Arriving in Crystal City, the city with a stripper name, comes with a sore bottom. Highway and hardly any curves. If the desert in Big Bend was desolate, it is nothing compared to some of the areas we pass. Just straight highways and nothing else, ever. But we pass a few highlights of course, making the transport journey to the east coast of Texas tolerable. Pecos River High Bridge, over the river with the same name, makes you dizzy.

The J and P Bar n Grill in Comstock is a real local joint serving burgers and a great way to meet more friendly Texans. We had some great over-the-gas-pump chat with the local border patrol in town and regulars at the grill. Even if the area is as desolate as my teen-years fridge, it still is kind of a beautiful landscape. But arriving in Corpus Christi is unreal, to be honest. It is weird to see the ocean and far stretched sandy beaches when riding in Texas, and the place is filled with oil pipes and tanks.

Parking in front of the posh Hilton beachfront hotel gives us some looks from the more appropriate beach-dressed guests in Hawaii shirts and flip-flops. The evening is spent at Doc’s Seafood, one of the must-visit restaurants when in town. Located on a pier next to the JFK bridge, the place is stacked with fun, and seagulls. Below you have a seaside bar, live country music and hungry birds, as well as the occasional pelican, to watch. Above is a great seafood restaurant, even for the picky eater like me.

After a fuzzy night at Doc’s, the room smells like shellfish and a slight rain is annoying the seagulls peeping on me from the balcony. Today we are leaving most of our bags in the room and heading for the beach – but not in flip-flops and hawaii shirts. Almost straight out in the ocean from the sandy beach below my room is Padre Island. Padre is a thin longstretched string of land following the coastline all the way into Mexico. 

Beside being a nature preserve for some parts, it has long sandy beaches pretty much all over the place, and that's where we are going. Coming from Sweden, or pretty much all of northern Europe, where much of our nature and land is protected (rightfully so) from much of motorized impact, to ride freely on a beach like this is both exhilarating and a weird feeling. As we enter the beach area it is filled with pickup trucks, jeeps and all kinds of 4x4 vehicles. Tents, chairs, fishing rods, grills and even trailers are set up. This seems to be the place to spend your day off at. The sand is soft and hard to ride in, but the weather sand is more compact and offers the perfect mix of sturdiness and fun slush. Riding with the ocean on one side, and the sandbanks with palm trees on the other, on a motorcycle made for the occasion is a fantastic feeling. But I can’t get rid of my Swedish guilt knocking in the back of my head.

After enjoying the sand and water a bit too much, and when in Rome, we disembark the bikes and enjoy the water like everyone else. As we enjoy the waves cleaning our now questionable feet-hygene, we suddenly hear a loud “psssssssss”. Dave's front tire decides once again to vent both its feelings and air, as we are deep in the sand. After a McGyver-grade operation we refill the tire and start to make our way back to civilization.

It is clear that Dave’s bike needs some long overdue mechanical love. The valve and some footpegs have taken a beating during the last week in the Old Ore Road, and the road safety is becoming more and more compromised. But Easter and weekends make it easier said than done. Leaving a comrade behind doesn't feel great, but me and Robert need to push on to Beaumont for the next leg and environment of this Texas exploration mission. Like a sad movie, we wave Dave off in the pouring rain in a diner parking lot. We almost hear the sad violins playing as we accelerate onto the highway. But we soon turn our smiley faces on. In a random gas station we suddenly hear:

• Nämen, är ni svenskar? (What, are you guys Swedish?).

A woman exits a pickup truck that rolled up next to us. It might be luck, the Swedish flags on our bags or our typical nordic looks, but we will never know how she guesses it. Turns out she has many relatives in Sweden but immigrated to the US a long time ago.

The next morning is another one of these mindblowing experiences Texas has to offer that you do not expect Texas to offer. A short ride out of Beaumont we find ourselves at the Pine Tree Lodge located along the shore of Taylor Bayou. Suddenly, we are surrounded by bald cypress trees, dressed in the local fashion of Spanish moss, as the Talylor slowly floats by.

Everything is in a lush green hue, birds are chirping and an alligator lurks in the murky water. Yes, you read that right – an alligator. In dusty and dry Texas. But the environment is nor dusty or dry anymore, but wet, humid and almost exotic. Even if we are pretty much as far east as we can get in the state, it is hard to believe it is still the same one. A few days earlier we were in a moon-looking landscape with craters, rattlesnakes, and a deadly desert. Now, we make sure not to dip our fingers too deep in the water as the uncomfortably small boat departures from the dock. The Taylor Bayou is a vibrant habitat full of ecological treasures, and swamp people. Along the shores and on not-industry-standard floating homes, we see the settlements of local inhabitants, but never its citizens. Something our tour guide has failed to do as well. This seems to be the bayou version of Big Bends Ghost town.

After a truly amazing experience we still don’t really believe is in Texas, and impressing the jaw-dropping locals with how swedes eat crayfish (hint, not as gracefully as in Texas), we find ourselves back on the bikes. Heading north towards Nacogdoches we cruise through a now dense forest landscape with small rolling hills and more local churches than we can count. We ride through Big Thicket National Preserve and the Angelina National Forest, and just soaking in the now seemingly European looking landscape. In Lufkin we take a short break for gas, food and buttlocks soothing exercises before continuing the last hour north. 

