HILL COUNTRY 2010
  
 

Day 04

May 03

  
  It's up early, almost before the sun this morning as we will be headed for Kerrville for a couple of days. It doesn't take me long to get SweetTreat packed and ready to head out.
 
  Our first order of business is to snag some breakfast at the world famous (or at least locally famous) Blue Bonnet Cafe.
 
  You can tell when you go in that it is another one of those great local places. Quite a few locals are already enjoying their grub as we walk in just after opening time. It's the real deal and I get a real breakfast to give me the strength to do what needs to be done. When I check out, I find out that they don't take credit cards, but I've got the cash so it's no big deal.
 
  We cross back over the Colorado River and Lake Marble Falls as we head out of town.
 
  As we head south, I begin to get a full visual dose of the lovely Texas Blue Bonnets.
 
 

Ken is taking me through one of the more famous Texas spots for wildflowers - the Willow City Loop. It is a private ranch road of about 13 miles. To borrow a quote -

"It winds its way through some of the oldest and most unique geology in central Texas. This spectacular, rugged terrain is awe-inspiring any time of the year and gorgeous during wildflower season. The two-lane road winds through canyons carved by picturesque Coal Creek, and over hill tops where the views are stunning. In wildflower season, March - April, the hillsides and low lying meadows are ablaze with the colors of a multitude of wildflower varieties. Mesquite, pecan, and live oak trees thrive, and there is an abundance of wildlife."

The sign also warns us that there are cows wandering around loose which can have unique challenges in itself.
 
  And they are not kidding when they put up that sign -
 
  Working for a company that works with metal, I figure this feller has more money and time invested in his fence than I do in my house. That welded pipe don't come cheap and neither does the time and skill it takes to weld it together.
 
  It reminds a bit of some parts of Tennessee, much greener than I expected to see in Texas.
 
  When I pass this old tree, standing as silent sentinel, I just wonder how many storms it's seen in it's long life. It's a long time dead, but yet surrounded by a living carpet of yellow gold.
 
  And then we come to a bridge configuration of sorts that I will always wonder when I see it. I guess it must not rain much around here, cause it wouldn't take much water to put this slab of concrete under water.
 
  And if this tree could tell tales, I would what it would say. It's been shaped on the right side by the traffic that passes by it's branches. And so are we if you stop and think about it.
 
  I can't help but think folks back home pay good money to get a flower color display like this one in their yards.
 
  We have the road pretty much to ourselves so we can meander along without someone pushing us from behind. It's nice to take the time to see the flowers as more than a quickly passing blur.
 
  The profusion of the blue, gold and reds catch my eyes off to the right. They are just flowers, but the bands of color are not done justice by the picture.
 
  Then we come to a sign that troubles me a lot. Ken tells me that this is a very popular motorcycle ride but the locals have a lot of trouble with folks tromping on the flowers, trespassing on the private land, and making a general mess. So the owners have to post signs like this in hopes that folks can read - and will heed. It is just another case where uncaring, selfish riders make a bad name for those riders who do care. I'm surprised that they just don't close the road, since it is a private road and its on private property. My hat's off to the owners for still being willing to share the beauty despite some people's ugliness.
 
  Once off the loop, we head to the Enchanted Rock State Natural area.
 
  Ken has warned me ahead of time about the abundant deer population in the hill country, so this sign reminds me to be ever vigilant as I move along. A deer strike on a motorcycle has been fatal in more than one instance that I know of and I don't care to add myself to the list.
 
  Up ahead I can see the rock itself amidst a brilliant profusion of road side color.
 
  It's a short run and I just follow Ken into the park.
 
 

When we get parked, I tell Ken -

"You know, this reminds me a lot of Stones Mountain down in Georgia. It is a very similar rock formation that just sort of sticks up out of the ground".

We also take a bit of break and avail ourselves of the indoor plumbing while we are here.

 
  I notice up from the dirt is growing a single blue bonnet as a reminder that they are still around, though not in the profusion as they would be earlier in the year.
 
