144 miles: Uvalde-Spofford-Del Rio-Comstock
As we make our way across west Texas, my goal is to stick as closely as possible to the railroad Bedi rode his bicycle along. From Uvalde, US 90 followed the railroad pretty closely until the tracks veered south toward Spofford -- population 44 -- so we did, too, on road 1572. Spofford was about 16 blocks of tired houses and mobile homes, no people or 1909 buildings. At Spofford, the railroad left town with no road along it, so we took 131 back up to Brackettville to catch US 90 and continue on our westward journey. At Amanda, the tracks joined us again and stayed nearby until Del Rio.
At Del Rio, the railroad heads toward the US border while US 90 takes a northerly route. I was hesitant to venture on to these back roads along the border -- as I wasn’t completely confident in my maps and we were pulling a trailer, so we could not easily turn around. But I really wanted to see this part of the railroad and I was very interested to see the Rio Grande River and the border. In preparation, I had identified several “bale out” points along the way, but there would come a point were we were committed with no easy way to turn around with our trailer. After a quick consult with my co-pilot, we decided to take the risk.
The road met the Rio Grande which beautifully flowed along quite swiftly -- sometimes with a small bluff on the Mexican side, but mostly trees and bushes gently swaying over the bank. On the US side, there were houses and trailers. Mexico was just a stone's throw away. In one spot, we saw a family with children playing down by the water on the Mexico side.
On the other side of the road from the houses was a chain-link fence with razor wire on top. Most of the few cars we saw on the road were Border Patrol and Texas Highway Patrol. The policing presence is felt.
Then, there it was...THE Wall. The one I'd seen on TV. The one that Trump couldn't stop talking about.
How does the wall keep us free, my children, my children?
The wall keeps out the enemy.
Who do we call the enemy?
The enemy is poverty.
That's why we build the wall, we build the wall to keep us free.
Hear the full song "Why We Build the Wall" from Hadestown to get the full Orwellian meaning and feel.
And then, the big bad wall just ended abruptly. There were most likely other barriers up the road, but it was a bit strange. There were also three port-a-potties. Notice the railroad in the trees. The Rio Grande was a few yards behind us.
At this juncture, the paved road ended and forked into two dirt roads. The road above (the better of the two) "crossed" the wall boundary and had a sign stating "private property." The other dirt road was in worse condition and looked dicey, but Google Maps indicated we could indeed get through and continue along the railroad to the Amistad Reservoir. We decided to believe Google and head down the dirt road. It was bumpy, but seemed OK.
After about a mile, we saw a generously-bearded older fella who kindly told us Google Maps was wrong and that Border Patrol and land owners had put up locked gates just around the corner. There was no way through. He also offered to let us camp on his property. We politely declined and started to discuss options for getting us turned around and heading back out the way we came.
First option: Drive into his fenced-in yard and do our best to turn around (back and forth, not enough room for a circular turn). After the bearded one said, "Though, you don't want to get a mesquite thorn in your tire. It'll go right through." We started to consider other options.
Second option: Putting it in reverse and test our still-in-development, trailer-backing skills down the narrow gravel road 30 yards to the "boat ramp" and back our trailer onto the dirt ramp. "Don't go too far and get your truck stuck in the sand," our new friend advised.
We went for option two. My husband skillfully backed the trailer down the road and on to the boat ramp -- not too far! -- and we were soon heading back down the gravel road in the direction that would get us back on track (so to speak)!
Once we were back on US 90, it was smooth sailing to our next destination, Seminole Canyon State Park just past Comstock.
As we discussed our day over dinner at our picnic table, we marveled at how Bedi could have survived out here in the desert with just his bicycle and maybe a pallet to sleep on. I can imagine some good fishing on the Rio Grande (assuming he had equipment), but after leaving the river, it was pure desert. Towns were scattered along the railroad, but one injury, rattlesnake bite or other incident and he would have been out of luck.
Today, the weather is cool and the vista is beautiful -- and we have 5G and four-wheel-drive.
Tomorrow, we will see how close we can get to the Pecos River High Bridge where Bedi had to avoid getting run over by a train!