I was up and out of the park by 8am, after a short jaunt up the "Devil's Ink Well" sinkhole on my way out the park. The short trails around these impressive sinkholes of gypsum soil were the only hiking trails around, and after the first one I was ready to move on. I had a long drive ahead of me across some of the most boring, most depressing terrain in the US: the Permian Basin.
The grey clouds had still lingered over us as we traversed east on Highway 380 now, which for miles would lead straight east with no towns, no curves, no hills. There was hardly any vegetation now, as cattle gave way to oil jacks and mesquites gave way to barren, dry land. The only signs of life here were dead things: a dead coyote, a dead rabbit, and the hungry turkey vultures that flew overhead looking for their next meal.
Yet in all barren things is a ray of hope. The sky turned blue as I crossed the Texas state line near Tatum. The heat came back as well, as the59F slowly warmed back into the 60s and early 70s. The towns along Hwy 380 were all small cowtowns with no signs of human life: abandoned adobe buildings, collapsed barns, rusty vehicles on the main road. I didn't see a decent place to pull over for breakfast or to even get a cup of coffee so I drove on. Cotton was now king as the local talk radio station out of Lubbock discussed the dropping prices of cotton, wheat and rice before Rush Limbaugh came on to rant about the latest demonic lie by Nancy Pelosi.
I wanted to stop in Post, TX, home of the Post Cereal brand. I had driven through that town in January 2008 and liked what I saw. Today, however it was different. Funny how a bright day can dampen the most deserted of towns. The only restaurant was a small cafe at a street corner, full of full-sized pickups. Auto shops and closed art shops were all that were available in town. I slowed down to take a few photos but I didn't stop to stretch my legs. I still had too far to go.
I remembered this part of US 380 from the time I visited an old Army and hiking friend, MarkB, in Lubbock in early 2008. We had hiked Caprock and Palo Duro State Parks nearby and I liked the area. I even liked US 380, but today it seemed duller and more fatiguing, despite the green grass and reddish soil. The land appeared flatter than I remember it, too.
But in cases like this when the terrain gets hypnotic rather than inspiring, it's the smaller things that make me still appreciate the land: at the bridge across the South Fork of the Brazos River we spotted flocks of swallows nesting, spooking Sadie and me and warning us to stay away from their nests. The nests were like crowded apartments: one right next to the other.
The Brazos was barely flowing, yet wildflowers abounded: Indian Paintbrush, Blanket flowers, yellow daisies...the color scheme was refreshing.
I made it to Haskell by 4:30pm where I stopped near the courthouse and called Erin, then Kevin, who proudly informed me of how happy the two dogs were without Sadie around. "They are like the old dogs" he commented, referring to Sara and Sammy before Sadie came along last June. "They are an hour away from getting their steaks!" he added. The dogs know that Kevin is the cook in the family, and a pretty good one at that. He also updated me on the latest tomatoes and peppers coming up in the garden.
The Haskell courthouse square was framed with mature pecan trees. This town smelled so unlike the other towns on this trip sofar. These were also the first pecans I've seen on this trip.
The grey clouds had still lingered over us as we traversed east on Highway 380 now, which for miles would lead straight east with no towns, no curves, no hills. There was hardly any vegetation now, as cattle gave way to oil jacks and mesquites gave way to barren, dry land. The only signs of life here were dead things: a dead coyote, a dead rabbit, and the hungry turkey vultures that flew overhead looking for their next meal.
Yet in all barren things is a ray of hope. The sky turned blue as I crossed the Texas state line near Tatum. The heat came back as well, as the59F slowly warmed back into the 60s and early 70s. The towns along Hwy 380 were all small cowtowns with no signs of human life: abandoned adobe buildings, collapsed barns, rusty vehicles on the main road. I didn't see a decent place to pull over for breakfast or to even get a cup of coffee so I drove on. Cotton was now king as the local talk radio station out of Lubbock discussed the dropping prices of cotton, wheat and rice before Rush Limbaugh came on to rant about the latest demonic lie by Nancy Pelosi.
I wanted to stop in Post, TX, home of the Post Cereal brand. I had driven through that town in January 2008 and liked what I saw. Today, however it was different. Funny how a bright day can dampen the most deserted of towns. The only restaurant was a small cafe at a street corner, full of full-sized pickups. Auto shops and closed art shops were all that were available in town. I slowed down to take a few photos but I didn't stop to stretch my legs. I still had too far to go.
I remembered this part of US 380 from the time I visited an old Army and hiking friend, MarkB, in Lubbock in early 2008. We had hiked Caprock and Palo Duro State Parks nearby and I liked the area. I even liked US 380, but today it seemed duller and more fatiguing, despite the green grass and reddish soil. The land appeared flatter than I remember it, too.
But in cases like this when the terrain gets hypnotic rather than inspiring, it's the smaller things that make me still appreciate the land: at the bridge across the South Fork of the Brazos River we spotted flocks of swallows nesting, spooking Sadie and me and warning us to stay away from their nests. The nests were like crowded apartments: one right next to the other.
