At the beginning of the 1st week of October 2011, I had made what to me, were major investments in the purchase of a riding jacket and rainwear/raingear – quite a few dollars worth.
Keep in mind that at this time I had still not committed myself to nor embarked on a truly solitary long ride.
The exposure to the weather conditions/elements of the 1st memorable long trip with friends to West Texas, had made me realize the importance of appropriate and good riding gear if one was to stay safe, protected and comfortable – at least to enough of a degree so as not to compromise safety. This was in stark difference to what I thought I already knew from my early riding days. Motorcycle riding attire was what only professionals wore. Since I was no pro, I learned to manage and to do without.
Besides, being invincible in those days, I deemed it unnecessary!
So, with the acquisition of my new riding gear I began to dream much more of the open road. Wow! Now I would look like a “really serious rider”. (As if to think there’s truly a mold in which to be cast that description).
This meant now that I had more stuff to carry on the bike.
How was I going to mange all this?
With the challenges of luggage handling that I was forced to endure on that1st trip, my thought process got naturally drawn to how best to take on additional load/gear and how much better I could pack this gear on the bike in a safe and convenient way. How to better balance the weight of luggage for the litany of personal belongings and stuff that I took along on the earlier group trip, how best to secure the luggage for ease of access as and when required, the ease of unpacking/unloading the bike at the end of each day and the time spent for all this activity whilst underway. The traveling bag I had used was just way too big and resulted in over packing. I would need the smallest convenient in order to stuff all this gear into and strap it to the luggage carrier rack on the bike with bungee cords. All this seemed to be simple enough! At least it should have been so. So why the challenges I faced earlier on?
Don’t forget that I had camera equipment as well.
Don’t forget that I had video equipment as well. Perhaps I could just stuff those into the panniers (side bags)!
My mind was running rampant along those lines.
End of story. That was easy enough to figure out! Or was it?
Storage space and locations, where best to keep sunglasses for easy on/off access, lip chap for dehydrated lips from constant exposure to the wind.
The need for ear protection from the noise of the wind rushing by at highway speeds.
(And oh, a toothpick or two to get the bugs out of my teeth from subconsciously having my smiling mouth open so much!)
Oh, weather reports and good travel plans as well.
This thought process was becoming a lot of work! This was a lot of necessary stuff to contend with.
I realized up to this point that I already had a lot of the“tools and skills of life” to be able to pull this off. The resources I thought and knew I needed were mostly all around me. I believe I had the know-how. Where I fell short, I would try to make up by re-educating myself and bringing myself up to the necessary speed.
Throughout this process, I still did not get myself to the point of committing to a trip.
The weakest link in this process ……………………. Was me! I was the cause of my own paralysis.
So I continued to dream and tried to plan.
Come this day of Oct. 8th, 2011 I set out for Bandera, Texas – The cowboy capital of the world!
I’ve always been captivated by stories of the American West.
I remember days when Dad would pile us (my brothers and I) into the car, drive us across town and pick up each one of our best friends at the time, bring us all back home for an evening of ice cream and a Western Movie. (We called them “Cowboy Movies”). Tex Ritter and Hop-a-long Cassidy were my then-favorites. On other nights it was comedies with Charlie Chaplin and Laurel and Hardy. The nostalgia of the old black and white movies still remains with me to this day, characterized by vivid memories of the dry, dusty towns of the west with homes and settlements spreading outwards on either side of Main Street.
Bandera, Texas, 208 miles from home, nicknamed the cowboy capital of the world, seemed a very fitting place of interest for me to try and visit and experience - if I could find the courage to get out there by myself.
On an earlier group ride occasion, we had visited Bandera, TX (See my Texas Hill Country Ride Journal) on our way into the Hill country of Texas from Corpus Christi for a Saturday Ride.
In present day motorcycling culture, Bandera is a very prominent destination and typically over each weekend motorcyclists make the “Bandera Breakfast Run”.
