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| God's Alive Everywhere |
The wily cager is as blue as an evening sky. Her luck has deserted her, and even when she rearranged the crib (Again), she was unable to pull out the victory. Happily, the Balmorhea Open is mine. The good news: the cager will rise to play another day, and as we all know, Lady Luck is a fickle mistress. The desert weather here is much like it was in Utah: daily highs in the mid sixties, daily lows just below freezing, and not a cloud in the sky. Today, we rode about twenty-five and for most of that time we saw and heard nothing except bike noise and our own voices. We visited a historic old mission at Calera, and then we rode into the town of Balmorhea (Pronounced Ballmoreray). There isn't much there, and there wouldn't be anything if it weren't for the twenty-three million gallons gushing from the San Solomon spring every day. Around three, I just had to swim in the pool. The water was pleasingly warm, but I was freaking out because the little fishes were swarming around me, and when I climbed out of the pool, I don't know who was more startled, me or the turtle that was basking on the step before I so rudely interrupted it. At least I can say I swam with the fishes, but I was such a sissy boy, they almost asked me to leave Texas. We BBQd some chicken thighs for our thin gruel of the night, using the last of our spice rub. They were yummy. Tomorrow, we're heading for White City, New Mexico, which, I suppose, is another three building town that owes its life to a natural attraction. The RV park there is minutes away from the Carlsbad Caverns, which we'll visit so Judy can relive a memory from when her family passed through when she was ten. We'll also use White City as our base of operations because the Guadalupe Mountains are also near by. I don't have any great wisdom to impart as we leave Texas, but I do wonder how it is so many people around here call this area home. Maybe it's the morning and evening light, or maybe it's the silence. Maybe it's the wide open space and fresh air. Maybe they're born here. One thing for sure, there is plenty of space, plenty of sky, and fresh, clean air, and tonight the full moon will be so bright the naked eye can see over forty miles. Maybe these folks enjoy life just like us. Maybe they realize that life is good, especially today.
She's kind of cute.
The chapel had a reverence about it. The altar society clearly takes care of the lace.
The chapel is for Mary. Notice the oversized rosary in tribute.
Only in Texas would one see a cross of barbed wire.
It really doesn't get any better for a cyclist. There was no wind; the temperature was about sixty-four, and the traffic was light.
How does she steer that thing from back there?
The Davis Mountains.
Farm to Market road 3078 runs fourteen miles from Balmorhea to I-10.
I'm not sure when rain comes to this area, but this rock lined gully was over six feet deep.
You can't see them, but the tiny little pupfish were swarming right under the diving board.
As agile as a Chinese diver, I sprang off of the board.
Swimming furiously, the little fishes gnawing at my toes, I traversed the pool.
Just about now, the turtle jumped off of the ledge, I guess to give my Chinese diver like body some room to get out of the pool.
Thin gruel chicken.
One of Frac's cousin's drove in as I was taking the chicken off. It is a very nicely restored vintage fourteen foot Bambi.
Art shot: Frac caught in a moment of reflection.
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