Free Fallin' and Free Loadin'. Days 42 and 43

What goes up, must come down and after what felt like a free rocket-propelled ascent yesterday, I felt like I was getting something for nothing. Always welcome. I didn't really get the chance to build up much speed as I was too busy stopping to take pictures and videos. I couldn't rely on just memory for these views. I felt really lucky. That's happened a lot to be fair. After rolling my way down to the RV, I went over a few plans with Nads for a new lip syncing video. If you haven't seen any of these (small but growing number) go to my YouTube channel (runroblarun) and check them out. I hope they give you a laugh :) The filming went ok, with a curious car driver parked at a junction taking in the last bit. Lucky I'm not self-conscious as I do look a bit of an idiot when I do these. Little did I know that the intrigued onlookers were members of the Texas Police, who were in the area due to a potential space rocket launch that day. They'd already checked in with Nads, whose explanation of “I'm just waiting here for my boyfriend who's running across America to go past filming himself singing...(I'm not giving the game away!)” was not what they expected, but it made sure they were in a good place to watch me be said idiot. I went over afterwards and thanked them for not arresting me and kept an eye out for a launch that never came as I continued west.

Something for nothing eh? Not quite, I got a little present after the descent. Shin pain. The nature of tibialis anterior tendinopathy means it's often aggravated by going downhill. The creak hadn't returned, but he was a late arrival to the party last time. I was a little more sanguine about it this time, knowing I'd already come a long way. Long enough to feel I'd achieved something tangible anyway. I monitored it during the day and eased back on the pace again and later that evening arranged an appointment with a razor for my almost back-to-normal hirsuteness on my left lower leg and the K-tape was retrieved from my box of running tricks. It hadn't gotten worse during the day, so that was at least something. In fact the worst thing was the cafe we'd planned to stop at for lunch at Salt Flat was shut and it looked like it had been for a while. I peered through the window which led to the kitchen and saw a lady sitting there. I quickly ducked out of sight and waited to tell Nads the news. This place was in the middle of nowhere, but was a Greyhound Bus Stop and on a busy enough highway, so I wondered what had happened. Sure it would be so logistically hard to get supplies with the nearest town at least 50 miles away...I'd have loved to have asked her, but I thought it might make her sad, if this wasn't a decision that was hers to make. I hoped it was just a seasonal thing. The Salt Flats themselves were a great sight. They used to be a vital source of income for the Native Americans and later Hispanic people before the local grandees in El Paso decided they'd have some, in fact, all of it and there was a war fought over it, which the El Paso mob won. Progress? Seemed more like a bit of good old fashioned robbery. My attempt on the World Land Speed Record was aborted due to concerns that my shin may not be able to cope with breaking the sound barrier, in case you were wondering. It was on, for sure.

Wildlife sighting of the day: A grasshopper that looked like he was in fancy dress from the film “Kick-Ass”. Halloween came early for the insect world.

Interesting food of day: Chicken Noodle soup/bread/last night's left-over mash and beans/ham, all mixed in a bowl. We're trying to use up what we've got! Give us a break! P.S. It was surprisingly good.

Start: Guadalupe Mountains Visitor centre. Finish: Jct of Highway 62/180 and road to Dell City. 31.36 miles

Last night was the first night where I've been consistently cold in bed and waking up as a result, a bit like hibernating bats suffering from White Nose Syndrome (Look it up – very sad.). As you do though, you pretend it isn't really happening and instead of putting on a t-shirt or getting another blanket you rearrange your current blanket and try to go asleep again. Repeat in 20 minutes. This isn't a moan though, I felt alright when I woke up (after many an alarm snooze) and it wasn't that cold when I got out. In fact, the weather is getting pretty pleasant to run in. Alright, the sun is still super powerful, but I feel I'm sweating as much from just running now as much as being cooked.

