Aaahhh.....yes....Sanderson it was indeed. The game of dodging deer had become overly dangerous. Beyond anything I've ever seen as we came down through the last canyon run. Add to that some rather cool night-time temps in the teens, and it didn't take long to vote on the Motel for the night.
The next thing that happened was oddly strange...
Monty was working on his bike again....already!
Oh well, I'm gonna rustle up some fine Mountain House grub and hit the shower! Not sure how long he was out there in the cold putting Frankenstein to bed.
Here you can see why we felt safe picking this motel over the others:
No....not the bike. It was all the bullet holes in the sign. We figured there must be armed guards to protect our bikes here. And of course, if Frankenstein didn't survive, we could always return for this fine backup machine for Monty to ride:
It seemed well trained for the harsh mountain exploits of the Chiuahuan desert. And here is the proud owner of said machine, & proprietor of this fine establishment:
If you look hard past him a ways, there is an old KLR hiding under that motorcycle cover. This guy came running out the door when we pulled in....saying "I knew I heard some KLR's coming in...Welcome Welcome!"
He was so busy telling adventurous stories to Monty, that I finally had to lean over and whisper (very quietly)..."you're in a hurry, remember?" Yup, that got him moving again.
Next stop would be the town of Marathon. The last gas stop before entering the Big Bend National Park.
But before I could get there, I found this:
Who knows......?? This was just out there along a crossroad. No sign. No explanation.
Only in Texas!