The Third Sunday Drive, Day Four: Oklahoma

Ooooo-klahoma where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain,
And the wavin' wheat can sure smell sweet
When the wind comes right behind the rain!
--Rogers and Hammerstein

Click here to hear Hugh Jackman (yes!) and the Royal National sing the title song from Rogers and Hammerstein's epic musical.

Originally I thought of opening this section with George Strait's song Amarillo by Morning, but the lyrics for that song were even less appropriate than the Green Green Grass of Home which I used for Day Two.  I did reach Amarillo before noon, but I started the day in Santa Rosa, New Mexico where I had taken refuge from the storm the night before.  As any of my long-time readers know, one of my favorite subjects for photography is a governmental building.  Santa Rosa is the seat of Guadalupe County, so after a quick breakfast at the motel, I headed out in search of this fine red sandstone structure.    I haven't been posting my courthouses, and as today's drive didn't end up with much in the way of landscape photography, here's the first shot of the day.

The Guadalupe County Courthouse, Santa Rosa, New Mexico

My gas price app suggested that gas would be cheaper in Tucumcari, sixty miles ahead, so I waited to fill up there.  The clouds were still hanging heavy in the sky, but no rain fell as I drove eastward on I-40.  Taking the exit for Tucumcari, I soon found a station where, indeed, the gas was considerably less expensive than in Santa Rosa.

Tucumcari is the seat of Quay County, named for a Senator from Pennsylvania who supported statehood for New Mexico.  It is shaped like a staircase and is unusual among government units in that it borders seven other New Mexico counties and three Texas counties.  Of course I had to photograph the courthouse, a much more modern looking building than the one in Santa Rosa, but still classic in design.  Tucumcari is also proud of its association with historic Route 66, and as I drove through town I saw several beautifully restored cars from the 1950s parked on display in front of many different businesses.

East of town, I saw a collection of older, unrestored cars stored behind a chain-link fence.  Taking the next exit, I doubled back so that I could photograph this Studebaker Graveyard, as I took to calling the place.  I counted at least thirteen Studebakers, most of them Larks, but also a 1930s Ford, a late 30s or early 40s Nash, a Hudson, and several other cars left to rot amidst all the Studebakers.  The cars were guarded though, and not just by the chain link fence.  Two dogs roamed the interior of the yard, and both dogs decided that I just wasn't supposed to get close enough to the fence to shoot through it.  While I clicked away from a safe distance, another dog approached from my side of the fence.  That was when I decided to climb back in the Saab and continue on down the road.  And I love dogs.  What can I say.

The Magnolia Oil Station

Vega, Texas

Crossing into Texas, I wanted to capture the "Welcome to Texas" sign, but was afraid I wouldn't be able to pull off the Interstate.  Instead, I exited the highway with the intention of walking back to get the sign.  Of course, once I had done that, I saw that there was a turnout situated just for people to take pictures of the sign.  Oh well.  As I drove along the on-ramp re-entering the highway, I saw one of those missed opportunities that so often come our way.  I swear there was a highway sign on I-40 that actually read "Don't Mess with Texas."  Short of slamming on my brakes and walking back up the on-ramp, I don't see how I could have photographed that sign.  But I did take it's warning seriously.  This is the state that loves to execute its prisoners, after all.

Vega, Texas is the seat of Oldham County, and once more, I took the break to grab some photos.  Just across the street from the courthouse is a small two-story building that has been turned into a Route 66 museum.  The Magnolia Oil Station was built prior to the commissioning of Route 66, and when "America's Main Street" came through town, it stood ready to serve the public.  Magnolia Petroleum was a Texas based company that was in time purchased by Mobil.

It was getting close to noon as I neared Amarillo, but two more "attractions" caught my eye along the road.  I thought the first was the legendary Cadillac Ranch, so I took the next exit and headed back the frontage road to check it out for myself.  Indeed it was that particular site, but what I didn't know was that Ant Farm's collection of ten vintage Cadillacs has been turned into a graffiti paradise.  Indeed a group of young women were there spraying words on the cars as I watched.

Ant Farm's Cadillac Ranch

Amarillo, Texas

And if Cadillac Ranch weren't enough to remind me that I am in Texas, just a little ways down the road was an RV park with three 1950s Cadillacs in decent shape on display out front.Of course I had to take pictures of them as well.

I considered grabbing the Potter County Courthouse in Amarillo, but the city was too large, and I was too hungry to search it out.  Instead, on my way to a Thai Restaurant I read about using Yelp, I passed Mimi's Restaurant, and pulled into its empty parking lot.  I would guess, given its location, that Mimi's doesn't get a lot of traffic, and indeed I was the only diner there at lunch time, but the food was good, and my server was adorable, and I would guess about 10 years old.