Arriving in Nacogdoches is as well a special one. Not only because Dave has gotten his bike repaired and stands in front of the hotel with arms wide open and cold beer. But the town, the oldest one in Texas, was established in 1779 and carries some interesting history. The area has been inhabited for at least 10 000 years, but the name, Nacogdoches, comes from the Native American tribe, Nacogdoche. Before its official establishment, both the Spaniards and the French visited the area and the first European construction happened in 1716. The first seed of Nacogdoches came in the 1760s as the French vacated the area after the French – Indian war, which was a part of the larger “Seven Years War” that included most of the European superpowers. The Spaniards left as well after deciding holding the area was too big of a cost, and ordered all their settlers to move to San Antonio. But a stubborn Spanish trader led a group of settlers back to Nacogdoches and established, as they called it, a Pueblo, a permanent settlement, and the rest is history.

Nacogdoches is truly a blast from the past. The inner part of the town displays the older recognizable buildings from the 1800s cowboy era, and the structure of the city itself feels the same. By chance, we stumble over a true gem and an absolute must-visit when in town. The General Mercantile & Old Time String Shop is like stepping through time into any old-time western store from the era. The over 100 year old building also hosts a shop-in-shop for building and repairing acoustic stringed instruments. Since 1978 old time acoustic jam sessions have been hosted on the porch, much like the Starlight Theatre in Big Bend. 

The elderly gentleman, Steve, is gladly sharing stories of both the town and shop as well as being curious about Sweden. Steve tells us an interesting gold nugget of contemporary history where we now stand. Apparently before it was a general store, it was a café and no other than Bonnie Parker used to work there before joining up with Clyde Barrow and forming the infamous Bonnie and Clyde murder duo.

Staying in Nacogdoches for two nights offers a great opportunity for lightweight travel exploration. The Davy Crockett National Forest is our goal for the day. While we make ourselves bike ready, the rain is pouring down Texas-style and thunder lights up the otherwise gray sky. The Davy Crockett offers us a wet experience and a thick layer of slushy clay on the dirt roads. Despite the slippery conditions, we are in adventure riding heaven. Just as with the Taylor Bayou, we are transported to a location that does not resonate with our common view of Texas. The deep, thick and seemingly old forest gives us the impression of a more primordial place. 

Jumping off the bikes, everything is quiet and we imagine dinosaurs roaming among the trees. It is almost mediating in a way that can only be found in deep forests like this – in Texas. After making our way back to Nacogdoches in the constantly increasing downpour, we finally arrive at the hotel. Like wet, newly catched and purring catfish, we squish our way to our rooms, which now fills with the delicate fragrance of wet, old motorcycle boots.

The last day of our journey is a bitter sweet one. We are all a bit bummed out that the trip is soon to be over, and that we will fly away from Texas-Dave who has given us so much cheer and beer joy and great companionship on the road. But also to get some rest from what will be over 2400 miles (3890 kilometers) and probably a few inches shorter. But tearfilled goodbye’s will have to wait, the first mission of today is to get a re-match of the soggy, but fun, road conditions from the day before. 

The Davy Crockett National Forest is, if possible, even more of an experience today when we have some traction on the road, but still that wet glow in the lush forest greens. We are mixing between riding some parts from yesterday and some new found detours in the area. From small dirt roads cherished by the dense trees, to beautiful farmsteads. After feeling satisfied we start the journey home. Trading dirt roads for now paved roads, but keeping away from the highways. 

An hour before reaching Austin, we see a giant black wall of death-clouds coming from the right. I have never seen such a tall and evil looking thunderstorm before. Taking a short break in an anonymous small town, we wonder if it is a hurricane coming, and get answered by stressed people jumping in their cars and lashing down as many loose things as possible. It is time for us to get going as well. Riding alongside this horrific, but also enthralling wall of doom, is an experience itself, will we make it or not?

The answer is a big wet no. About 30 minutes before Dave’s driveway it starts raining like never before. Even Dave, a hardened textbook Texan, raises a wet eyebrow. On a personal experience I do enjoy these events. Not because I enjoy getting completely soaked, but afterwards the light and scenery tends to be spectacular. Something that didn't happen this time, we just continue to get wet and stuck in traffic. 

We can feel the laughter coming from those warm, cozy, and not internally wet American pickup trucks, we stand in traffic jams with. Rolling up to Dave’s driveway feels great. We are wet but not miserable, we are proud and happy. But not as happy as Dave’s dog, Striker. The last two days are spent deeply cleaning both borrowed bikes and personally owned underwear and other garments. But we are not leaving the wonderful Texas without a proper introduction to some real howdy-culture. The last night in the Texashood is first spent in a classic sports bar showing baseball, then at a live concert under the sky listening to country music, with the grand finale in a honky-tonk bar with line dancing.

Now we can leave Texas having the full yee-haw experience in our bags. And, boy did the Lone Star State blow us away in crushing our preconceptions, stereotypes and all. Even if it served them all on an oil barrel, the overall grand Texan-buffé was a treat that we could never imagine the state to offer. From moon-desert to alligators and sandy beaches – in Texas.

Factbox:

Information: Travel Texas offers much information on what to do in the state.
Get to Texas: We flew with Lufthansa via Frankfurt directly to Austin.
Stay at: Lajitas Golf Resort, Marathon Motel & RV Park, Texas Salt Co
Eat at: Steak at Lajitas Golf Resort, spicy Tacos at Casa Agave Cantina y Cocina or Gator Bites and Cajun at Tia Juanita’s Fish Camp, and fish at Doc’s.
Do: Ride in Big Bend, especially the 170 road along the Mexican border. Ride the Twisted Sisters and visit the beach on Padre Island. Go on Alligator safari as well. 
See: The Chisos basin, visit the USS Lexington in Corpus Christi, attend stargazing Marathon Motel & RV Park.
Other: Texas has so much to offer, so take your time to stop and enjoy. And talk to people, they have guns but are very friendly!

Words & Photography: Johan Stahlberg