Riding Texas' Hill Country, Part Three

Yup.  The dashing fellow is your intrepid explorer.

You would think I could handle a crying woman by now. But no. When Phyllis, my high school sweetie, began crying, I felt the vague need to DO something. "What?" ran through my mind.  She composed herself and I moved closer, putting an arm around her in a friendly hug. I smiled at her and in the general direction of the crowd of forty or so complete strangers who stared back at me.  In a moment, Phyllis spoke.  She introduced me to the crowd and told them we had not laid eyes on each other in more than forty years. (Way more.) Then, she ushered me around the room, introducing me to each person in turn.  I smiled, repeated their name and shook hands when appropriate. I felt a little awkward, but got through it and accepted a plate piled high with delicious German food.  Germans settled this part of Texas and it shows.  Beer and good food are everywhere.  Music, too.  Finally, I felt I knew what to do.  I began stuffing my road-weary face with the sausages, sauerkraut, beans and other delights.  I chatted with my neighbors at the table as I ate.  It turns out the group belongs to a Pen Pal club. That is how they know each other.  It is similar to blogging, only more egalitarian.  I think they rely on email.  In any event, Phyllis brought them all together for possibly the first time. They came from many states and from more than a thousand miles away.  They knew each other, nonetheless. It was a family in the best sense of the word.

Phyllis busied herself tending her guests.  During a brief lull in the action we made plans to spend the next day together.  Near dark, I excused myself and returned to the hotel.

I resurrected at dawn. I know it was dawn because the rain was glistening in the low sunlight.  I met Phyllis in the lobby.  She wanted to show me some of the local beauty and twisty roads.  She had an automobile.  I agreed to ride along. I needed to dry out.

We travelled west of town on Farm Road 1347, I think. That's where we found Stonehenge. We also discovered a replica of one of those statues from Easter Island. I do not know what they are called, but I know them when I see 'em.  This figure is ten to twelve feet tall.  Much smaller than the original.  The whimsy is full-sized, tho.  Our path took us across more than a dozen streams, each one a tributary of the Guadalupe River.

We wound along the road for a long time, chatting about our lives as we went. Phyllis has overcome challenges that might have destroyed a lesser person.  She organized the pen pal club to serve people far less fortunate than almost anyone who reads (or writes) this blog.  She is a kind of Mother Teresa of the Hill Country.  Who knew?  I was profoundly impressed with her sweetness and devotion to helping others.  My own efforts seem pale in comparison.  Heck, my efforts seem pale on their own.

After an hour or so, we sped south toward Medina  on Hwy 173.  The road lay among rocky hills, steep and close together.  We twisted and climbed and turned sharply to stay on the pavement.  I have GOT to go back after the rain stops and do this right - on my bike.  Eventually, we arrived in Medina. The single attraction there is "The Apple Store."  The town is 200 yards long, I guess, but there must have been 100 people in the store.  They sell everything apple, including trees.  Me? I bought apple pie and ice cream.  Phyllis had a soda.

Next, we picked up good old Hwy. 16 south and headed for Bandera, Texas. Again, I was treated to numerous curves, hills and scenes that beg appreciation from a motorcycle.  Once we arrived in Bandera, I knew I was in love with the Hill Country.  The Labor Day parade had just ended and the town square was in total gridlock.  No problem for most folks.  The square was lined with every sort of refreshment stand, restaurant and watering hole.  Cold beer seemed popular, but blue Margaritas were popular, too.  Regardless of weather, several thousand people turned out, travelling by any means available to get there!  Check out the parking lot, right.  Mongo's in town?  Other forms of transportation in Bandera included Ferrari, Alpha Romeo, Horses and a few carts and strollers.  I am convinced Bandera is the party capital of the Hills. It IS worth the trip.

After Bandera, we wandered back to Kerrville, arriving in mid afternoon. That evening, I returned to the Lady Bird Park to dine with the pen pals one last time.  There was a band and a Bar-B-Que dinner and a drawing for prizes at the end of the evening.  I won a large book devoted to planning romantic weddings. Chilling.  It was a wonderful evening.  Phyllis and I talked about working together on some projects.Perhaps we shall meet again before another forty years pass.
I returned to the hotel, fully spent from the day's activities and went directly to bed.  At first light, I would begin the 300 mile ride north. I began to miss the Hills before my eyes closed for the night.