Beaumont, TX to Bellville, TX (68 miles)

Monday May 19, 2008

Awake at 6am, it felt like I could lay there for days, but since I was sleeping in Gus's room, and recalling my own territorial issues when I was his age, I knew I had to give him his room back. After a bagel breakfast, I left the accomodating Wellner family at 7:30am pedaling from the center of Houston following the route mapped out the night before.

7:30am Houston traffic was pretty fierce, but, as Rob put it, there is not a good time to bike through Houston, so off I went taking my time and taking sidewalks where I could.

Memorial Park in Houston gave me an opportunity to address what I was too lazy to address earlier. I checked and filled the tires this morning, and that rear tire was very low. I had pumped it up anxious to start my Houston departure, but just like a day or two ago, it felt like I was pulling more than the 90 pounds my bike weighs. In Memorial Park, I chose to check the tire again. Finding it low, my instinct was pump it up and move on, but I realized there would be no better place to inspect and repair it than here on the lush green grass in the shade in the cooler temps provided this early in the day. Finding two small wires having pierced the nearly impenetrable Schwalbe Marathon Supreme tire, I patched the tube and was set to go again. These wires are suspected to be from blown retreads I always see on the side of the road and sometimes have to pedal near. Note: stay far and wide away from these things when you can.

As I pedaled off, a girl who had been walking by earlier when I was repairing it, saw me on her return walk. As I said "back on the road" to her, she exclaimed "you got it, that's awesome!" providing a morale boost for me.

Once I reached George Bush Park, I found a paved track going all the way around the reservoir there. Taking it part way before finding an exit that would lead through the Northwest subsurbs, two female walkers both smiled wide and said "hi" in an excited way as I passed. Houston girls seem pretty friendly.

At FM-529 (FM is a farm road referred to as FM "farm to market"), I took a break from the 11:30am heat and caught some shade outside Walgreens, the last sign of a city I would experience for the rest of the ride today. Asking a woman coming out of the store "what is the nearest little town down this road?", she responded "Oh no, there is nothing down THAT road, not for a long long way." Encouraged to get more water from Walgreens, I pedaled off around 12:30pm.

FM-529: How I grew to hate you.
The lady was right. There was nothing along this road except farms, longhorn steer, and an occassional industrial business set back far enough from the road it appeared to be less than welcoming. The temp was 92F, high humidity, headwinds 14mph with 27mph gusts. Thoughts of overnighting on the edge of Houston came to mind, but I thought I had better be able to ride in this if I was ever going to get through the desert. After many miles, I found brief shade inside a chain link fence in Brookshireville and I cooled off before continuing.

Crossing the Brazos River, with a fairly high water level, was the reason for only a few route options to Bellville. On occasion there would be an interesting sight like this VW bug graveyard I passed.

Further up and many hard-earned miles later, I saw a ranch driveway lined with trees on each side. Knowing this landscaped entrance offered an opportunity to cool off again, I pulled in and was greeted by two curious mares.

Further up the road at 4pm, I found a Baptist church with a very small shaded canopy entrance. Taking the opportunity to fill the water bottles from the hose laying haphazardly in the grass, I could now continue through the hills that greeted me since entering Austin County (as if the heat, headwinds, etc weren't enough).

