The morning started off with a surprise. I put the Sheffield, Texas post office into google and it informed me it was closing at 1pm. I had just assumed it would be 4pm or thereabouts, and well, it was 180 miles away and I had a lazy morning. I had enough time, but not the way I’ve been driving the past few days, stopping every half hour or so and being lazy at the stops. So I started the morning on a mission. Just stop for Gas and get there an hour before they close. I planned on shipping home stuff as well, so I didn’t want to show up at 1pm and have to beg.
The roads out of Van Horn were flat as was the land. It was only a few minutes in when the first gust of wind hit me… hard. I went through some shallow canyons, and the winds starting gusting really hard and randomly changing directions on me. For the first time in my riding life, wind seemed dangerous, not just a lot of fun. Even when ready these gusts could throw Helga 2 to 3 feet to the side and the fact they switched directions at random made for some very hairy riding. It was so strange thinking of wind alone as an existential threat. I usually worry more about the pavement or the sky, both of which stretched out ahead of me in nearly unblemished black and blue respectively.
So I slowed down, stayed the fuck away from trucks, and kept as close to the middle line between the lanes as possible giving me maximum pavement if things got worse. In the end, it never got to bad, but to put in perspective, at times I slowed down to below the speed limit the gusts got so bad.
Both yesterday and today the ride is somewhat boring, no tourist traps, no nothing. It’s not even historic route 66. No stickers 🙁 And I’m desperate to get one to stick over the scratched sticker on Helga.
I made it to Sheffield, and the young woman working the post office seemed relieved to see me. Apparently her post master (Not in compliance with the law) told her general delivery goes back after 15 days. And it was day 15. She was sure nobody would come for it. She had never had general delivery before. The town was almost non-existent and when I inquired about a good place to get lunch, she denied the existence of any restaurant in town. I fully believed her denials. She was very helpful with finding a good size box for shipping my useless gear and clothing back. I had bought packing tape and a sharpy at one of the truck stops along the way to the post office.
So it was only 12:15 by the time I was done getting my food, packing and shipping my stuff back home, and getting the bike loaded up with fresh provisions. I realized I was starving and really had to pee, so I hit the road. Sadly it was 30 minutes to the next gas station much less town. It was early and I figured I could cover a whole lot more miles today. The morning ride had been exhausting, heavy winds means lots of leaning and muscling the bike to keep it straight. If I had been blown away by remaining upright in curves through Cali, my muscles and reflexes were positively baffled by suddenly leaning AWAY from the turn in the gusts. Every riding instinct rebelled at the signals from my eyes and inner ear – YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!!! The groin muscle that has been unhappy with me for months was pretty pissed off about getting so much use. But that’s a sport bike for ya – it takes shoulder and thigh muscles in the turns.
The only pretty part of the drive was around sheffield, and well when you gotta pee, you gotta pee – so I didn’t stop until Ozona.
When I got there I called Slidell post office to check on the situation for my second food drop. Short version of the story, they do in fact hold packages for 30 days, but require you to check in every 10 days to make sure it is not abandoned. Cool. The bad news was they didn’t have anything for me, and as I didn’t have a tracking number it is for all intents and purposes lost. So sheffield is my last food drop! That morning I had just gotten rid of provisions as I had/have way too much to carry. DOH! The good news, I still 7, maybe 8 days of main protein, and similar amounts of starch and veggies. Sadly no more potatoes, but I can deal. Even with this setback I probably have enough food to not have to buy any for when I camp. If I run out, well I do get gas every day and there’s canned food and ramen at most truck stops.
So I pressed onto Dos Rios and holed up at a best western. Oddly enough, they had only two rooms left and at first were not sure they could give me a room. Hunting season is real big around here it seems. The parking lot is empty though, so beats me what the real deal is.