Goin’ South

"Lady love an outlaw like a little boy love a stray dog." — Henry Moon

With the impending ice & snow event moving towards us from the west, we decided to head southward and possibly get below the sleet/freezing-rain line.  The skies were the blue-grey that I remember from my childhood—signifying that there would probably be no school tomorrow.  We hit the road, and made our way towards Dallas/Fort Worth—with Kristy keeping a watchful eye on the ever-changing forecast.  In addition to being navigator and meteorologist intern, she would also be serving as housing coordinator; as we had not figured out where we would eventually park The Rig today.

The roads to Dallas were straight & dry & FAST!  It seemed like everyone was in a hurry to get to Dallas in time for afternoon traffic.  The Navigator charted a course that took us around the city, but a major accident left us with the option of admiring the graffiti on the underpass where we were sitting, or take a nearby freeway through the city.  

"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread." - Alexander Pope

Not knowing how much worse the traffic would get as the day progressed; and not wanting to spend the night in Dallas—we took the more scenic route that bisected the city.  Surprisingly enough, the route was not as bad as I thought it would be, and the eco-friendly micro-mobiles seemed to respect the 23,000-lbs of rolling inexperience that would occasionally crowd their lane.  We popped out the bottom side of Dallas and were now trying to decide where would be a good place to set-up camp.

We weren’t sure how far south we’d need to travel to stay out of the ice; and the forecasts were now calling for “inches” of ice followed by a snow event…but they still couldn’t say just where that event would turn into all-purpose rain.  A perfect storm of incompetence and indecisiveness was brewing across the airwaves; with “weather professionals” elaborating on the many possible variations and outcomes associated with the “arctic front” from the north and the “increasing moisture” from the west.  A long diatribe of “ifs” and “buts” ended in the generally agreed forecast of, “we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

Genius.  If only I could make a living being a “let’s-wait-and-see fortune-teller.”

The next conundrum facing us was the bed-down location.  Of the very few RV parks that were open, they were either unable to handle the length of our rig, or they were quite a ways off interstate on some questionable roads.  Questionable…as if the ice storm does come this far south, we didn’t want to get stuck in an area where the roads will not be cleared for several days.  We really needed to know where that freezing rain line was going to be!!!

With a paucity of RV sites to choose from, we moved into Plan B.2.  This was new territory for us, as we were now considering an option that we’d not remotely thought of before: parking The Rig and getting a hotel room.  This did not come without it’s own set of micro-complications.  The first was (again) “where.”  We found ourselves guessing as to where the freezing rain line would end.  Since we had as much clue as the weather experts, we just made a worst-case assumption that we would encounter the ice & snow.  That didn’t help us decide the "where," but it was one less thing to worry about.

The second issue was what hotel to use.  La Quinta—with is Spanish for “The Quinta”— is a pet-friendly establishment that has nice rooms and a complementary breakfast.  We utilized them while traveling from Seattle to Virginia a year earlier and really liked their chain.  If at all possible, we’d prefer to stay with them.   

Then came the final two issues: how much further to drive, and finding one that will accommodate 56’ of RV in their parking lot.  The “how far to drive” was potentially a big deal, as we figured that business travelers and vacationers heading towards DFW may decide to get a room for the night and see how the weather plays out.  If we drove further (and later in the day) and waited to get a room, the availability may quickly decrease.  

The access into the hotel parking lot was kind of an issue (at least for me), as I worried not so much about getting into the parking lot, but getting turned around and being able to leave.  Again, Kristy was pulling up satellite images of potential La Quinta hotels to determine if we had enough turning radius to navigate 50+ feet of our stuff.

When all was said and done, we decided to exit the road earlier than later, and get a room while the getting was good.  Halfway between Dallas and Waco is the small interstate town of Hillsboro, Texas.  The hotel was a half-block off the interstate, and we arrived early enough to turn The Rig around the mostly empty parking lot; leaving it pointing towards the exit at the far end of the lot.  The staff was very accommodating in allowing us to take up several spaces in the absence of an existing RV parking area.  We settled in, and did something we hadn’t done since we started this trip…watch hours cable TV!

"You have chosen...wisely” — Grail Knight from Raiders of the Lost Ark

Our expectations that we’d experience the ice held true.  The assumptions that travelers en route to Dallas would seek shelter and ride out the storm further south held true.  The hotel filled to capacity within a few hours of our arrival.  Travelers arriving later waited in the lobby to see if existing reservations would cancel and free-up a room for them.  The ice hit Dallas with a vengeance.  We watched cable TV for hours as they covered The Great Ice Storm of 2015.  Tractor-trailers were doing 180’s on the interstate.  Cars would attempt to drive up the “High-5”—a five level interstate interchange—only to lose traction and stop (or keep spinning and run into the concrete walls).  Four-wheel drive trucks would easily navigate to the top of these interchanges, only to "luge" out-of-control as they began their decent.  It was some of the best television we had watched in 5-years (overt AFN reference).

Another unexpected benefit from this unscheduled lay-over was the availability of familiar and authentic Texan vittles.  Across the street from our lodging was the El Conquistador restaurant--voted  Trip Advisor's Top-14 of all restaurants in Hillsboro, Texas.  We were surprised at that ranking, but when we saw the culinary competition that ranked higher than them, (#2 Braums; #4 Schlotzsky's; #6 Starbucks; #7 Pizza Hut; #11 IHOP; and #12 Whataburger), we think that ranking is pretty accurate.

Across the parking lot is another Texas-style grub-stop—The Original Fried Pie Shop—co-located inside the corner Exxon station.  This place has every imaginable type of filling that can be crammed into a fried, rectangular pastry shell.  Kristy and I have not been lifelong fried pie consumers; however, prior to leaving Virginia we were treated to dinner at our friends home where homemade fried pies rounded-out an authentic Southern-style dinner.  It was at this dinner that we learned that sometimes these pies are called "grieving pies," as they appear in large numbers at the home of the recently deceased (via caring friends and relatives).  If you're from one of these localized areas, engorging on fried pies is a much more somber event.  (Thanks Kristen!)

Professional presentation of the plethora of pabulum-packed pastries, provisionally preserved in protective parchment paper.

After spending 48-hours in a room with two dogs and a hotel full of anxious travelers, we decided to head out.  With the weather forecast less than positive, our options were limited.  The roads south of us were fairly clear, with only an occasional patch of "black ice" on overpasses.  Although not part of our original plans, we headed where the weather was warmer and the surrounding familiar.  We were "Goin' South" to Texas Hill Country.

wWw