After Do Wacka Do, I headed out purposing to always turn south or east.Yes, I like black and white pics.
This was my only ghost town-ish sighting--I took several pics and this was the best f the bunch.
Long country roads that go right over the end of the earth--I likes dis.
And another. I swear there were Mountains on the horizon.
There they are!! You could actually see these from Do Wacka Do. These were near the quaint town of Granite.
I think it's dead now.
Getting there. Would I get to climb? Would I Want to climb?
Umm----no.Looks like a good rattlesnake habitat.
Let's go this way. And yes--more of the same. I ended up in Granite, and did a boring jaunt down the east side of Lake Altus. From there, I violated my always south or east rule and headed west and noticed Quartz Mountain State Park. It showed they had hiking trailz, so of course, I had to go.
I found one short dirt trail, and it was way overgrown. Besides the ticks and chiggers who were perched and ready to bite, a sign also warned of biting rattlesnakes. This seems like a really good winter-time trail.
I followed the road on around and found what must have been a lodge.A nice place. The trailz here were well-groomed concrete and asphalt.
I drove around just a little more, and headed on to find my next adventure, and what an adventure it turned out to be. I was driving north, and noticed an old gray headed man with a back pack hunched over walking very slowly downhill on the narrow shoulder of the road.The road north did not appear to be leading to anything of interest, so I turned around and pulled up alongside this old man. Rolling the window down, I asked if he was okay or needed any water. He said he was fine and just lived about 100 feet away, pointing back over his shoulder. He said something about his spark pugs being all messed up in his truck and needed to get parts. He was wearing denim overalls, a flannel shirt, a windbreaker jacket, a quilted ball cap, and a cheap backpack that looked like it had nothing in it. I offered him a ride, and at first, he said no, and then maybe--if I could just give him a lift down to the highway (about a mile away.) "Where do you need to go," I asked. "Hobart," the reply, "but just get me to the highway and he'd hitchhike from there."
I had no idea where Hobart was--actually I thought he said Hubert, and that was one heck of a long ways away. 'Which way is Hobart?" pointing east and west. "East, but you don't need to bother," I told him I was wanting to go to the Wichita Mountains, and it just as well have been Wichita Kansas. Then, I told him it was kind of near Lawton, and we were getting dialed in. t turns out that Hobart was kinda/sorta on the way, and I convinced him to get in. (Please note: This story does not have a gruesome ending. Nothing weird happens. I did not rob him for his backpack. He did not pull a knife on me. I didn't get foul smelly stains on my car seats.
Hobart was 17 miles away, and this dude got to talking and it seemed like it was 117 miles away. He was hard of hearing (and well, I am too-but not as bad as he was.) He came from Oregon where he was a laminator and cabinet installer. Oregon inducted a lot of government regulations for construction contractors and being a headstrong old codger, he bucked the system and ended up having no clients and income, and it was just those damn liberals who ruin everything and it's all about greed, and America is losing all its freedom. What I said in two sentences took him 14 miles with me driving 65 mph to say-loudly. thought about asking if he was ready for America to be Great Again, but thought better of it.
Th second part of his life story was how his wife of 28 years divorced him. She was 22 when they got married, and he was 18 years older than her. She just upped and left him when he became jobless in Oregon. Go figure. He moved to Oklahoma because he saw where he could buy a decent trailer house for about 10% of what his trailer house cost in Oregon. And how here, he was hired by two Korean women who owned a lot of motels in the area, and he was their handyman. He was given the assignment of remodeling a building they had recently bought on 10 wooded acres, and they were gonna turn into a resort near the Quartz Mountain State Park. I felt the conversation was going into more depth about his relationship with these two women and was cringing at the thought of opening another chapter in his book.
Finally, we got to Hobart, and he asked for me to drop him off at a quickie sore on the corner. I offered to drive him to wherever he actually needed to go, but the store was good enough. I was glad I helped this man. He did say he was having severe back pain and was gonna have to get him some of those Doan's pills. It was a wee bit on the warm side, and he was overdressed. And he would probably have never gotten a ride hitchhiking, and it would have been a real problem for him to walk from where I picked him up to the highway and especially back uphill to wherever his trailer house was.
On to the Wichitas. I found a route that entered the park from the west side but noticed my low fuel light flashed as I neared the turnoff. Uh oh. So, I got Siri to find me a nearby gas station some 12 miles away--a small detour. This pic is a rocky outcropping of a hill near the trail head for the Elk Mountain Trail. I have been on about a mile on the other end of this trail system, but need to come here when I have time to spend a few hours.
This is Elk Mountain in all its splendor. You can also link u with Charon''s Garden, and see Crab Eyes, and Apple and Pear--unique rock formations which are well worth the hike to see.
This woolly guy looked up to see what the hay I was doing, and then just chilled while I worked to get a camera angle where I could see him through this old tree.
I want to get a BIG group of friends and camp here
and run all weekend sometime soon.