Panhandles

Part 53 of the Cycle-Across-America series. (Read from the start in Boston or see the full index)

The next section of the journal is taped and transcribed but as both tape and transcript are inaccessible in storage here is a brief outline of that day from memory, and from excerpts of the journal that was handwritten, a more detailed account of the following day.

Liberal is only a couple of miles from the state line with Oklahoma. Perryton in the north of the Texas panhandle was my destination for the day, only about 50 miles away if you go straight there south on US 83. But I wasn’t going straight.

To avoid the danger of the traffic I was going back on myself for one of the very few times on the whole trip, though I suppose technically the earlier section from eastern Oklahoma all the way up to Iowa were back on myself.

The Oklahoma panhandle, being the extreme west of the state, is very different to the parts of Oklahoma I cycled through over a month earlier. The north east had reminded me of home, with its green fields, trees and bushes. The panhandle being the extreme west, however, was the most spectacular sight of the entire trip to date.

I passed a stone monumental marker giving a brief non-Native American history of the Oklahoma Panhandle. The marker was a map to the region, and before it was appended to Oklahoma Territory the panhandle was unassigned, not part of Texas, or Mexico, or Colorado, or Kansas. It was known as “Mo Man’s Land”.

It was on the stretch going back on myself that I had the view. South and to the west of me I could see clearly for 50 miles or more. A huge expanse of barren battered grasslands. I couldn’t see any houses. It was magnificent, and as I cycled east putting more of it in my way for whenever I turned the bike the right way around, I couldn’t stop staring at its enormous beauty and thinking how scared of it I should be. It was where I was going.

There are times when cycling in empty landscapes that an encounter with a woman is the most romantic encounter one could imagine, and you do a lot of imagining when you’re cycling all day by yourself. And more when you’re being hit by pure sun and winds all day in the High Plains.

The exchange was brief but seeing her again 10 miles later on a farm road, the dust cloud following her wagon, cemented our relationship. Her house was 200 yards away from me but when she stepped onto her porch she turned and we both waved as old friends.

Eventually I rejoined Highway 83 again, the main road to Perryton, at a town just a few miles north of the state line with texas. I say town but it seemed to be a glorified crossroads with just a large garage off one corner. (Have a look yourself). Everybody was refuelling for their long-distance trips, the panhandle being a place people, apart from myself and the woman I was now in love with, just drove through at high speed.

Then I refuelled with cheap stodge and drinks, took a deep breath, and joined the fast and heavy traffic for the final 15 miles to Perryton, Texas.

[An account of the next day in Texas constitutes the rest of this entry and it’s below the fold]

Read: Cycling Across America #53 »

The thing about this male chaffinch unlike the others by the lake, was the tunes he sang were all hit singles.

By female artists.

Food was accepted from the hands of both genders and it mattered little what they sang.

I often sang male songs like a woman but the chaffinch stayed on his true female hits only road.

Until the day, arching across the road for some sunflower seeds I’d brought, he was struck by a tinted windscreen with a humming Bob Dylan behind it. Interrupting his tune Bob then cried.

Just like a woman.

About Chaffinches:
   • On the Times
   • On the RSPB
   • On the BBC

Read: The Chaffinch »

There’s paint on the brush so I won’t stop long, but I wanted to let you know that I’m connected to the world again after a week in the Irish offline wilderness. Well, connected to your world anyway.

It’s a large house I’m painting and I’m halfway through so I’ll be away from Dublin for probably another week.

You’d like it here, whoever you are. It’s an idyllic location about a mile at most from the sea - which I can see off to the east - and around me are beautiful views of green hills that might look small but you try cycling up them.

Anyway, paint on the brush as I say - we’ll catch up later today.

Read: Connected »

Ambush on Pancake Boulevard

Part 52 of the Cycle-Across-America series. (Read from the start in Boston or see the full index)

Excerpted from my journal. In southwest Kansas.

