Knox City, TX

Air travel is destroying geography. We climb on board at one end, and off at the other end, and for the entire journey we have no landmarks, no sense of direction, and, thanks to in-flight entertainment, even a dulled sense of distance. Little wonder that many people would be unable to point out their destination on a globe. Highway travel is becoming much the same; although it's true that there are landmarks along the way, highways across the United States are homogenous enough that this Home Depot looks pretty much like the last, and one town blurs into the next.

The car I rented this time had a navigational system, although I didn't explicitly ask for it. So, rather than take highways, which are simple to navigate without a passenger, I decided this weekend to travel the back roads, still in search of Texas. I picked Knox City on the map, and the "least use of highways" option from the menu. Note that I had no intention of actually going to Knox City, but it's my firm belief that, if you're going somewhere, it's a good idea to have somewhere to go, otherwise there's a tendency to lose the plot. (Sidebar: the word "city" has lost something in the translation from British-English to American-English. In England, a conurbation has to have a cathedral (or, as in the case of Liverpool, one cathedral and one "spare", an early example of what is now called a "disaster recovery site" in Information Technology); in the US, the definition has been slightly relaxed, so that a city preferably, but not necessarily, should have a gas station).

This part of Texas is almost completely flat, in every sense of the word. In my eyes, there is very little beauty in the landscape, not even of the rugged kind. And the lack of complete flatness means that even the awesome vastness fails to inspire awe, because, even though you know it's there, you can't see it. The landscape, such as it is, is littered with broken stuff. There seems to be little incentive to restore or recycle: when a new road is built, the old one is left to fall into disuse; when an oil well dries up, the iron eyesore is left to languish; when a new tractor or car is bought, the old one is left to rust in the yard. Future generations will pay the debt for this careless husbandry. When I first came here, I noticed the slogan "Don't mess with Texas" everywhere; I assumed it was a statement of Texan aggression towards the "lesser" states. In fact, it was introduced a few years ago to inspire Texans to clean up the environment. So, at one time, it was worse than it is now!

So I headed towards Knox City, passing through Loving, TX, and numerous other small towns. When I reached Olney, "The Home of the One Armed Dove Hunt", I decided to call in at the Dairy Queen ("America's STOP sign") for ice cream (despite having lived in the US for a number of years, I never had ice cream from DQ, a national icon). As I stood at the counter, scanning the menu, the spotty youth on the other side advised me: "There's no ice cream, if that's what you're looking for". "But DQ is famous for its ice cream - that's what they do!". "Not if the machine's broke they don't". "How about a milk shake?". "Nope".

Fortunately, I could get a chocolate milk shake at the Sonic Burger down the street. If you think there's nothing to do in Tiverton, you should try Olney, TX! Oh yes, and the one armed dove hunt? You can't make this stuff up, and in case it's too much for your mental imagery to handle, I'm attaching a piccie of a mural on the wall in the center of town showing two one-armed guys toting guns, presumably ready for dove hunting. Trust me, if you go there on May 2nd, it will be in full swing. I wanted to go into one of the local stores to ask about it, but I have this silly personal rule: when in rural Texas, don't say or do anything to upset the locals. It's more a matter of self-preservation than of sensitivity, and I didn't think I'd be able to do it and keep a straight face. So I'll probably never know what was the inspiration for this truly unique event. I guess if you're a dove, the best you can hope for, if there has to be misfortune in your life, is that it is to be shot at once a year by one-armed men!

Olney also featured a little "cafe" which, even if it had been open, would not have tempted me at all.

On the way back, I stopped at a roadside stand in Mineral Wells selling "new crop pecans". They are creamy and delicious. I spoke to the owner, who told me that she and her husband had been running the business for 40 years. I asked a question that had been bothering me ever since I came to Texas: how come you see these oil pumps all over the place (and I associate oil pumps with millionaires), but they're on land occupied by just a dilapidated trailer home? The answer is that, when you buy land, you only buy the top bit, and what's underneath belongs to someone else. So there are a few people who own the rights to pump oil, and they are indeed millionaires; but there are a lot more people attempting to scratch out a living from what's on the surface. When you think of a ranch in Texas, you think of J.R. and South Fork, and it's true, there are a lot of places like that. But there are many more that are just decrepit shacks or trailer homes in the middle of vast tracts of scrub.

