Tulia to Amarillo

I knew the day was going to be nothing short of great when I road off with the sound of the high school band playing "Shake That".

It was another windy day of quiet riding.  Around 1:00 PM I reached a cross roads.  I had time to make it to Palo Duro and walk around for a bit before I went ahead to Amarillo.  I was tired, but you can't say no to such a chance.  So I started riding toward the Canyon.

It was a flat ride, but again my drive was running low.  When I got to the Welcome center in the park it was about 2:30...I was tired, and pretty lonely, again.  Thinking this is one of those moments you wish you had a buddy.  A partner in crime.  Or something like that.

After I sat, looking into the depth of empty beauty for some time, I got a text message from an unknown number.  Wondering if I wanted a ride to Colorado.  (I had posted an add on rideshare via Craigslist, to see what would pop up).  I was just about ready to take it.  I told the guy I was interested, but it would probably take me about 3 hours to get back out to the highway. ( I wasn't quite done marveling and there would be quite a hefty head wind coming my way)... in the end, the ride didn't pan out... and I am better for it.

I entered the welcome center to relieve myself before heading out... little did I know I would meet my next inspiration...
Miss Doss, the Welcomer of the Welcome Center greeted me with cheer.  She was so excited to see me...she said "Oh! you are the girl who I saw riding her bike on the side of the road on my way to work today!" .. I couldn't help but smile and laugh.
She continued to tell me she and her husband, now passed, used to ride through the canyon, 19 miles, one way, every Saturday.  The way she said it, with such pride...
She offered me snacks, coffee, and water.  Then for my autograph...again I laughed.
She gave me the strength and encouragement to get to Amarillo, despite that damn wind.

I texted the Mabry daughters, Lindy and Lexie, I was on my way...
I hit some unexpected hills and crevices from the canyon, once I turned on Washington St.  Luckily, I had the wind at my back at this point.
Under the highway I road, with no sidewalks to be found.
Then to hang a left onto some smelly industrial tracks...
Making my way towards some unexpected, trafficless, gravel road.
The sun was down at this point and again I was at another busy road with no sidewalk relief...I wasn't feeling quite as trusting at this point.  Only 3 mile stretch of three lanes of traffic barreling toward downtown.
I decided it was best to give Lindy a call for some help.
She retrieved me and my bike from the gas station.

Lubbock to Tulia

I started pedaling toward Amarillo early on Thursday morning.  I didn't have much of anything... no plan.  no drive.  no clue... All I had was the faith that everything was going to be alright.  It was pretty chilly.  The clouds had cold front written all over them.  I didn't think I would make it more than 30 miles, purely for the lack of interest.  Luckily, Jammye, from the Pitchfork Ranch, in Guthrie, saved the day, yet again...  She put me in touch with a relative in Tulia, about 73 miles away.  The clouds began to part and my spirit brightened.  It was a long, yet enjoyable, successful day of riding.

I stopped at a gas station on the North side of Plainview.  I grabbed some lunch and stepped back outside for a rest.  A friendly truck driver honked at me in the middle of my lunch and gave me two thumbs up.  Before I got back on the road I went to say hello.  Edgar, the truck driver, was from, what was once known as, Yugoslavia.  He came over to the states as a refuge years ago.  Now, looking back on that conversation, I wish I would have known more about the war to ask him how he feels about his home separating as it did.  How it feels to never be able to return to a home he grew and experienced life in.  The loss of something that will never be the same... Lots of us are able to return to that familiar place.  And for most it is a comfortable, enjoyable time...regardless of how dysfunctional it seems on the outside looking in.  He seems happy with his home in Florida and his job traveling...people adapt and move forward.  That is all we can do to survive.

Edgar was curious about what I was doing, where I was going, and why, for heavens sake, on a bicycle... Many of the same questions I get a couple times a day.  I gladly explained, I get to meet fine folks as himself, and learn more about the world around me, cheaper than any other way.  He was very nice and worried for my safety.  He offered me a ride over to Nashville, where my other sister, Amanda, lives... it was very tempting, but after a few moments of thought, I felt I should continue on to my original destination.  I thanked him, and happily made my way to Tulia.