The lack of internet meant we had to guess where to stop and the only solid info we had on places where Nads could navigate the Enterprise into were at 10 and 16 miles, so a big first stint was the order of the day. I actually prefer these and have only shied away from them in an attempt to stop my tib-ant from flaring up again...oh yeah. I forgot. It has flared up again and I'm taped up. Hey ho, safety wins and 10 miles it is. 6 miles after this, was the “town” of Cornudas. On the approach, it was as it looked on the map last time I could check – i.e. a few buildings and that was it. These did show signs of life and a slightly faded sign on the approach spoke of May's Café and the “World-famous Cornudas Burger”. A big boast indeed. Even though it was only about 11 and I'd had a bowl of cereal about an hour ago, opportunities like this can't be taken for granted in this environment and Nads was I think pretty chuffed when I said that not only could this be a place to get lunch, but we should sit in and have it now. You can guess what I went for. I fiddled with it slightly to get rid of the cheese and mustard, but it should still have resembled that renowned worldwide, I hoped. Terri the owner brought it over as Nads was checking out the lovely trinkets and curios in the other part of the room, that, if we didn't have to bring it all back to the UK, some of which would have found its way into the RV, especially a pair of red leather boots that were just too small for her. The burger itself was amazing. The previous best I'd had on this trip was in the post-office-cum-diner in Hext, but this topped even that. On the tables we sat at, there were cards and napkins from previous visitors and after explaining my mission, Terri, May and Carolyn, a friend from ALABAMA, no less, now living 4 miles away told me of previous visitors, including a Veteran who ran to New Jersey and passed through and also Rosie Swale-Pope, an English lady who I already know of, who ran through as part of her USA crossing (I'm not sure if this was part of her round the world trip, but I think it may have been.). She's an extraordinary lady, who they ladies said was very chatty. Between Rosie, myself and a chap called Steve Pope who ran across the States with my pal Chris Finnill, I wonder if the Popes will be the group who have completed the most crossings, if I make it? Rosie did her run pushing a cart that she slept in at night and housed all her supplies. Check out her story – it's a great read. I added my details and put the next to hers – that'll be a find for the next person in that seat. Another customer asked the ladies where the rest of the town was. “This is it!”, replied Terri. As we left to go, clutching our cakes that were to be our nighttime treat, Terri informed us that she'd covered our bill and would have no arguments about us paying. Another amazing example of the hospitality we've encountered. People can be so lovely.

The ladies had told us of a rest area 20 miles away that would be good for the night, so another big hit of 10 miles in my favoured post-lunch slot gave me two 5 milers at the end, with me racing through the break to just get it done. Done it was and cake was eaten. Cake has also been saved as it was too good to force in on a full stomach of pasta and weirdly good veggie meatballs (Couldn't tell difference!). I'd had a binge on Neil Young and Bob Dylan during the day as they were just right for the time and place and now I'm here, mulling over Texas and especially the last few days in the beautiful wilderness. If it wasn't pitch black, you could go outside and see Guadalupe Peak still, despite it being almost 70 miles away. I'll wave good bye to it in the morning and then set my sights on El Paso. Outskirts tomorrow night, centre and Halloween/Dia del Muertos fun on Monday/Tuesday with half doses of mileage to allow us to celebrate the adventure that has been Texas. After that, New Mexico and a new chapter.

Start: Jct of Highway 62/180 and road to Dell City. Finish: Rest area 20 miles west of Cornudas on Highway 62/180. 35.45 miles

Total: 1249.17 miles

It's a Long Way to The Top (If You Wanna Have A Stroll). Days 39-41

Despite leaving Pecos, there was no let up in the traffic. I figured as we got closer to the New Mexico border, surely this would lessen, as obviously all oil and gas stops at the dotted line that demarcates the two states of TX and NM? No chance. As Pecos is basically at the eastern edge of the Chihuahuan desert, this meant that not only the was the road busy but hot and dusty as well. The area is also home to a lot of bad drivers, including one idiot who pulled off an overtaking manoeuvre on (up) a blind hill, in an 18-wheeler, with a further muppet 10 feet from his rear wheel. I only know about this as he had the “courtesy” to give blast on his horn when he was about 50m behind me (with me having been running on the white line at the side of the road). All whilst Ryan Adams “Wrecking Ball” (Not Miley) was in my earphones. Would anyone have ever found out the connection if it had ended badly?

