Bike Trip through Texas Hill Country

For awhile now Chris has been talking about taking me for a ride on his Harley through parts of Texas that are more appealing than Dallas. Let’s face it, this money-obsessed, vast concrete wasteland is not representative of the best that Texas has to offer (or so I’ve heard). So he suggested we take a drive down through the Hill Country, which is supposed to be a very scenic region of the state somewhat to the south of us. I’ve heard nice things about the area, so I said that sounded good to me. Nothing like seeing some actual hills and empty space for a change. He had a particular route in mind, leaving from his grandmother’s house in Arlington, which is where he keeps his bike, continuing south (the scenic route, through random small towns and whatnot), maybe stopping by the Enchanted Rock, all the way to Fredericksburg. Specifically, we took 67 West to FM 16, and followed that south down to Fredericksburg. On our way down and back, we passed through bustling urban areas like Glen Rose, Llano, Comanche, Marble Falls, Burnett, Lampases, and Haico. We planned for it to be just a day trip, and as it was going to be a lot of riding, we had to get an early start. We hit the road around 9 a.m. Saturday morning.

It was a long ride. Our average speed was probably 80, although for a few exhilarating/scary seconds we hit a top speed of 110, at which point I just held on for dear life and hoped we didn’t hit anything! We sped through quite a few random small towns, which was always my favorite part, because it meant we got to slow down for a bit and let my cheeks recover from flapping in the wind. Also, I am fascinated by small towns like Glen Rose (where I’m an official member of the Green Pickle Beer Garden Club, but that’s another story), which is famous for having preserved dinosaur footprints in the area, and I always like riding through their downtown squares and checking them out. The smallest population I saw posted on a sign was, I believe, 111. Ah, I *heart* small town America.

My impression of the Hill Country was that it wasn’t spectacular, but quite pretty, and it did have its impressive moments, like the Enchanted Rock, a huge, rounded granite boulder a little north of Fredericksburg. People were actually climbing the thing. Since the temperature of the day ranged from hot early in the morning to inferno-esque by the time we drove past, I really hoped Chris was not planning on us taking a hike. Luckily we kind of paused to gawk for a minute and then headed out again. Along the way I saw a deer (exciting, that), abundant horses and cattle on the sprawling area ranches, a golden eagle, vultures having their way with a recently deceased deer, and lots of goats. Apparently goats do well in that area and it’s a big thing. Along with hunting. But as a confirmed vegetarian, I won’t discuss that aspect out of moral principals. (I kid. Mostly.)

It took us six hours to get to Fredericksburg, a charming, touristy little town. We drove through the downtown for a couple minutes, and I have resolved that I really need to get myself back there for some serious shopping. It was founded by German immigrants and there were biergartens everywhere. I wouldn’t have minded stopping for a beer in a nice big stein, but we were off to the birthplace of Lyndon B. Johnson, Johnson City (natch). Note that at this point I was insanely grubby, windblown, sore, sunburned, and my right ear was stuffed up and ringing so badly I couldn’t hear out of it due to the wind. Chris was tired too so we decided it might be better to grab a hotel room in the area and crash for the night. Another four to six hours ride, only to get home at 9:00 p.m., didn’t sound fun at all, and a soft bed and a shower sounded heavenly. Two choices of lodging immediately presented themselves: the Johnson City Best Western and a run-down local inn by the name of the Hill County Inn. That one looked cheaper so that’s where we got a room. Now, I’ve stayed in some crummy hotels before, but this one was the worst. It was tiny, with a stained ceiling and a mildew-infested four foot cube of a shower (with no light), not to mention no alarm clock. The air conditioner was lackluster at best and the sheets were stale. Amenities included two wrapped plastic cups, one cheap hotel variety bar of soap, and one tiny bottle of conditioning shampoo. Yeah. Not even a one star hotel by any stretch of the imagination. But, it was a place to stretch out and rest...and get up to some other shenanigans, which I’ll leave up to your imagination.

Later we were hungry but didn’t feel like going out anywhere, so we flipped through the phonebooks to see if there were pizza places or any other sorts of places that would deliver. No luck, in Johnson City on a Saturday. So grudgingly we hopped back on the bike and went in search of sustenance. About a block down the road was a place called the Hill Country Cupboard that was open, and looked like the best option available. The restaurant’s sign featured an actual kitchen cabinet and counter attached to it, along with the motto: “Home of the World Famous Chicken-Fried Steak: Nearly Three Dozen Served!” It was quite the dining experience, let me tell you. There were maybe a dozen other people there, clearly the ultimate Saturday night out for locals. Luckily they had vegetarian options - the catfish basket - and Chris had the chicken fajitas. I seriously needed a beer, and was pleasantly surprised that they served adult beverages there, so I checked out their offerings, and noted to my vast amusement that their imported beer list included Shiner Bock - which is, of course, made in Shiner, Texas. Methinks someone was a bit confused...I took one nonetheless! Dinner was edible, I’d say...I could tell my French fries had been freshly unfrozen, but the tartar sauce was good. The beer was excellent. Afterwards, we crashed back at the hotel and watched “Tombstone” on the History Channel.

The next day was another early one. We were back out on the road heading back to Dallas by around 8 a.m. We decidedly needed breakfast so Chris was going to take me to a locally famous little café in Marble Falls called the Bluebonnet Café. The place was crowded and I was looking forward to coffee and a nice hot breakfast - an omelet would be nice, thank you. Unfortunately just as we were seated we noticed the menu stated that no credit or debit cards were accepted, but added there was an ATM outside for our convenience. All Chris had on him was a credit card, and I had nothing. We got up and left, rather disgruntled. We considered stopping at a gas station and picking up some snacks there, but scratched that in favor of hopefully tracking down a real, actual restaurant that was open on Sunday mornings. Breakfast is, after all, the most important meal of the day. Luckily a few miles down the road we happened upon a promising looking bakery that served tasty coffee and rather delicious apple fritters. We got our orders to go and ate breakfast in a lovely little nearby park. Not too shabby at all, and more peaceful than the crowded restaurant, that’s for sure (except for the constant ringing in my ear).

After that we were on our way again. With only a couple of stops in Hamilton and, oh, some other little burg I can’t remember the name of for gas and water breaks, we made good time and were back to our place in Carrollton by a little before 1:00 p.m. Luckily my cheeks seemed to have gotten adjusted to flapping in the wind, so I was able to relax and look from side to side, enjoying the views as we went. It’s amazing how fast time goes by sitting on the back of a bike. I never get bored, and only once was I hit in the forehead by a bug large enough to really smart. All in all it was quite a fun trip, tiring but worthwhile. However, for the sake of my cheeks and ears I’m definitely getting a full face helmet for my next lengthy road trip on the Harley.