I may never get to see Knox City. I doubt the inhabitants are bothered by that.

Circle K cafe

Newcastle city limit

The one arm dove hunt!

Texas State Fair

Yesterday's "Red River Shoot Out" (Oklahoma University vs Texas State) was a rout. Something like 63 - 18 to the Sooners. I know because a saw a guy at breakfast in an Oklahoma T-shirt, and I thought: there's a clue right there as to which team he supports. So I asked him the score. And on the way to the Texas State Fair I saw a truck with signs painted on it with erudite slogans (in an Oklahoman scrawl) such as "OU beat Texas" and "Up yours Texas". Now, I wouldn't have thought it would be too smart driving around Dallas like that on the day after your team had thrashed the local one, but this was a big truck, so it was probably driven by a very large guy with penile deficiency and a gun - I certainly wouldn't have bothered him.

Anyway, if you're going to the Texas State Fair, don't follow the signs. Because there aren't any. I suppose everybody knows where the Texas State Fair is - don't you? Fortunately, I'd asked directions at the hotel, and unlike most other driving directions I've received thus far, these were quite succinct, and actually correct.

Mmmm ... can I think of something nice to say about the Texas State Fair? Mmmm ... no. My mother always told me: if you can't say something nice, don't say anything. Of course, she doesn't have email, so I guess that makes it ok.

The first thing I'm going to do when I'm elected Governor of Texas next year - and I think I really have a shot at this now that Mr Schwarzenegger has blazed the trail for the rest of us) - the very first thing (and this will be an election promise, so I'm counting on your support) will be to rename it the Texas State Food-and-Crap-orama, which I think captures the flavour so much better than the blandness of "Fair". There was certainly a lot of food. What kind of food? Let's see, there were hot dogs and hamburgers, burritos, corny dogs, crawfish, catfish, shrimp, pizza, sausage, turkey legs, nachos, tamale balls (it's a little-known fact that tamales have balls, and even less well-known that they are, in fact, a delicacy), churros, cotton candy, funnel cake, fried oreos, gorditas, tornado taters, corn, taquitos, popcorn, taffy, fried twinkies ... I could go on, but you probably don't know what half the stuff is anyway (and trust me, you probably don't want to know). But I couldn't let the opportunity of a deep-fried twinkie go by. What's a twinkie? It's like a soft sponge finger filled with liquid sugar, and has a shelf life of about 6 months, which gives you an idea of how nutritious it is. If your curiosity is aroused, you can see the deep-fried version in the picture below. And on the "International Boulevard", you could get food from places as far away as, say, Wisconsin. I think, given the current world economy, that $8 for a hot dog is quite reasonable, don't you?

The longest queues (apart from the women's rest rooms) were for corny dogs, and the free "Taste and See Pavilion". Which says something about Texans: the only thing better than food is free food.

Of course there was a funfair, complete with the Midway, and the "Midway Barker", making fun of everybody as they passed by. "Big Tex" welcomed everyone to the fair.

The highlights for me were the Killdares (an Irish band) and a Scottish pipe band. Although the pipe band did say that the hornpipe that they played was the only good thing the English ever gave the Scots. C'mon guys, that's a little unfair - we had a little help along the way from the Romans and the French. And the Scots do need a firm hand from time to time to keep them under control.

So that was the Texas State Fair. Oh, and silly me - I said I couldn't think of anything nice to say about it. It's very big.

Big Tex

Food plaza

Deep fried Twinkies

The Killdares

The midway

Scottish pipe band

Turkey legs

Waco, TX

The original intention was to go to Austin - try and catch some country music. So I headed south on Rte 35. Highways here don't have too many places to pull off and look at the map ("Rest Area 1 mile; Next Rest Area 110 miles"), so you pretty much have to figure out where you're going in advance, and stick to it (unless you have a navigator companion). Now I'm not easily surprised, but as I was looking out the window, I saw a field full of camels grazing. Whoa! Camels? In Texas? I made a U-turn at the next available opportunity (about 10 miles), and tried to locate an exit where I might be able to get a closer look. In the process, I came across a Texas night club. This was 11am, so it looks fairly sleepy, but I bet the joint's really jumpin' tonight. Probably can't move for line dancers.

