I do not usually drive the RV. I would in a pinch, but I prefer navigating, or enjoying the scenery, to wrestling against the buffeting forces of semi’s passing you at top speed, or the stress of anticipating who is going to try and squeeze past you on the right as the passing lanes merge into one. There is one place I don’t mind getting behind the wheel, West Texas. Long, straight highways, little traffic, no crossing lanes with people pulling out and cutting you off. My kind of roads. After several days of enjoying the sights of San Antonio we were facing several days of travel. When you live and tour in an RV you have these kinds of days, getting from point A to Point B, no sightseeing, just driving. The scenery is always different depending on where you are. Miles of farmland, fields, barns and silos, the undulating grasses of the prairie, majestic mountain passes. It is a big, beautiful country. West Texas is no different.
Leaving San Antonio it was is still cold, but the rain had finally stopped and the sun was out. It is 600 miles to Las Cruces, our next major stop. That is two days driving for us and the choices for stopping are few and far between: Ft. Stockton or Van Horn. Van Horn is 311 miles, which is longer than we like so we call the Ft. Stockton KOA and make sure the are not full (highly unlikely, but we like to check) and settle in for the drive.
Heading west the rolling, populated hills of the suburbs turn into flat desert, high mesas, cactus and scrub brush. Although the scenery is pretty, there’s not much to actually see. We are running parallel to the rail tracks, so occasionally we overtake a miles long freight train and try and guess how many cars there are. Just before Fort Stockton we see hundreds of windmills spinning atop a mesa, which made for a pretty impressive sight.
We pulled into the the Ft. Stockton campground around two thirty and got settled because Hubby wanted to watch the football playoffs. I thought about driving into town just to take a look at their statue of the world’s largest roadrunner. That meant unhitching the car, which I decided not to do, and instead wandered around the campground taking some photos of the very western scenery. Even the dog walk screamed Texas. The fellow in the camper next to us noticed we had satellite and offered to supply the beer if he could join us in watching the game. So the travel day ended with football, Coronas, and a new friend. Life can be good on the red roads, even on a travel day.