I reached the Mabry household around 5, just as the sun was setting.  They were so welcoming, as the Timmons were.  That evening we went to one of their younger sons band practice in town.  It was a small community, and a small school.  It was cozy.  It took me back to hear the band play... to see all the kids squirming and laughing in their chairs.  It was short, but sweet.

We returned to the house to eat the delicious spaghetti from Chef Mama Mabry.  Afterwards Delynn (Mama M) told me a little about her upbringing and her current love for the work she does in testing and placing children with disabilities.  I find it fascinating and encouraging to see the strength in people that grew up with little and created so much, and then dedicate it all to God...

I had about 50-60 miles ahead of me the next morning.  Little did I know I wasn't saying goodbye to the Mabrys for good.  I was on my way to Amarillo to meet the older Mabry daughters, Lindy and Leslie.

One Month and 3 Days Later..

A couple of days ago, I found myself asking again, am I being useful..?  Questioning my purpose every hour of the day... always returning to a deep sense of waste.  This past weekend I followed my friend, Travis, meeting his family.  The Schattle family was very kind and welcoming.  Travis and I drank most of Friday and Saturday.  He had told most of his family about my travels, on a bike.  His father, who was a cyclist himself, was quite impressed, and mentioned he would love to do something like I had.  These positive comments of admiration helped my self-esteem... but now that I was "quitting" this second adventure I had started, so easily...without putting up a fight...I felt like I was doing an injustice, to myself, and the others who support and follow me.

Monday night, I found myself looking for something to watch...  Something to shut off the thoughts that had been running all weekend.  I found a movie I had seen before, but hadn't really paid much attention to the first time around.  180 Degrees South.  After watching this film, and thinking about the conversations I have had with people in the past week(s),  I knew I needed to get back on the road..soon.  Not because I miss it.  Not because I am uncomfortable with my current situation... but because I can't quit.  I haven't given the struggle a chance, really.  The adventure lives in the continued journey.  Up to this point, making it to Lubbock...I have had a safety net of sorts.  With this next state the adventure is about to enter...that safety net will be in a position to expand.

I know I will probably have to get a ride at some point, as I have in the past, I don't see that as quitting though.  In my mind, that is part of what this is all about.. meeting other people.  Allowing our lives to merge... to allow growth and understanding.

At some point in the past month, I had lost the energy of living day to day, alone.  I wanted to just be comfortable.  fed.  warm.  in good company.  in a car.  with friends.  having a good time.  I am still really enjoying the company, and the couch... but, when I go back to the question of purpose...  adventure is the answer... some day, I would love to guide adventures in the great outdoors... in between my time enjoying laughs with friends and family in the comforts of a large, warm home.  I can't quit on myself now...not while I can still keep on.  The adventure is about the day to day... the unknown and how you deal with it.   When you start to let anticipation eat you away, the adventure becomes a chore.

"It is not about getting there, it is about how you got there"

I strongly encourage you watch 180 Degrees South (Netfilx)
here is the trailer...
http://www.180south.com/trailer.html

So here is to the day to day.  Striving on.  Purpose and growth.

The first stop.

I have made it.  My first stop.  I've hit my limit on solo-miles, for now.  The desire to keep my butt on the bicycle is gone.  The winter days are short, leaving me cold and disappointed in the progress.  I decided after 50 miles of county roads to Plainview yesterday, that I was ready for my first extended break to begin.  For the next two weeks I'll be staying at my buddies house here in Lubbock.  Helping out as I can.  Pick up some volunteer projects.  Enjoying game days with friends.  Hanging out with the new friends I made back in Guthrie.  Around thanksgiving I am hoping to hitch a ride with Kelsey and Clint to Denver.

Earlier this week I felt bad about quitting...  especially after a few conflicting, yet encouraging, conversations with some friends.  I was worried about letting people down... but as more time passes between myself and the first bicycle ride,  I start to create my own path again... holding on to the confidence and trust I gained.  Leaving behind the expectation of pedaling every mile.  Encouraging the dance with the unknown flow.

Maybe there was enough fear instilled in me to stop..  but once I stopped, and I got over myself.. I started to think of the other things I want to do in life... rock climbing, bass jumping, surf, climb a mountain, explore the world.  To think of all the stories I still get to hear.  It reminds me that this is just a chance for an extended stay to visit and connect with friends.  

