April 9th, 2011.
The Honda ST1100 as I have come to find out, is the kind of bike that makes me always find a reason or excuse to get out and ride.
So the day arrived and in keeping with my word of meeting up with my newly made friends at Presidio La Bahia 2 weeks earlier (If you have not read about this yet, I recommend that you read about it before this one, here in my “First Solo Trip” journal as the chronology and facts lead up to this one).
I had my reason to get out and ride on this day.

Voices of Texas.

This “West Texas Adventure” started in The Bayview Cemetery in Corpus Christi, TX
Among other notable important historical facts, it was the first ever military cemetery to integrate the burial of “Colored Soldiers”- of whom 3 of the original “Buffalo Soldiers” are peacefully present.
Again, there is nothing much I can write about here that other more prolific and notable historians have not already written about or documented. But I learned quite a bit more about notable events in the history of Corpus Christi and Texas as a whole.
If you are interested and so inclined, I have no doubt you can find a lot of reading material on the “Internet”.
Events of this day were to make this a very noteworthy day in my motorcycling life. And in of all places – a cemetery!
Read on. I promise you, it is not a horror story from late night TV.
As I moved around the ceremonial grounds, I paused at each offering of representations of historical facts being given by the re-enactors.

I stopped to chat with Mr. Carl Vickers (in the photo I show here) who belongs to the “Confederate Sons of Texas".
Many of his relatives are interred here and we got into a lengthy and interesting discussion.
As he learned about my desire, or should I say, as I portrayed myself as a modern day “Long Rider” he was surprised to know that I had not visited Mount Rushmore.
He assured me that it was a visit not to be missed and that I should make it a point to visit the monument in my quest for more knowledge on the history of our country.
Moving along I stopped by the gravesites of Mr. Warfield and Mr. Owens.
Both of them, African-American, (and I use the term affectionately) were Privates who served in the union Army. They were cavalry soldiers - Buffalo Soldiers.
Warfield and Owens migrated from the Maryland/Virginia area to “open up” this part of the country and make a life for themselves here. They were very instrumental in opening up this part of the country. Unfortunately though, like many others of their kind, they died from “the fever” at that time.
My “big camera” as I can imagine it, seemed in comparison with the prolific “point and shoot cameras of the times, became the curiosity and conversation piece of a lady re-enactor – representing a lady of the past by the name of Mary Mclanahan (whose claim to fame was that she died of malaria).
She inquired which of the News Presses I was representing. (She later remarked in conversation how I looked so much like a press reporter).
She lit up with astonishment when I replied in the negative and went on to describe my passion for doing this as part of my passion for traveling on a motorcycle and documenting my journeys.
Her questions immediately shifted to what kind of bike I rode and where I’d been.
It became apparent to me from the questions she asked, that this lady knew quite a bit about motorcycles.
So shifting into my “Long Distance Rider” character, head up high and chest out, somewhat like a proud peacock, I began to swell myself as I elaborated on my ownership of a long distance, touring motorcycle.
Let me mention here that I particularly avoided talking about long distance journeys. Obviously journeys that I had never made! Hey, after all, I owned the requisite apparatus. That hopefully, in my mind should have been enough to portray me in the image of a seasoned and well-traveled long distance rider!
“Oh really” she exclaimed.
“You must meet some of my other friends. We are all going to Big Bend on Thursday. You must come with us! There are 7 of us going together, all on our bikes. We all ride big bikes too.
Thursday was just 4 days away!
Good excuse to decline – to hide my incompetency or rather, my fear/apprehension.
Subconsciously and out of fear of a LONG ride, WAY out of town, REALLY FAR from home, my mind, within a split-second, already had excuses lined up.
“Not enough time to request time off work.”
“Don’t know any of the others – strangers.”
“Could not fit a trip such as this into my already tight financial budget!”
And before I could even begin to respond with the first of my excuses she already began to lead me off.
So following her lead, we walked over to another area of the cemetery and met with Doug.
The enthusiasm that these 2 new friends exhibited was contagious.
But I was truly more scared than excited. I tried hard to politely refuse but they were very insistent and the best way I could weasel out of it was to respond by promising to call back and possibly confirm my participation in the ride after trying to get time off work.