 

Ken tells me before we take off -

"I've got a special place I'm taking you next."

"Well captain, I'm just following you wherever you go - except off the road of course!"

It's about 30 miles before I know what world famous location we are stopping at next.
 
  For all the racket I've heard about the place, and all the mentions that Waylon and Willie have done about it, I'm a bit surprised at just how small Luckenbach really is.
 
 

The post office also functions as the local general store and a souvenir shop of sorts. It's hard to tell what is for sale versus what is for display, but I don't see anything that particularly lights my torch.
   
 

A young redhead behind the counter, who looks like she fell into her uncle's tackle box (with all the piercings in her head), tells me -

"You need to move your bike away from the front".

I'm thinking 'Why?" but I guess it's just the rules. Ken asks her -

"I bet you get to say that a lot, don't you?"

But she's about excited about what she is doing as a cat that just got a bucket of cold water dumped on it, so he doesn't even get a smile.

I do as I am told, just sort of wondering when the big crowd that I am obviously blocking traffic for is going to arrive. I do notice the 'unique' mailbox outside and figure strangers and bills probably rate about the same around here in these parts.

 
 
 

There's a couple of friendly locals that follow Ken out with a neat little poochie dog leading them. I offer my hand for the dog to get a good sniff before I pet her, and ask -

"What's her name?"

"Pixie. She loves to be petted" they tell me.

So I get down to business and she does enjoy it.
 
 

But we've still got a ways to go, so we wish them and Pixie a good day, and head back out into the heat. Before long, we come to an interesting construction zone. Ken asks one of the workers -

"About how far does this gravel go?

"Oh, not very far" he responds.

Since I don't like riding in gravel on an ST1100, I just hope that his definition of far and mine are of the same duration.
 
  So Ken heads out and I keep a good distance behind just to be safe.
 
  Then we come to a traffic light which seems a bit absurd out here in the middle of nowhere. But being the good citizens that we are, we somewhat patiently wait our turn.
 
  Then comes a flag truck that we get follow and eat his dust. I must say that they do things up grand in Texas and this construction zone was no exception. A flagger, a traffic light, and a flag truck - all in one place - is a lot of lipstick on a pig if you ask me.
 
  But soon we're back on the good stuff and making good time. I see a stately old home off to the right that reminds me a lot of some of the old plantation houses around Tennessee.
 
  Soon I see the sign that tells me we must be at the real deal.
 
  The hills get taller and the roads get twistier, and that's a good thing!
 
  It's a good run as Ken keeps the hammer down and I'm right behind him. Nothing better that good roads, good friends and no traffic.
 
  It's getting around eatin' time, so Ken heads for the little village of Utopia, population somewhere south of 250.
 
  But there is the Lost Maples Cafe here which looks like it is right down our alley, or maybe right down our stomachs.
 
  With "Pie Fixes Everything" on the napkin holders, this is my kind of place. As it turns out, their pies are homemade and they serve them until they're gone. Then they bake a new batch for the next day.
   
  Kathy has the fortune (or misfortune - depends on how you look at it) of serving us. When I order a salad, she thinks that I might be going to eat healthy. But I soon destroy that bubble when I ask for a half gallon of ranch dressing to put on my salad.  
 
 

The grub is good, but the pie is even better. I go for the chocolate cause I figure if you're gonna get extra calories, why waste them on anything else? I tell Kathy -

"I'm gonna get your picture and put it on my website. Then when all of the rich old men see it, they'll send you marriage proposals".

She just grins and says, "But I'm already married and my husband probably wouldn't like that".

"Well, are you going to let a little thing like a husband stop you from becoming wealthy?"

We both just laugh and I proceed to enjoy some of the best pie I've had in a while.
 
 

I tell Ken

"Now, I just need a nice shade tree and a pillow so I can take a nap."

But more good roads and scenery awaits us so we are off again. The water around here is kind of an interesting color, I guess from the mineral deposits or something.
 
  I had mentioned to Ken earlier about the motorcycle museum that Dennis and Bill told me about, so he guides us to it next. But unfortunately it is closed with no signs of life anywhere near it.
 