My rough outline is to make it to Colorado, find a part or full time job at a ski resort.  Learn that culture, learn how to snowboard.  Meet new people.  Have a good time.  Figure out where I want to go when the weather warms up.  Maybe international.  We shall see.

Keep it Together

I had written some of this stuff a few weeks ago...kind of venting.  grieving.
So I hope you find something out of if.  It's mostly just gibberish.


The sad thing is I don't even really know if I feel as if I lost love.  I did, but long before I realized it...  At some point there was no love left to lose.  At some point it was just about going through the motions.  Maybe.  Maybe, we skipped the chance on creating a wonderful friendship.  I feel like I kind of destroyed it before it even started.

Maybe it was half a year, sitting with some of the uglier sides of myself.  Looking at them.  Accepting them, sometimes. Trying to take my faults down a different road than I had taken them before... I tried to beautify them.  Hide them.  Handle them.  As most of us do.

Everyday is a little different now.  Most days, I still wonder if he has a, new found, dead spot inside.  Maybe the same place I have one.  It doesn't matter.  Not one bit.  It is definitely not progressive in the least.

You can live quite excellently when you allow the unknown to flow through your life with ease.

...

I have been talking to a close friend from the first ride for the past two evenings now... after we talk I feel like things are going to be okay again.  I am grateful to have another person there that understands. Feels the loss and can talk about it.  I don't know what I would do without her...or any of the other riders for that matter.


Being on this ride, by myself.  Being in the present moment, alone, has helped me not think about what I had before.  It helps me not miss what was, but appreciate what is and get excited for what is to come.
There is, however, still something inside of me that feels like I can't filter what has happened.  I can't see the bigger picture yet.  The significants of the last trip is still foggy sometimes.  I don't feel like I will ever go back to who I was.  I sort of lost myself for 5 months...and I am just now realizing, it is going to take time to find myself again.  I am still swirling in the whirl pool of past events...I can feel the current slowing down though...The confusion that came from the dive is coming to a calmer place, closer to shore.

I am ready for Colorado.  New beginnings.  New adventures.  New people.  New question marks.

Thanks

Lubbock... home of some top-dog tailgating professionals.  After an eventful weekend, I have managed to find stillness on my buddies old country porch.  Beauty, in the simplest kind of way.  The past few days have consisted of grilling some grade A barbecue and cracking beer after beer with some new characters.

Lubbock is a beautiful place to rest...between the chugaroo cook outs and Broadway Shuffle.
It has been two weeks now since I got to my buddies house in Lubbock...  Part of me was indifferent about not keeping to my (original) schedule, most of last week.
Now, sitting here... a handful of car rides in the country... two tours around two respectable ranches, with two legendary cowboys... one, 6 man, junior high football game... A beautiful wedding...a town of tailgating... Laughter. Strangers. Friends. Growth. Confusion. Dancing...  I am glad my better half convinced me to chill out and spend some time exploring North West Texas.  The part of me that knows, I'll have all the time I need to get where ever I am going.  This part that encourages the chances that are given to experience different walks of life... the spur of the moment inclination (pun intended)... to stop, and maybe even back track... to soak it in....soak it all in.  Be there.  Make a choice, and move in that choice.  Fearlessly.  Being open to help from others.


Thank you for all the help.
To my friends here in Lubbock and Guthrie.
Safe travels.

Boots and the 6's

Thursday morning.

Jaymme and I started toward the courthouse.  The wind had picked up this morning.  It was plenty cold.
I began to meet some of the office folk.  Everyone was really friendly.  It was a neat experience.  I had never worked in an office before, but it was everything and more from what I have seen on television...  the 9-5, occasional visit from a co-worker/friend, eating lunch together discussing the latest and greatest, etc.

I heard a set of spurs coming down the hallway.  Not as loud and brisk as Ross's spurs were.  These were a bit more gentle. casual sounding.  It must have been Boots, my next tour guide.  Boots O'Neal... he is a true legend, just like Ross.  The National Cowboy & Western  Heritage Museum, in Oklahoma City recognized Boots with the Chester A. Reynolds Award in April.  Amongst other things, this award honors the strong commitment of individuals and groups that live by the connected ideals and hard work of ranchers and cowboys.  "Dedicated to or promotion of the ideals of, honesty, humility and integrity that are closely identified with the American West".

