Bitten in the bible belt. 10/1/2010

After 2 days and 3 nights in a hostel in Austin hiding out from the cold, I took to the road again.

The forecast was for nights in the region of -6 C, rather than -12 as it had been, and I felt I had the gear to cope.

East of Austin the landscape does a pretty fair impression of farmland anywhere in Northern Europe. The grassy fields are hemmed by deciduous trees and shrubs. Little groups of horses graze or small herds of Cattle, mostly Charolais or Aberdeen Angus. Ponds and little lakes provide drinking water to the animals whilst standard Oaks give shade in the summer.

Fingers of mixed woodland periodically separate the pastures. From time to time a field or two is given over to hay production. It is quite the rural idyll.

To the eyes of a northern European however, it is also rather boring. After all that I have seen and done on this trip, pretty rolling English-style country side (yet neither so lush nor so quaint,) leaves me somewhat cold.

3 days of cycling though such scenes is quite enough, combined with sub zero nights and headwinds in the daytime it left me praying for an end this long crossing of Texas.

After trials by rain, snow, steep hills and freezing headwinds, East Texas was now subjecting me to a trial by boredom.

This area is at the heart of the Texas Bible Belt. There are some small, insular, deeply religious communities here. Many of these populations are descended from German origins and attend churches with names like Lutherin or Freinden. Surnames such as Klaus and Bauer can be seen on the mail boxes . True to the stereotype the white picket fences and panel board Victorian houses are immaculately kept.

I visited the store in just such a community, the town of Winchester, Texas. I entered to find a group of wrinkled old men watching TV in a darkened room. There was a bar but no merchandise.

The men turned to face me, they looked surprised not to know me. I greeted them, however they did not smile nor did they not acknowledge me in any other way. After a few long seconds they looked away.

My told me instincts told me to turn around and leave but a woman in the corner asked what I was looking for. I told her I understood 'store' to mean shop and she showed me a shelf of canned goods in the corner.

In true Texan style she wanted to help me by furnishing me with useful information on what to expect down the road. She asked one of the men for advice but he replied that he didn't know much about the next town, it was 15 miles away.

I left quickly. It was time to find a camp and this little insight made me inclined to try and get out of the area before sunset. Life had other plans, 2 miles out of town I came across and unfenced piece of woodland, a rarity in this manicured environment and too good to pass up.

Despite my misgivings I waited for a gap in the traffic and hurried into the woods. I daren't go too far in, just far enough to be out of sight. I put up my tent quickly got in and hid inside until dusk.

My camp was opposite a private oil field with a nodding dog in full swing. It was just past a grand looking private shooting club on the road out of town. Between the sound passing cars, rifle shots rang out as they often do in Texas at this time of day. As the shooting calmed the quiet whir and click of the oil rig filled air.

I sat in my tent on the woods, exhausted but on edge. I was thankful that my tent is green, this was one night I really did not want to be discovered. After the atmosphere in the store, my usual confidence that who ever found me would be understanding of my situation was lacking.

Having cooked and eaten dinner,I made a quick excursion to peg out the guys in the half light before settling down for the night.

Lying in bed I noticed an irritation on the knuckle on my right hand. Instinctively I put it in my mouth to soothe it. There was something sticking out, a spine or a splinter. Without thinking I removed it with my teeth and spat it out.

The irritation continued, I got out my torch for a look. Twin puncture marks suggested a spider bite. In my attempts not be discovered I had neglected my normally vigilant attitude towards bugs by doing things in the dark.

Stupid mistake

I remembered putting my sleeping bag under my bed in the hostel to dry because they are not allowed on beds. On the floor and under things not often cleaned are favourite haunts of some nasty biting spider species. Were it not for the rule I would never normally put my bedding in such a place.

Stupid mistake number 2.

My tongue was swelling up a little now, probably reacting just like my skin was. I should not have put my wound in my mouth without investigating it. If my throat swelled too it could compromise my airway.

3 stupid mistakes all at once .

"This is how your number comes up," I thought, " 3 lemons on the fruit machine. What are the chances?"

I decided not to panic. Panicking seldom helps. I was probably nothing. I've been bitten by spiders in the tropics before and survived. Why should today be any different?

I took some anti-histamines from the med kit, the non-drowsy type. I decided to monitor myself and make a plan for evacuation in case things got worse.

I took my heart rate: 80 bpm. My normal rate is 55 bpm.

"It's up a bit, could be 'cause I'm worried. Not high really, just relax."

If you do ever get envenomated the most important thing is to stay calm. The more you panic the faster the venom is pumped round your body, the quicker and more strongly it has its effect.

I was becoming aware of my throat a little. If I was a young person in my care I would be getting help by now.

I wondered how I could get help. Could I call 911 and explain my location? I couldn't wait outside for them, it was well below zero now and getting colder.

How could they find the tent? I could leave the bike as a sign post and come back to the tent to stay warm.

I found the phone, I wrote down the explanation for where I was. Then I wrote down what had happened.

It was decision time, get help or not? I decided to reassess myself.

I thought my tongue was getting less swollen, I definitely wasn't aware of my throat anymore.

I started feeling very sleepy indeed.

I reasoned that a spider bite wouldn't have left a spine behind. It seemed more likely that I had been spiked from a poisonous plant in the undergrowth. American poisonous plants are something I know little about. My body was probably having a mild localised reaction to it. The reaction was passimg I assured myself.

My heart rate was 60.

I forced myself to stay awake until my tongue felt completely normal, then I declared myself OK and went to sleep.

It had been an intense little drama to end a dull day. It was a wake up call not to get complacent as camping out in America becomes less of a novelty. I may no longer be in the desert or the mountains but I am not out of the woods yet.