MS 150 Houston to Austin 2010 the Journey Starts

Usually when I have completed the MS 150 I have had the luxury of staying in a ranch close to La Grange the location used for the overnight stop. With such accommodation you get basic amenities such as hot and cold running water, fluffy pillows, and an environment relatively safe from third party intrusion.

For same insane reason which now escapes me Paddy and I decided that we would renege on the ranch and join the majority of the 'die hards' in a large communal tent.
We talked the whole thing up with views of fellowship and brotherhood and beer, after a while the notion became quite appealing.

On the Friday before the ride we helped load up the van that would be used to move 'The campers' gear. Not having slept under canvas since I was 11 years old I was surprised at the quantity and variety of appointments people brought for a single overnight stay.

One couple brought a bag that was so big that it could feasibly contain all of the contents of a small bedroom. Half jokingly I commented on this. The response which I recieved, I took to be delivered in the same tongue in cheek way as it confirmed that what I was suggesting was in fact true.

On Saturday morning I was up at 3am which I pointed out was closer to evening time, than morning!!!!! However being as resourceful as ever I soon found a 'pick me up'

WE started at about 7 with wet weather and a strong tail wind. Our team soon got into stride with a pace line that saw few rivals and gobbled up the miles. Without stopping we had soon arrived at Bellville for lunch having completed 50 miles. I struggled to keep up at times and when I got detached from the group, I had to work even harder to get back.

That Christmas cake and all those other bad things tasted great when I ate them but the added poundage was really taking its toll.

After lunch I became conscious that this two day event was only the start of something much bigger with 'The Natchez Trace' to follow immediately afterwards.
I allowed myself to be shelled from the group and was joined by Paddy and Taylor, we found our own pace which enabled us to enjoy the surroundings and not have to concentrate on half an inch of rubber.

We arrived at our refuge camp early in the afternoon and were each allocated a cot to sleep on. That's about 150 people in one tent.

Cosy

I managed to find one next to an exit and chuckled to myself as I observed the 'Big bag couple' unpack a blow up king size mattress, sheets, four pillows and a duvet.

Apart from the apparent loss of hot and cold running water, and fluffy pillows I was ever so perturbed about some unwanted guests. The floor of the tent appeared to be covered in spiders.

I don't like spiders and only wearing a pair of flip flops increased my anxiety. It was difficult to tell if it was a blade of grass of a 'legged' creature that tickled my toes.

With spiders on my mind I went to bed about 8pm knowing that we would be rising at 5am.

As I dozed off I dreamt of spiders crawling all over me and woke up in a start thankful it was just a dream only to see TWO spiders seemingly having a chat on my forearm.
My sleep was broken from then on as was my sense of humour as a storm broke outside.

My cot soon became an island surrounded by a shallow puddle of water.

Call me a wimp-camping out is not for me.

Sunday we set off at 7am and I was pleased to leave spider camp.

I found the ride to Austin tough going against a moderate headwind but we had a good group and got in just after lunch.

It was not my best MS 150, but like all of the five I have completed -it was memorable.

Natchez tomorrow..........bring it on.

MS 150 Houston to Austin - Part 1 'Renegade Riders'

Renegade
On Friday night the 'Renegade riders' were full of bravado and testosterone, ready to take on the world and more besides. However by 4 am on Saturday morning the storm clouds were not the only things to roll into 'Camp defiance'.
With the Radar pictures taking on the appearance of a Jackson_Pollock painting, double helpings of apprehension appeared with our morning 'Starbucks'
Morning itself had also decided to stay indoors, leaving us in the shadows of dark foreboding clouds which rumbled and growled like a discontented old man.
At 7am we set off from a parking lot next to Tully Stadium the traditional starting point for the MS 150.
With a strong tail wind behind us and fear being pumped through our veins,we set off at lung busting speed maintaining 25 mph on empty roads. Knowing that 13,000 + people had entered the event we all believed that there would be a few thousand rebellious miscreants like us who would wish to complete the whole event. There were very few. Those that we did see on the road appeared to be seasoned riders. As we broke through the fifty mile mark the sky darkened further and the wind dropped, always an ominous sign.
The crackle of thunder and pyrotechnic lightening display followed, accompanied by the sort of deluge that Noah would have needed to float his arc. Although we were slightly mad we were not altogether insane so we sought shelter in the town of Bellville. Visually it looked like 10pm but it was approaching 10am.
Other riders then appeared and we all crowded around 'Blackberry's. Streamed Radar images were sought and we watched the red splodges move across tiny screens, covering up the name of Bellville. Roads became rivers, sports pitches lakes, and cyclists as wet as otters pockets.
We found a local eatery and decided to have an early lunch under a veranda. Half expecting to float away at any moment we looked around for some prospective makeshift paddles. After sampling the local delights the weather had not got any better, although the lightening had stopped.
With that danger eliviated we decided to press on in the knowledge that fine weather was appearing at our destination.
Progress was slowed considerably.
The rain and standing water were bad enough, but being caught by 'The Rooster tails' streaming off the leading bikes was like being hit by a fire hose.
The water was not the clear carbonated 'spring' type that you might have to accompany a good meal. No, this was the brown muddy type.
'Road kill soup' diluted with water from overflown drains.
The bouquet was as equally unpleasant.
As the afternoon wore on the rain stopped, temperature rose, and the Sun decided to put in an appearance.
We also started to talk to each other with the fear of getting a mouth full of effluent subsiding. With four miles to I found myself pulling as the lead bike. As I rounded a corner there was a farm to my right and sat smack bang in the middle of the road was a dog.
Now at this stage I really need to set the scene properly.
Having been bitten attacked and bitten by a big dog when I was young, I have an inbuilt sense of fear towards certain dogs.
I kind of know the difference between the nice ones and the bad ones.
They don't have to wear black or white cowboys hats.
There are ones who will roll over and let you tickle their tummy and others who salivate at the thought of sinking their rabid teeth into your reproductive equipment.
This was a bad one. He had the apperance of a cross between a hyena and a wolf with teeth the size of knitting needles.
Dave Hill was behind me. Now Dave is a fit, young, tough, strong Texan, who probably rides bulls in the rodeo and allows such dogs to use his arm as a doggy chew.
So being a considerate sort of guy and all heart, I let him go in front of me.

The gladiatorial scene was set with an audience already in place as this beast had already stopped the traffic flow from the opposite direction.
As Dave approached him the 'hound of the Baskervilles' was already snapping at his feet.
Sensing an opportunity I accelerated on his outside fast approaching my top speed ever on a bike much to the amusement of the non paying observers.
With a similar sence of preservation, my fellow cowards had followed my course of action, and we all watch on with interest from a safe distance.
After initially failing to pull Dave from his bike, we all heard a loud guttural roar as a new beast appeared. The one that was polishing Dave's shoes with its slobbering mouth was seemingly just the puppy as its mother three times the size appeared from nowhere.
Me shouting 'Remember the Alamo' didn't really help Dave, but his increased cadence did as he scorched away from becoming dog food.
I thought that Dave might have been upset with my nervous laughter that I could not contain, but he was proud to show his undoubted bravery and take one for the team.
Dave you are my Hero.
La grange soon appeared in no time with 101 miles completed.
We were then picked up by Joella, my brothers wife and travelled to her mothers house for the evening.
Rest would be needed to join the 13,000 + for the final leg.
Part two to follow, where our intrepid riders enjoy the sunshine of the Texas Hill country.