That was my excuse, knowing full well that I would cancel. The feeling of paralysis was almost real.
So the day ended and that evening as I related events of the day to my wife that evening, she commented on how such an opportunity had been presented. “Hey, at least you will have lots of company on the trip. You will not be alone. I think you will have fun. Plus you’ll have a good long journey and get to see lots of places along the way.
I think you ought to try and get the time off for this extended weekend and make the trip. You may just like it.
If you don’t go, you’ll never know whether you’ll like it or not.”
Anyway, the following Monday, I did request for and got time off work for that weekend.
That evening, I called Doug and confirmed that I would join them on the trip!
So it was final. I had given my word. The trip was on.
Doug got the OK from the “Road Captain” and now it was just a matter of time.
“Crunch Time.”


The Night Before.

I had spent the previous three days checking and preparing the “ST11”. This night, I fueled up the 7.4 gal. - capacity tank, which under normal cruising conditions would return 40 m.p.g. , allowing me a possible 300 mile run between each tank full of gas.. It was after 2:00 a.m. before I would get to bed and up at 4:00 a.m. in order to meet up with the group on time later that morning.
“Kickstands” will go up at 6:00 a.m.. Don’t be late! That was the expectation.








April 14th, 2011 – April 17th, 2011.


The “Lolly-Gaggers” :


Teri Harris (a.k.a. “Lone Star Liz”, a.k.a. Mary Mclanahan)
Doug “Buzz” Crumly (a.k.a. Snoopy Doyle)
Tony Spaulding
William Westbrook
Dennis Bosley
Mike Purswell
Terry “MacGyver” Kaufman
… and myself


Day 1.
April 14th, 2011.
I was up before the alarm clock went off. The excitement was too great for me. I prepared myself. Kissed my wife and youngest daughter goodbye. Patted the Chihuahua on the head and headed for garage. “Here, take a photo of me Honey”. “Do be careful on the road” she said as she took the photo. “Yes, I will, you know I always do my best. I’ll call as soon as I get a chance so you know how the trip is going and how I’m doing. Are you sure you don’t want to come along? I joked”. She had given up riding many years ago. With that, I started up the ST11, backed out into the darkness, honked my horn and floated off into the early morning.
We met at the prescribed Whataburger for breakfast. I walked in and Doug, with that perpetual smile on his face, immediately introduced me to those present. Tony, our ride captain, is a BIG man (well over six feet tall), with a BIG smile and rides a BIG bike (Kawasaki Concours 1400). He and the others had a BIG welcome for me. Tony, I got to learn, had had a big idea to visit BIG places and had worked very hard to put the plans together and make this BIG ride a reality. He wanted to share with us in a very BIG sort of way. Almost immediately, the jokes began to roll and it was obvious to me that this bunch I had come to meet were a jolly group of friends who, like me, had a passion for riding and camaraderie. Little did I know, but the underlying theme of the trip had begun to be set. The fun had started.
For those of you reading this who did not make the trip with us, bear with my rambling, read on through this journal and I hope that by the end of my tale you will “get the BIG picture”.
After all introductions had been made, after all riding instructions had been given, after all final operational and safety checks on the bikes had been made, we bowed our heads in prayer led by Dennis “Tail-Gunner” Bosley. Tony assigned our riding positions in the convoy. Being the “newbie” to the group and unfamiliar with group riding, I was placed in the middle of the pack for safety and protection.
6 a.m. and kickstands went up. Horns-a-honking, we started off. Our journey had begun. It was still dark. Headlights mingling with the few cars present on the road at this time of the day, we joined the flow of traffic on Highway 358 W and maintained the posted speed limit. We passed by the Mall and numerous restaurants dotted alongside the highway. I was very familiar with stretch of the road. I use it almost everyday when I commute back and forth to work at the county hospital.
First stop on the agenda would be Pleasanton/Jourdanton for fuel, potty breaks and limbering up. It was now daybreak. We pushed on, heading for Uvalde. We met up with Helmut who joined us on our way and would accompany us to our next major stop after Uvalde. Helmut is a friend of Terry Kaufman and together, had spent hours on previous rides.
Teri Harris grew up in Uvalde, Texas where her grandparents still lived. Hearing of her trip with the group, her grandparents – Esther and Bill Nance made her promise she would bring us all through there for a visit. In anticipation of our arrival and not wanting to miss us, Bill actually rescheduled a pending doctor’s appointment for another day. This visit would bring a lot of activity to their household that day that they had no intention of missing.
We arrived in Uvalde and were met by Grandma Esther who was already out in the driveway. She had notice of our imminent arrival by virtue of a phone call. Wide-eyed with excitement she greeted each and every one of us at her front door very warmly as she welcomed us into their home. She then proceeded to put on her shoes and without further ado, asked to be put onto Doug’s bike and taken for a ride. This was her wish. She had been waiting for this moment for quite a few months now. At age eighty-seven, her eyes were bright and wide and sparkled with happiness. No doubt, the photos express this more than I can with my words (click on the photo to expand).

