Big Bend by Motorcycle (non-readers beware)

[tardypizza]

Not sure if a ride report belongs here, but since I spent a lot of time on this and there will be lots of pics I'm going to post it anyway.



DAY 0.5:


It seems it’s been ages since I’ve had an entire weekend off from both jobs, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Last Friday, towards late afternoon, I was hanging around the shop when a harebrained scheme popped into my addled brain. Why not undertake a mini-adventure ride for the weekend?

One of the greatest benefits of working for AF1 Racing is the never-ending selection of amazing motorcycles we have to choose from. My eyes were quickly drawn to our gorgeous blue Caponord demo and I could tell it was antsy to stretch its legs. There was a flash before my mind’s eye of me and the Capo lost in the northern stretches of the Chihuahuan desert. I was heading to Big Bend!

And with that spontaneous thought, I quickly threw everything I needed together in a matter of hours. I curtly finished all of my loose ends at AF1, gathered my camera gear and flew home on the Capo to pack up my camping stuff. Just before sunset I was giddy for what might lay ahead. Once packed, I tore out of the driveway hoping to put some miles behind me before the long day’s toils drained my motivation. I was off, and I was free.







There is something deeply calming for me about riding a motorcycle. As the RPMs increase, my respiration slows to idle. With each pulse of the v-twin, my heartbeat slows and slows. The deep throaty rumble of the Capo and the quiet roar of the wind past my helmet are a hypnotic siren song, beckoning me ever further and further into the unknown. What lay ahead of me, besides miles and miles of pristine pavement and the immeasurable chance for adventure? And the thought of heading into the unknown aboard a bike, with nothing resembling a plan, is about the only thing that gets my heart racing anymore.

A few hours into my journey I chose to stop for the night at the logical halfway point, Del Rio TX, right on the cusp of the US/Mexico border. Just outside of town is situated the Amistad Reservoir, a massive and shared body of water between the US and Mexico. A perfect place to camp. But first, I needed some supplies.

Now, I hate Walmart as much as the rest of you, but in Small-Town Texas you don’t really have a choice when it comes to midnight shopping possibilities. Once inside their “made-cheaply-in-china-but-special-price-for-you” mecca, I quickly made my way to their outdoor section and found the few bits and pieces I needed to aid in my journey. Since I had thrown everything together so quickly for my departure I had forgotten a few key ingredients for a successful trip. Like Food. And Water.

Once properly laden with the necessary supplies, I made my way out of the mega-capitalist-corporation-conglomerate towards the Capo, sitting patiently in anticipation just where I left it. Right on the sidewalk next to the mechanized pony ride, halfway blocking the entrance, in a desperate attempt to slow this micro-economy’s dependence on foreign labor.

Amongst the curious onlookers’ gaze of amazement and bewilderment, “What the hell is this guy doing?”, I made haste to properly pack up all my newfound goodies onto the Capo. They had no clue what I was up to, and I’m sorry I never had the chance to enlighten them as to my intent. I totally take it for granted how much enjoyment I get out of piloting a motorcycle to destinations unknown, but I would love to clue them in to how much joy there is to be had in thrusting yourself into the world with only a motorcycle as your defense.

The time was now past midnight and I was exhausted, both from a long day’s work and a full day’s riding behind me. Outside of Del Rio, the Amistad Reservoir was thankfully easy to find, and once off the highway I made my way down the gravel road to an awaiting campsite. And that’s when I noticed the one thing I really needed to pack that I didn’t. Remember how I said I had my choice of so many awesome bikes? Well, the problem lies in that we don’t have enough Dealer Plates to go around. I had just ridden this Capo the day before, and I know it had a plate on it then, but within a day’s time and my excursion to Del Rio, that plate had gone missing. Either it had fallen off (unlikely) or one of my shopmates had borrowed it for a lesser bike without informing me (Damn you Jon!)

I was now faced with a conundrum: Sheepishly head the 230 miles back to the shop under the safety of darkness, admit my stupidity and failure and let my weekend go to waste, or….Hurl myself headlong into the illegal void and make this a true adventure? Hell, it wouldn’t be a proper motorcycle ride if you didn’t pee yourself a bit every time you saw a cop!

