Encounters with West Texans, part 1.

From the border town of El Paso to another at Del Rio I have ridden over 400 miles across West Texas. Although I am less than half way across the state I am beginning to get a feel for the people here. I can compare my impression to what others had told me before I arrived.

My overall impression has been great. It is certainly not true that if you are not from Texas you are not welcome, quite the opposite in fact.

To illustrate the point and to give an insight into what it is like here, I will recount some of the the encounters I have had along the way.

On boxing day I discovered I had worn out my rear tyre. With all the rubber gone in places it was close to failing. I couldn't ride another mile. I was 30 miles from the nearest cycle shop, on a Saturday in the town of Marathon with a population of 400, most of whom where not there for the holidays.

I called the bike shop in neighbouring Alpine on the off chance that they might be open. They weren't, but a guy called Jim happened to be there. I explained my predicament and he said to come on over and, even though he wasn't working, he'd get me back on the road.

I explained I'd have to hitch and didn't even know when I could get there. Unphased he gave me his cell number and said he would ride over to the shop if he wasn't there when I got in.

I stood at the side of the quiet road at midday, wheel in hand and thumb on display. Having missed the morning departures I wondered if anyone would take pity on me.

Holiday makers in big SUVs drove past without acknowledgement, each one guaranteed to pass my destination, the road doesn't go anywhere else. Within an hour a local in a pick up took me under his wing.

He turned out to be a motorcyclist and regaled me with tales of riding bikes, drinking beer and eating chillies with naked ladies.

The great thing about hitching is you are temporarily invited into other people's worlds. Often they are people you would not normally meet because their lifestyles can differ a great deal. As a traveller it is a unique opportunity to get a close up peek at the people whose country you are visiting.

Over the years I have been picked up by farmers, hunters, policemen, mothers, hippies, environmentalists, marijuana growers, surfers, heli-skiers, even politicians. The common thread amongst all lifts is they are kind and brave enough people to help a stranger in need.

We modern hitchers are a dying breed. The media driven culture of fear makes it harder and harder to get a ride. Sadly we all live in increased isolation and the barrier between those in vehicles and those outside it gets harder to break down.

Although I would not necessarily encourage my mother, sister or niece to do the same, I will never drive past a hitcher with an empty seat in my car. A hitch hiker is someone who needs help to get where they are going.

The biker was a true Texan: part Mexican, part German with a long and drawn out southern drawl. Most of his stories seemed to involve 'Having a ball' in one way or another. It was a pleasure to be in his world for a while.

Dropping me a the bike shop he assured that I would be fine because, "Out here folks help each other out ".

While Jim and I worked on the bike, Danny the manager of the campsite back in Marathon knocked on the door. He had noticed I got a lift into Alpine and, having come this way to do some shopping, he wanted to offer me one back.

It seemed the Motorcyclist was right. There might not be many people out here but the locals do whatever they can see everyone is taken care of.

Danny told me some of his story on the way home. He came out from Austin, Texas with his daughter to visit the frontier country one holiday weekend.He was captivated by the feeling of wilderness and space.

Texans use the term 'frontier' to describe the boundary between wild land and civilisation. The term has a great deal of romance associated with it, Danny's eyes lit up as a he talked. On his first visit, 8 years ago, he bought the little motel and RV park in Marathon, moved out and never went back to city life.

Austin is by all accounts an interesting place. Jim too originated from there. People tell you it is an island of tolerance and acceptance in a more conservative central Texas.

Danny took the time to make me a map of place to go and to stay when I'm there.

Later that evening a family came to watch the sunset by my tent, they too hailed from Austin it transpired. Discovering I was a lone traveller in their area, they gave me their numbers and told me to call if I needed help with anything at all.

Not only had the good people of Texas helped me out in the here and now, they were also making provisions to look after me further down the line.

Now that's good hospitality.