The O.S.T. (Old Spanish Trail) Restaurant on main street is the longest continuously operating restaurant in Texas.
The pancakes are really bigger than your head – and advertised as such!
Their “stack” – an order/serving of 3 pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs and syrup is a meal that will carry you throughout the day easily till dinnertime – if you can finish it!
Bandera was the starting point of the Great Western Cattle Trail and the last staging area for the transportation of cattle to the meat processing centers, particularly Chicago, IL.
I was captivated by the preservation and authenticity of this true cowboy town. I promised myself back then, that I would be back again one day. This was my chance to fulfill that promise to myself.
John Wayne, Gary Cooper, Roy Rogers, Audie Murphy and several other western movie actors hung out here quite a bit in their time. And the O.S.T. Restaurant boasts of lots of memorabilia, autographed photos, posters and the like in their dining area. At the counter, the stools are actually authentic horse saddles. Giving a true feeling and small experience of the old west.
My plan was to get out on the open road for a whole day, miles and miles from home, all by myself and get a feel for this long solitary bike ride.
Looming rain clouds made for an overcast start of the day.
Although cool by South Texas standards, it was very humid. Very much on the uncomfortable side.
About a week earlier my friend Tony had spent an afternoon with me at home, bringing his newly acquired motorcycle tire changing jig and tools and installed my new pair of Avon Storm 2 tires on my bike. These particular tires were billed as one of the best wet-weather riding tires available today on the market. I was anxious to put them to the test. What’s the point in paying good dollars for a product and not using it for what it’s worth? Not really practical.
Subconsciously I was looking to give myself the best chance I could to avoid going down on such a big heavy machine on a wet road.
The memory of all those bicycle skids and near-falls in my childhood days, due to wet patches on the road were still very vivid and haunting.
Nope, no excuses this time. Rain or shine, I had to do this!
So yes, really I had all the “ingredients” I needed to “bake this cake”!
Bike, gas money, jacket, gloves, riding boots, safety helmet, camera gear and desire.
My heart raced. I had butterflies in my stomach. My brain was asking: “Do you really want to do this? Are you sure? You really don’t have to go you know?”
But with the will, desire, passion and curiosity it was something I deeply felt I had to do for myself. I seriously had to find out if I could handle this and whether or not I would enjoy it or not.
Deep within me, I had no doubts. I think the personal challenge was more if I would enjoy this at this stage of my life.
I think my greatest anxieties were being out in the rain 200 miles from home and getting wet, going round a bend and sliding on the wet road and yup, among other things, being hungry and completely out of my comfort zone. I began to realize in my own way, what a creature of comfort I had become. Just thinking of being uncomfortable made me feel uncomfortable.
Believe me, in my teenage years of riding in Ghana, I have been caught out in the rain many times over. Those were never pleasant rides/moments. The rainfall in the tropics is no joke.
So here I was contemplating heading out into possibly rainy weather. In the back of my mind I hoped it would not rain. But I really was curious to see how these new tires would hold up on the wet roads. I needed to experience the level of protection that my rain gear would afford me. I needed to know how the machine would “hold up” in the inclement weather.
I was now determined. I made up my mind. I would do this! I felt confident!
Ever since my bicycling days, I have been very wary of wet roads. The feeling of a “locked up tire” on a wet surface, resulting in a complete loss of traction is enough to convince your brain that there is something absolutely not right with this activity. Talk about a total loss of control!
So with memories of days gone past and going against all my common riding sense from lessons learned in those days, I would head out possibly into rainfall.
So I began to plan my trip. I kept it as simple as I could so as not to complicate matters any more than I needed to. My turn around point would be The Old Spanish Trail Restaurant (O.S.T.) in Bandera, TX. – 208 miles one way!

October 8th, 2011
I remember going to bed the night before. I remember setting my alarm clock to sound at 7:00 a.m. I remember closing my eyes and counting the sheep up in the ceiling. That did not help. I never knew till then how high I could count. Then the alarm went off. I had not slept a wink!
