Getting lost in time

Day #6 – Where Time Slipped Away and I Slept with a Coyote

Didn’t post anything for Day #6 because, well, I ran out of time. Literally. I shot so late into the night and ended up so far from anything resembling civilization that I had no choice but to sleep in my car on the side of the highway—with a coyote and a few truckers for company. Cozy, right?

One thing people forget about Route 66 is that the farther west you go, the more the distances stretch between motels and hotels. My grand plan was to power through Texas and land in Gallup, New Mexico, in one shot. Totally doable—unless, like me, you get easily sidetracked.

Before I knew it, I had passed Albuquerque (the last stop for decent accommodations before Gallup) and was too far from either to make it before exhaustion won. So, the coyote, the truckers, and I had ourselves an impromptu roadside campout.

The reason I lost track of time? I stumbled upon another gem.

I swung back through Texola and decided to check out the only business still open—the Tumbleweed Grill and Country Store.

Wow. Best decision ever.

 

Tumbleweed Cafe

 When I stepped inside, most of the place was in darkness. Coming in from the blinding Oklahoma  sun, all I could see was a faint sliver of light from what looked like a kitchen. I called out, “HELLO?” and—bam!—a face popped around the corner, lights flicked on, and there stood Masal.

 

 

Masal preparing lunch for a customer

 

Turns out Masal and her husband were just passing through Texola two years ago when their brand-new car broke down. A defective fuel pump left them stranded, and with the nearest motel 60 miles away, the gas station owner kindly put them up. With nothing but time on their hands, they wandered into the Tumbleweed, saw it was for sale, and figured… why not? The rest is history.

 

 

Masal in front of her pride and joy

Masal is now the chef, cook, waitress, bottle washer—basically, a one-woman show. Also, an artist.    She runs both the grill and the country store, and let me tell you, Texola is worth a stop just to meet herand try her food.

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

 

After leaving Texola, I figured I’d drop by Jericho, Texas , just across the state line.

Driving along the old Route 66 is a bit like taking a train cross-country. If you’ve done it, you’ll remember the rhythmic clickety-clack of the wheels on the tracks. That same sound plays beneath your tires on the original concrete sections of 66. It’s nostalgic, hypnotic… and then I got to Jericho.

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

Disappointment.

Last year, Jericho was a ghost town—mysterious, desolate, perfect for photography. Now? Wind turbines. Dozens of towering, modern-day structures dot the landscape, shattering that eerie, abandoned atmosphere. Jericho no longer has the feeling of a ghost town sitting in nowhere but now just another collection of old deserted building surrounded by progress.        

Another casualty of modernization on the march. No doubt it’s progress for Texas, but for photographers? A tragic loss.

With daylight still in my favor, I decided to squeeze in more shooting. But here’s the problem: Route 66 is too interesting. I have an insatiable curiosity about what’s down every road, which often means my intended destinations take a backseat to my detours.

Progress isn't always a photographers friend

 

Everywhere you turn the wind towers now dominate the landscape.

It’s all changed 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.

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

 

This time, it was Two Guns and Glenrio.

It’s mind-blowing how close these ghost towns are to the interstate—seriously, check out the Glenrio photo for a clue—but the vast majority of travelers speed right past, oblivious to the history sitting just off the road.

Here’s the thing about Route 66: If you really want to experience its magic, you have to slow down. If you just race along I-40, you’re missing the real Mother Road.

By the time I finally wrapped up shooting, I had no chance of making it to my original destination. So, rather than risk a drowsy drive, I accepted my fate: another night in the car, under the stars, with my pal Mr. Coyote and some truckers.

Day #7 – A Swiss Adventurer and a McDonald’s Pit Stop

The plan? Drive straight to Los Angeles—no detours, just fuel and rest.

Then I pulled into Kingman, Arizona, for gas and a McDonald’s coffee. That’s when I met Christian Schlatter, a Swiss motorcyclist in the final stretch of a 120,000-kilometer round-the-world trip.

He was huddled in a corner, trying (and failing) to blend in with his worn, bright-yellow-motorcycle gear while using McDonald’s free Wi-Fi—just like I do. His bike outside caught my eye, so I had to invade his privacy.

Turned out he was happy to chat. Over coffee, he shared some incredible stories from his journey.

The Map on one of the saddlebags

120,000 kilometers and counting

Christian planning his next few days.

