On the 4th of July, 2012, I went on a little road trip combined with a bit of camping. I left Newalla around 9 in the am and arrived at Black Mesa state park about 6 pm.
A co-worker asked me what I did while on my short vacation
from work, and when I told him I went through the Panhandle to Black Mesa, he
asked incredulously, “You went to the Panhandle on purpose?”
Those of you who may travel the Panhandle “on purpose” may
be surprised and a bit awed by the experience. Traveling through the Panhandle
of Oklahoma is almost like traveling back in time -- there are modern conveniences, but without the modern conveniences.
One thing you see frequently along the highway through the Panhandle
is the roadside table. These areas are not parks, they are not rest stops in
the modern sense; they are just tables set 20 to 40 feet from the road,
sometimes under a protective shelter, sometimes not, but always with a trash
can near. Nobody seems to stop at these tables to have a picnic, like they used
to do in the “old days”. It is now easier to go to the nearest Sonic and eat
food in your car. Perhaps as we travel we are in too big a hurry to reach our
destination and expect food to always be available along the road in a
restaurant, and so never prepare food to take with us to eat as a picnic. Perhaps
we think we just shouldn’t stop because we fear of appearing too red necky. And
it does put a bit of a damper on a picnic trying to eat food while cars are whizzing
by stirring up dust. It’s not that the roadside tables are unsanitary, they’re
just dirty (there is a difference, you know).
When I’m on trips like this, I find the roadside table a
convenience. Sometimes I just need to stretch my legs and have a snack. Perhaps
I am a bit red necky, but roadside tables are nostalgic to me – the roadside
table was something familiar to me from growing up in SE MO.
If you do any traveling in the western parts of the
Panhandle, you have to remember that this is “open range” country, which means
the herds of cattle are not always fenced in and will frequently wander the
road ways. When traveling, one crosses the occasional cattle guard and one
always has to be on the alert for a cow or two or maybe even a whole herd on
the road ahead. These cows do not respond to polite or even irritated horn
blowing. The driver just has to be patient sometimes.
While in the area of Black Mesa, I went to the three corners
and hiked to the 1881 boundary marker, about 1000 feet north of the
modern marker. I attempted to drive the dirt path leading to the old marker, but
turned around after only a few yards, realizing that I would need a
four-wheel-drive vehicle. Besides, it was only a couple of thousand feet there
and back, so I had a nice walk.
The original obelisk is definitely not built to today’s
standards, and is not in the correct place in spite of the impressions of 37 N
latitude and 108 W Longitude. But, I think the surveyors back in those days did
a remarkably decent job locating boundaries with the equipment with which they
had to work. I read that surveying a boundary a century or two ago could take
up to two weeks to find a single point of reference. The surveyors, using
sextant and line-of-sight equipment, would take a series of measurements to
determine where they were and extrapolate where the boundary was supposed to be
based on numerous measurements. In many cases it was extremely accurate. In
other cases, the surveying team had to contend with weather, hostile Indians, outlaws,
and rampaging wildlife in remote desolate areas. All that along with trying to
take accurate measurements and keeping records had to take its toll in
accuracy. When this boundary marker was put in place, Colorado had been a state
for only 5 years, New Mexico was still a territory, and there was no “Oklahoma
panhandle” – this was No Man’s Land, not claimed by any other state or
territory. The closest towns of any size were Dodge City (KS), Santa Fe (NM),
and Denver (CO), all at least 150 miles away. Oklahoma City did not yet exist;
the survey team may have traveled 160 miles from Fort Supply.
I can imagine that the team surveying the three corners area
may have had their records blown away more than once, encountered at least a
few not-so-friendly plains native Americans, had to fight off more than one
outlaw attack, shot a few rampaging bison and more than a few mountain lions
and rattlesnakes. I’ll bet at the end of all this they thought their result was
darn well close enough – in others words, under the circumstances it was “OK” to be only 1000 feet off.
With the camper trailer in tow from the three corners area,
I drove to Picture Canyon, leaving around 9 am on the 5th. According to the
map, Picture Canyon is about 15 miles as the crow flies from the east end of
Black Mesa. However, I chose to drive, and the only way to drive there is on
the old dirt roads into the Comanche National Grasslands starting east of
Kenton on road NO110 and continuing north about 20 miles into Colorado, then another
10 miles east on Co Rd G, then about 10 miles south on Co Rd 18.
These roads are not user friendly. At times the roads were
so rough that I was reduced to 5 miles an hour for a few hundred feet. My speed
never got anywhere near 25 miles an hour – mostly I was going between 15 and
20. I don’t know exactly how long it took me to get to Picture Canyon, but I
was parked, had lunch and was ready to hike the trail by about 1 pm.
Conservatively, I figure it took me at least three hours.
Earlier that day, I was startled by two prairie rattlers,
both about 5 to 6 feet in length. The previous evening while walking along a
trail in the Black Mesa state park I read a sign to watch out for these things
as they were plentiful in that area. I also heard a report of mountain lions,
which were native to that area and had been observed to be increasing in
number.
So, I was a bit on edge when I began the Picture Canyon
trail. And that spooked feeling didn’t improve because the canyon looked like
it was a perfect place for mountain lions and rattlesnakes. I watched where I
was stepping and tried to make as much noise as possible (to let the mountain
lions know I was there (?)).
I realized that the closest person was probably a
good 10 miles away, and the closest medical facility was in Boise City, 20
miles as the crow flies, 60 miles as the truck drives. And I had a thought – I
always like to hike alone, but I was never really alone on other hikes because
I always met other hikers along the way. But out here, I realized that I was
most certainly hiking absolutely alone. If I had a serious accident, no one
would know for days. I did leave Nana Pam all the information she would need to
find my corpse if she was so inclined.
It was then I notice some very interesting poop. There was cow
poop along the way from numerous cattle that were allowed to free range there.
But this poop was definitely not cow chips, and looked vaguely familiar. Then it
dawned on me: this looked a lot like the same poop produced by Satchmo the Brain
Damaged Cat, only it was larger and there was more of it. It had the same
general consistency of cat poop (I poked it with my walking stick), and was
also about as fresh as the cat poop that Satchmo uses to stink up my house
daily. This was something that made me go “huh”.
Me being me, I did some quick analysis: This appeared to be
cat poop; the only thing that produces cat poop is a cat; this was larger than
house cat poop; I was in a remote canyon, not a house; larger cat poop means a
larger cat; a mountain lion is a larger cat; mountain lions live in remote
canyons; ergo, it was quite possible that there was a mountain lion nearby.
I was quite ready to commit to the logic, and the coward in
me told me I should.
But, I remembered reading somewhere that mountain lions only
hunt during twilight, and it was hours before twilight, so I was probably in no
real danger of being stalked as prey.
And it was the phrase, “stalked as prey”, that helped me make up my mind -- I double-timed it along the trail toward the parking area, stepping as quickly as I could to avoid the numerous rattlesnakes trying to bite me while singing “Man of La Mancha” at the top of my lungs hoping to scare off the mountain lions that were stalking me as prey.
All in all, though, the Picture Canyon hike was OK. I’m glad
for the opportunity to go to Picture Canyon – I’m equally glad that there is no
reason to go back any time soon. But, maybe in late fall or early winter in
some future year I could return and hike some of the more remote areas of the
canyon. I’d be sure to bring a companion who I can outrun in case we’re chased
by a mountain lion.