My heart pounding and with butterflies in my stomach, I got out of bed and prepared myself for “the ride”.
A cup of coffee was all that my nervous stomach allowed me to have. No problem, if I got hungry that would be a good and worthwhile thing because there was a “stack of pancakes” with my name on them waiting for me right there in Bandera! All I had to do was go get ‘em.
I seemed to be moving slowly this morning. I think I was apprehensive. Perhaps my natural manifestation of delay tactics.
My wife was up with me as I packed gear on the bike and kissed me farewell with an unmistakable feeling that wished me a safe ride and return home. I patted the Chihuahua on the head and proceeded to the garage. Her big bright eyes and wagging tail also made me know in no uncertain terms that she’d be anticipating my return too.
Punching the starter button on the ST, she purred to life and gradually came up to normal operating temperature.
With heart still pounding, but now more out of excitement and anticipation, I set out and pointed myself in the direction of Pleasanton, Texas - 90 miles along Interstate 37 North.
A straight and uneventful ride along the highway. I cruised at legal speed limits.
I was happy to be out at this time. It was cool, quiet and calm.
Dawn broke so gently and the first rays of sun kissed me in the face and exposed a very broad smile.
The roadside took on a very different look. Everything looked fresh and new and temperature-wise, stood in stark contrast to the typically dry hot days of a Texan fall day.
Although I did not need fuel, I decided to fill up in Pleasanton. The ST1100 has a fuel tank capacity of 7.4 US gallons (28 L) and with my style of riding, gives me about 320 miles (514 km) of range on a full tank of gas (petrol).
I took exit 104 off the interstate and pulled into the Kuntry Korner Station. The bike took on a little over a gallon of gas. Hmm, not bad! Just shy of an hour and a quarter on the road.
Staying on the access road as I left the station, I made a left turn on Leal Road, branched right onto highway 281 north, a left on highway 97 and a quick right onto highway 173) and headed towards Hondo, Texas and then on to Bandera.
I was alone on the road. I did not realize it. I was too busy “taking in” the countryside. It was a lovely feeling.
Open fields, wide-open spaces.
The ST was cruising at a sedate 75 m.p.h. So smooth a machine she is, I could not hear the engine but the slightest twist of the throttle let me know that she was still alive!
I had the whole road to myself. I was king! The road surface was smooth. No bumps, no potholes, no ripples. Just pure smooth Texan asphalt. The kind you find nowhere else! The road lay ahead of me in a straight line, right to the vanishing point. It was blissful.
Mesquite trees on either side of the road hid roadside entrances to ranches and properties. I went through a few crossroads as I came upon some of the small settlements along the way after which I was back in open countryside again. The roads were getting a little hilly. I could see that I was going up in elevation.
Truly lovely countryside. Very pleasing to the eye, if you have developed an interest for natural surroundings.
Pit pat, pit pat.
Was that the sound of raindrops on my visor?
Looking ahead, I could see rain clouds gathering.
I was 16 miles (a little more than 25 km) from Bandera.

Pulling over, I decided to “suit up” before potentially getting rained on. So I suited up at the side of the road as I looked ahead to the ever-gathering clouds.
I had no doubts it would be very heavy rainfall. I began to think of turning back at this point.
How funny that sounded to me. I had come this far, more than likely I would get caught in the rain on my way back and besides, I was now “dressed for the part”. I continued my journey with my newly found protection and confidence.
A couple of minutes further along, it was now unmistakable. I could see rainfall ahead of me.
I stopped again to take a check of myself hoping that I had not overlooked any preparation for getting caught in rain. All seemed okay. I headed into it!

My mind drifted back to my riding days in Ghana.
All the years of riding without “gear”.
Jackets, gloves, appropriate riding boots/shoes, riding pants etc.
All the times I had been caught out in the rain, where the only recourse was to find a place to shelter and “ride out the storm”.
This present condition was completely contrary to all that I had been accustomed to in the interest of safety, in those times!
