On the road again – South to Texas

I’ve visited all fifty states in the Union, except Vermont and New Hampshire. Most states seamlessly blend into the next.  It’d be hard to tell without the welcome signs whether you’re in southern Virginia or North Carolina.  Eastern Colorado just feels like more of western Kansas- flat and the mountains are still a long way away. 

Yesterday I left my sister in Parker, Colorado and only got as far as Colorado Springs, forty minutes south, before I stopped for breakfast and a visit with a good friend.  Starting out my trip east slow but starting out full of food and friendship.

I left interstate 25 and headed across southeastern Colorado. Past Rocky Ford, the land of the world’s best cantaloupe and, if you followed the news, the home of just one dirty packing house that sent contaminated loupes to the market killing a dozen and shutting down the industry for the entire region last year.  That’s a blow to a one-industry town.

But when I got south of Lamar, I can honestly say it was one of the most desolate places I’ve been on the planet. I remember driving in Andalusia, Spain and thinking that was empty but this is empty and desolate. And flat.  Completely flat. On I puttered, semis passing me and meeting me- on a two-lane road. Luckily the flat part was an advantage there.

I passed a sign “Don’t let the Army buy South Eastern Colorado”. Why not? It looks like a perfect bombing range to me.  The Spanish plain had quaint stone ruins; southern Colorado has broken down shacks, wood roofs collapsing into the concrete block foundations.  Not picturesque, just junky.

And finally I was in the Oklahoma panhandle. And a completely different look. Canyons break up the monotonous flat.  Sturdy wood trestles frame the setting sun as I dip lower than the parallel train tracks.  Windmills silhouette against the pink horizon.

Thank you, Ken Ziegenbein, for the photo.
It's Texas but looks like Oklahoma.

Scruffy trees, winter stripped of leaves, are transformed into a forest of black lacy fan coral with fingers tickling the sky’s failing light.

Random internet photo- the road was too narrow to stop
and I was ready to be done with the day of driving.

And radio.  Colorado, in that desolate spot, doesn’t even receive radio coverage.  Flat, silent, with fading light.  My spirit were sinking as the dark crept closer. No even a beautiful high desert sunset relieved my feeling of isolation and creeping fear about where I would spend the night.  Clearly this is not the land of tourist RV parks. And I would be crazy to drive in the dark with those aggressive truckers.

The lights of a town never looked so good.  Turns out I arrived from the ugly side- or at least, I’ll give Boise “City” the benefit of the doubt until I drive out the other end.  Because, I'm content. I spent a cozy night between two semis at the OK Love truck stop in Boise City, OK.

Friendly, safe, free wifi. So, as the sky softens to pink and my trucker neighbors wander in bleary eyed for coffee and a greasy breakfast, I’ll get in  line for the trek south. 

I'm in search of Texas, adventure and a Mac store for a new power cord so I can import my spectacular photos of flatness.

Wish me luck.   Off to find answers to life and computers.