TEXAS

I left Galveston at noon time, after packing and closing hurricane shutters, and pedaled into a solid head wind along the coast before turning inland. After 1000 miles of coast line, moving inland was a nice change and trees provided a welcome wind break. At times, the grass land spread beneath a green cathedral ceiling of evenly spaced live oaks. The towns are small and people are curious and genuinely excited about my trip. By the end of the day i had shook hands, hugged, been blessed, and posed for photos. I am starting to get used to the instant celebrity but it feels odd because to me i am just doing my own thing. Everyone asks, "what's my cause"?

I cruised into West Columbia in the late afternoon asking around about camping before deciding on a county campground nestled into the live oaks next to the Werner-Hogg plantation. I arrived at dusk, and opened a beer to enjoy the sunset before checking in with the campground host. The charming couple next door (that brought me fresh coffee the next morning) directed me towards the end of the small campground. I walk up and see the prominently displayed, "Obama, show us the birth certificate," on the rv windshield. Wow! a birther - they are not common in New York and i am a little excited as i mount the porch to knock. A thin man comes to the door, an almost frail man that is far from birth, and i inquire about registering, and he asks about my vehicle, and i say bicycle. He replies, "bicycle?!, on a bicycle? serious"? And i tell him that i rode 2140 miles to stand right here before him. Anyhow, tents are not allowed . . . so i offer to not set up the tent. . . still not allowed. He is a little confounded, as am i, over the absurd nature of the rules as they applied to our situation that cool Texas evening. He asked, "only one night? . . . you really rode here on a bicycle?," i replied yes and stayed for free.