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Evenin' Campers!
It's Silver Cliche' here with you again. This time from Palo Duro
Canyon State Park in Canyon, Texas.
“Silver Cliche',
Where is Canyon, Texas?”, I hear you ask. Well, remember yesterday
we were talking about the panhandle of Texas… the part you'd grab
if there was a box full of Texases all lined up and you wanted to
grab one to throw on the grill… right? In that nicely trimmed
rectangle of land (it's a Texas sized rectangle) there is only one
city you've ever heard of – Amarillo. Amarillo is nearly in the
center of that rectangle… actually just a touch to the left of dead
center. Canyon is south of there about 15 or 20 miles.
Our trip today was
uneventful, unremarkable and essentially unmemorable. I know you
think I'm being hard on North Texas, and perhaps I am. There were a
few memorable moments. First, we were hoping to stalk and photograph
the wiley Road Runner which had been see in Copper Breaks State Park.
We drove around a while and... nothing. So we headed out and while
leaving the park saw…
Not a bad catch. We
tried to call him closer… “Beep Beep!”… “Beep Beep!”. No
luck. We used an “Acme Bird Attracter” to lure him in. Nada. In
fact, an anvil came out of the sky and made a hole in the ground next
to us the size and shape of an anvil (I'm thinking it went clear
through and came up in China where it knocked someone out). So, all
we got was that one pic.
We moved on. Zero
interstate time today! We moseyed through small towns of North Texas.
Stopped for gas and set the GPS to the Red Barn Cafe (or something
like that. We don't have internet here tonight, so I can't do my
usual, thorough “fact checking” on any of this stuff…) in
Memphis, Texas population 2,000 +/-. TripAdvisor said it would be
good. So after looking over the lunch buffet and considering the
menu, we had a split decision. I went for the buffet. Mrs. C' ordered
a club sandwich. I figured “how long could a club sandwich take to
make” so I asked Mrs. C' if she minded if I attacked the buffet bar
while the chef prepared her sandwich. She was good with that. I
approached the line and knew what I was going for. You may have
concluded by now that I like to “eat local” with the exception of
any time I'm in the Rocky Mountains (as you may recall). Here in
North Texas, the most “local” thing going was right there on the
buffet… chicken fried steak! I took a heaping serving along with
spinach and mashed potatoes and a side plate of salad. I headed back
to the table. Mrs. C' took one look at what I had done and said
“You're not going to eat that, are you?” I anticipated her
reaction, had the camera ready and caught the moment to share with
you:
I recognize that
look as a blend of disapproval and disbelief. Of course, I've earned
both of those responses simultaneously often enough in nearly 34
years of marriage to know instantly what I've unleashed. I willingly
share that hard earned knowledge with you.
But, eat it I did.
When I first sawed open the chicken fried steak (after slashing
through the white gravy which I had liberally slathered on the
aforementioned steak) I cut into the entree itself and exposed the
core. I though Mrs. C' was going to scream with horrified surprise.
Instead, she uttered “It's brown inside!”. I said “Of course…
its steak.” she shot back “I thought it was fried chicken”.
“No” I said “It's chicken fried steak. That means it
started as a steak (in this case, cubed steak) which they battered
and fried just like the Colonel in Kentucky has done for decades with
chicken pieces. Chicken-fried steak.” By then it was too
late. The damage had been done to both my reputation and that of the
Red Barn Cafe in Memphis, Texas. We ate our lunches (here's a pic on
mine in “mid-eat”):
Then we got the dogs
and two ice cream bars out of the trailer, piled into the truck and
continued to head toward Amarillo.
Now, Mrs. C' and I
consider ourselves to be pretty seasoned travelers. We might easily
have 1,000,000 driving miles between us, We've driven in at least 45
states. I can say with complete certainty that the Texas Panhandle
has the flattest, most featureless terrain I have ever driven on. We
went for miles and mile without seeing anything except road, fence
posts, phone poles and distant power lines (big ones). There were
occasional herds of cattle of every variety. There were Angus,
Longhorns and Brahmas all mixed together in celebrations of cattle
diversity. What there was not was indication of human settlement and
civilization. There are not even oil pumps or wind farms out here.
And in middle America, that's forgotten. It was so desolate that I
expected the “Pass with Care” signs to end and be replaced with
“Drive in either lane… it really doesn't matter”. Along the way
on US 287 there were numerous dirt or gravel crossroads. These were
generally unmarked and led to absolutely nowhere… they headed
straight off and eventually disappeared over a slight rise. I still
believe that deep space is the closest thing in the universe to a
place that is totally empty. The Texas Panhandle is second. I'm sure
you think I'm exaggerating. I knew you would. I can feel the
skepticism radiating back at me through the internet. Ok, smart guy
(or gal… you can read that sentence with the appropriate choice for
yourself using the gender with which you identify. This is America
2016 and the law in many states requires me to offer you that choice)
I now present you with “the Silver Cliche' Driving Experience”.
This is a three picture panel snapped in rapid succession on a
typical stretch of US 287 in North Texas somewhere outside of
Amarillo. If you look at the center of the pic then shift your head
rapidly to the left then to the right you will see what Mrs. C' and I
saw for endless hours today. I'd recommend that you stare at this
picture for about 2 hours or until the need for a bathroom break
makes you stop. That's what Mrs. C' and I did. I'll wait… yawn…
stretch… snore… there, now do you believe me?
Ok so by about 3:00
we pulled into the park and checked in for our campsite. Palo Duro is
remarkable for many reasons, not the least of which is that within
the barren landscape I just shared with you suddenly a huge gulf
appears. Palo Duro is called “the Grand Canyon of Texas” by
Texans. I understand that the people at The Grand Canyon (where we
will be in 10 days) when told of that said “Huh?”. The canyon
itself is about 800' deep from rim to bottom. The campsites are on
the canyon floor (try doing that at the Grand Canyon… a 5,000'
descent from the camp office to the campsite!). We arrived at our
campsite and set up. We fed and walked the dogs, and I headed out to
take some pics. After that, I made dinner (grilled sweet potatoes,
grilled cheeseburgers and petite peas) and settled in to write and
edit pics. It's an impressive landscape and one to warm us up for
what's ahead. The campground has roaming wild turkeys including this
old guy and a youngster he seemed to be pursuing. Mrs. C' said leave
it to one old turkey to read the mind of another. Lucky for her I had already cooked and served her meal before hearing that.
So, I leave you
tonight with the panorama of the day (no, the “driving experience”
wasn't it). A view of some cliffs of the canyon taken from a spot
just above our campsite. From where I am sitting now in my recliner
in the trailer I can see the tallest point just to the right of the
middle of this pic):
Good night, Campers.
Tomorrow night from Santa Rosa Lake, New Mexico… the land of
enchantment. Texas has been nice (and finally, dry) but I'm ready to
be enchanted.
SC'
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