Getting lost in time

Didn’t post anything for Day #6 as I just simply ran out of time.  In fact, I ended up shooting so late and was so far from anything that resembled civilization, I ended up sleeping in the car along the side of the highway with a local coyote and some truckers for company.  

What one tends to forget is that the further west Route 66 takes you the more the distances increase between Motels and Hotels.   I had planned on jumping straight across Texas and making it to Gallup, New Mexico in one swoop.  This is doable but not when one gets easily sidetracked as I do. 

Before I knew it I had gone way past Albuquerque, (where the last of the descent accommodations were until Gallup) and too far from Gallup as well as too tired to push on.  Thus the coyote, truckers and I camped for the night.

What caused my losing track of time is that I discovered another gem.  I decided to drop by Texola again but this time I ventured into the only place left operating, The Tumbleweed Grill and Country Store.   

Wow, sure glad I did.

 

Tumbleweed Cafe

When I entered most of the place was clocked in darkness and having just come in from the bright Oklahoma sunlight all I could see was a sliver of light emanating from what appeared to be a kitchen.   I said HELLO and a face popped around the corner followed by the lights going on.  The face belonged to Masal.

 

Masal preparing lunch for a customer

Seems that two years ago Masal and her husband were driving to Memphis, via Route 66, and stopped for gas in Texola.  After filling up their brand new car would not restart.  Turns out it was a defective fuel pump.  Since they were stranded until a new one could be FedEx'd, and it was February with the closest motel being 60 miles away, the station owner offered to put them up.  With time on their hands they discovered that the Tumbleweed was for sale and the price being right they bought it and as they say, the rest is history.

 

Masal in front of her pride and joy

Masal is the chief, cook, waitress and bottle washer, literally.  Also, an artist who runs both the grill and country store. 

Texola is definitely worth stopping by and offers many great photographic opportunities. Do drop into The Tumbleweed Grill and meet Masal and sample her cooking.

 

Next door to the  Tumbleweed Cafe but not in as good a shape

Leaving Texola and Masal I figured I’d drop into what’s left of Jericho, just over the state line in Texas.  Sticking to the old Route 66 is a bit like cross-country train travel.  For those of us who have had this experience, you will recall the rhythmic clickety-clack sound, mile after mile, of the train wheels made on the tracks.  That same sound is produced as you drive along parts of the original concrete sections of R66. Very rhythmic and nostalgic.

It seems some folks need a lot of convincing they are going the wrong way.

At times the paved/concrete has reverted back to au natural

Unfortunately, the rhythm and nostalgia of Route 66 was broken when I got to Jericho. What lay before me was a huge disappointment.  

When I was here last year what remained of Jericho wasn’t much but very photographic and mysterious sitting all alone on the empty vastness of the Texas landscape.

Progress isn't always a photographers friend

 

Everywhere you turn the wind towers now dominate the landscape.

It’s all changed and though no doubt to the betterment of Texas, not so from a photographers vantage point.  Within in the past year, dozens of huge wind towers have been erected, all around Jericho, with much more in the process of going up.  Jericho no longer has the feeling of a ghost town sitting in nowhere but now just another collection of old deserted building surrounded by modern-day structures.  Another casualty of modernization on the march.

Since the available daylight hours are long I figured why not take advantage and shoot as much as possible.  However, before one is aware of it the hour is getting late and the distance too great to make your intended destination.  Also compounding the matter is my insatiable curiosity as to what’s down the road tends to lead me further astray from the main roads, which add unexpected hours to the days travel.  

 

The road to curiosity

Two Guns, Arizona

Glenrio on the border of Texas and New Mexico

As much as I wanted to push on, the lure of places such as Two Guns and Glenrio was just too much to resist and I found myself unable to pass these places buy without once again spending time there.  It amazes just how close these two places are to the interstate, look for a clue in the Glenrio photo, yet the vast majority of travellers pass these ghost towns by.   

What I have found, with Route 66, is that if you really want to experience its magic and mysteries then time needs to be taken to explore it.  Rushing down I40, though it's now considered to be Route 66,  will not offer what the real Mother Road has to offer.

In the end, I conceded that it would be far safer spending the night in the car than pushing the envelope trying to reach my intended destination that evening.  Thus my night sleeping by the roadside with mr. coyote and some truckers.

Day 7

The intention was to drive directly to LA, stopping only for fuel and some needed rest. 

Pulled into Kingman, Arizona for fuel and a McDonalds coffee only to discover an interesting character.  Christian Schlatter is a Swiss national who is in the latter part of his round-the-world motorcycle trip.    He was huddled in a corner of McDonalds trying not to draw too much attention to himself (stood out like a sore thumb in his yellow and very warn motorcycle outfit) while making use of McDonalds’ free wi-fi (just as I do) to get caught up on postings to his blog.  Having viewed his bike in the parking lot I couldn’t resist invading his privacy.  Turned out that Christian was only too happy to tell me some of his stories as we had coffee together.

The Map on one of the saddlebags

120,000 kilometers and counting

Christian planning his next few days.