After potty-breaks, group thumbs-up and farewells we pushed on through Uvalde, found a gas station, fueled up and Tony turned us towards Del Rio. The weather was beginning to get hot, we were all well padded and gloved and looked for a chance when we could begin to shed some layers of our protective clothing.
Midday and we congregated in a Dairy Queen for lunch. Off came the jackets and gloves. The jokes started and the laughter continued.
After lunch Helmut’s Harley exhibited starting difficulty. After a few attempts interspersed with slight backfiring he finally got it started.
We set off after saying farewell to Helmut. Needless to say we were all concerned about the mechanical reliability of his bike for his journey back home to Mathis, Texas. He exhibited great confidence though and was seemingly unperturbed. He insisted that he would be fine. We waited till he drove out of the parking lot, then we pushed on. Del Rio was pretty much halfway on our journey.
Not long after leaving Dairy Queen, this stretch of the ride took us by Lake Amistad. Beautiful blue waters, lovely scenery and near perfect weather made for natural beauty of the landscape. I could not help but take my eyes off the road every few seconds to take in the beauty of the scenery. More miles went by and then out of nowhere, there it was! We just had to turn off the road and drive up to the vista that overlooked the Pecos River. Tony, Mike and I, having been ahead of the group after passing a couple of slow moving vehicles inadvertently crossed the bridge without realizing we had gone past the vista exit off the road and made a turn around to rejoin the group who had already begun to make their way to the vista. Hey, we got to cross the bridge twice!
This bridge is the highest highway bridge in Texas! The view is stunning!
The river is noted for mineral-thick waters and sudden floods. It “snakes” through Texas on it’s way to the Rio Grande.
The Pecos is where the mythic Wild West begins – the land that produced the legendary Judge Roy Bean and fabled Pecos Bill. We took time out for some photography. The camaraderie was great, the scenery was out-of-this-world, the view of the river from this point was impressive, to say the least!
After three tries I finally figured out how to work the self-timer on my camera without any guesswork and the result ……………….. voila!

We pushed on, arriving in Alpine after a grueling eleven and a half hour journey for the day. The natural beauty of the land we had seen on this day made the time and trip seem like a jaunt around the park. Our bikes had “munched” five hundred and seventeen miles that day. We had cut through the West Texas desert lands.
Our happiness and joy of a safe journey to this destination was tempered by sad news of another motorcycling group that had “lost” a member to a fatal accident during the afternoon. We offered our sympathy and condolences to the group of them we encountered at one of the gas stops where they stopped and were holding prayer. This served as a stark reminder to us all that caution and safety on a trip like this and any other, for that matter, was paramount!
We had seen open land, dry land, highland and low land. Land as far as your eyes could see, land we had traversed together, land we appreciated together, land we all call our home state. Land of Texas we call the BIG country!
Dinner at a local joint across from our hotel was pleasant.
But why is it that everywhere you go there is always some smartass you meet who thinks he is a wise guy and has to try to make jokes along racial lines? We met one such fellow seated at a table next to ours. Amongst us, we were having too good a time to worry about him and his remarks. Our camaraderie and fun by far transcended his ignorance!! We did fantasize a good brawl though and came to the unanimous conclusion that he would be no match for us.
Back to the hotel. Settled down for the night. It had been a long day.
“Hi honey, how are you? Are you okay. Did you have a good day? Yes we are fine. How is Jennifer, how is the Chihuahua? Did you feed the fish for me? We had a wonderful safe ride. I’ve seen wonderful things today. I wish you were here.”
“Okay, I’ll check in with you tomorrow. We’re headed for river ride along the Rio Grande tomorrow and the McDonald Observatory. I’ll tell you all about it when we get back. All these guys are so much fun. They’re such a great bunch and they’re taking such good care of me. Goodnight.”


