Hills and Hill Country

In almost every state, people tell us a variation on the joke: “if you don’t like the weather, just wait 10 minutes.” Texas has been the state that embodies that the most. We were waylaid by sub-freezing temperatures in Johnson City, Texas, for two days. We did an experiment to see if we could bike, putting on all of our clothes and walking outside. It became clear that riding was going to be miserable, so we decided to stay until conditions improved. That’s one lesson we’ve learned. You can hypothesize about the average temperature as much as you like, but it doesn’t matter much when the actual weather is setting records.

Not much fun when you can’t feel your face.

Staying in Johnson City (population: 1,656) had its perks. The highlight for me was visiting Ronnie’s Pit BBQ. It was the kind of place I fantasize about on this trip. The meat is smoked and served by Ronnie, member of a multigenerational legacy of pit masters. His grandfather, we were told, made barbecue for LBJ on his ranch. We saw Ronnie outside on Monday, in the freezing weather, feeding the smokers. On Tuesday, we were first in line for plates of brisket. Brisket had been on my must-eat list in Texas, so I was happy I got to try it from a master of the art. The smokey crust was perfect, and the interior was tender and wonderfully beef-y.

The cold front passed after two days, bringing us back to highs in the 50s. We’re far enough west that the blizzards of the east coast don’t affect us, which means we’ve been able to ride again. We’ve been biking on scenic byways and bumpy ranch roads, riding over cattle grates and spooking cows. I realized today that I’ve never ridden somewhere so depopulated. The countryside is divided into ranches, but you can go miles between the gates naming each one. If you stop, all you hear is the wind. We’ve gone half an hour without seeing a single car. Given that, I was surprised to learn that Hill Country is also a big draw for tourists. Every forty miles or so there’s a town, and in each, the restaurants and stores aren’t the all-purpose, rural sort I expected. Instead, we’ve found wineries; expensive leather goods; fine art and fancy bakeries.

I’ve never felt so judged by a cow.

Our next major destination will be Del Rio, the end of map page four! We’ve conquered two 500′ climbs on the way, with one more to go.

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