Having satisfied my stomach, I got back on I-40 and continued on across the Texas Panhandle crossing into Oklahoma mid-afternoon.  Understand this.  The whole reason for this roundabout itinerary was so that I could drive across Oklahoma.  Prior to this trip, there were only two states west of the Mississippi I had never visited.  Alaska wasn't quite close enough to Wichita to make it, but Oklahoma City is just over 125 miles south of Wichita, so why not.  And besides, look at what wonders I've already seen on this trip.

I wasn't sure what to expect with Oklahoma.  I was pretty sure that Curly and Laurie, and Ado Annie weren't going to meet me at the border singing and dancing up a storm.  Two of my dear friends are natives of Oklahoma, and while I hadn't asked Roger for his suggestions, I did ask Bear.  Bear's reply was that Oklahoma is such a red state that even the soil is red.  He visits annually, or pretty close to annually, but he claims that his fear factor kicks up several notches as he gets close to the state line.  As it turned out, I have no reason to doubt him, but I can't confirm his fears because I had no personal interactions whatsoever in the state.  I drove straight along I-40 from the Texas line to Oklahoma City, stopped briefly to take some pictures at the State Capitol complex, then got on Interstate 35 and headed north to Wichita.  I took no pictures of the rolling farm land I passed, and yes, the soil was a deep red.  I spoke with no humans.  I made no purchases.  I just drove and shot buildings.  I will note that directly in front of the capitol building is an oil derrick and a couple of tanks owned by Phillips Petroleum.  I will also note that the sidewalk in front of the capitol is inlayed with stars, much like Hollywood Boulevard, except that these stars commemorate various events in the history (and even prehistory) of what is now Oklahoma.  The one star I chose to photograph was the one commemorating the opening of a certain show on Broadway back in 1943:  "The Play Oklahoma Opens on Broadway."

The Oklahoma State Capitol

Note the Phillips 66 derrick and tanks

Once across the Kansas line, I noted signs saying that exit 4 was the last "free exit."  My maps had not warned me that I was headed down a toll road, but I decided to find out just what this was all about.  I had been talking with John off and on all day, and he suggested the best way to get to his apartment once I reached Wichita.  This involved leaving I-35 once I hit Kansas' largest city, and paying a $2.00 toll for the privilege.  I was able to find John's place with no problem, and we set out to find a place that would be open for dinner, not just on a Monday, but on Labor Day.  Eventually we ended up downtown at Wasabi where we both enjoyed fine Japanese cuisine, before calling it a night.

Total Miles Driven:    625 across four states.

The Third Sunday Drive, Day Three: Four Corners

Looking down Center Street, Moab Utah

It is September, before a rainfall ...

Soon it's gonna rain, I can feel it,
Soon it's gonna rain, I can tell,
Soon it's gonna rain, what are we gonna do?
-- Tom Jones & Harvey Schmidt

Click here to hear the University of Redlands production of this iconic song from my favorite musical, The Fantasticks.

Once I had the car packed, I headed back to downtown Moab to take pictures of the Grand County Courthouse, and anything else I found of interest.  Breakfast took second place, but I found a little coffee shop on a downtown corner and had a mango smoothie, a chocolate hazelnut biscotti, and a hazelnut latte, before hitting the road heading on down US 191 toward Monticello, Utah, where I would turn east crossing into Colorado.

Roughly half way between Moab and Monticello, I passed first the largest piece of advertising I've ever seen, a 5,000 square foot home carved out of the red sandstone and marked by huge letters painted on the side of a cliff, "Hole N" The Rock" with a large arrow pointing down toward the parking lot.  I did stop, long enough to take a couple more pictures, but didn't feel like taking the time (or paying the money) to visit this particular tourist trap.  I have to admit that part of me was astounded, but also repelled, by the large white letters painted on the sandstone.  No missing that "billboard."

Wilson Arch, San Juan County, Utah

Not much further on, I passed Wilson Arch, a sandstone arch much larger than anything I had seen up close in the park.  With a span of 91 feet and a height of 46, Wilson Arch attracts a lot of attention.  Indeed, the parking areas on both sides of US 191 were full, and people were eagerly climbing the rock to get closer to this natural phenomenon.  I stopped long enough to take a picture, then headed on down the road.