The more I lay sleeplessly in my tent, the more I convinced myself that I could make it. Plateless and all. I’m no criminal, I really didn’t steal this bike, even though that’s how it seems to you Mr Ossiffer. I tried desperately to extinguish these thoughts of paranoia, but my mind ran rampant with endless scenarios of me getting busted and sent to pound-me-in-the-ass prison.

[tardypizza]

DAY 1:

In the morning, after a few hours’ sleep, I decided to defy common sense and I turned westward towards Big Bend.

I had slept late for the first time in a long time. I had no obligations, no duties, not a worry in the world, other than my slight negligence in the motor vehicular legality department. I leisurely packed up my camp site, and once again, my thoughts turned toward admitting defeat and heading back home. Why would I let a measly thing like a lack of a license plate slow me down? I’ve made it this far, let’s see how much further I can push the envelope!







Once underway, the miles greased by easily and the Capo was eating up pavement like a ravenous lion. I was racing headlong into the northern reaches of the Chihuahuan desert, and the temperature kept growing and growing.







I had a gallon of water stowed in the Capo’s bags, but the constant arid wind had me reeling for even more hydration. The Capo’s air temp sensor was reading 100*, but that doesn’t include the factor of the constant 70mph wind across my skin, wicking away every last bit of moisture.


Dayumn, it’s hot!









Somewhere near Marathon, TX, I stopped to top off the Capo’s fuel reserves. There I met Caesar and Roger. They were headed to Big Bend as well, but in the plush comforts of an air-conditioned truck. Riding along in the bed was an old YZF750. They were intrigued by the Capo and approached for a closer look. “What is this?” to which I answered with my well-practiced spiel. They acknowledged their comprehension with a “App-a-rilla, huh? Eye-talian? Shore is purddy.” I’m sure that was a compliment. The YZF belonged to Caesar and I couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t riding it. Then he started a barrage of questions, “You’re riding alone? You think it’s safe? You don’t carry a gun?” They couldn’t even fathom doing a motorcycle/camping trip like the mini-adventure I had currently undertaken. It completely blew their minds when I told them that less than two years ago, I had ridden all the way to Panama and back. I left them jaws agape, but hopefully a little inspired to just simply ride.

Closer towards my ultimate goal of Big Bend, the landscape and the weather began to improve, mountains cropped up and with them the air cooled a bit. Sparse thunderstorms loomed ahead, threatening to cool me down even more with their life-giving sustenance. I tried to dodge them as best I could, but my chosen path led me closer and closer towards Big Bend, and eventually there was no avoiding the dark clouds.






It was just a quick drench. And since the surrounding air was so deprived of moisture, I quickly dried off. Rather pleasant actually. Once inside the park, the road headed steeply uphill towards my intended campsite in the midst of ancient volcanic batholiths and plutons.






No rain ahead, all my woes are behind me:





The Chisos mountains provided excellent shelter against the elements sweeping through the desert below. About 50 million years ago a tectonic plate was pushed under this region. As it sank into the depths of the Earth, temperatures rose to molten levels, and the rock was turned to magma. Under tremendous pressure, it made its way to the surface, erupting in a fierce chain of volcanoes from here to New Mexico. Big Bend is littered with ash and tuff flows, as well as subterranean batholiths and plutons that are now revealed by erosion. The Chisos mountains are the remnants of what powered those ancient volcanoes. Now they provide a gorgeous backdrop for me and the Capo.

[tardypizza]

After setting up camp I made my way out to explore some in the park

[mjdmike]

Ted, nice ride, great story, and some great photos. Looks and sounds like quite an adventure. Go for it!

Keep us informed as your trip progresses.

[tjavery]

That last one is mighty nice. The light on the Chisos is perfect. The moon makes a very nice addition.

[tropicdiver]

A nice read and a ride, too, Ted. I enjoyed reading your write-up as much as I enjoyed viewing the photos.

[tardypizza]

DAY 2:

Back at camp I made myself a quick dinner while the sun crept behind the horizon. The temperature quickly dropped and a chill snuck into the night air. I knew I was going to sleep well.

I woke up just before 5am. I was the only conscious one in the park and the entire world was mine. Overhead was a thick blanket of stars, and except for those dense scintillations I was enveloped in complete darkness. Perfect time to make my escape and steal away under veil of night.