Anyway, I found the farm (sorry, ranch), but the gates were padlocked. Undeterred, I pulled the car off the road, and walked down the outside of the fence (next to the highway) to get a photograph - no-one's ever going to believe me otherwise. On the way, a friendly horse (whose name was Jenny, I later found out) and her foal followed me along the fence. As I walked back to the car, the owner pulled up, opened the gate, got back in his truck, but slowed down as he passed me. I told him I just had to get a picture of the camels - he invited me in for a closer look. So ... Ray Mitchell showed me his camels, his baby camels and his African cow. He also breeds primates, and has just bought a few hundred acres nearby where he plans to open a wildlife park. I asked him why the camels were so friendly, when they have a reputation for being the opposite, and stubborn to boot. He said it's because the ones you usually see have been teased or maltreated. Anyway, his camels were delightful, and so was he.

I got back on the road to Austin. On the way you pass through Waco - you know, where they had all that Branch Davidian trouble a few years back (I always thought they'd mis-spelt the name and left a "k" out). It was close to lunchtime, so I stopped at Dock's Riverside, and had lunch on the deck overlooking the Brazos river. They brought out hush-puppies as a snack (don't really know what these are, but they're good as long as you have something to dip them in). Lunch was blackened catfish with fries and pinto beans (they're big into beans down here, and these are similar to baked beans (or Boston baked beans) but without the sweet sauce). From the deck I could look down to see ducks and turtles in the water below. While I was eating, grackles (black birds that we used to call chin-chins in Cayman) hovered nearby to pick up anything I might drop.

Since, as you know, I'm of the opinion that most American cities (with a few notable exceptions) look the same these days, and since I'd heard that Crawford (the "White House of Texas", where the Bush family live) was nearby, I decided to forget Austin, and try to find Crawford instead. And, believe me, it's not easy to find. That probably has something to do with the fact that (as the sign says) it has a population of some 700 people. Of course, the sign reads "Crawford City Limit". In my naivety, I supect that's rather a liberal interpretation of the word "city", but since every one-horse town (and the horse doesn't have to still be alive, or could be temporarily borrowed from a neighbouring "city") down here seems to do it, we can let it pass.

When you get to Crawford, there's bugger all there. The main street has a bank, a gas station, a barbershop and several gift shops (from which I purchased the obligatory fridge magnet!). Actually, I think the barbershop may have closed down, so I suppose the good folks of Crawford have taken their custom elsewhere - as long as GWB knows to get a haircut before he goes home!

I asked the woman in the giftshop where the Bush ranch was. She told me, but also advised me that there's nothing to see. I should have listened. There really isn't anything to see - the approach road itself is closed, and you're not allowed to "stop, stand or park" anywhere nearby, so the best you can get is a distant glimpse of a few people that may (or may not) be secret service agents whose job is to make sure nobody knows what GWB's gate looks like. And here's silly me with images of chatting to CIA guys, and persuading one of them to take a picture of me in front of George Dubya's home!

I decided to head home on the back roads, so that the scenery wouldn't be flashing by quite so fast. There are lots of churches - Unitarian Universalist Chapel, God of 2nd Chance Church, Christ-Life Church, as well as the usual - but some of them look more like someone's garage than what we usually recognise as a church. And the rural towns are full of decrepit trailer homes (don't know what we call these in England, but they're bigger than caravans, pre-built, and small enough to tow and install on the plot of land you've bought). There are also lots of derelict buildings - someone told me that when Walmart close down a store, or move to larger premises, they won't sell it, but leave it to decay until, often, the town has to pay to have it demolished. There's some economic logic to this, but I don't like it. Whenever I see an abandoned building, it makes me think of what it was like when it was new, what aspirations for the future the owner had, and I can almost imagine them standing proudly outside while photographs are taken for posterity. And that makes me sad.

Anyway, on the way back, I took a picture of a typical Texas scene : cattle grazing in a field around a watering hole.

I suspect that the US should be as worried about it's rural economy as much as we are.

Night club

Cattle around a watering hole

Camels

Jenny and foal

Ray's camels

Baby camels

African cow

Hush puppies

Ducks and turtles

Crawford!

Waxahachie, TX

Y'know, the trouble with Texas is that it's so big. And the maps are so small. So when someone at work told me there was a Chitauqua (no, I didn't know what it was, and still don't - see below) going on at Waxahachie (which I have learned you have to pronounce "Wauxahachie", otherwise people laugh), and I looked at the map, it was only a couple of inches away, I figured, hell, why not.