  I'm pretty amazed as we pass through this deep cut as I expect this sort of stuff back east but not in Texas.
 
  We pass some sort of game preserve, and I am awful thankful that the fences are tall to keep those critters in. I decide pretty quickly that their impressive horns would not look very good coming though my ST1100 windshield.
 
  When we come to this crossover, I am amazed at just how close the water level is to the road surface. I can't imagine that it would take very much rain to get a wet road. But I reckon the folks in this area are used to dealing with since there are so many sections of road like this.
 
  As we move along, I see this interesting 'display' of shoes on fence posts. I don't know if it a local tradition or what, but it runs for quite a ways and there are very few posts that don't have a shoe stuck on them.
 
  The weather is fabulous but a little hot, so we take short break near Hunt, Texas. Ken goes into the store but I decide I'll just hang out in the shade.
 
  Little do I know the next surprise that my guide has in for me. We turn down FM1340 for a bit and I do a double take. Standing in a Texas field is Stonehenge II, a 2/3's size replica of the one in England. It's just as visually arresting as the original and the setting is similar.
 
 

Ken tells me -

"You probably are one of the few people in the world that have been to the original Stonehenge, Foamhenge in Natural Bridge (a foam replica) and Stonehenge II".

"Yeah and what's funny is I've been to all three riding on STs!"
 
  Across the field, the man who envisioned it all, Al Shepperd (who is deceased), threw in some look alike statues of the ones on Easter Island just for grins. The whole area is open to the public to touch and feel, even though it sits on private property. It is a tribute to the family and the man that the family has kept it open after Mr. Shepperd's death.
 
  Once again I have benefited from local knowledge, since I did not have a clue that such a place even existed in Texas. But we've go to keep moving, so I follow Ken as we make our way towards Kerrville.
 
  As we move along, I see another beautiful stand of blue bonnets in the distance.
 
  And just in case folks wonder if water ever gets across these concrete ramps, this scene assures me that it does. And it appears that it does with much force, judging by the driftwood piled high behind the guardrail.
 
  As we move along, I'm still amazed at how tall the hills are down here. This could easily be a picture from back home in the hills of Tennessee.
 
  As the sun goes down, we find our way to the Motel 6 in Kerrville, our home for the next two nights. What amazes about this, is wifi is free at Motel 6, a less than luxury motel. But in the more expensive motels and hotels, they want to charge you for it - go figure!
 
  Ken's ZUMO 550 GPS has locked up and he does not have the special Allen key it takes to remove the battery. Fortunately, there's a Home Depot nearby, so we take the hike and he gets what he needs. There's a Cracker Barrel a bit down the road, so that works for us for supper.
 
 

Once we are in the Cracker Barrel, we are seated quickly. It is not very crowded so we are expected pretty quick service. I have to say that I have eaten at a lot of Cracker Barrels, but the server we have has to be the worst one that I have ever experienced. Either he really doesn't want to be there or he is out in the Twilight Zone. He basically does not listen very well, drops our food off and then disappears. I do consume a lot of ice tea, so I finally flag down another server and ask if she can help us out. She does and I appreciate it. Needless to say, his tip is almost nonexistent as his service, which is very unusual for me. As we wander back to our room, I notice some birds perched over our head.

"Reckon they are looking for Joe?" I tell Ken with a grin, remembering the shot that the bird took at Joe in the Babe's parking lot.
 
  When we get back to the room and turn on the idiot box, we find out that Nashville has been hit with some of the worse flooding on record. Ken's son, who ironically enough is visiting a friend in Nashville, is about to have to evacuate the place he is staying. I call Sharyn to make sure she is okay and to see what is happening, since I do not trust the media to tell the truth about anything. As it will later turn it out, it is called 'a hundred year flood' with much property destroyed and lives lost. And to think we have been enjoying some of the most gorgeous riding weather I have ever seen. As I drift off to sleep, I can't help but think how strange life can be sometimes.