Wednesday, 9th October.

Journeys. 3 films for the first time each, all on video. Most definitely not my preferred medium of viewing but all 3 very entertaining, and viewed in the context of the cycle possess something I wouldn’t've seen if watched earlier in the year in Dublin.

If tomorrow goes to plan then I cross two state lines. Right through the Panhandle of Oklahoma and into the Panhandle of Texas. And why shouldn’t it go to plan? - yesterday did.

Although I’m only 60 miles from Colorado I’ve somewhat reluctantly decided to carry on with the plan and keep south. That said, the forecast for a 15mph east wind tempts me again but it doesn’t rid me of the basic problem that there is nowhere to stay in Colorado unless I travel in and north a bit.

A 3 and a half hour sleep in Dodge meant I was up and ready to leave about 9-ish, which meant I could avail of the free breakfast over the usual chit-chat.

Perhaps I didn’t really want to talk having only cycled a mere 31 miles into town and not feeling worthy. But then one of the staff told another they should have pity for me as I rode in in the storm, and I felt a bit better.

When one of them asked me if I was finished with my now empty cup of tea I took a couple of minutes to say yes please. Her next question: Was the language we spoke in Ireland any different especially in relation to how we said please and thank you ?

[The rest of this entry is below the fold]

Read: Cycling Across America #52 »

It’s very weird when I see a painting of mine after I’ve sold it and shipped it.

It’s kind of like seeing one of your children all grown up.

They were with me since they were a twinkle in my eye, and often with me long after they were finished. I know every square millimetre of them, and many of them have moved with me through various homes.

Bumping into them in somebody else’s house, is always a very odd almost embarassed feeling, and yet there is a lovely warm bit of pride in seeing them on somebody else’s walls too.

It doesn’t happen very often though, because I sell online to people I’ve never met or whose homes I’ve never been in. So it’s always very nice when I am sent a photograph of one of my paintings all grown up.

I had been wondering since I heard framing was imminent.

Read: Paintings Grown Up »

In about half an hour I leave my Dublin destined for southern Leinster where I’ll be holed up for a couple of weeks painting a house.

That’s housepainting that is, as opposed to the other sort of painting that I do do.

The bicycle is coming with me, for survival, because it can carry anything (and has) from other bicycles and people to Christmas trees, loaded coolers, and more messages than I can afford. (note to Americans: messages = groceries)

The dog is also coming with me, so you needn’t worry that I’ll be going mad alone. I shall be going mad in the company of my dog. It’ll be like old times.

And a limited amount of art stuff is coming too. Just sketchbooks, pens, and watercolours because this is a housepainting trip, not a painting trip. If you know what I mean. That reminds me, maybe I should share some drawings I did on my recent trip to Italy

For Irish KC it means that things are going to be erratic. I could be offline for a total of 2 weeks. That said I’m hoping to be connected in maybe 5 days’ time. If not well, I may just carry the laptop on one side of the bike, and the dog on the other, and cycle off in search of wifi.

Meanwhile, whatever happens to me, posts will continue to appear here - for a time, but no comments will be approved until I can get online again. American Hell will however, as always, suffer. Why don’t you go suggest some names over there (to be used in cartoons) so I’m all set when I return to action?

This could also be a good opportunity to catch up on reading the unreadble long series of mammoth posts that is my Cycle Across America. I think I only have one further post drafted and scheduled to be posted while I’m away.

I don’t have a mobile phone so there will be no updates on Twitter either until I’m back online again, when it will probably be the first thing updated.

If there are any follow up questions from anyone who bought a painting from me recently, I’m not ignoring you - but it could be a week or 2 before I even see email again.

And for those wondering about the state of Kansas City events being listed, if I do get online down there I will whip things into shape very quickly such is the solitude of the house I’m in.

Try not to fight amongst yourselves without blogging about it. I’ll talk to you live-ish in a week or two.

Read: Offline in Rural Ireland »