75 miles later, I reach Waxahachie - at least I now know the scale of the map, which is helpful, because it sure as hell isn't shown anywhere. There's obviously something going on, because all the streets are blocked off and it's tough to find somewhere to park. Anyway, it's a farmer's market cum craft fair, with a country band playing in the square. Some notable scenes are the Cadillac, the "cowboy's last ride" (only in America!), a pair of jalapeno wreaths that Val would love if only I was allowed to bring them back, and me eating a corn dog. By the way, a corn dog is a hot dog on a stick, dipped in batter and deep fried. And yes, I asked what it was before I bought it!

I'm sure you know what a pizzeria is. A taqueria is the same idea, but serving tacos. And I discovered what a pecan tree looks like. I didn't know this until I asked two "good ol' boys" sitting on the porch of the house next door.

Anyway, it was fun, but it wasn't the Chitauqua. Now Waxahachie is a pretty small town, so I'd guess that having two events happening on the same day is unusual, if not unique. By the time I found this out, it was a bit late to check out the Chitauqua, especially since it was $25 to get in. So I still don't know what it is.

I headed back towards Dallas, and stopped off to see a movie that's just come out - Under the Tuscan Sun. Good movie - not great, but very good. When I came out, I was about to pull back onto the highway when I spied a Caribbean restaurant. I was the only white face, but it was worth it for the jerk chicken, rice and peas, and Red Stripe. I still have some in the fridge for tomorrow.

The reason I was pulling back onto the highway is because I'd heard on the local TV station a couple of weeks ago reports of spontaneous bluegrass breaking out in Garland, a nearby town, on Saturday nights.  Garland, like most towns in TX, is small in population, but pretty spread out. But I looked for Main Street, and followed it until I hit the town square. Sure enough, there were about half a dozen groups of people jamming bluegrass scattered around the square, with a small audience surrounding each. Each band consisted of at least a fiddle, banjo and guitar, but often there were as many as 6 or 8 playing a variety of instruments. They were mostly older people (older than me, that is), both men and women, with the occasional teenager, usually playing electric bass. They were just having fun, and the participants would occasionally break up, and join other groups. Apart from being a fun thing to watch, the curious thing is that there is nothing at all else going on in Garland. No bars catering for the refreshment of the performers or audience, no restaurants. Oh, there was the coffee bar a couple of blocks away that were trying to entice people by offering 10% discount coupons. Enterprising, but not very successful, I suspect.

Country band

Cadillac

Cowboy's Last Ride

Jalapeno wreaths

Corn dog

Taqueria

Pecans

Garland pickup band

Oklahoma

It's only 75 miles from Dallas to the Oklahoma border, so I headed north, with the intention of going to Oklahoma City - for no better reason than it's the closest major city. I deliberately didn't pick up the couple of hitch-hikers I saw, but only because I wasn't sure where I was going. As I crossed the OK border on Interstate 35, there was the inevitable "visitor center". I told them I was in OK for probably the only day in my life - what should I see? Their response? If I was prepared to drive to Oklahoma City (which I was), I should see the Cowboy Museum and/or the site of the Oklahoma City bombing. I got back on the highway wondering what I was going to do when I hit Oklahoma City (I've never been back to the World Trade Center in NYC, haven't been to the site of JFK's assassination in Dallas, and certainly don't want to see a disaster site in Oklahoma City; and I'm not hugely interested in cowboys, either!).

I pulled off the highway at a "scenic pullout". I suppose it was scenic, but would have been a lot more so if they'd cleared away some of the immediate vegetation so you could see the full panorama. They probably have much more interesting things to do in Oklahoma.

As I drove along the highway, I noticed a number of trucks going by (sidebar: everybody here drives trucks; when I asked someone at work why, they said "in case I want to haul sump't'n"; if I asked what was the last thing they "hauled", they usually just laughed) with a flag flying from the window. There were so many  of these that I tried to read what was on the flags - it was "OU". Now I know from talking to one of the guys at work who's from Tulsa that OU is the University of Oklahoma, and I also know that football season has now started, so I thought maybe there was a game. I tucked in behind a truck flying TWO flags (if there's a game, this guy HAS to be going!) and followed him when he left the highway. Sure enough, he went to the University. It was pretty obvious that "the game was afoot", so I parked and went in search of a ticket. None at the box office, so had to buy from a scalper outside - fortunately, only a reasonable markup, and a very good seat - 6 rows back on the 30yd line.