One of the first things I had noticed about Boots was his humble smile and his clear, blue eyes.  He took me around the town, explaining it's affiliation with the 6's ranch.  Most everyone living in the town, worked at the ranch, or the school.  He took me to the headquarters.  The main house was beautiful.  Three stories of earths grand stone.  I was impressed to learn the ranch had been passed down to women in the Burnett family since 1900.

After taking a peak inside the supply house/convenient store, the rodeo ring and ranch housing, we I was honored to be invited into the headquarters main house.  The woman, Louise, who had brought me supper the night I met Jammye, was working in the office there.  It was a great surprise to see her again.  She invited me to have dinner with them at the house.  Of course I accepted... all the food I have had in these cookhouses have been nothing but hardy, homemade, heaven.  After a small gander around the beautiful mansion, and meeting the people that make the ranch function, we headed over to the horse barn.  He took me to another cookhouse, for the people that work with horses specifically.  It also smelled delicious and had a pleasant feel of security.  The women exuded happiness.  After making some coffee and enjoying the all around jolliness, we headed back outside to walk around the barn, towards the clinic.  It was a lot to take in, but well maintained, clean, and organized.  Boots was having a ball telling people we encountered around the ranch about my story, of riding a bike for the past year.  He is a simple, hard working man... just like Ross... in yet they seem to be quite different people... in fact almost opposite in a way... although, they have been buddies for about 30 years now.

After walking through and watching how the ranch is run so smoothly, he showed me how Anne (the owner of the 6's) takes such good care of her loyal staff.  He told me about his wife, who passed, now, 7 years ago.  Of course I started to tear up listening to him about her... his love is still there 7 years later.     The love for his duties keeps him going.  You can tell, he still has a passion for riding and roping.  He thrives with the people around him.  He is a steady and balanced man.  I feel very fortunate to have crossed paths with him and honored I was able to visit with him for a few hours.

Driving

There is always plenty of time to talk in the country.  Driving from one place the the next usually takes at least 15 minutes.

Day two, Wednesday, I went to work with Jammye, at the King County Court House.  One of the few businesses in Guthrie, besides the post office, and Ranches.  Around noon, Kelsey, Jammye's daughter, came to pick me up for the day.  Kelsey, and her second daughter, Kendall, and I, went back to her mom's house.  We made some lunch and packed some of her belongings in the car, to move to her new house, about 15 minutes away.  While making lunch she wanted to hear more about my trip and why I was doing it.  She told me she had read some of my blog posts and really enjoyed them.  That warmed my heart :).  We are the same age, so it was nice to have someone to relate to on that level.  She told me how it was growing up in a small ranch town, in the middle of no where... having to drive up and down a 9 mile drive way every day.  We talked about our struggles in relationships, parents, and understanding ourselves.  I really respected her ability to keep swimming in the hard times she has had, and to thrive with family on and on.  It seems like she has developed the habit of doing onto others how she deserves to be treated, rather well.  Most everybody out here has... people really communicate and come together... From observation, she doesn't half ass life either.   She has, through the small things I noticed,  done them quickly and cleanly... maybe that is something you start to catch onto through motherhood.

After lunch, packing the car, and Kendall's nap... we headed back behind the house to find their dogs that had been roaming around, not to be seen, for 3 or 4 days.  Jammye was a bit worried.  The wild hogs had been coming pretty close to the house lately, and instinctively, the dogs would rally to chase them off...you never know what can happen when a hog is involved.  We found them sitting on an old mattress in the yard behind the house, content as can be.  Probably there to protect their people from coyotes and hogs.

After leading the dogs back to the house, and watching the cowboys practicing for their rodeo in Amarillo.  We went to her new home, where I met her husband, Clint.  Jammye came over an hour later, with Kelsey's first daughter, CJ.  We made tacos for dinner and visited a bit more.  It was nice to meet some new people with good stories, my age.  I enjoyed hearing about their upbringings, discovering our similarities and differences.
Jammye and I missed bible study, but it was worth spending time with her family.  We drove back through the dark abyss of cotton, and wheat.  The wide open sky makes for the best sunsets and inspires calmness.
I could see this as a future lifestyle.  Just gotta find me a cowboy.

