Cycling Across America #55
The Way to Amarillo
Part 55 of my solo Cycle-Across-America series. (Read from the start in Boston or see the full index)
Excerpted from my journal as I continue cycling south through the Texas Panhandle. And I wasn’t singing that song.
Sunday, 13th October
The wind has me exhausted. It’s like I’ve had my head in front of a hairdryer all day. And it was warm.
With the forecast for the winds to continue I’m in real danger of not making Lubbock on Tuesday as intended. If so, it’s not really a problem but I’m getting concerned at the frequency of these “extra” days. Once I leave Texas that’ll get more crucial as I have less roads and less towns and therefore less options to play with. Then again, when I’m in New Mexico is the time to worry about that.
This morning’s plan was to cycle on empty stomach the dozen miles or so to Fritch on Lake Meredith and then load up for the 40 miles into Amarillo. But I was told that none of the routes into Amarillo had shoulders and it being Sunday thought I might have difficulty getting a really good 40 mile feed in Fritch.
So I breakfasted in Borger after all. Taco Bell, first time in a long time. I was the only person there until some athletic but slight looking young fella came in for a drink. He was celebrated as the guy who kicked a 55 yard goal yesterday.
The new plan was a 24 mile ride due south to the town of Panhandle and then in from there the 29 miles to Amarillo. That suited the food better and I expected there to be less traffic.
Immediately out of town I was back in grassland with enormous views like yesterday. To the east from the north to the south I could see for 30 to 50 miles. The horizon was pure, broken only by grain elevators and very few of those.
[The rest of this entry is below the fold]
Seeing the expanse, so vast, of pale yellow grass with patches of reddish brown and at times speckled with green cacti and other bushes, with virtually no ranches or homesteads in sight, was so frightening at first but gradually over hours of looking at this magnificent flatness it has a seductive quality and I feel very comfortable, almost at home, in it.A couple of miles out of town was the first historical marker. It commemorated the first Rotary Oil Drill in the Panhandle in 1923. They’d been in use on the Gulf coast since the early 1900’s but the absence of a particular part delayed their use in the Panhandle.
Oil wasn’t found until 1921 as it had been forecast by the US geological crowd back in 1904. Gas was first found in 1918. There was a lot of technical information but I neither understood it nor was interested in it. Better quality of oil nearer Borger and in south Pampa made Carson County one of the richest oil area in all of Texas. The county produced over 150 million gallons of oil which means nothing to me.
The Indian owner of the hotel was wrong. I had a fine shoulder all the way. This is very useful from a safety point of view when you’re faced with a 20mph wind.
Traffic was light but fast. Being Sunday there was very few trucks. The herds of cattle were bigger now and they still took off running stupidly until a few words in a loud Dublin voice grabbed their attention and stopped them.
I was thinking of the other Indian back in Spearman and his talk of racism in Texas. He’d left India 3 or 4 years ago and gone to Dallas. They’d been running the Motel in Spearman for a short time now and he was looking forward to returning to Dallas. There in the city they had their own community, their places to worship but here in small-town, panhandle of Texas he would never feel welcome. He said the locals didn’t like change.
Sometimes I just stopped the bike and looked. At the grass. Its movement in the wind was wild. It was full of grasshoppers as usual and they kept jumping onto me. In the wind they could get higher. One stuck to my chest, another to my beard and tried to get into my mouth.
Today didn’t have the excitement of seeing new animals for the first time, unlike the last 2 days. On Friday I saw my first Tarantula. He was just there on the shoulder of the highway. I didn’t hang around, and sped past. Yesterday I took more time.
In the bottom of the canyon with the Canadian River I saw prairie dogs. I watched them for 15 minutes as they poked their heads up out of the ground, made their squeaky noises, and scampered from hole to hole. I remembered the postmistress back in Hepler, south-east Kansas, talking about the man who vacuumed them up and sold them to the Japanese as pets.
The snakes I see are bigger. And more colourful. A lot of them are curled up. I can’t tell if they’re alive or dead. A 2-foot snake sped across the road just in front of me today. It’s too fast to say it slithered. And so silent. An elegant movement I feel thrilled to witness.
4 miles from the town of Panhandle I saw a train about 2 miles away. It was over 100 cars long and was headed east towards the town of White Deer. I watched it for a couple of miles. I could say it looked great as it snaked into the distance but the railroads are even straighter than the roads in this part of the world. Nothing snakes out here except snakes.
2 large flocks of those Blackbirds with the orange splash on their wings greeted me as I arrived in Panhandle. A very wide and deserted main street. It was Sunday. Yet another Dairy Queen, out on Highway 60. Fat Tony’s was closed.
I had passed 6666 Ranch (4 six) - Dixon Creek, the first ranch in the Panhandle founded in 1872 by an English company backed by Cunard, the shipping company. 2 years later it was fenced with barbed wire hauled from the railroad in Dodge City. The posts were made of cedar.
On the road into Amarillo I passed the first tree in the Panhandle. It died in the 1970s and they planted a new one beside it to commemorate it. Looking around the only trees you saw were a handful of carefully planted ones beside the very few houses in view.
The road took me right past the airport which was fun and it ran parallel with the railroad. I saw 3 trains and even got a wave from the driver of the last one.
I enjoyed the downtown of Amarillo - it has some great buildings. Now I’m ensconced as far south in the town as I could get.
I’ll need a huge effort tomorrow and then I’m okay for Tuesday, or else vice versa. Or else Wednesday.
Heavy rain is forecast for Thursday and Friday so things could yet work out.
Alomar and the Orioles lost to the Yankees last night so that’s the end of their season, and the Chiefs aren’t in action until Thursday so no sport for me for a bit. I still don’t know who won the All-Ireland replay, but at 3:30 in the morning Christy Brown’s Left Foot keeps me in touch with home.
Read the Next Entry (#56) in My Bicycle Trip Across America
Read more from my Cycle Across America
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