Today was just about getting the miles in. Plough up the road to Orla, take a left, run to the NM border. Stop. The only pleasant thing about the dust clouds and oil fires in the heat was an encounter with Chris, who ran the general store in Orla, a settlement which seems to be pretty much a crossroads with a gas pumping station, though I've learned that there's often other places nearby. Not that I could see of course, too much dust. He was amazed that I'd run here, having only seen a few crazy cyclists in the past and he loved the Forrest Gump connection. He lived in a Fleetwood Jamboree, just like us and he had a beard, just like me! He uses his air-con more, because he's not tight-fisted like us and said we'd be using ours more if we'd have come a month earlier. He's building a house in the area and I'd love to hear more of his story, but that requires time. We don't have time as we're heading to the mountains, as if it wasn't hard enough. The Guadalupe Mountains National Park and the highest peak in Texas are on the horizon. The last few miles saw some raindrops, though you could barely call it a shower and now we're at the side of a road which seems quiet, volume of traffic wise, though every passing truck and trailer sounds like a huge thunder clap, which will be fun for sleep. What I wouldn't give to see a proper thunderstorm.

Start: Jct Highway 285 and County Road 437. Finish: County Road 652, 4 miles west of Orla. 33.7 miles

Now if only I'd pushed on for a little bit more the night before. Before the sun had even risen, the already busy road where we'd slept seemed to become becalmed, with hardly any traffic and in no time at all the shadow of the Guadalupe Mountains appeared on the horizon. I had a feeling that my cover photo was of the Guadalupes and kept trying to get the shot that would replicate it, but I think more camera skills/kit were required! Since I've been here I've gotten pretty good at guesstimating distances when I see a distant point, even up to about 5 miles away as the open expanses often allow for this. This however, was a different ball game. I was in a privileged position as I knew roughly how far away these peaks were – over 30 miles by line of sight and I wasn't even running directly to them. You may think this soul destroying as you would run and run without any apparent distant change (I've certainly had this myself in the New York Marathon on 5th Avenue a couple of times), but the view was so profoundly impressive, it wasn't like that at all – it made the running better. This was also the chance I'd been waiting for to have a War on Drugs marathon. Ultimate road trip music. Perfection.

My eyes were also, of course, fixed on the near field, with a big amount of time spent removing grasshoppers from the carriageway. These were in the form of singles, mating pairs, those eating a recently squished brethren and even those mating with another grasshopper that was in the act of eating a squished one. Just leave him man, he's gone. Save yourself. This didn't really fit with my main objective of covering as many miles as quickly as possible to allow a lunch time finish, knowing that the threat of annoying the shin and saying hello to the creak again was ever present. Despite this, the gravitational pull of the mountains did the trick and the thought of being followed by the CIA after taking photos of an oversized load that happened to be part of some futuristic looking bomber helped as well. This blog is not being monitored, don't worry about commenting ;-). Not long after this I managed to cross a time zone on foot, which was a fairly surreal experience. Now I'm here...Now I'm there. I'm just a new man, cos' you made me live an hour again… The end point of the day was a tantalising 50m from the New Mexico border...but not yet. Not yet. Left not right.

The whole point of the rushed clocking off was to give Nads a bit of a break and allow us to drive to the Carlsbad Caverns to see the bat flight that evening. The gateway to the caverns was a place called Whites City which was a cool, but peculiar place. It seemed a bit like a Western resort with a gift shop selling all sorts of unusual trinkets, giant bear statues, alien paraphernalia, knives and more giant bear statues, helping my phobia of a Revenent like attack if we get to Montana no end. They also had a Zoltar machine (If any of you remember the Tom Hanks film Big), but I'm careful for what I wish for. I've seen the tricks he can play.

