Evening, Campers! It's Silver Cliche' with you again and once again tonight from the US Army Corps of Engineers campground known as Supply Park on the shores of Fort Supply Lake near Fort Supply, Oklahoma.
Today was a day off the road, but not a "day off". Sometimes we try to have a relaxing day when we are not in motion, but once in a while we are overtaken by deferred chores. Today was one of those days. The most seriously deferred chore was grooming the antique Wheaten Terrier who has made every trip since we got the Airstream. Kailey is 18 now and showing every bit of her 126 dog years. Wheatens are "hair dogs" and need grooming. However, given her advanced age, the fact that she has acclimated to Florida since her retirement there in 2013 and the cold weather we anticipated (and saw) in Arizona, Utah and Colorado, we let the hair grow as a protection from the cold. Now we are back down to where the air is thick and warm, it was time to remove the hair. Neither she, nor I were amused by the process. Judging by her appearance now, and reflecting on my experience administering my own hair cuts I think it is wise that I did not choose to pursue hair cutting as a profession.
The other major chore of the day was laundry. We packed heavily for this trip including every pair of unmentionables and socks we each own. To stretch things out I even operate a "dry laundry" to the complete chagrin of Mrs. C'. If you are not familiar with the process, ask the male who you know who has most recently graduated from college and who did not live at home for those four years. The core concept is that a garment, once worn will become more wearable if left I disturbed for a long enough period of time. This is especially useful for Hawaiian shirts provided there is a closet in which to hang them. Following college graduation, most men no longer use the traditional "pile/invert/reuse" method, especially if there is a woman in their life to shame them for ever considering the practice. Today was laundry day.
To do laundry we left the shores of Fort Supply Lake and headed into the county seat - Woodward, Oklahoma - 12 miles away. Woodward is a city of 12,000 population. Here in these parts that ranks it as the largest community in a 9 county area (I told you this place is sparsely populated. When you next hear some wag talk about the global population crisis and how we are running out of land and resources just say to yourself "There's room in Oklahoma..."). While there we did a bit of shopping and at lunchtime we turned again to... class?... anyone?... that's right Bueller, TripAdvisor for guidance on a lunch spot. It wasn't promising, but we picked a "local institution", the Poly Anna Cafe on Main Street. I'm not sure what had more character, the Formica topped table we sat at that literally had the pattern worn off it from God only knows how many years of plates and coffee cups being slid across it or the stream of customers who flowed in and out. The regulars had either blue denim bib overalls (yes, even the ones in their 60s and 70s) or starched denim jeans held up with a belt that was capped by a silver buckle the size of a salad plate. Plaid shirts were de rigueur. I was in khaki cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt with palm leaves and a big, orange bird of paradise on it (Why? That's my uniform, that's why. Plus the shirt was fresh from... ah.... um... the "laundry"). The most common thing folks said to us in Woodward was "Where you folks from?". Anyway, back to Polly Anna's and lunch. They had a little of everything on the menu. An assortment of "diner-ish" choices. That implied that the kitchen included all types of cooking equipment. Mrs. C' ordered the fried chicken with two sides peas and mashed potatoes) I ordered the chicken fried steak sandwich with the onion ring upgrade and a side of fried okra. I might dress like a Hawaiian, but I eat like a local. The mashed potatoes were from a box, the peas were in a Velveeta sauce. Ugh! However, every fried item was perfect. I would call the okra unquestionably the best I've ever had. So, the lesson is: When eating Oklahoma diner food, stick with the fried stuff and you won't be disappointed. Our lunch confirmed what we already knew. Or When you eat at a "local institution" you have a "local experience".
After lunch we hit the laundromat. Oh boy! We had another local experience. About 1/4 of the washers and 5 specific dryers had signs that read either "Greasers" or "Greasers Only" on them. That declaration almost got lost among the other signage that said, for example "No washing of horse or dog bedding... No exceptions!". We didn't use the "Greasers" washers for fear a John Travolta or Henry Winkler impersonator might come out of the back and start a rumble then pull out his comb to preen before defending his laundry equipment. However, when the first load was ready to dry we headed to the nearest dryer and got ready to load it up before a woman who works there came running over to stop us. "That dryer is for 'greasers'" she said. "Oh, we didn't realize that. What's a 'greaser'?" we asked. It turns out the largest industry in the Woodward, Oklahoma area is oil and gas exploration and production. We knew that intuitively based on the businesses we passed on the way into town that featured drilling equipment, drilling fluid tankers and such. We had also seen a large natural gas pipeline compression station yesterday as we left the panhandle and oil wells dropped randomly along our route. So, "greasers" are the machines for the oil field workers to use to wash their work clothes. It turns out that no amount of effort will keep the residue from those clothes staying in the laundry equipment and contaminating the next load. So we still needed to worry about Travolta... but the one from "Urban Cowboy" not "Grease".
After being thoroughly doused in Oklahoma culture we headed back to Fort Supply and the safety of our cocoon on wheels. Just a note about Fort Supply. I had to research this one because the name conjured such a wide range of possible derivations. For example, I have shopped at "Tractor Supply" from time to time. Perhaps "Fort Supply" shared a similar lineage. It turns out that's not it. In 1868 the country was tired of fighting but a whole bunch of military men were not. They found new excitement with the support of the Federal government in Washington in places like this. I am reminded of "Dances with Wolves" which was set in that time and a place not far from here. One of those men was General Phil Sheridan who was directed to engage the Indians of the Southern Plains. He needed a resupply post and it was located here. First "Camp Supply" (I'd shop there, for sure) then upgraded to "Fort Supply" served his command. At one point George Armstrong Custer operated from here in his ongoing mission to "educate" the native people. Presumably Fort Supply kept the soldiers supplied to food and materiel while keeping the natives in the area supplied with smallpox infested blankets and hot lead. The fort was decommissioned after about 30 years of use and was later reopened as a mental hospital (which may not have required much alteration given the inclinations of its prior inhabitants).
On Friday it will be 6 weeks since we left Florida and headed west. We are starting to experience road weariness. Photographically, I'm falling into a "post parkin' depression" since I have not had any hoodoos to photograph in weeks. Notice there are no pics in today's blog. Ok, I'll add one. Sunrise over Fort Supply Lake taken from the door of the Airstream this morning.
We're starting to say things like "why did we think we needed to head south tomorrow to see Quartz Mountain, Oklahoma" and "do you think we could shave a day or three off the trip and not really have missed anything of significance?". As the old expression goes, when the horse smells the barn sometimes he starts to gallop. We'll keep you posted about how we deal with the growing desire to get back to the old homestead and get some sand back in our shoes.
Later,
SC'
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