Journey 3, Day 20: Meanders in Sooner Land

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September 19, 2023, Moriarty- The clerk in the spanking new service station regarded me curiously, as I was putting a lid on the soup bowl I had just filled-“You’re in the right place. If you’re ready, this way please.” She is one of the archetypal personages who show up, whenever I am starting to feel befuddled. There are the cheerful Irish girl or woman with long black hair and a crinkled smile, the concerned Black man or woman who sets me straight-often without saying a word, and the slender, no-nonsense woman or girl with an air of self-confidence. The clerk was one of the latter, her understated message being”You need not doubt yourself. Go forward with confidence”. These archetypal persons are all souls that I seem to have met before.

After checking out of Palace Motel, I crossed the state line into Oklahoma, and saw “Welcome to the Choctaw Nation”. As many are aware, the record of the Federal government, with regard to what is now Oklahoma, is rather shoddy. Native Americans were forcibly removed from their lands in the Southeast, brought to this area and given small segments of what was then viewed as marginal land. Once oil was discovered, there was a land rush and races were held, to see who would grab “newly-opened” parcels of land. The Oklahoma Territory took the western 2/3 of Indian Territory, and the two were again joined, to become the State of Oklahoma, in 1907. It was from the days of the land rush that the term “Sooners”, or claim jumpers, was bestowed upon the citizens of Oklahoma.

I entered the Sooner State fairly early, and drove through Broken Bow, Idabel, Hugo and Durant, before heading northward, towards Atoka. These towns are all in Choctaw jurisdiction, and variously show signs of prosperity and sections that could use some love. The Choctaw seem to have used their resources rather well: Oil and casino resorts draw other enterprises. Atoka, in particular, is making strides to increase its draw as a business location. Along with Durant, it has established the commercial strips common to most regional hubs in North America.

As I began to feel like I was aimlessly meandering, a check of the GPS revealed that I was not all that far from Oklahoma City. It was lunch time, and the Pilot station offered comforting hot soup, along with a chicken sandwich-plenty good enough for a road meal. The above-mentioned clerk summoned me to her station, and conveyed a message of confidence. From there, I spotted a sign directing me towards Ada, a town where Penny and I stayed with friends, while she was recuperating from an illness incurred while traveling, in 1984. I knew that from Ada, it would be an hour or so to Oklahoma City, and relaxed enough to just pull into Atoka City Park, enjoying lunch, while admiring the lake that the city has constructed.

Atoka Lake (above and below)

The sky looked a bit ominous, and I would later hear from a friend elsewhere in Oklahoma, that her area had experienced severe downpours, with thunder and lightning. My drive was briefly interrupted, near Shawnee, when I drove into a speed trap-55 down to 40, in a matter of seconds. I was given an oral warning and sent on my way, no worse for the wear. The officer did not seem to even agree with the posting, but was just another soul-dispatched to make sure I was in a good frame of mind. The weather, save a few sprinkles, near Weatherford (no pun, cosmic, or otherwise), was rather tame.

By dinner time, I was in Amarillo, and so headed to the Fun Zone, Georgia Street to 6th-9th Avenues. There was my pal, Wes, in his convertible, hood down and ready to make anew friend or two. At Smokey Joe’s, we were treated like royalty by a comely young woman named Ella, who brought out a fine basket of Southern style catfish-no hush puppies, but a modest portion of fries and a generous helping of cole slaw. Wes, being shy and retiring, was more concerned with speaking of his business’s progress and sharing pictures of his surrogate grand-niece than with eating. He did make a new friend, so the stop was a success.

I promised both of them that I would drive safely-and kept that promise, arriving here to a rather crowded town, many here for a Gun Show. There was a room for me, at a friend’s establishment, so I am happily ensconced at Lariat Motel.

Lighthouse, Shimmering In The Heat

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June 18, 2019, Amarillo-

I made it a point to stop here today, for two reasons.  One was my old Xanga buddy, Wes, and his ties to the Amarillo that was.  The other was Lighthouse Trail, in Palo Duro State Park.  I always meet the most delightful people, through both Wes and Palo Duro.  Today was no exception.

Texas Tidbits (Wes’ old Xanga moniker) suggested a meet-up at Smokey Joe’s, which I recall as a most delightful spot.  The cutest, and toughest, little lady was our server last time.  Her co-worker, J, was our gracious and ever-attentive hostess, on this fine afternoon.  We sat around for about an hour, while I savoured a Tex-Mex burger, and solved at least some of the issues that plague mankind.

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Now, I could sit in the presence of Wes and the ladies, for hours on end, but my hiking legs would not forgive me for such self-indulgence.  So, I bid pardner adieu and set off for Palo Duro.

Upon arrival, the lovely and friendly ranger pointed out that many folks had been their before me, snapping up all the campsites. No worries here, though.  The main point of my visit was that Light House in the desert, shimmering as it was, in the heat.  I brought enough water to fuel a truckload of cattle, and set off on the six-mile round trip.

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Capitol Peak and an unnamed “human” figure loom in the near distance, before the trail to Light House Rock veers to the right.

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Other magnificent formations grace the way to Light House.

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The first close-up view of the Light House formation, came as I reached the crest of the only real ascent of the hike.

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Here they are, one at a time.

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This shows the actual distance between the two rocks.

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As the first rumblings of a storm were heard, I took this last close-up.

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Whilst I was doing this, another man was contenting himself with climbing a path to the top of the rock on the left.  He spent several minutes there, fortunately getting down, as the skies darkened and racing up the path, to avoid the rain.

As I was walking back, I met a young couple with a dog, and pointed out to them that the storm was getting much closer.  They deiced to head back and stayed with me to the parking area.  E and M are a delightful pair, reminding me of my son and daughter-in-law.  We noted the lushness of the surrounding area, as a sign of the copious rain that the Panhandle has enjoyed this Spring.

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We got back to our cars, just as the rain was intensifying.  No sooner was everyone safely inside the vehicles, than hail started falling-furiously.   Yet, once we got to the park entrance:  Voila!  The sunshine returned.  With no camping site, I drove back to Amarillo, and have a room at Camelot Inn and Suites.

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Yes, another good day was had in the desert!

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