The road to the caverns was a long, winding affair up a mountain and we amused ourselves by sticking to the speed limit (having seen far too much roadkill) and annoying the queue of cars behind us. We couldn't get into the caverns unfortunately as they'd closed for the day, but that wasn't the plan anyway. We took a good seat in an amphitheatre built at the entrance to the caverns and listened to the ranger painfully trying to kill time as he wasn't even sure if the bats had left the previous night to go to their holidays to Mexico (I hope they don't catch the migrating Monarchs of Eldorado). After a huge flock of cave swallows had dived into the cave before the bats monopolised the airspace, it started. A few hundred, spiralling upwards and outwards, before thousands upon thousands streamed out, creating groupings like starling swarms disappearing into the distance as the local insect population beat a hasty exit. They estimated 300,000 came out and I'd have said more – they just didn't stop. Nature is insane. They have to eat about 25% of their body weight nightly just to get by and you'd think there wouldn't be enough insects in the world, but there you are! I seriously could go on about this all night, so I'll end it by saying – go and see it!

We headed back into “town” to find everything shut including the restaurant so we raided the freezer and cupboards for a gourmet feast of burritos, beans and Smash and I microwaved some three days leftovers, because I like to live dangerously.

Start: County Road 652, 4 miles west of Orla. Finish: Junction of 652 with Highway 62/180. 33.67 miles

As part of the Nads' day off so she doesn't kill me or go home programme, today was a short day too, which benefited me as our end point was the Guadalupe Mountains National Park RV camp at the base of Guadalupe peak, the highest mountain in all of Texas. The visitor centre itself was at 5695 feet above sea level and I started at . I was going to need a good push up that hill. Music is my usual kick up the bum and I was rummaging around for my headphones in the drawer of a million cables and bits in Jenny to no avail. Nads didn't know where they were either, which is a bad sign. This means 80%+ something is lost. Urg. I decided to go and look where we'd parked yesterday at the side of the road and they weren't there. However, they were 20m up the area of scrub, where they'd fallen off the spare wheel as we'd driven away. Nads bemoaned my (to her) never-ending stream of good luck. I called it logic, but I admit it was lucky they'd fallen off so quickly! One man I know who is even luckier is the legend that is Simon Lapish, inseparable mate since Uni, man-mountain, hairy of face and musical of soul. This was a fortunate reunion with the headphones as I planned to listen to a playlist he'd sent me a couple of weeks back, but like the War on Drugs yesterday (and a few more planned), I needed the right window. Incidentally the first tune was by War on Drugs, but it was overdubbed with the commentary of Mo Farah winning his second Olympic gold and it made me feel 12 (my lucky number) feet tall. As well as excellent musical choices, other nuggets included Chariots of Fire and You'll Never Walk Alone, recorded from the last Liverpool match I went too – so I was effectively singing to myself. By the time I was finishing my second listen, I'd eaten up 19 miles and got to the visitor centre as the final chorus of Wrecking Ball (Bruce this time, not Ryan Adams!) was fading out. Hill? What hill?

I had a quick look round the exhibits in the centre and held the door for a chap on the way in, a thick set chap who looked like he could have strolled from a scene in a Western that may have played out in Whites City. He wasn't from these parts. Noting my t-shirt from the Liverpool Rock and Roll Marathon (Am I allowed to mention I won that? Nah, I'll leave it.), he read it out: “Rock and Roll...Liverpool...are you from the UK?”. “I'm a Scouser” (Liverpool born and bred, for those not familiar). So was he. Used to live three miles from me. Leslie Phillips. A good Scouse name. He loved the area so much, he makes repeat trips. I headed back to tell Nads about my encounter: “Of course you did...” and we set off to find out why. We went on a 5 mile hike along the dry riverbed to a place called the Devil's Hall, scrambling over boulders, jumping off ledges, me monitoring every landing for ankle tweaks. The worst thing about busting an ankle here wouldn't have been the end of the run alone, but the fact that we couldn't even stick around to enjoy more of the trails here. As we returned back we surprised a doe and fawn and after they beat a slight retreat, we just watched each other for about five minutes, before they melted into the woods. It may have only been two, rather than 300,000, but it wasn't any less appreciated. Neither was the shower back in the RV, with water freshly replenished. First one in four days. Fragrant.

