We rode on for some 45 minutes or so before we turned left at a junction and were presented with Bandera.
We simply had to stop here. We hadn’t expected this. Bandera was like a real “Western” town.We were ecstatic about finally travelling off the interstate, and as we rode further west away from San Antonio, the road became less and less congested, and more and more twisty. At last!
We rode on for some 45 minutes or so before we turned left at a junction and were presented with Bandera.

We simply had to stop here. We hadn’t expected this. Bandera was like a real “Western” town. We parked up and headed straight for the Bandera Saloon. We got some menus and sat down at a table, and then in walked our first proper cowboy. His thick greying moustache was an inch or more wider than his face on each side, and he was the epitome of a good ole cowboy in every sense. We exchanges “ Howdy’s” and he came over and started chatting with us, where we were from, where we were going…the usual. He had a very gentle and warm way about him, and we both liked him instantly. After a few minutes, he said, “Well, you folks will just have to come stay with me tonight, it ain’t much, but it’s a roof over your heads if you want it”.
We jumped at the chance. Walking John, as he was known in the town, shared a fantastic old house with his gal, Janet, a few minutes walk form the Saloon. This too, was as cowboy as you could get, and beautiful, complete with Wagon wheel chairs on the porch, and a couple of dogs lolling about in the shade.

He sent us off on a ride that we just had to see, and told us to just come on back when we were done.
We complied, went on our ride along some fantastic farm roads, past grazing Buffalo and over rolling hills, before turning up at his porch a couple of hours later.
John started a fire for us in the living room, in front of the blow up bed Janet had prepared for us, and we all went and sat on the porch and listened as John got out his guitar and sung us some songs he had written. This was all too good to be true. John told us part of his story-how he had arrived in the town, meeting Janet, and how he had once enjoyed all the trappings of a city lawyer, before falling fowl of the law himself and roaming until he had made Bandera his home. We spent a wonderful evening with John and Janet, and that night at their house was our first real “moment” of the trip so far.
After the songs and some chit chat, we all strolled down to the Bandera Saloon for some good ol' Country music, and a wee dance. A couple of beers, and some good Tex mex cuisine, and we were ready to get our heads down.
Our first stop, after riding up and down twisting mountain roads, up tight hill climbs, and down long, easy slopes, was Dave’s Place.
Built into and on the edge of a canyon, overlooking Toad creek, this place was sublime.

Dave built the bar, then added a few rooms for overnighters, then a pool room, an aviary, and so on.
Dave was a weather beaten old cowboy, who loved to tell us tales of his time in the Movies, his adventures on the cattle runs in his youth, and how he built the place with his bare hands, and a little help from his friends and neighbours.
After strolling along the banks of the river at the foot of the cliff where Dave had built his bar/restaurant/hotel/aviary/retreat, and getting to know our riding buddies a little better, we got back on our bikes again, and in a cloud of dust , headed back to the main road and off to the next stop. An hour or so of more riding up and down, and round and round these fantastic Hill Country roads, we arrived at our next stop along the way, Koyote Ranch.
The Tepee at the entrance was our first surprise at the “Ranch”, but this was far eclipsed by what awaited in the urinal, which was fully stocked with ice and beer , I guess those were for the bikers who were real thirsty and real poor. Again we sat and chatted and got to know our hosts a little better, shared stories and jokes, refreshed our thirst and then once more saddled up and hit the road for what was promised to be some of the best roads in Texas, the “three sisters”, comprising the 335,336 and 337 roads.
We headed back down the mountain and started the loop just outside Medina, but a few miles into the loop, George, who was leading the ride, spotted an upturned car just off the road. We pulled over a half mile up the road, as what we had just seen kicked in, and we doubled back to check if anyone was still in the vehicle. And there was.
A mother and her two children had been travelling in the car. The Mum, who was in the front but had managed to move over to the passenger side of the car, and her kids, who were both hanging upside down in their child seats, were all conscious, but also bloody and shaken. George and I set about trying to open the front door, while Dan and Gibb, another two of our riding group, started to cut away at the straps holding the kids in place. It was an horrific experience .The sight of blood is nothing new for me, after 20 years working in bars I had seen my share of it, but seeing these two young children, with blood coming form their heads, mouths and legs, was enough to shake me up good and proper. George had called for help and within minutes more rescuers were on hand. There were enough people on hand now, so I backed off and went back to tell Jacquie and the others what had happened. A little while later we heard, and then saw the medical choppers coming down to take the injured to hospital. George, Dan and Gibb rejoined us a little while later, they had been held up when the police blocked the road for the helicopters to land and take off again. Gibb, probably the biggest guy in our group, was visibly shaken; I went over to him, gave him a big man hug and offered him a cigarette.
“I don’t smoke really, but I think I’ll take one now” he said, extending his quivering hand.
“You did well, mate,” I said, “good job”.
None of us were really in the mood for much riding after that, so we all headed back into Bandera, where the we had a group photo at a gas station before saying our farewells, exchanging e-mails, and going our separate ways.

It was approaching the end of the day, so Jacquie and I decided that we would stay another night in Bandera, and head off on our scenic loop that had so far eluded us along the 335 and 336. We couldn’t think of anywhere we would like to get stuck in than here, so it was no hardship, until we woke the next morning.
The temperature had plummeted to a spine chilling 30 degrees overnight. A 50-degree drop in a little over 12 hours.
Looks like we were stuck again. Neither of us could see much point in going on a scenic ride when the visibility was down to 100 yards, and it was freezing cold.
We decided to have a catch up do, write our diaries, e-mail friends, do some laundry, all the stuff we had been putting off. We had been having too much fun to keep on top of it all, and now was a good time to catch up. We spent most of the day doing our chores; we did some shopping in town and posted our Christmas presents back home from the local Post Office, and had a pretty productive day, and in the midst of it all, we bumped into an intriguing Yorkshireman. Walking into to a shop in the town, we saw “Good morning” to a couple coming out. The “Mornin!” reply came with such a recognisable, and out of place accent, that Jacquie and I both performed a double take.
“You ain’t from round these parts are ya mate?” I said,
“No, Yorkshire me, how’s about you”. Once again, the chat started, as it turned out, our new compatriot, Ian Coates, had been riding his motorbike around the world for some 8 years .His fleece jacket was covered in patches from all over, Guatemala, Argentina, New Zealand, Fiji, Chile, Peru-all the places we were aiming for and more. We all went inside the shop and started gassing about his trip. He was a truly inspiring fellow who didn’t seem to be fazed at all about being out on his own in the wildernesses of far flung places.
He’d thrown rocks at Crocs, laughed at gun toting rebels, and outwitted the corrupt South American police. Again e-mail addresses were swapped, and we split off,
We went to bed fairly early and sat up and watched o movie on the TV in our room. That was a mistake-only in America would they the cut the movie down so they can fit in more ads! We must have spent as much time watching the same ad for “Extenz” the pill that makes you larger AND perform better, than we did watching Will Smith and Martin Lawrence Blow $**t up, the dubbing was another annoyance.