There are few moments in my life that I feel truly aware. Most of the time I’m just plodding through life, day to day, with my brain never operating outside of auto-pilot. It takes extraordinary circumstances to jump start it out of its preferred state of perpetual alpha-waves. Cruising out of the Chisos aboard the Capo, I filled my lungs with the crisp mountain air, my eyes danced between the incredible star field above and the swath of light carved ahead by the headlights, and somehow, for that very brief moment, everything was right in the world. I felt alive.

My destination was only 40 miles away, the Santa Elena Canyon on the US/Mexico border. I had to make it there by sunrise, as the light would be striking it perfectly for my awaiting camera. The road was sinuous and tacky as it snaked its way down towards the Rio Grande. I had the entire park to myself so I felt no guilt wicking it up a bit on the Capo. It begged to go faster but I was already borderline and out-riding my headlights. The last thing I wanted was to plaster a jackrabbit or send the Capo offroad dodging a tarantula. I made it to the Canyon mouth with just enough time to scout out the perfect angle and 5 minutes later the sun crested the Chisos mountains behind me, giving me this dazzling display of firy reds and oranges.










The Santa Elena Canyon was formed rapidly by the Rio Grand only about 5 million years ago. The 300 million year old limestone that form its 1500 foot bluffs was deposited while most of the region was covered by a shallow sea. About 20 million years ago, the tectonic margin changed on the Pacific rim of North America and the entire continent began to expand, forming the basin and range landscape of the western US. As the crust extended it also rose in elevation. About 5 million years ago, the fault block that makes up the limestone cliffs rose and tilted so rapidly that the Rio Grande sliced straight down through it effortlessly. Upon exiting the Canyon, the Rio Grande makes a sharp turn towards the south, and follows the rift in the Earth’s crust that can be traced all the way up into Colorado.

I had to be back at work in less than 24 hours, so it was time to exit the park and start the long trek back. But not before hitting paydirt. There is a stretch of gravel road that leads from the canyon to the western exit and that was just what I needed to end the perfect morning. Looking at the Capo’s street tires I almost turned around where the dirt began, but somehow I just knew the Capo would treat me right.









My only previous experience on dirt was a few hundred miles aboard an XR650R. It was insanely fast and tended to dance all over the place. It took a lot of faith to just let it do its thing and keep my right hand into the gas. The Capo, even handicapped with improper tires, fared extremely well offroad. It put its weight to advantage and basically sank its way through the sand and soft stuff, finding purchase on bedrock. Like an elephant doing the tango, it just plows straight through anything, but gracefully. I felt completely comfortable, and although I didn’t push it as much as I might the XR, I made good time and thoroughly enjoyed getting some dirt in my teeth.

It had been an amazing journey through the park and I felt like showing my appreciation. So I expressed my thanks the only way I knew how.





On into Terlingua for some heart-attack-on-a-plate breakfast. I hadn’t had a proper meal in about 2 days so I felt like treating myself. Once my belly was properly full, it was time to start the long trek home. I turned the Capo north towards Alpine, and what lay before me was about 80 miles of total desertion.

I didn’t see another car, or another person for that matter, for nearly 70 miles. It was just me, the Capo, and the Chihuahuan desert. Total isolation and solitude. A breakdown here could mean death. But I had nothing to fear, the Capo is bullet-proof reliable and would undoubtedly carry me the distance.







I may as well have been the only human on Earth. I was the star of my own private Twilight Zone, and my mind began to wonder. So many isolated events had to occur exactly as they did for this moment in time to occur. Me, racing across the desert aboard a miraculous machine, trying to make sense of it all. I gazed out across the mountains piercing through the desert floor. This unique moment in time had its roots millions of years ago with the immense tectonic forces that molded and sculpted the scenery. A few hundred thousand years ago, the human race gained consciousness, and it was this new powerful brain that would eventually allow humans to develop tools and machines, and with them the capability of building roads and motorcycles. I, the observer, entered the scene a few decades ago, possessing a highly refined mental prowess that allows me to analyze and contemplate the vastness and impossibility of this moment. My life had to follow its exact course to put me aboard a Capo, lost in the desert, in this unique moment in time. And there is an absolute zero chance of this moment ever happening again.