Start: Junction of 652 with Highway 62/180. Finish: Guadalupe Mountains Visitor centre. 22.75 miles

Total: 1182.36 miles

Living on a Prayer. Days 36-38

Living On A Prayer

After some suspicious incidents just before bed of some locals climbing over a fence and disappearing for a bit then returning, nothing untoward happened overnight and I had gotten up early to calculate exactly how far I needed to go that day to reach the 1000 mile mark. It was just over 11 miles, so a second run thang. My discipline was impressive today and I got my fluoro and LED'd self on the road was before sunrise and caught it in the most amazing way as I was passing over a bridge and it was creeping over a hill, curious to see what I was up to and whether it could burn me or not. Sorry if I'm suspicious, but I've heard most things in West Texas are out to get you, in a way similar to Australian fauna and flora. Passing along the I-10 service road, I saw a group of small wild pigs, called Javelina. I couldn't be sure if they were all babies as one was a bit bigger, but they all looked young and a bit scared, so sped away from them after a couple of blurry photos, so as not to drive them across me and potentially onto the interstate. A little further on, the same happened with two deer and seeing as speeding away from them was not an option, I just had a nervous half mile or so as they sought to find a gap in the fence that could provide an escape. No animals were hurt in the making of this blog chapter. Phew.

After Olivia had nearly drove down the wrong way on the interstate trying to film me running, she rejoined Nads for the 1000 mile mark. I was worried it would be an anti-climax, but it wasn't, I felt pretty emotional and was glad it was a few hundred yards upstream of the guys so I could take it all in. I scrawled 1000 Miles on a bridge with a rock, just to confuse the guys who might find it when deciding where to put the next bit of pipe or whatever. After lunch it was a ramrod straight section of road to Fort Stockton, a town with an interesting military history and now a base for many of the industries in the area, but let's forget that – it's got the biggest statue of a roadrunner in the world!! We picked an RV park that is apparently being renovated and it showed. I wasn't really happy about this as a base when there a good few in the area, though the owner was very nice on the phone to Nads, so we'll give her the benefit of the doubt.

After setting up, we headed out to Bienvenidos Mexican Restaurant after Crystal, a tech at the local vet practice who had helped us so much with our roadrunner had scoured Fort Stockton for good veggie fare, as both Liv and Nads are doing it right by the animals. She was accompanied by Carla, an old work buddy and soon enough, by Tony, her recently betrothed who as well as a mechanic, was a font of knowledge on all that will getcha' in Texas. The highlight of this briefing was hearing about the tarantula hawk wasp which is black with red wings and has a sting likened to sticking a fork in a plug socket whilst having a red hot branding iron plunged into your skin for 10 minutes. Apparently it's the second worst sting you can get for pain and Wikipedia quotes an expert as saying it “disables all function apart from the ability to scream”. Lovely. The meal was pretty good and seeing as they had special draft beer from the local Big Bend Brewing Company, it was even better. The guys presented Nads and I with a roadrunner figurine which has taken pride of place in Jenny and they very naughtily paid for the bill for all three of us, which was so kind of them. The card with the gift read “Thank you for running to help those that can't help themselves”.

Start: Exxon just off I-10 Bakersfield. Finish: Unnamed RV park (Get well soon.). 34.9 miles

Whilst we had gotten some photos of the amazing roadrunner statue after dinner, I took the opportunity to get some more after we'd said goodbye to Olivia who had an 11am flight to get in Odessa, about 70 miles away. What an epic mission to come and see us. So impressive and well received. During the photo session, I noted a chap running towards me and asked if he minded me joining him. His name was Ricky and he was an ultra-runner, training for a 100km race in the Big Bend National Park. In the past he'd been burned when he let someone run with him for the last part of a race to help the guy, only for the scumbag to sprint off and leave him when he saw the finish. Fortunately, he hasn't been scarred by the experience and we had a good couple of miles together. He had a better beard (for the moment), better tattoos (probably for good) and a better tan (we'll see), but at least I could keep pace! After he carried on I headed north west on the 285 highway, past the Pecos Cowboy Church – Pastor Gary Dunn came out and said hi as I was taking photos, so he was also framed for immortality outside his church and he wished me luck. I hope that luck included no encounters with big black wasps. It did include an encounter with my first diamondback rattlesnake, but it was sadly for it and me (as long as it wasn't biting me), rattling no longer. The first part of the road was pretty quiet and crossing the 1776, someone had taken advantage of this by leaving evidence of their previous night's tyre burnout. I know I shouldn't say this, but it did look like they'd had a lot of fun. A more legit form of vehicular art was on the approach to our camping spot. An old abandoned school type bus, painted canary yellow by a field with sunflowers dotted here and there. I indulged in my side habit of mild trespassing and jogged across the field to take some photos. She was in a pretty bad way, apart from the paint job and I imagined how cool she would be to renovate and have as an RV. Maybe one day her prince will come.

