We escaped from the metroplex a few days ago and all the mind-numbing noises that emanate from the planes, trains, and automobiles; spewing toxic exhaust from screaming engines with horns blaring and sirens wailing. It’s the price that we pay to spend time with our grandkids, and while the constant noise is irritating, the kiddos are worth it. I do prefer the summer visits better when they come up to our little cottage, where coyotes and roosters sound the morning alarm, not jet engines and police sirens.
A two-hour drive to the west of the city put us between the Black Prairie region and the Hill Country, in the heart of the Lost Pines. Our new home for the time being is on the south shore of Lake Bastrop. The quiet that filled the bus overnight was startling after all the noise in the city. As I enjoy morning coffee in my little writing nook, watching a Cardinal through the window, the only sound is a couple of crows cawing back and forth to each other out in the forest. I love forests and they grow in dirt and “I Love Dirt” too.
When we got the bus all plugged into the new neighborhood, I took Double Cross out for a spin, to do some exploring. A recon mission to see what sort of trouble we might be able to find this week. We tent camped up on the north shore with friends about a quarter century ago but I don’t remember much about it, except that we caught some chunky bass. So, part of the recon was to see if I could locate a few fishing spots.
According to Google Maps, the best opportunity would probably be along the face of the dam in the big rocks and rubble. I also saw a little dotted line in the corner of the park map, scribed “Fisherman’s Trail.” So, with a tentative plan, Double Cross and I set off to see what we could find.
It was more trouble than it was worth in the city to get much riding in. Just getting to a decent place, without being run down by an Amazon Prime truck was nearly impossible, so Double Cross has been corralled in the back of the Jeep for weeks and was pretty excited when I pulled her out and topped up her tires. We started the ride on pavement but it didn’t take long to find some dirt.
The trail we found weaved through the pines and was covered in soft sand, and pine needles. The steep sections however were littered with some serious fist-sized rocks that were big enough to cause some damage. We went up and down over hill and dell. It was the perfect tonic for a dirt jockey who’s been trapped in the city for too long. I was wishing for “El Mariachi,” my mountain bike on a few sections; Double Cross has the fattest tires that will fit between her chain stays but they weren’t quite up to some of the terrain.
I had to get off and walk in a few places that were either too steep, too rocky, or too soft. It was a good time though and I did find a nice section of dam rabble for a bit of fishing later this week. I was tuckered out by the time we got back to the bus. I’m definitely out of shape and need to get going, spring riding season is just around the corner.
Have a fun weekend. Go find some dirt to play in!