What an interesting person. I suggested anyone else interested in what a 120,000 Kilometer bike trip is like that they look up Christian’s web page at www.infiniteroad.ch

I’m currently in LA with my daughter awaiting the possible brain surgery on Smith, my grandson.

When I again hit the road on my way back east I'll again post as I try to seek out the unusual people who call the ghost towns of the West their home.

More……….

 

Route 66 Effected Many Small Towns

Last year, when I travelled down Route 66 there were several areas that I chose to past by mostly because their locations were further afield from The Mother Road than I wanted to venture at that time.  If the truth be known there are so many areas in and around R66 that have been devastated by its demise, an entire career could be made just documenting those areas.

This time I was determined to search out and record some of the less glamorous places that felt the full brunt of Route 66 being decommissioned.  The route was established November 11, 1926, and fully decommissioned on June 27, 1985, though the demise of many of the towns started years prior as the road was slowly replaced by the interstate.

Today I found myself visiting Geary, Bridgeport and Foss Oklahoma.  Even though after seeing so much decay along the old Route 66 path last year it still saddens me when I continue to witness what at one time must have been bustling small towns living of the proceeds that were generated from Route 66 being well travelled.

One of the side effects of getting to these places is that the roads, or what’s left of them, sometimes leave much to be desired resulting in your travel itinerary going out the window.

This is what the GPS called a "country road".  Passable, but just.

My first stop was Geary Oklahoma.

Geary is nearly an empty void.  I thought it strange and yet telling that one of the few remaining operations on the main drag was a taxidermy shop.  I kid you not.  So much of the town consisted of burned out and decaying houses and buildings.  One of the strangest sights was that of the local sheriff prowling the streets in his huge modern menacing looking black patrol car.  Given that there is hardly a shop operating and most homes are either deserted or burnt down, what’s the point? I’m surprised that they can even allocate funds to fuel the darn thing.

One of the few remaining operations in Geary, OK

Normally a business on Main St. would come with a roof and doors.

Even the US flag looks sad

Further along is Bridgeport, OK. 

 

This is one of the better structures

 

No doubt the mail will be arriving late today.

An even sadder place.  In fact, this place actually made my skin crawl.    

I met one William Alexander who was cradling a Giant Bernese Mountain pup in his arms.  William was quick to rush out of his trailer to offer me insight into the life and times of Bridgeport.  According to William the post office closed down in the mid 70’s and the town in its heyday supported not one but two hotels.   

 

What's left of one residence and it's backyard

Those who still live there, for reasons William couldn’t fully explain, choose to stay when according to William “those who had the good water decided to leave”.  “It was all about water”.   William couldn’t articulate what he meant about the water and I felt it was wiser not to press for more information.  Maybe the answer really is in what's in the water.

William’s belt buckle perhaps gives a clue.

 

William

 

William's Mail Box

Next came Foss, OK. 

To call it a town is really a bit of a stretch.  Even calling it a hamlet is an overstatement.  One of the main businesses was a pontoon boat business.  The nearest water for such a craft is 900 miles away.   Only two items told me I was in Foss.  The stone and a very old jail holding cage.   That's it. No post office, town hall, rec centre, just a rock and cage.

This is Foss, really!

 

Ok, so there's a bit more...

Not all was a depressing as these three stops were.   

On the brighter side while swinging through Bristow I came across Dakota all dressed up in his high school graduation cap and gown on his way to the library to do some research.  He graduates next week so I’m guessing this is his dress rehearsal.  A Sweet kid with a dream of becoming a computer repairman.  

 

Dakota, all ready for his graduation

Also, dropped by to say hi to Jerry at the Seaba Station Motorcycle Museum in Warwick.  I tried looking for the actual town, couldn’t find it.  Jerry said his shop was all that was left of the town.

Gerry, one happy individual

 There is still humor to be found along R66, though I sure it wasn't intended.

Note the guy checking things out

 

I made it as far as Elk City and tomorrow hope to eventually reach Gallup, New Mexico.

More……

Gems of the soil

Yesterday, as I mentioned,  I got a flat tire while in Plato, Missouri and dropped the tire off at Sawyer Tire Auto Care in Lebanon,  just as they were closing.   The Manager Larry said to leave it with him and they'd get to it first thing in the morning.

This morning I went back to pick up the tire, quite prepared to pay $35 plus for its repair.  Nothing even close.  $15.72, the Yanks still can’t get rid of their darn pennies.  Larry, who last night had suggest places to for me to stay, already had the tire in hand and repaired.  Wonderful service and he has a sense of humour too boot.

Larry and his tires.

Plodding westward and just past Springfield, Missouri, I hooked up again with the original R66.  Stopped to check if my car would squeeze under the “Low Clearance”.  Glad I fueled up in Springfield and wasn't counting on the station just past the bridge.

 

Will I clear the "Low Clearance"?

No Gas Here.  Lucky I filled up in Springfield

This road is typical of what is left of the original R66, the one from 1926.   This is also the version of R66 where I believe some of the most interesting R66 folks reside.  Many are locked in a kind of time capsule.  Living off the land and their wits.  Many have stayed on simply because they prefer the simpler style of life offered alone the road.