Day 2.
April 15th, 2011.

I awoke to a beautiful Alpine, Texas morning.
Alpine is surrounded by the majestic Davis Mountains in the area of Texas known as the Big Bend Region. This area boasts of people having lived here since pre-historic times dating back to early Paleo-Indians who hunted mammoths, which inhabited this territory. Nomadic Apache and Comanche Indians traversed this expanse of land. It is written that Alpine was carved out of West Texas with true Texan tenacity by peoples of Spanish, Mexican, African and European decent. It has played host to soldiers, miners and movie stars. Today cowboys, ranchers, the railroad, Sul Ross State University and a whole myriad of plant and animal life call Alpine home.
As we assembled in the parking lot this morning. The thundering sound of Harleys broke the morning silence as a group of them rode out in formation from the hotel lot.
Between that group and ours, the hotel was completely booked. We loaded up our gear for the day, bowed our heads in prayer (led by Dennis) and were led off by Tony towards Study Butte. The road wound us around and through lovely mountains that rose high into the fresh, crisp morning air. It was 49’F. I could not help but look around me in awe. The rock formations were simply fantastic. I couldn’t help and be thankful for what I considered to be a blessing for me to behold. In order to not hold back the group, I did not request to stop for photo-taking and mentally promised myself that I would definitely be back on another trip to immortalize these images with my camera. Nevertheless though, the images of this natural beauty are forever etched in my mind. Believe me, the sights are prettier than I can make my camera portray! Nor can my words do justice enough to describe them. But this beauty is to be beheld by eyes in real life. Unfortunately but for self-preservation and safety for the group, I reluctantly returned my eyes and concentration to the road, only to steal an occasional glance every few seconds at this awesome place. I couldn’t help it. I did not want to miss any of this view. I wanted it to last forever. The road wound through the hills and mountains for as far as you could see for all the miles, after 52 of which brought us to the Cow Head Ranch. Sandy the caretaker/owner welcomed us warmly and answered a lot of questions we asked of her. It was an interesting place that put us in touch with another way of life. The Wild West.

A burned tanker truck shell lying almost at river level that seemed apparently to have fallen down the side of the mountain from the road several hundred feet above, gave us a stark reminder of how treacherous this road could be. All of a sudden everyone reached for their cameras to get a photo of the tanker!




Teetering at the edge of this high mountain road overlooking the Rio Grande and Mexico, just across, they all lined up. I could not help but catch them unawares with this photo! “What’s wrong fellas, scared to get closer to the edge?”

After lunch with our backs to Presidio, we pushed on with our journey towards the McDonald Observatory not too far north of Alpine. We passed evidence of wildfires that had been raging since the week before. Must have been at least 20 to 30 miles (32 to 48 km.) of burned land we passed by. We came upon a cemetery that had been spared the brunt of the fire. The wild fires had touched nothing in it. Everything else around it was burned. Hmmm, was this some kind of divine intervention or a deliberate effort by someone or others to save it from the fire? I guess we will never know.
Late afternoon brought us to the top of a BIG mountain upon which the Observatory stood. We were now 6,791 feet above sea level. This was the summit of Mount Locke, upon which the McDonald observatory was built and stands. It is also the highest point on the Texas Highway system.

