Lambda in the Heart of Texas

Texas Panhandle; Thursday, November 8, 2012; Late Afternoon

Kenny and Lance made their way to the southern edge of the Texas Panhandle. It was early in the third month of their six-month charted road trip, and both of them found the new landscape captivating. They had enjoyed meandering through the Texas Hill Country, but this scenery exuded a greater sense of the expansive Old West. Their small, dated twenty-seven-foot motorhome suited them and provided perfect camouflage. They preferred to be discreet traveling from one private, state, or national park campground to the next. Even in the year 2012, there were just too many questions, odd looks, and negative reactions when they interacted with others. It was just easier to live and breathe without judgment. Neither had been in contact with relatives or friends back east since the second week of their excursion. Despite feeling confined by who they were physically and emotionally, the ability to inconspicuously explore and enjoy activities they mutually loved brought a feeling of contentment. They mountain biked and hiked through forests, hills, mountains, and beaches. They canoed, fished, and visited famous landmarks, rarely interacting with others. Traveling provided them a great sense of freedom.

Kenny and Lance were skilled mountain-bike enthusiasts and chose to visit the Panhandle in early November. The weather this time of year was ideal for biking. Highs typically reached the mid-sixties, and the lows dropped to an invigorating thirty-five, forty degrees. Both were eager to bike the Caprock and Palo Duro Canyons. After spending a week in Austin and the Hill Country, the Panhandle was the most logical route to their next desired destination, northern Arizona. They had no definitive timetable for how long they would stay in any one place, but they strategically plotted their current itinerary to accomplish two things: take in a mixture of the Southwest while visiting as many renowned mountain-biking spots as possible. The course they had chosen for this leg of the trip achieved just that. Arriving along the Gulf Coast via Houston, they made their way to Austin and the Hill Country before heading northwest to the Panhandle. The path took them straight through the heart of the largest contiguous state, providing them a diverse panorama of Texas. By the time they had arrived at the Panhandle, the couple’s appreciation of the vastness and geographic diversity of the state had grown immeasurably. You could read about it, but until you have actually done it, it was almost impossible to fathom how large Texas is. Both Kenny and Lance were awestruck. The trip couldn’t have been planned any better. And now they were eager to do what they loved most, mountain bike another of the country’s incredible landscapes.

The couple lived modestly, yet their passion for mountain biking drove them to own matching gray high-end Diamondback Sortie 3.0 29Er mountain bikes which they had purchased just days before embarking on the trip. Of course, the motorhome was well-equipped with everything needed to properly maintain their most valued possessions: a custom bike rack, portable workbench, and a built-in storage case to house every spare part and tool essential to fine-tune their bikes. Their meticulous care for the machines bordered on neurotic. Lance in particular obsessed over his bike. The only discernible difference between their two bikes was the Lambda sticker Kenny attached to his seat post. Kenny often reminded Lance that the sticker was further proof that his commitment to the relationship exceeded Lance’s. Lance, on the other hand, often teased Kenny that he probably liked the other biker named Lance—Lance Armstrong—better.

Just before every ride, they scrutinized every aspect of their bikes. Checking, cross-checking, and testing every component. To set his mind at ease, when Lance had completed inspecting his own bike, he would then spot-check Kenny’s. At first, the intrusion insulted Kenny, but in time he took comfort in Lance’s concern and attentiveness. When their rides ended, they again inspected their bikes, verifying that they were in perfect working condition. Their interests perfectly intertwined, leaving little need for others.

After biking in the Hill Country, the two had looked forward to the unique terrain of the nearby canyons. They planned to peruse the Caprock Canyons the next three days before heading closer to Amarillo on Monday. They would then ride what many considered Texas’s finest mountain-biking range, the Palo Duro Canyon, an immense natural wonder that appears out of nowhere. The bottom dramatically drops out of the earth. Over 800 feet deep and 120 miles long, the canyon was the second largest in the country, surpassed only by the Grand Canyon. The park possessed a number of natural features they hoped to explore, photograph, and embrace. Being in no particular hurry, they expected to remain at Palo Duro until Thursday: biking, hiking, and taking advantage of the beautiful, sunny, mild days and crisp nights before heading to Arizona.

Next Chapter: Shed No Light