To Feel Free

The Pack
The Pack
It is spring in Texas which is usually more like summer in most places. Normally about this time of year high pressure settles into the atmosphere keeping the weather predictably hot and dry. This year something is different. We have endured a severe multi-year drought that has now been broken by intense El Niño conditions. We are rich with rain which is good but we do love our sunshine. Maybe a more even climate cycle would make things easier to manage. Then again, be careful what you ask for.

This time of year my thoughts turn to traveling on two wheels. I can’t ride any longer which is my loss. Even so, it is hard to shake a thirty year long obsession with the road. Now I make pictures of motorcycles and enjoy the sights and sounds as they ride along. It is a distant second in terms of experience.

V-Twins of various brands all competing to be loud and obnoxious are most common on the roads in the Texas Hill Country. Never rode those kinds of bikes myself. I was strictly a long distance rider. If you take touring seriously you want a quite smooth machine that handles well without fuss. In my case something that could handle both challenging high country back roads and the interstate when necessary. Back to back five hundred mile days that you can enjoy take a special machine and excellent gear. Those who do that sort of riding will know what I’m talking about.

It’s not all bad these days just different. Few people get to experience more than a hundred thousand miles on two wheels. Free of major accidents I will add. I’d guess most bikers log at most a few thousand miles between watering holes. Either way riding a motorcycle that moves by diving and leaning in space is more than most people manage. In the end I suspect we all ride because it is such a thrill to feel free.

El pequeño toro
El pequeño toro

Dusk

Adobe Ruin, Study Butte
Adobe Ruin, Study Butte
Once a gleaming adobe plastered white with tin roof shining in the desert light. It was visible for miles across the valley. In this place such a home was the unmistakable sign of prosperity. Generations of fortunate families lived within the walls on a foundation of stone. They were owners of things.

Across the valley were jacals of more humble families. People as tough as the world they lived in raising generations on faith and hope for the future. They left a mark on the land as deep and enduring as anyone who lived hard against the Rio Bravo. Perhaps they worked for those living in the white house.

Time marks everything as adobe slowly melts back into earth. But even abandoned and neglected the white house maintains dignity in ruin. A hundred years has not been able to erase this home.