Brooks and Ross

I met Linda in the cookhouse.   She was cleaning up from breakfast and preparing dinner.. (I love how they call lunch - dinner.. and dinner - supper, here)...  I left her to go meet Brooks  (The manager of  Pitchfork).  Managers usually run the show for 20-30 years.  I was a bit nervous to interrupt busy cowboy business, but he was quite excited to meet with me and had plenty of questions for me, as I did for him.  I explained the lack of consistency in my life in the past year.  It blew him away.  He was a great person to chat with.  A really enthusiastic character, about life in general.  We chatted for a couple of hours until Ross (the interesting fella that gave me a ride from Pitchfork the week before towards Lubbock) got back from running some morning errands.  After explaining myself to Brooks, I asked him about how life on a ranch works...We talked about how agriculture works (basically).  He explained how their Angus and Hereford cattle are raised naturally and hormone free.  And although that is all good and well, he also explained how irrelevant that is to the rest of the processing industry (unfortunately)... It amazed me when he drew it out for me, that about less than 5% of the population is feeding at least 95% ... That just shows how hard these men out here work... to provide quality beef to 7.6 billion people 365 days out of the year.  Through harsh elements.  Rain or shine.  The perks are quite ideal, in my eyes... a good, simple, tight knit community.  Working outdoors. Riding horses in the country.  Goofing off from time to time with your buddies.  Sunrises and sunsets.  The ultimate quietness of the windy flat plains.  Brooks and I continued to discuss organic and commercial crops.  Where they come from.  The inevitable scale of "quality" vs. quantity.  After a solid two hours, I met Amanda, Brook's wife, and son, Brooks Clay.  The dinner bell (lunch) rang around 12... Linda, as always, had a feast waiting for about 12 hungry, hard working, men.

 I had the pleasure of joining them...  Tender brisket, potato casserole, biscuits, and baked beans... (nuff said).  When the boys cleared their plates and started for the kitchen to get some dessert, Brook's Clay jokingly sprouted concern about the ice cream status... (After religiously eating with these fellas, the little guy knows good and well about their bulldozing appetite)... Luckily, it was a 5 gallon tub, so there was plenty left for his little self.

I know men aren't too fond of talking when they are eating, but you especially don't want to get in the way of a cowboy and his dinner ;) ... Luckily I got a few minutes to visit with some, but before I knew it,  they were headed back out to finish up weaning calfs for the day, before dark.  (I'll go back, one day, and next time I'll be ready to go out and wrangle with them.)

Next time you go grab some steaks, or ground beef, don't forget where it all starts.  

After lunch (dinner), Ross rallied and we went to feed 5 different pastures he cares for day to day.
He told me a little about Pitchforks history.  He had worked on Pitchfork land for about 26.  For 15 of those years, when Pitchfork owned some land on a River, a ways from Headquarters, he would spend the winter, camping, in his teepee.  The Geese would fly in and eat the cattle feed... Ross would sit, in the noises of nature, with the occasional gun shot, keeping the birds away from the feed... where he scored the name of "Goose Ranger" from the other cowboys.  Now, Ross helps feed and move the horses, daily.  While also watching out for illness and pregnancies in the pastures.

Ross is a ripe character...  He is a wise fella with some great stories.
At one point I asked Ross, "what makes a good cowboy"?
He replied, "Dedication... Common sense... And knowing when to keep your mouth shut."
It made me smile to hear something my own grandfather would say.

Although, he is kind of a lone ranger, he still works, because he loves the job.  He loves working with horses.
He told me he doesn't believe in a bad horse.  Only in "an incompetent son of a buck who should take a good look in the mirror to find the problem..."

I sure will miss the lingo here in West Texas.  It is quite something, and I think I am starting to get the hang of it.

After a long day, driving from pasture to pasture, learning about the history of the ranch's ups and downs, I was about ready to go have a nap.  We finally headed back to headquarters so Ross could finish up his work day, wrangling the saddle horses.  At the barn, I walked back to the cookhouse to wait for Jammye to pick me up... I grew to enjoy the distance from place to place.  It made for a nice long conversation...  That night I stayed at her home, where she lived with her husband, Clay (who I met at dinner earlier that day).  They have been with Pitchfork for almost 21 years now, since 1994.  They raised their daughter, Kelsey and son, Drew.

