Highway 105 was busy but the shoulder wide enough to accommodate us without any worries.
2 hours into Brenham. Ken had a burst tyre just before so had to swap it for a new one.
There have been plenty of towns which have a downtown that singnifies it's had a heyday in years past, sometimes there is now absolutely nothing of note left, or more often businesses (fast food restaurants) have situated around the outskirts, leaving the town centre deserted and leaving it void of all character. Brenham was totally different as it seems to have maintained a really pleasant individuality to it's downtown area. A great little Czech bakery and a choice of lunch spots and COFFEE.
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| A lady flagged us down to give us supplies |
We enjoy it a little too comfortably and hang around for two hours.
Joining Highway 290 our luck turns bad and the debris in the shoulder causes Ken to puncture. Then again. Then my turn.
We reach Giddings, admit defeat and decide not to try and push the remaining 20 miles to the State Park. Instead we stop to search for somewhere to spend the night. There's no campground and after failing to find a fire station (they normally allow cyclists camp overnight in the yard) we decide to pop into ask a copper. I've heard instances of police being less that welcoming to cyclists doing this, but as this is a small town we figured we could get a friendlier response, and we sure did.
Sarge Landis Lehmann racked his brains, made a few calls and came up trumps with a empty showground and rodeo arena a few miles out of town. We head out, through the fence, dump our stuff off under the big arena canopy and get a Chinese in town.
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