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Wild Motorcycle Tales

Trip to Llano - Part 3

Jill behind the camera. The cut off foot is a give away!

After spending several hours sightseeing it was time to get back to base camp. We were supposed to have Mexican dinner with our friends later in the evening. But we were thirsty and craved ice cream. Jill noticed a Dairy Queen on the way to Llano so we decided to split a banana split. Great when plans all come together.

Before

After. 50/50

"No ice cream for you!" Poor Zeb. As always standing guard. Friend and loyal soldier!

We got back in time to our bivouac and freshened up a little to go out again. This time we would ride with Gary and Connie. Zeb had to stay behind. Although our friends' property was fenced we didn't want Zeb to roam loose, so we tied him to a tree (30 foot leash for Humane Society readers). Still I didn't like it but he would be OK. That morning he made friends with 3 neighboring dogs and the chance he would take off was iffy. Too far from home to take risks.

Back to Llano. Gary pointed out a few things we should investigate on our next trip down and gave a few tips. We already decided earlier to come back in the spring. We liked it here. Away from the stress of every day life, this was a good place to hide.

We stopped at a Mexican restaurant. I forgot the name of the place. Food wasn't all that great but I think mostly we were too tired to eat. Also the ice cream from an hour before wasn't helping our appetite. After that we returned back to their cabin, only stopping to get a bag of marshmallows.

Playing with fire!

At the tent site, Zeb was nowhere to be seen! Just when panic was about to set in, here he comes out of the brush, his stubby tail wagging. Still in shock or maybe more mortified I walked over to the tree where I had tied him up. He simply got his head out of his collar. From the evidence he left behind I could make up it didn't take him all that long. Nice job Jef and $ well spent to buy the leash!

Before we left for dinner I had gathered up rocks to make a circle and piled up some dry wood to make a campfire. Luckily the county burn ban was lifted and we could go ahead and make one. In my book you can't go camping without setting fire to something. I got my brand new miniature axe from my saddle bag and started chopping. Now was the time to become a frontier mountain man. When I got done, I wanted to smell like one! To the others I must have looked no more than a little kid playing in a sandbox but the vigor I produced in my hacking kept them silent. Or maybe they felt sorry. I will never know and that's a good thing.

I cut some sticks to roast the marshmallows and I was ready to start the pyrotechnics. The kindling caught fire with no problems and in less than a minute I had a good thing going.

Gary putting some more wood on the fire. In the background you faintly can make out the silhouette of the ghost of Pocahontas, stealing a burned marshmallow.

The four of us sat there under a bright starry sky gazing at the fire for almost 4 hours, drinking Sangria and munching marshmallows. The latter are spent on me. All I got out of it was gagging and a sticky beard. A blemish on my Jeremiah Johnson image. Sometimes I do not get "the American Way." Smores are awful!

Suddenly the Llano night silence got disrupted by Connie's scream to look up. And there just for a fraction of a second, was the biggest meteor I ever saw, splitting up before our eyes! A present from the heavens and a nice ending of a wonderful evening in the company of good people. We each had a cup of coffee, brewed on our stove to end the day and as all outlaws do, I poured the rest of the coffee over the fire so we wouldn't be detected or scalped by Indians when we bedded down. We exchanged good nights with the neighbors and crawled one more time in our wickiup.

Thinking things were bad for me the first night, it was worse now because I knew what was coming. I saw Zeb at home doing his "nest making" ritual where he stepped in the middle of his blanket and worked it with all fours. Telling you in a confined space this does not work for humans! I just decided to lay down and take it like a man. Meanwhile Jill Derece, again, nice and cozy cocooned in her sleeping bag, enjoying the comfort of not being stupid. After 15 minutes of tossing and turning I gave up and assumed the position for the night. I still regret that to this day! Something in my neck must have fused together that night.

Needless to say I did not sleep a wink. I woke up 23 times finding myself spooning Zeb to keep warm, hence his disgruntled growling. I must have turned the wrong way each time. It was cold and temperature dropped close to freezing. Plus condensation set in and made the inner lining of the tent wet so every time I turned and brushed my head against the wall, I got flashbacks of my mother slapping a wet rag over my face to make me wake up and get out of bed! Good old Mom! Still miss her.

180 Degrees

Well all good things come to an end and so did our trip. But we had loved it and if we would make it home without trouble, the roads were ours from now on!

Jill started to break down camp while I contained my morning cold shower at the spigot to just brushing my teeth. Good enough!

I started re-packing the Bonnevilles and again it went like I had been doing it all my life. So within the hour we were ready to go. Glad to go home but sad it was over. Time flew by. But both of us felt replenished with another experience and the satisfaction that it was only the beginning of our travels.

We hugged Gary (not me) and Connie, said our good byes and thanked them again for their hospitality. Gary took one last picture of the 3 only members of the 50/50 Motorcycle Club and opened the gate to let us thru.

9:35 a.m. HOMEBOUND!

From left to Right; Jill, President. Jef, Vice President and Zeb, Prospect.

We headed back the same way we'd come. The goal was again to hit home before dark and we were already more than 1 hour ahead of schedule. After 35 miles we stopped to fuel up in San Saba, a small town between Comanche and Llano. We pulled up at the local gas station and parked our bikes in front of one of the pumps. At the same time an old and beat up pick-up truck parked on the opposite side of the pump. The door swung open and a rough looking old timer nodded at me with a straight weathered face and disappeared inside the small convenient store. A minute later he was back, coming straight at me. "Hey buddy, I seen the mutt on the back of your cicle, how long it took ya to teach him that?" I explained to him that Zeb was pretty smart and it took me no time to teach him to stay on.

"Well," he proceeded, "On the farm I got me an old New Zealand heeler and he rides in the back of the truck. You know how I taught him to stay in there?" Looking at the Neanderthal in front of me, I was afraid to ask. Politely I asked how. "Well see, I put a chain around his neck see and hooked one end to the bed of the truck and drove around the yard. When he jumped off, I let him hang there a little bit and choke a little bit see and from then on he stayed put," he said.

I swallowed painfully and nodded wisely with my hand rubbing my beard like he gave me the best advice ever. I could barely make myself respond but said, "Well, that's one way to do it I guess." He said him and his wife cracked up when he saw us at the intersection.

"Well buddy, you and the misses have a great day," he said. And like he was on a mission he got back in his truck and took off. I looked at Jill and she looked at me, both without blinking an eye. The world is a strange place.

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