That evening I spent some time telling them about my story, and getting to know a little more about the Jammye and Clay.  The family that took a chance on a me.

Back Tracking

Getting to Lubbock to see some old friends was refreshing.  I was ready for a break from the quietness.  I couldn't get Guthrie off my mind though.  Something about running into Jammye had stuck with me for the next couple of days.  I wanted to go back to feed this curiosity.

After meeting just 5 people from the small town, I was interested in meeting more.  So after a full weekend of professional drinking, tailgating, and barbequing in Lubbock...come Monday, I was ready to head back toward the Pitchfork Ranch...  to see what life was like on the range.  To understand how people survive.  Discovering their struggles.  Learning about the land and the economy.  Most of all spending time with more of these loving people that opened their hearts and homes to me, in the most unexpected place.  

On my way back East, I was in a cloudy mood.  I don't know if it was an overdose of football in the past 48 hours, or if it was the 5 minutes of Fox News I saw the night before...but I was feeling pretty down.  I also had mixed feelings about back tracking... in the first bike ride, earlier in the year, we stuck to a schedule, pretty religious...mostly.  So deciding to turn around, in the midst of changing seasons, was a pretty bold move, I guess.  On the other hand, it is something I didn't have the time to do on the first trip.  Something greater told me it would be worth my time.

I spent the night in Dickens on Monday night.  To make the time go by, I chatted and charged my phone in the old jailhouse built in 1909.  The woman working dispatch, Sherill told me a little about the jail's history.  She told me a little about her life growing up as an only child, working on the farm with her father.  She graduated with only a handful of kids in her class, and has been working law enforcement since then.  She was kind enough to give me a small tour of the downstairs area, including the historical hanging gallow, inside the jail... (I would post pictures, but she kindly asked me not to, for security purposes...you will just have to come see for yourself!)
The jail was pretty spooky at night.  Read a bit more about it here..

http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~txdicken/jail.htm

Dickens jail makes for a few good, old fashion jail break stories in the wild wild west.

I left the jail after I rinsed off in the disturbingly cold natured shower, embeded in the single cell downstairs.

Across the road, I set up my tent on a patch of grass.  Hidden from the illumination of the few lights in town.  I left the tent open on one side, facing the highway and the jailhouse.  The air was nice and it wasn't too windy or cold.  Around 12 or so, I closed shop for the night, and slept deeply until about 5 AM.  I was startled by something running past my tent, close to where I had leaned my bike up against the City Hall.  I stopped breathing for a few minutes to try and figure out what it might be.  I listened, but didn't hear much more expect for distant barks and howls.  The smell of wet dog lingered for a few minutes... after I was able to relaxed again, it didn't take long for me to get back to sleep.

Dickens City Hall

I was packing up camp a couple of hours later, before sunrise.  Around 7:45 I was ready to head back out on the road.  I went back to the jailhouse to use the bathroom and brush my teeth.  An officer and another Dispatch women, Anne, greeted and welcomed me in.  As the officer headed out,  Anne, a beautiful black, strong, women, invited me to sit and have some coffee.  So I did...  I asked Anne about her life and how she got to sitting behind that desk.

Anne was one of 10 children.  She lived in the canyons with her family in a town not far from Dickens.  She was a hillbilly she said... her and her bothers and sisters would run the canyons... killing rattle snakes... exploring the land.  She grew up, hunting food with her kin.  The wildlife roaming through the same canyons she adventured through, daily, would feed the family.  They would not waste any part of the carcus, like many other resorceful families...Anne learned how to prepare many tipes of poultry dishes.  She said Any part of any animal you find out here.. you can bet, i've had it."  My imagination could only go so far...  She told me about her kids and how successful they have become.  Anne has been in law informent for many years as well... she use to transport criminals from one jail to the next, through many countys.  Some of her stories kept me on my toes... making me anxious just listening to some of the people she had to work with... on the other side of the cage.  Anne is a faithful, joyful woman.  I'm grateful to have had the chance to chat with her for a short while, and wont soon forget her smile.

I had about 15 miles to go before I returned to Pitchfork.  Tuesday, my spirits were brighter.  I was still feeling unsure about the back tracking, knowing, that the weather was only going to get worse in the north west as days past... but when I got to the ranch things started to turn around.