Oh no! Terry’s BIG Burgundy Honda with the BIG rear tire had developed a BIG flat!
Out with the repair kit, out with the portable air compressor and repair kit. Hands on board, on their knees and butts in the air, repair work commenced.
The site for this observatory had been purposely chosen for its high ratio of clear nights. This was because it was far away from artificially lighted cities and its low latitude that permits good observation of southern skies. This observatory has a very BIG telescope in it. This eighty-two inch telescope, until 1948 was the 2nd largest in the world.
It was so serene at this altitude. On a clear day, I’ll bet one can see for miles. The still lingering smoke from the wildfires that had been raging since the previous week hampered the view from here. Even after five days of no fires in this area, the smoke was still thick in the air. With some camera tweaking and picture composition, I dialed my lens to capture a few pictures that would help me to convey this obscurity.

We made it! We had made it to New Mexico! With great anxiety and anticipation we continued to Carlsbad. It made the miles go by quickly. No one, myself included, had even given a thought to the main concern that we all as “wannabe” (want-to-be) long distance riders initially have of the concern we all face of being so far from home!
The good time we were experiencing was more than enough to blank out that thought!
It was seven miles from the base of the mountain to the summit of the mountain in which the caverns are found.
We arrived to find out surprisingly that we had thirty-three minutes left to tour the caves. We were the last tour group of the day. Thirty-three minutes? Yes! Carlsbad, New Mexico is in the Mountain Time zone, meaning one hour behind Texas time! Yes we made it in time. The stars had truly lined up and shone upon us with luck. So down we went and got the chance to experience and visit the largest natural limestone caverns in the western hemisphere!
At 754 ft. (230m) below, we were really waaaay underground! It took all of 1 min. on the elevator to get down that far below. That’s roughly 75 stories (high or deep, depending on which way you look at it).

So after taking in some history of how law came to and began to be administered in the lawless days of The Old West, we followed Terry to his daughters’ family home right by Lake Amistad. This was where his journey with us ended. Three days with his grandkids was greatly anticipated. We all joined for lunch in Del Rio Township and headed out for Corpus several hours later.
Pulling up at the Border Patrol Checkpoint along the way and having gone through the official formalities and routine, two of the guards having learned that I was originally from Ghana, W Africa agreed in principle that the Ghana Football Team of the recently past World Cup Soccer Championship ought really to have won the tournament! Their knowledge of the Ghanaian footballers was impressive. They knew all the team players’ names. More than I can say for myself! They were indeed true soccer fans.
The long ride home came with forced stops to help keep us from falling asleep on the way. A relatively uneventful trip.
I pulled into the driveway at home just after midnight. We had been fifteen hours on the journey that day. We all arrived home safe! After a prayer of thanks it was playtime with the Chihuahua who obviously had missed me so much that we had to romp for a while before going to bed.


So, if you’ve read this journal to this point, I hope I have succeeded in taking you along with me on this adventure.
I met some Big Friends who all rode Big Bikes. Together we visited the Big Bend area of West Texas, which is the 2nd biggest state in this country.
I saw Big Mountains; I rode alongside a Big River, which incidentally is called the “Big River”.
I rode through Big Valleys and Big Canyons.
I saw a Big Lake that forms a very Big Water Reservoir.
I visited what at one time was one of the Biggest Telescopes in the world.
I went to the top of a mountain and crossed a bridge that are the Highest Point and Highest Bridge on the Texas highway system.
I went into the Biggest Natural Limestone Cave in the Western Hemisphere.
I rode under the Big Texas Night Sky.
I saw evidence of the devastation caused by Big Wildfires.
I saw Big Deer and large expanses of land and mountain ranges.
The Big Blue Sky cannot go unmentioned either.
I met people with very Big Hearts; all this made possible by someone’s Big Idea.
I have been to Big Places; I have seen Big Things and God willing another Big Trip will become a reality.
This was A Big Adventure!
And at the end of it all, after 4 days and 1800miles, I came away having learned some valuable lessons on safety and personal protection.