By 5:30pm, and only maybe 6 miles from Bellville, I finally saw a small store I had grown accustomed to seeing so frequently each day on this trip. Puzzled by the many pickup trucks parked outside, I parked my bike against a tree and walked in. Greeted by a 2-tooth owner who hassled me with some crack about "dress code", I bet that he was joking, unsure as facial gestures are less defined with only two teeth, and continued walking in. Turns out, in addition to being a neighborhood store, it was also a bar. That explained all the trucks outside. I walked up and sat at the only open stool at the 3-stool bar. The place was occupied by two groups: those with white skin wearing caps and jeans or bibs sitting at the tables, and a two-person group of Mexicans at the bar. After ordering, I started making small talk with one of the Mexican guys next to me. Whatever he said, I repeated his response out loud in Spanish (I do this translation sometimes in my head to keep sharp, but this time it was out loud). He smiled. His English was choppy despite his 15 years living in nearby Sealy working as a mechanico. We began speaking in Spanish. He introduced himself as Jose Luis, and his friend who spoke better English was named Philipe. They could not believe how far I had pedaled so far on the trip and insisted they would buy me whatever drinks I wanted: "When you drink with a Mexican", they said "your drinks are paid for". Generous guys. I stuck with softdrinks knowing I wasn't finished for the day yet. Our conversation was good and covered topics of the frontera (border), safety in Mexico, living illegally in the US, and how people of all races have similar values: "I like beer, you like beer, we are the same", I told them. This whole time, i think the cap and bib wearing faction was not thrilled I made friends with the "wetbacks" as the Mexicans told me this is how they are referred to. A large beast of a man came in dressed similarly to the whiteys in the bar, bought something from the store, and said "Que pasa, amigo?" to Jose Luis but in a stern tone. I thought, "Huh. So some of these guys DO talk with the Mexicans here. How nice." But his poor spanish was abandoned shortly after and he continued to shout at this guy actually making some threats near the end of his rant before leaving. My new Mexican friends were puzzled. Despite the fact Philipe "knows" English, it is like my knowledge of Spanish. If you talk fast enough, I don't know a thing. They both asked me to explain in Spanish. As I was in the process of explaining in Spanish what just happened and why Bubba was so mad, the 2-tooth owner left his chair at one of the tables with his friends and came to the bar "Listen. You fellas have to go. That man isn't happy. I don't want no trouble. He's coming back here, and when he does, there will be trouble if you are still here. You better go or I will call the police, and if you are illegal, you don't want me to call the police." I told the owner they didn't understand what just happened and I was explaining it to them. "You don't need to be involved in this. You go, too. You get on your bike and get out of here." I managed to convince the fellas it was in their best interest to leave and I was leaving, too. In the dirt parking lot outside, there were brief goodbyes. I had at one time thought it might be nice to stay in touch with these guys or at least get a photo, but that opportunity was lost.

The argument:
Bubba's wife was in the bar earlier. I think it was her that was just leaving when I arrived, and maybe why the stool was free at the bar. She had given me the eye on her way out, and I had thought immediately that she was the local tramp. When she went home, she told Bubba what Jose Luis had said to her (sometimes the Mexican approach to women is different than the American approach, especially with limited volcabulary), and that aggravated Bubba. He then came to the store to give the "wetback" a piece of his mind and maybe more. Seeing Jose had a Mexican friend with him, as well as me sitting next to him, I think he chose to leave it at words until seeing him again later. Thus the owner kicked us out.

Note: Mexican-American relations in these rural poorly educated areas of Texas are not good. I saw the disrespect the 2-tooth owner showed to Jose Luis and Philipe when they simply ordered drinks. And after witnessing this incident, though not knowing Jose Luis's words to Bubba's wife, I now understand why the two of them told me "your mind works differently than people here" as we had become friends and they learned that I studied in Mexico and have a sister there married to a Mexican guy.
Hurrying off, I pedaled the remaining distance to the overpriced only-one-in-town Hotel Wayne in Bellville, TX. Upon arrival I was told by a cleaner looking cap & jeans wearing man that he would've run me over in the hills approaching town if I hadn't worn that bright orange reflective safety vest. "It caught the sun just right and I saw you, otherwise with the way the sun was coming down, I woulda hit you". To which the dentally-challenged motel attendent behind the desk said "We call you a Texas speedbump, that's all". I worked all day long to be here???

After checking in, showering, being clearly discouraged by the motel desk attendent from eating at the Mexican restaurant down the street and instead being directed to the local Dairy Queen, I went to Las Lomas Mexican restaurant. "We got enough Mexican restaurants and they're building more like we need another", he said, clearly showing his opinion of the people that originally inhabited this land.

At Las Lomas, I met my waitress, Aremi, a girl originally from Mexico City and who had recently moved from Houston to Bellville to be closer to her job here. Aremi had a great personality and we spoke in both English and Spanish while I enjoyed my meal. I am not likely to be in Bellville anytime soon, but if I am I will stop in at Las Lomas to say hi.

start time: 7:30am
end time: 7:00pm
time on bike: 5:15:47
miles: 67.83
avg speed: 12.89 mph
max speed: 26.95 mph
calories: 4,901
conditions: hot, cloudless sky, 92F, wind from SW 14mph, gusts 27mph, hills began in Austin County.