Not too far past the bridge, I discovered some real gems.  Not actually gems as you might be thinking but nevertheless wonderful finds.  Gene and Patricia are their names and I spotted them hard at work in their garden.  Both are lovely individuals who moved here 40 years ago and though the glory years of R66 have long been gone these two chose to say and have built themselves a great life.

Gene in the garden

 

Patricia and Gene in their Garden

Patricia was charming and at first, didn’t think she looked good enough to be photographed.  “I’m covered in dirt,” she said.  I explained that on the contrary, she looked lovely and authentic.  Both have bubbling personalities and were only too glad stop work to chat with me.  I was mesmerized with Patricia’s hands.  Covered in dirt from gardening yet she still was wearing her engagement ring.

 

Patricia's hands

These three individuals are what give R66 its life and what I had hoped to discover. 

Just outside of Galena, Kansas I found these deserted railway tracks.  Felt that the shot invoked some thoughts.  To me, the tracks are a metaphor for what has happened to this part of the US.  They appear to be sturdy and well built and yet no longer needed or used.  I’ll let you form your own thoughts.

With the weather changing for the worse and the day turning dark and grey I pushed on to Tulsa for the night.

More......

What you don’t expect can sneak up on you

The first two days on the road went just about as expected.  Long, brain-numbing mile after mile after mile.

Today I expected things to get more interesting and they did. 

I pulled out of my lovely motel (tongue fully planted in my cheek), just East of St. Louis, and headed for Missouri.    Shortly after crossing the state line I found my way onto Historic Route 66.   

Now, there isn't much of anything about the Mother Road at this point and very few travel it.  It weaves through lots of lovely green vegetation with the occasional deserted old house or gas station popping up.  Though some folks front lawns are interesting.

 

A front yard to die for!

R66 is mostly just a quiet strip of old beaten up asphalt.  Compared to I44  Route 66 is a slow route with the road posted speeds running between 35 and 55 mph.

Many ask what use does R66 have in today’s life of high-octane interstates.  Well, about an hour into Missouri this question was answered when I came upon a very large transport truck that had gone off of I44 and dumped, no exploded,  its contents all over the road.  

 

Lifting the carcass

The clean-up wrecking crews were in the process of trying to lift what was left of the truck onto flatbeds.  Eastbound traffic on I44 was backed up mile upon mile for hours.  However, those who were able to get onto R66 were just whizzing along.  So much for what use R66 is.

Route 66 clear and free

 About 40 miles South West of Cuba, not the island, is a hamlet called Plato, not the philosopher, Just outside of Plato is, at least what’s left of it,  a great plantation style type of house.  Built circa 1840, this house is in its final death throes and won’t be standing for much longer.

The Bates-Geers house

Getting to Plato was a bit of a jaunt.  For some reason, I guess to give me a more direct route,  my GPS directed me onto a dirt road that after about 20 minutes led me to a flat cement bridge with a fast running river washing over it.   

 

A lovely drive, ending in water

At the point of entry to the bridge was a sign that read “non-navigable during high water”.  I doubt most people in this neck of the woods know what non-navigable means, much less able to read it.     

Looks can be deceiving

For any of you who have ever crossed over the Spanish Town Road Bridge in Jamaica, you'll know what I’m talking about.  Both roads are submerged and you cross at your peril.  I got out and figured I could make it.  Gunned the car, the water it turned out was much deeper than it appeared and the car did a nose dive and went slightly underwater before popping out the other side.   

Made it.  

The moral however is “be sure to roll up your diver side window before attempting this”.

Eventually made my way to Slabtown Road just outside of Plato and found the lovely old house. 

Photographed the Bates-Geers house and upon going back to the car guess what I found.  My rear tire was completely flat.  Rats.  So much for Ford’s tire sensors.  The stupid thing only started to ding as I was getting out of the car to photograph the house.  I thought the dinging was because I’d opened my door with my keys still in the ignition. 

 

Would have been nice if the tire sensor had gone off before the tire was fully flat.

Aren’t spare tires wonderful things! Changing the tire would have gone a lot quicker but I had to stop and chat with all the wonderful locals who wanted to know if I needed any help.

Made it to Lebanon, which was my objective all alone, dropped the tire off at Sawyer Tire and they’ll have it for me by 8 am tomorrow.

Off to find a motel and relax.

Hello Boys, I'mmmmm Back

My apologies to Randy Quaid and "Independence Day" the movie.

I’ve decided to again trek into the lost world of Route 66.  My trip last year taught me that there is much more to see along this historic route and its many tributaries of roads.  

There is something captivating about the deserts of the American Southwest and the folks who call it home that for me have a similar calling as the song of the Sirens from Homer’s (not Homer Simpson) The Odyssey had on passing sailors.  There is something very seductive about the barren landscape that when you scratch its surface you discover it’s actually full of life.

My blogs won’t be as extensive of last time, far too much time taken from more importing things.  I’ll let you fill in the blanks.

So here goes. 

More to come…