Monticello, Utah is the seat of San Juan County, Utah's south-eastern corner.  After stopping long enough to photograph the San Juan County Courthouse and the Monticello Mormon Temple, I turned off US 191 onto US 491, crossing into Colorado and heading for Cortez, the seat of Montezuma County, Colorado's south-western corner.  In Cortez, I allowed Nancy the Nag to misdirect me to the county courthouse, but that let me see a lot more of Cortez than I would have otherwise.  Once I finally found the courthouse, I added its picture to my collection, then leaving the car parked, I headed off to Pippo's Cafe for a lunch omelette with mushrooms, sausage and avocado. 

Cortez sits between Hovenweep National Monument and Mesa Verde National Park.  Both of these areas called out to me, but Albuquerque was calling more loudly, and I drove down US 491 bypassing both of these monuments to human engineering, as opposed to the natural engineering I had seen the day before.  The more I read of the two, the more I know I'll have to return to Cortez and spend time there--probably combining that trip with a longer stay in the Moab area.

Mesa land south of Cortez, Colorado

I've always been a sucker for imaginary lines.  When my Helsinki-based hostess, Eva Pinomaa, asked me why I wanted to visit Rovaniemi, the administrative capital of Finnish Lappland, which sits just below the Arctic Circle, I replied "Our lives are governed by imaginary lines.  This is one I'll probably never be closer to."  Once there, I found that the Finns had turned the Arctic Circle into a tourist trap, complete with reindeer in a pen, a large sleigh full of presents, and Santa Claus village.  There is also a pole with signs reading "Arctic Circle" in several different languages.  On a similar note, there is only one place in the United States where four states come together at a single point.  That would be Four Corners, where Utah, Colorado, Arizona and New Mexico all meet.  As it happens, Four Corners is on the Navajo Reservation, and just like those sneaky Finns, the Navajo have turned Four Corners into a tourist trap.  The entrance fee is minimal, but it's per person, not per vehicle, and as I had picked up a hitchhiker in Cortez, I paid the fee for both of us to drive across a very rough parking area, wander through the stalls where native people were selling jewelry and other crafts, and get in line to take pictures of each other standing in four states at once.  As all four of these states have a sales tax, and each is different, I'm not sure just how the merchants figure their taxes.

Yours Truly, standing in four distinct states.

My young hitchhiker was headed for the Grand Canyon, and I was headed south and east, so I left him at Teec Nos Pos where I turned east on US 64 toward Shiprock, Farmington, and eventually Albuquerque.  My time in Arizona was short, but it's the spirit that counts, right?  and it allowed me to get this photo of the Navajo Nation's welcome sign.  I have no idea who "RK" might be, but he certainly left his mark on the sign.

Welcome to the Navajo Nation.  Four Corners, Arizona.

From Teec Nos Pos, it's just a hop skip and a long jump into New Mexico.  I had crossed the state on Interstate 40 back in my college days, but I'd never been through the northwestern corner before.  The first major town on US 64 would be Farmington which I knew as the place my best college friends, Jim and Rosanna, would go to visit Rosanna's family.  To get there, I'd have to pass Shiprock, which I assumed was much closer to the geologic formation of the same name.  But no, the rock itself is off in the distance, and I stopped to grab what pictures I could before losing sight of the monolith altogether. 

Shiprock, San Juan County, New Mexico

Just east of Farmington is the town of Bloomfield, and that's where I turned onto US 550 heading for Bernalillo and Interstate 25.   Along the way, I crossed the Continental Divide which was marked by a small sign, nothing like the massive ones we use in Montana.  I also passed through the Jicarilla Apache Indian Reservation, the Jemez Reservation, the Zia Reservation, and the Santa Ana Reservation.  At Bernalillo, I caught I-25 and drove south to Albuquerque, turning west onto Interstate 40 in the heart of New Mexico's largest city.

Yelp helped me decide on a restaurant just off 1-40, and I got to see one shopping center from every conceivable angle as I searched for my dinner among all the major hotel chains.  The restaurant offered New Mexican cuisine, and was quite popular.   In order to be seated immediately, I agreed to sit in the bar.  When my food came, it was plentiful, but nothing like what I was expecting.  Guess I really wanted Old Mexican cuisine.

Back on I-40, I hoped to get as far as Tucumcari, near the Texas state line, but as I headed out of Albuquerque, the rain started to fall.  The further east I traveled, the harder the rain fell.  I saw lightning strikes like I've never seen them before, and the rain was so heavy that even the semis were slowing down.  When I saw the exit for Santa Rosa, I decided to call it a night and get off the Interstate.  After all, by this point I was driving 30 mph and felt that might be too fast.  

Once in my room at 9 p.m., I enjoyed the electricity in the air and the rain as well.  It went on for a full hour at least.  I couldn't say how much longer, because I fell asleep. 

Total mileage for the day:  522   It was a good day, even with the wet ending.