to identify and engage a shipping service for our bikes, retrieving Bettie's bike from where we stored it, preparing the bikes for shipment, getting air reservations,  acquiring TSA approved lock boxes for transporting firearms, figuring out how we would get our bulky riding suits and other stuff back. (It turns out you can take a surprisingly large amount of equipage on a motorcycle.) Etc etc. 

Our friends in Denver were great and helped us every way they could. Things worked out as well as we could hope, and we eventually arrived in Houston. I was still pissed that the SPOT system had so badly failed. Until I realized, that when I pressed the 911 button the second time (just "to be sure"), that was a signal to cancel the help request. It actually says that in the manual, and in fine print on the back of the device. Brilliant. Later I learned that SPOT faithfully contacted the Colorado emergency service, but then withdrew the alarm after I inadvertently said "never mind". Oh well.

Broken but not bowed

Update on Bettie's foot: We saw a specialist in Houston today. The bones should mend by themselves (no surgery) in about 6 weeks. She now has a "cam walker" (sounds like something from Star Wars), a sort of buckle-on boot that serves as cast. She can walk on it and take off when not needed. She is already talking about attending the BMW off-road riding school.

I wonder if we ...

Bettie arrived at the terminal on crutches. We were given a chair and
an official pusher who whisked us through lines and gates like VIPs.
We've never had it so good in an airport (except for the
aforementioned TSA scrutiny)
.
I grant that it is impractical for Bettie to break her foot prior to
every flight. But could she simply wrap it and arrive on crutches? We
would not claim disability, but simply rely on the imagination of the
checkin agent. Hmmmm ....

Bomber Bettie

Returning by air, we had to check our concealed you-know-whats in
locked cases and declare them to the TSA. I was apprehensive, never
having done this. No sweat. The TSA didn't even look at them. What DID
through our dedicated agents for a loop was Bettie's temporary splint.
It took 5 agents 10 minutes and 1 Xray to prove she is not a dreaded
Bandage Bomber.

Miss Indomitable

Colorado Oops

Colorado Oops

On Tuesday a few miles after leaving Deckers it started raining. We looked for a place to stop and don raingear. The narrow twisty road had few turnouts so we took a left into one that suddenly appeared, appropriately named "Quandary Peak Road", and came to a full stop.  

A) Major premise: all surface areas in Colorado are steeply sloped. 

B) Minor premise: a foot that barely touches ground on flat surfaces will be hovering in air on sloped surfaces. 

C) Conclusion: Bettie dropped her bike. 

Unfortunately the bike decided her foot was softer than pavement and landed square on, breaking (we learned later) three metatarsals. 

After assorted adventures involving satellite rescue services, 911, biker bars, a ride in the paddy wagon, emergency rooms, to be detailed later, we and bikes wound up in Denver at the house of friends. 

As I write this,  by a frenetic day of developing contingency plans, we and our bikes are awaiting return (in separate conveyances) to Houston. Colorado won this round, but we will have a rematch someday. 

Bettie is all right (for a person with a broken foot) and is not discouraged. See the associated photo of Miss Indomitable.   

Green chile @ Deckers

Deckers on CR126

Deckers is a popular (the only) stop between Woodland Park and Pine
Junction on the Platte river. They make mean green chile.

On the "Highway of Legends"

The National Hamburger of New Mexico

The green chile cheeseburger. X

On the Steppes of Central Asia

On the Steppes of Central Asia
They say Borodin had never seen Central Asia when he composed his
symphonic poem, and neither have I. But it is the soundtrack in my
head as we ride the High Plains near Amarillo. Vast, limitless,
featureless, barely undulating. So easy to imagine the cloud of dust
approaching over the plain hides a band of fearsome Huns on their
tireless Steppe ponies, or of our own Steppes warriors, the
yet-more-fearsome Comanches. But it's just a farmer in an F250 Super
Duty

Leigh Anderson
Sent from my iPhone

The thin green line

There are many heroes in the world but few surpass wildfire fighters
in West Texas. We encountered a crew staying at our hotel in Mineral
Wells. Fortunately they were at standby.

Even Denny's ...

... is a bit of Paradise after 320 miles I 100+ heat. But we made it
to Amarillo and the hard part is over.

Our SPOT track

See http://tinyurl.com/spotgla for progress.

Mineral Wells

Houston to Mineral Wells. Well it could have been hotter I suppose. It
hit 100 only towards the finish. But still a good first day.

Its always fun to learn something completely unexpected about a place
you've never been. Read about the Baker Hotel in Mineral Wells.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baker_Hotel_(Mineral_Wells,_Texas)

Leigh Anderson
Sent from my iPhone

Colorado and New Mexico

We are beginning a 3000 mile, 14 (or so) day motorcycle trip to Colorado. Here's an overall plan:

Overview

Blowup of CO/NM part

The end of Arkansas, the beginning of Colorado

The end of Arkansas, the beginning of Colorado: I wasn't very diligent at posting the last of our Arkansas trip. Didn't take too many photos because we were busy riding. We rode home in 105 degree heat, oh joy. Fabulous trip, though. Next up: Colorado.