I beat Nads to our final resting place for the evening, a large gravel car park where water tankers would fill up from a large artificial pond. I assume the water was the reason, as the bushes nearby were full of young or just small (I didn't ask them) electric blue dragonflies - one of Nads' favourites and she got some really good photos. I'd love to see what she could do with a decent camera. It was a slightly risky spot to stop, but no issues were encountered apart from a lack of internet which meant navigating the next day's early runs was going to be interesting.

Start: RV Park in Fort Stockton. Finish: Water pumping station on 285, 20 miles south of Pecos. 31.51

I mostly contemplated my urinary system for the first few miles. I usually debate the previous evening when I should have my last drink (water, guys – come on!), so I'm not peeing loads in the night. If I get it wrong it's either three or none, with the latter meaning I start dehydrated and play catch up. There is a phenomenon called renal washout where if you take in too much fluid without salt, you can flush your kidneys out and they will really struggle to concentrate urine. This is pretty hard to do by drinking without causing other problems, but I was wondering if I had managed to do it by chronically depleting my sodium reserves through sweating so much and not taking enough in. As a result I often have to have about 3-4 pees on my first run. I've also thought about whether I've just upset my bladder by jiggling it so much in that it always feels full. I can't find much about either of those on the net, just a thing called rhabdomyolysis where you break your muscle down excessively and the proteins clog your kidneys up, damages them and you die in agony. Somewhere there, I got sensationalist. I don't think I'm pushing hard enough to do this, and I can't do anything about the second thing (probably the reason), so I've just decided to eat more crisps (chips – US and Oz people, maybe the whole world apart from us.). I resent health boards worldwide now for reducing salt levels in these.

When not sneaking behind a bush, I was running to Pecos, a hub for the local oil and gas industries and as such on a hugely busy road, given the size of it and the town. Trucks, trailers, tankers, oversize loads, one after the other. Another big marker was to happen today – the half way point of this crossing. Whilst all of them are going to be a bit vague – hey – I don't even know my final route, I got Nads to park at the designated point and she made a cool ribbon with a HALFWAY sign that I got to run through...twice, as filming didn't go to plan first time round! This was of course, a source of great amusement for Nads, who really enjoyed the dangerous position of the RV on a thin shoulder as trucks gave her dirty looks as I approached. This didn't feel as “big” as the 1,000 mile mark, as hopefully, this is nowhere near halfway of the total distance, but it was sweet nonetheless.

Pecos is another town with an interesting history and was the site of world's first rodeo in 1883, with a big rodeo arena still present. Heading down the main street I noted some tell tale satellite dishes and popped in for a chat with Christy Martinez of the local KPTX-KIUN radio station. She took my details and got me some mentions on the news. Every now and again, I would get a load of honks from passing drivers in a short space of time. As I was playing sensible Rob and running at the safest/furthest extremity of the road, I can only assume it was because of these and they were the best sort of distraction from the feeling of impending doom! I've since found out that Pecos has a population where over 25% live below the poverty line and I find this hard to align with the fact that some people (probably not from the area) are getting VERY rich from the local resources.

After getting about 14 miles past, we returned to the local truck stop. Not to stay, but to plunder their Wi-Fi and refillable drinks while trying to do a lot of uploading/downloading...whilst freeloading. This continued as we stayed in the local picnic area as we are getting very money conscious at the moment.

Start: Water pumping station on 285, 20 miles south of Pecos. Finish: Jct Highway 285 and County Road 437. 37.6 miles

Total: 1092.24 miles