December 3

These days get almost boring, which is a good thing. Cloudy, windy and cold again, but flat country, and tail winds. Rode fifty-five miles in less than five hours. Would have made it to Corpus Christi - I'm only thirty miles away - but I need to rest my bum. The country between Goliad and Refugio is what I expected of Texas: a level plain to the horizon in all directions, covered with mesquite. No human habitation in sight, only a few, very few, structures serving the petroleum industry. Hardly any traffic on the road; by myself out there, with the cattle and birds. A good feeling, one I haven't had for a long time. The drive from Abo to Belen, coming down from the Manzano Mountains and looking over the northern end of the Jornada del Muerto invariably gave me that feeling. I feel somehow a participant in that seeming emptiness, knowing that if I walked through it I would not find it empty, for all its vastness.