The local team (the Sooners) were playing Fresno State, from California, and at half-time the score was 38 to zip, so I decided to bale out. It was 200 miles back to the hotel, and I wanted to find Route 66, which I knew was somewhere nearby, and 4:30pm already. Besides, they don't serve beer at college games!

So, after getting lost around Oklahoma City, I found Route 66 almost by accident. The signposts all around here are terrible. Route 66 was a bit of a disappointment (and I think Buzz and Todd would have been disappointed, too). I was hoping to find at least a diner where I could get something to eat, but no such luck. After about 20 miles, I headed south on Route 81, which turned out to be the old Chisholm trail. As I came over the brow of a hill, I saw the road stretched out in front of me. In some ways this sums up Oklahoma - kind of a cross between Pennsylvania and Northern Vermont. Not hilly really, but undulating, and mostly agricultural, but with many buildings that have outlived their usefulness, and simply left to decay and despoil the landscape.

I keep seeing sunflowers growing wild by the roadside - they're everywhere, and they're pretty.

OU game

Scenic overlook

Straight road

Sunflowers

Louisiana

Roadtrip complete! 500 miles in a day, covering Louisiana, Arkansas and Texas. I wanted to do Oklahama as well, but time didn’t allow – maybe next week. Some pictures are attached – I’ll explain what they are as we go. The first is the Dallas landscape that inspired me to get the hell out of the “Metroplex”, at least for a short time. I got onto Interstate 20, put Jimmy Buffet in the CD player, switched to cruise control, and settled back. 200 miles later I was in Louisiana, as you can see from the second picture.

Of course, while there, I had to do two things – pick up a fridge magnet to prove I’d been there, and get some fried catfish for lunch (I have to go back for jambalaya). The third picture is a view of “Crescents Landing”, where I had fried catfish with field peas (black-eyed beans, they looked like to me), pickled green tomatoes (delicious), and mashed potatoes with gravy. The fridge magnet I got from Walmart.

On the advice of the restaurant owner, I headed north on Rte 71 towards Texarkana, which straddles the Texas-Arkansas boder (hence the name – I didn’t know!). Along the way I stopped to take a picture (the fourth attached) of a Louisiana cotton field – having led such a sheltered life, I’ve never seen cotton growing before!

I picked up a guy thumbing a ride (I know, I know, not a good idea …). Anyway, Carl (the fifth picture) had been trying to get work in Dallas, but couldn’t – he had to walk 25 miles to the city limits to get a ride to Shreveport, and had spent the night sleeping under a bridge, which is where I picked him up. That took him four days – took me 3 hours of driving! I didn’t pick him up until around 2pm, and the guy had no money, so I stopped at a gas station to fill up, gave him a twenty, and told him to go buy a drink and keep the change – he was planning to try to get a job in Texarkana for a couple of days to make the bus fare to Tulsa, where he has family. He was a nice guy – 2 kids and some family dotted around, no discernible drink or drugs, and nothing but what he carried on his back and the change from a twenty. I don’t know how he got into that state, but there but for the grace of God … I hope he finds a job and makes it to Tulsa, but my guess is he’s sleeping under another bridge tonight.

Texarkana sucks. Arkansas is the poorest state in the union, and it shows. A lot of American cities look the same these days, thanks to McDonalds, Wendy’s, IHOP, Home Depot, CVS etc. The major difference is in their prosperity – some are thriving, some are not. Texarkana is not. I’m sure there are prosperous areas, and of course I was just passing through. But what I saw was the archetypal trailer home with a couple of hounds sleeping on the porch and the rusted hulks of dead cars scattered around. Some hopefuls had transformed their front yard into mini flea markets. I suppose they were hoping to make some money from a few extraneous possessions, but I wonder if anyone ever stops by.

Once again Walmart provided the necessary fridge magnet. If I’d had decent maps, and if the area had decent road signs (which they uniformly don’t), I’d have made the run up through Arkansas to get back to Dallas. But it was getting late, so I chickened out and hit Interstate 30 all the way back to Dallas.

I started out at 10am, and got back at 7:30pm. Tiring, but fun.

Carl

Dallas

Me in Louisiana

Catfish Restuarant in Shreveport

Cotton