Presidio Abstract

The ride from Marathon was windy as hell and I was glad to get to Marfa. I spent the day running errands, washing
the bike, and watching football. The next morning I'm up early to fetch my keys from Presidio County Abstract.

It's a beautiful sunny morning when I arrive at the new studio.

The yard.

The front door needs some thought. And these cacti are only a beginning.

The soffit also needs help, but the garage door is in good working order and the roof is new.

Inside the garage the station's hydraulic lift has been converted to a table. Notice the new wiring and insulation.
It's a great spot for a tig welder.

This is the largest room in either house.

At its highest the ceiling is 18ft.

Double doors lead to the kitchen.

The kitchen has a new sink, windows, doors, light fixtures, and ceiling fans. A CornuFé 110 and a refrigerator will
be added shortly.

This hallway leads to the bedroom.

The bathroom has a tub but is otherwise unfinished.

This gate is on the west end of the large house. The fence is constructed from Ocotillo stalks that I'll replace with
live Ocotillo, which blooms red after a rain in all seasons except winter.

This would be a good spot for a fountain like the one in the courtyard of the Madrasa Al-Attarin.

This is the back of the house,

and the backyard, with the casita to the left.

The casita has a new roof, new windows,

and a new interior.

The ceiling is unfinished, but several new skylights are already in place.

The shower is new,

as is the kitchen. Ready for some appliances.

There's no doubt I've got a lot of work to do but I'm looking forward to it. It's been an eventful week. I return to the
hotel and pack my bags...

Then I take Brünhilde over to Mary's and plug in her battery tender. I'm sad to be leaving her but I also know I'll be
back soon. Stephan drops me at the train station in Alpine. It's a long and boring eight and a half hour trip to San
Antonio. The scrub seems to go on forever.

No one knows for sure just where the West Texas border is but many say it's here,

at the mighty Pecos river.

Big Bend

On my morning walk, I come upon this dire warning about those damn child-eating mountain
lion again. It's early and I'm alone so of course I proceed.

A hundred yards down the trail, I freeze. I catch a flash of grey fur in my periphery. I'm
ashamed to admit my first thought is, it's a lion. Instead, it's an eight-point buck moving
through the brush. After my walk, I head south.

Just before the turnoff to Boquillas Canyon there's a dirt road that leads to the river. At the end of the road is a mena-
cing sign warning that thieves have been breaking into unattended vehicles. I take this to heart and bring Brünhilde
as far along the path as possible.

The payoff. A natural hot springs set beside the Rio Grande river.

While I'm having a restorative soak, this curious foal weighs the benefits of a cool drink from the river. In the end,
his mother nudges him along. After an hour or so, I'm hungry.

I pull the bike up to here and have some breakfast.

It's a beautiful sunny spot.

I laze in the sun, drinking wine and watching the river flow.

Later I drive to the trailhead for Boquillas Canyon.

The trail crosses a high bluff with beautiful views...

...before descending to the river's edge.

I pass these prickly pear,

on my way to the mouth of the canyon.

A Mexican national has crossed the border to sell handicraft. I have no room to go shopping, but I make a donation
to the gentleman's childrens' education nevertheless. Then, I spy his canoe. After a bit of gentle pleading, I convince
the man to let me take it out for a spin.

As soon as I paddle from shore, I realize my mistake. It's a Mexican canoe. Water rushes in and makes the thing 

nearly impossible to steer. I end up hopping into the river and dragging the canoe back upstream. For an approxi-

mation of scale,

locate the man in blue by the river's edge. I slog back to the bike in water-logged boots. The 90 mile ride to Marathon seems to last an eternity. At last, I arrive at the historic Gage Hotel.

My boots are cold and wet,

but I'm thankful to be here.

Brünhilde's rear tire, showing a lot of highway wear.

She'll make the fifty miles back to Marfa.

I deposit my goods in the room and retire to a cozy room to watch the Jets game. I proceed to drink a lot of whiskey
and shout at the television, much to the dismay of the other guests. The Jets get a walk-off 17-16 win in Indy. Next
stop Foxboro.

I sleep well. Tomorrow's the last day of my trip.

Big Bend

My last major destination is a legendary one.

Big Bend National Park. It surpasses my lofty expectations.

There is little to say but much to wonder at.

The Mule Ears formation, for instance,

or desert vegetation.

Some geological formations typical of the region.

Sotol vista affords sweeping views to the west.

Santa Elena canyon and her thousand foot cliffs can be seen in the distance.

The Chisos mountains.

I spend the night on the other side of this mountain at the Chisos Lodge,

high in the Chisos basin.