As I suited up, I felt like a fish out of water! But this is what this trip was primarily about. Checking/testing out this new gear and finding out how it might or would affect my attitude.
After all, I made it through without all this stuff for years. I had tasted the freedom of being in contact with the elements, the elements that stimulated all my senses
It was a heavy downpour. Visibility was still good. I pushed on.
Feet, still dry. Seat of my pants, still dry. Arms and torso, still dry. Neck and face, still dry. Bike, wet!
All in good shape.
I applied the brakes on the ST very gingerly.
Good traction.
The bike slowed promptly whilst still tracking straight ahead and upright.
Amazing!
For a 700-pound (318 kg.) machine, it was impressively reassuring.
For a brief second or two, I anticipated a rear wheel lock-up and or a front wheel loss of traction in these wet conditions - a life-long riding concern to date.
Speeding up, I tried it again to make sure that I had just not been lucky at that attempt. I grabbed the brakes again, this time more aggressively – same result.
My confidence level rose.
Now I began to anticipate my pancake breakfast! I was ready for it.
I twisted the throttle and brought the ST up to 75 m.p.h. She remained rock-steady on the wet road, as if glued to the asphalt. The tires were living up to their hype.
Just as I began to get into the groove of my rain ride, finding my comfort zone, I arrived at the Bandera city limit and had to tamp down my speed to the legal city limit speed just before I made it to the first set of traffic lights.
The O.S.T. sat just “caddy corner” to the lights.
Making a left turn at the lights, I found a decent parking spot.
I took off my gear under the awning before I headed indoors for breakfast. I was hungry.
The pancake was good. Ordering and not being able to finish “the stack” was not a good idea. Mum taught me to always ask for only what you want. “Want not, waste not” she always says (even to this day). I settled for a single one – which I barely finished. It was more than enough. It was good. I left a decent tip for the waitress who had been very attentive with her service to me. She encouraged me to stay in town till 1 p.m. to experience a weekly re-enactment of an old cowboy gunfight on main street which was performed every week. That was icing on the cake for me on this trip.
Why not?
After all, a cowboy town without a cowboy fight in the middle of main street is unheard of. I cannot recall any cowboy movie without such a scene. Can you?
All was well.
I decided to stay and watch. The bad guy ended up getting put in jail and this good boy had to mount up on his iron horse and get out of town.


It was still threatening to rain as I decided to head back home. So I suited up and turned myself back along the same route I came. 5 miles (8km) outside of town the rain began to fall.
With the new confidence I had found this morning, it was an exhilarating ride back home. No other vehicles on the road, lots of rain, lots more confidence, my good handling bike, great road condition/surface and me.
As I got back onto the interstate system, I happened to glance at my speedometer and decided to slow way down. Needless to mention I was traveling much faster than I realized. I really did not need to be running at such speed.
The conditions did not phase the ST one single bit. She held her own. She was definitely up to the challenge of the conditions. She was handling it effortlessly!
It rained hard. It rained all the way till I was about 12 miles from home, by which time I was already well within the Corpus Christi city limits.
It was close to 5:00 p.m. when I arrived home.
A big smile on my face. I think I must have smiled the whole of that week. (Even as I edit this journal, I’m still smiling.)
I felt as though nothing could upset me. My soul had soared to another level of excitement.
I enjoyed my own company.
I enjoyed the solitude of the ride.
I enjoyed the breakfast.
I enjoyed the ride in the rain. It was a brand new experience in a completely different part of the world, under completely different conditions.
I enjoyed the fact that my gear kept me dry.
I enjoyed the capability of my machine under these conditions. She was rock solid and stable! She had been my only companion. The performance she delivered was way above my expectations. Like nothing I had ever experienced before on a motorcycle.
Now in the wildest of my riding dreams, I relished the fact that I had, all by myself, “found the courage to lose sight of land”.
On this day I traveled 516 miles (830 km).
I was thrilled.
I gave myself a passing grade!
I passed my litmus test!
My life as a “Long Rider” had undeniably started.