I then began to wonder what the Universe might think of our silly little machinations we call our 'lives' here on Earth: “Oh look, your greatest accomplishment is that you’ve bought some land and put a little fence around it, calling it yours. ‘This is my rock, this is my tree, and amongst them I put my house’, you say. Well, your house and fence might last 50 or even a 100 years. But you won’t. How quaint that you call them yours. Your timescale is so insignificant compared to mine. And once you stop breathing and pumping blood, you will try to achieve some semblance of my immortality by having your remains placed in an aluminum box to protect your borrowed atoms and molecules for eternity. Guess what, I’ll get them back eventually. I might just plunge a tectonic plate below your burial site and force some magma to engulf your remains, melting them into oblivion. After being recycled countless times over eons and eons, your oxygen atoms might end up in some silicate rock, your carbon may eventually find its way to a seafloor and become part of some future hydrocarbon for the next super species to exploit. By the time I’m done, there will be no trace that you ever existed. Intimidated yet? Watch out, I may just blink and in that time 5 billion of your years will pass. Then your sun will cool and expand, enveloping your tiny Blue Oasis that is all you ever knew. Your Earth, and anything that was ever you, is doomed to that certain fate, a tiny morsel for your ravenous sun in repayment for every erg of energy you ever stole from its output. Then there will be absolutely no trace of anything human, anywhere, forever. How’s that sound? You just piddle about in your insignificant life, try to tell yourself it all means something, and feign happiness in ignorance. Silly human.”

Where was I? Oh yeah. A lone shadow streaked across the vast desert platform, a silly human trying to make sense of his life and the surrounding world. Motorcycle trips such as these lend themselves to deep introspection. In a certain light everything is for naught, but in that morning Chihuahuan desert light, everything was right in the world, everything was perfect, as it should be. I couldn’t be happier. The past day has been full of moments of perfect bliss. All thanks to the indescribable miracle of the motorcycle. Because of that machine, I can find solace in a non-sensical world.



Towards Alpine, the road climbed out of the desert into a small mountain chain, and with it came the twisties. Now, in broad daylight I smirked to myself as I railed through corner after corner. It’s an interesting feeling having such a massive bulk flexing and yawing underneath you as the laden Capo soaked up the corners, but at no time did I lose feel with the road.

Entering a long uphill right hand sweeper, I cranked the Capo over and craned my neck, looking as far as I could up the inside. And coming the other direction I glimpsed the familiar YZF with Caesar at the helm, putting right along, with Roger piloting the truck right behind as a chase vehicle. I suddenly felt like showboating a little, so a hung a bit off to the inside and fed the Capo some more throttle. I can only imagine what they thought as I roared past, bike overloaded with gear, and me with a ****-eating grin that they couldn’t even see. At least he was riding now.

A few miles later I nearly peed myself. I came flying out of the last twisty into Alpine, only to come face to face with an immigration checkpoint. Being situated so close to Mexico, these checkpoints are commonplace on strategic highways upstream from ports of entry. I didn’t expect one on this highway though, the closest crossing was way over in Presidio. I slowed the Capo to respectable limits and approached the armed Border Patrol agents with my heart in my throat. “They’re going to tackle me off of this bike I obviously just stole in Mexico because it ain’t got no plate!”, I projected my fate. The west Texas version of Boss Hogg and Roscoe P. Coltrain glared at me from behind their aviator sunglasses. Boss Hogg quizzed “Are you a US citizen?”, his plump jowls bouncing as he chewed his gum, to which I choked out a reply of “Yessir!”.

“Well, that’s all we need to know, have a good ‘un!”.

Your tax dollars hard at work. I fled quickly and gingerly out of the checkpoint, waiting in expectation for the cross tackle once they realized I had no plate. I didn’t even check my mirrors for fear of making eye-contact, they could have been running after me with the dogs, guns drawn and waving in the air frantically, for all I know.



Somewhere outside of Del Rio is a tiny town called Langtry, home to 145 inhabitants and the Texas legend of Judge Roy Bean. Nearby the mighty Pecos River cuts a deep swath south into the Rio Grande. The highway bridge that spans this river just happens to be the tallest in Texas at a respectable 273 feet. From a perch above you can see the Pecos and Rio Grande, with Mexico just beyond.











This entire trip Mexico had been beckoning relentlessly. At times I was a mere 5 minute swim away. Hey, I’ve got money saved away, I could easily cross at Del Rio and disappear into Nowhere, Mexico for a month or two! Who knows what adventures would lay in wait south of the border? But damn, I’d get busted for sure trying to take a bike across that didn’t belong to me, and one that was blatantly missing a license plate at that. Mexico will have to wait for a bit. But not too long, I hope.