The Brazos was barely flowing, yet wildflowers abounded: Indian Paintbrush, Blanket flowers, yellow daisies...the color scheme was refreshing.
I made it to Haskell by 4:30pm where I stopped near the courthouse and called Erin, then Kevin, who proudly informed me of how happy the two dogs were without Sadie around. "They are like the old dogs" he commented, referring to Sara and Sammy before Sadie came along last June. "They are an hour away from getting their steaks!" he added. The dogs know that Kevin is the cook in the family, and a pretty good one at that. He also updated me on the latest tomatoes and peppers coming up in the garden.
The Haskell courthouse square was framed with mature pecan trees. This town smelled so unlike the other towns on this trip sofar. These were also the first pecans I've seen on this trip.
All the courthouse square businesses were closed and no one was in town. What to do, besides go north on US 277 toward Wichita Falls and Oklahoma? I had never been to W-Falls and wanted to check it out. Perhaps it had a decent Mexican restaurant downtown like Amarillo?
No such luck. The town was dead before I got there. The one decent part seemed to be the old depot but no one was around again. The town still remains a cattle-driving town as there wasn't much else to see or do. I quickly got back on the highway and headed north.
Lawton and Fort Sill weren't too far into the nondescript border. I didn't even notice I was in OK until I saw the byway signs. No special greeting welcomed me into the "Native American" state, although the grass seemed greener as soon as I got into the state. Hills became a bit more pronounced and 24 miles south of Lawton I could see the skyline of the Wichita Mountains, the only highlands in this part of the state. Its peaks were roundtops, indicating old, eroded peaks of eras long ago.
I got to Fort Sill, my destination for the night, with two hours to spare. No Welcome Center showed me the main roads, but as soon as I got on post I parked the van along a paved jogging trail. Sadie and I power-walked the three-mile loop just to get some exercise. We had driven more than expected today and didn't do much else: I clocked in 520 miles, a good 100 more than I would have preferred. The walk felt good.
The walk was around a nature meadow full of wildflowers. More swallows, jays, and a few other birds flittered about. I saw my first robin in the meadow, and later my first red-wing blackbird, icons of the Great Plains and Midwest. Other people were also taking advantage of the trail, but I was the only one walking counter-clockwise.
I had never been to Fort Sill before. What I saw impressed me. It's not a big post but there is a lot of history here. It is at Fort Sill that many Chiricahua Apaches were held prisoner of war; Geronimo died here in 1919 and is buried on post, but not at the Old Cemetery. Oddly enough, the Wichita mountains look vaguely like the Dragoons with their granite crags, only lower in elevation and studded with oaks instead of mesquites.
I drove around while there was still daylight, to familiarize myself with the PX, shower, food spots. We ate dinner at the Burger King: I had two spicy chicken strips and Sadie had a Whopper Junior. (Note: leave off the condiments!)
It was after 10pm before I settled down for the night, outside the Lodging office off Fergusson Road. We were under the shadows of an oak tree and went to sleep right away.
No such luck. The town was dead before I got there. The one decent part seemed to be the old depot but no one was around again. The town still remains a cattle-driving town as there wasn't much else to see or do. I quickly got back on the highway and headed north.
Lawton and Fort Sill weren't too far into the nondescript border. I didn't even notice I was in OK until I saw the byway signs. No special greeting welcomed me into the "Native American" state, although the grass seemed greener as soon as I got into the state. Hills became a bit more pronounced and 24 miles south of Lawton I could see the skyline of the Wichita Mountains, the only highlands in this part of the state. Its peaks were roundtops, indicating old, eroded peaks of eras long ago.
I got to Fort Sill, my destination for the night, with two hours to spare. No Welcome Center showed me the main roads, but as soon as I got on post I parked the van along a paved jogging trail. Sadie and I power-walked the three-mile loop just to get some exercise. We had driven more than expected today and didn't do much else: I clocked in 520 miles, a good 100 more than I would have preferred. The walk felt good.
The walk was around a nature meadow full of wildflowers. More swallows, jays, and a few other birds flittered about. I saw my first robin in the meadow, and later my first red-wing blackbird, icons of the Great Plains and Midwest. Other people were also taking advantage of the trail, but I was the only one walking counter-clockwise.
I had never been to Fort Sill before. What I saw impressed me. It's not a big post but there is a lot of history here. It is at Fort Sill that many Chiricahua Apaches were held prisoner of war; Geronimo died here in 1919 and is buried on post, but not at the Old Cemetery. Oddly enough, the Wichita mountains look vaguely like the Dragoons with their granite crags, only lower in elevation and studded with oaks instead of mesquites.
I drove around while there was still daylight, to familiarize myself with the PX, shower, food spots. We ate dinner at the Burger King: I had two spicy chicken strips and Sadie had a Whopper Junior. (Note: leave off the condiments!)
It was after 10pm before I settled down for the night, outside the Lodging office off Fergusson Road. We were under the shadows of an oak tree and went to sleep right away.
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