Day 11 - Walk on back to Texas

Taos, NM to Seymour, TX - 522 miles
September 11, 2012

 Once again, nobody up when I awake.  But thirty or forty minutes later Betsy is packed and I'm scarfing down a cup of "Continental" breakfast coffee awaiting the sun to make it's appearance.  Taos is almost 7000 feet above sea level, and the morning temperature is around 40°F, meaning the riding jacket insert is going in...no negotiation, no question.

Heading down US64 through the Kit Carson National Forest.  Lots of twisties, and lots of new road.  I'm liking it, but saw quite a few "forrest rats" on the downward trek.  Fortunately, Betsy scarred them more than they scarred me so I made it down without a problem.

Not much later I'm out of the mountains and looking at relatively bland scenery.

This is some of "flat" New Mexico.  I like long, empty stretches of road.  Interesting observations between this and the next photo.  Difficult to ascertain, but there is actually grass in this picture.

This is cattle land, about twenty or thirty miles west of Clayton, NM.  I saw many, many examples of this.  The cattle are out there, but they've eaten almost all of the grass.
The drought has created a monster problem.  Because of the drought, the grass hasn't grown well, raising the price of feed.  The rise in the cost of feed is causing ranchers to cull herds, indeed, many are cutting deep.  This would result in lower prices for beef...right now.  But, when it turns around in the next year or two there will be fewer and fewer cattle, and the prices will rise significantly.

 I try to find all the "new" road I can find.  Having ridden west from Texas many times it becomes ever more problematic finding new road on which one can make some time.  This time I routed myself into the panhandle as usual, but decided to move east toward Pampa, an area I'd never ridden through.  I was surprise to see an area with a lot of hills and declivities, worn by wind and water erosion.  Making time I didn't stop to take pictures, but the area was much more variable than I would have expected.

The below screen capture from Google Earth reflects the changing topography noted.  The reservior is Lake Meridian just east of Fritch, TX.  Coming into Bolger on US152 from Dumas you get a good look at land much more reminiscent of lower Utah and Colorado than that of west Texas.

Realizing tomorrow would be my last day on the road for this trip, I wanted to reduce the ride time so I kept pushing, while making sure I avoided the Wichita Falls/Dallas/Ft.Worth route and all that traffic for the morning ride.   Turning due south from Pampa, I joined US287 near Clarenton, then turned south again at Vernon riding until about 6:30pm.  This put me in Seymour, TX looking for a decent motel room.  That's not as easy as it sounds, but, at least I found a room.

After a quick "road shower," I went looking for dinner.  Choices weren't very many but there were two diners in town, both with vehicles in their parking lots.  Knowing Texas as I do, I chose the one with the most pickup trucks as opposed to cars, figuring cars are mostly visitors.  Turned out to be a pretty good choice, but I had my doubts for a while.

After parking Betsy up near one of the windows so I could keep an eye on her (something all motorcyclist seem to want to do), I entered to find a fairly crowded establishment with the standard four-person tables, red-and-white checkered tablecloths, and a rather nagging quantity of flies buzzing about.  A few more than one would like, but something less than a swarm.  I would prefer that to some guy killing them with long, snapped rubber bands (ala 'The Heat of the Night'), however, a fly-swatter would have probably been good, but that wasn't happening either.

After ordering the cute little waitress's recommended chicken-fried steak, I was at first skeptical whenever the large plate with a wilted salad and very greasy french fries accompanying two relatively small steaks were placed in front of me.  There was nothing on the steaks but a very light breading, however, a small container of cream gravy made its appearance shortly, rounding out the meal.  I mean, what is chicken-fried steak without cream gravy?   I don't know what it is, but I know what it isn't.  It isn't chicken-fried steak.

In any event, the wilted salad was okay once a copious quantity of Ranch dressing was applied.  The french fries turned out to be surprisingly good but, then, fat is good, and grease is fat, huh?  But the surprise was the chicken-fried steak.  It may not have been the best I've ever had.  But the cream gravy was...and once you put it on the steak you have the best chicken-fried steak I've ever had.  (Tell my cardiologist's wife to make that a Mercedes!).  Great little meal.

I was too tired to blog when I got back to my room, which was good since the wi-fi wasn't working anyway.  In bed and sound asleep by 10:00pm, dreaming of southern Utah largemouth bass.  What'd you expect at my age?

'Walkin' Back Home (Eric Taylor)
Don't won't no long lost brother, don't need no mother's hand.
Don't seem to like each other, never knew that other man.
You keep that long, tall pine, take that Georgia moon.
I'm going home tonight, gonna be there...soon.

If I can drive it on down to Birmingham, fly back up to Memphis.
As soon as my feet hit solid ground, I'm going to walk on back to Texas.
Walk on back to Texas. I'm gonna walk on back to Texas, walk on.