As I headed back toward civilization, I successfully crossed two more checkpoints, each time no one the wiser. In fact, the only person who ever made mention of my lack of a plate was a Harley Rider at some gas station. “Boy, where you from? You ain’t got no tags!” Together we surmised that some hoodlum had stolen the dealer plate while I was camped out in the Big Bend wilderness. That's exactly what happened, *nudge nudge wink wink*. I refused to let him on to the truth that I am functionally retarded when it comes to bothersome nuances like vehicular legalities.

I got a lot of compliments on the Capo at every gas station. I met plenty of other Harley riders that, of course, would never give up their hog, but if they did they’d get a bike just like mine. Beemer riders had comments like, “Boy, you sure don’t see a lot of those on the road!”. But my favorite was “Ap-uh-rilla, who makes that?”

Through some miracle of law enforcement laziness, I made it back to the shop unscathed. No tickets, no crashes, and no incidents other than one sore butt and aching neck muscles. Almost 1100 miles in 2 ½ days, all with 0 license plates. This little mini-adventure has left me thirsty for the next Capo ride. Hmm, as I break out my map, where to next?

[dfwsusan]

great story ..love the pics..
the stars at night must have been amazing

[tardypizza]

Originally Posted by dfwsusan

great story ..love the pics..
the stars at night must have been amazing

They were downright overwhelming. I'm a decent amateur astronomer and even I had difficulty picking out any constellations because all the stars seemed equally as bright. The haze in the first star trail pic is not clouds, but the Milky Way. I could make out the band all the way from horizon to horizon.

The whole morning was quite surreal, as you can tell from my philosophic ramblings.

[lhdvies]

Wow that was great! Those who only see the beautiful scenery and doin't lose their inner souls to the total experience as you did just don't get the value of that country. When I went the 1st time(1962), the Maverick road was how I got to Santa Elena and it is still my favorite route(not as scenic, but just sentimental I guess). Thks again for this post and your very good narration of the adventure. Viva Big Bend Country.

[tdimler]

Ted,

I really enjoyed the photos of one of the greatest places in Texas, but the narrative was even better. You are quite skilled at writing and I hope you make more posts like this here in the future. Keep up the good work!

Travis

[iCe]

Good stuff. Looks like fun but you sure had that little bike loaded down Coming out of Marathon, as you were headed toward the park, along about 30 - 40 miles south of Marathon, there is a Border Patrol checkpoint (outbound only). You can't leave BBNP without passing through one unless you go off road. I'm not surprised that they didn't catch that there wasn't a plate on the bike. Try that in a pickup or car and it probably won't work. The funny thing is, as I was reading your story and I got to the part where you noticed the missing plate, I wondered aloud "how's he going to get through the Border Patrol checkpoints"

Where to next? You can be in Blythe, CA in about a day and a half if you go easy on the stops and don't mind a 900 mile day on the first day. That's about 1,250 miles from me and I'm about 100 west of Houston...

I've gotta hand it to you... that's a heck of a round trip on a bike and you did a great job with the write-up.

[tardypizza]

Originally Posted by iCe

Where to next?

I'll probably be heading to Baja, Mexico for christmas. I'll head to Big Bend again, offroad some, cross the border at Presidio, head to Chihuahua then Creel, dive down into the Copper Canyon, visit Batopilas, cross the Rio Fuerte, probably get lost 2 or 3 or a dozen times, hopefully end up in Los Mochis, then take the ferry across the Sea of Cortez to La Paz. Once on the peninsula, it's mostly dirt down to Punta Pescadero where I will meet my friends in a beach house right on the gorgeous and remote coastline of the East Cape. Paradise.

I did a similar trip last January: 30 days and 3000 miles in Mexico. If you like, you can keep yourself busy for a while here: http://tardypizza.com/weblog/index.php (it's in reverse chronological order, so start at the bottom)

Thanks to all for the compliments! This method of seeing the world is a passion of mine and I'm thrilled that my efforts appeal to others.

[Killeenguy]

reading through your poetic thoughts, it reinforces the love for life and those around me.

Thank you for sharing.

[tardypizza]

Originally Posted by Killeenguy

reading through your poetic thoughts, it reinforces the love for life and those around me.

Thank you for sharing.

Wow. I'm deeply flattered. I had no idea it would have that big of an impact.

Thank you.