If you’re curious about what a 120,000-kilometer motorcycle adventure looks like, check out his website: www.infiniteroad.ch.

As for me, I’m now in LA with my daughter, waiting on possible brain surgery for my grandson, Smith.

When I hit the road eastward again, I’ll post more as I continue tracking down the unusual people who call the ghost towns of the West their home.

Stay tuned...

 

Route 66 Effected Many Small Towns

Last year, when I traveled Route 66, there were several areas I skipped—mostly because they were too far off the Mother Road for the time I had. The truth is, so many towns in and around Route 66 have been devastated by its demise that someone could make an entire career just documenting them.

This time, I set out to find and record some of the less glamorous places—the ones that felt the full brunt of Route 66’s decommissioning. The road was established on November 11, 1926, and officially decommissioned on June 27, 1985, though many towns started fading long before as the interstate slowly took over.

Today’s journey took me through Geary, Bridgeport, and Foss, Oklahoma. Even after seeing so much decay along Route 66 last year, it still saddens me to witness what were once thriving small towns, their economies built around a well-traveled road that no longer exists.

Of course, getting to these places often means dealing with roads that are more suggestion than pavement. Travel plans? Out the window.

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

         Geary, Oklahoma

          Geary is practically a ghost town. One of the few remaining businesses on the main drag? A                   taxidermy shop. You can’t make this stuff up.

          Most of the town is a collection of burned-out and crumbling buildings. And then there’s the local           sheriff, prowling the empty streets in a massive, intimidating black patrol car. Given that there are           barely any functioning businesses and most of the homes are abandoned or in ruins, I have to                  wonder—what exactly is he patrolling? How do they even afford gas for that 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

    Bridgeport, Oklahoma 

    Even more unsettling than Geary, Bridgeport actually made my skin crawl.

 

This is one of the better structures

 

No doubt the mail will be arriving late today.

 

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

     I met William Alexander, who came rushing out of his trailer cradling a giant Bernese Mountain Dog      puppy. William was eager to share his knowledge of Bridgeport’s past. According to him, the post         office shut down in the mid-70s, but once upon a time, the town had two hotels. Hard to believe,             looking at it now.

     When I asked why some people still lived here, he struggled to explain. Eventually, he shrugged and      said, “It was all about the water. Those who had the good water left.”

      I did not press for details. Maybe the answer really is in the water.

     William’s belt buckle might have offered some clues, but I didn’t ask about that either. Some things          are better left a mystery.

 

William

 

William's Mail Box

    Next to Nothing 

     After Bridgeport came Foss.  Though a complete 180 from William's town, Foss was different in a         couple of ways.  Namely a rock (the remnants of a building's foundation) and an iron cage that               once acted as the areas jail. I kid you not.

This is Foss, really!

 

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

    A Brighter Side of Route 66

    Not everything today was bleak.

    While passing through Bristow, I met Dakota, dressed in his high school graduation cap and gown, on     his way to the library to do some research. He graduates next week—this was apparently a dress            rehearsal. Sweet kid, with dreams of becoming a computer repairman.

 

Dakota, all ready for his graduation

 

    I also stopped by the Seaba Station Motorcycle Museum in Warwick to say hi to Jerry. I tried to find     the actual town of Warwick, but Jerry informed me his shop was the town.

Jerry, one happy individual

    

     Route 66 Still Has Its Humor

     There’s still humor to be found along Route 66—though I doubt it’s always intentional.

I'll leave the interpretation of the sign up to you.

 

    I made it as far as Elk City today. Tomorrow, the plan is to reach Gallup, New Mexico. Let’s see what     the road has in store.

    More……

Gems of the soil

Yesterday, as I mentioned, I got a flat tire in Plato, Missouri—because what’s a road trip without a little roadside drama? I dropped the tire off at Sawyer Tire Auto Care in Lebanon just as they were closing. The manager, Larry, told me to leave it with him, and they’d take care of it first thing in the morning.

This morning, I went back, fully prepared to shell out $35 or more for the repair. Nope. Not even close. Just $15.72—because, for some reason, the U.S. still refuses to get rid of pennies. Larry, who had even given me hotel recommendations the night before, already had the tire ready to go. Fantastic service, and the guy’s got a sense of humor to boot.

Larry and his tires.

With my car back in action, I continued plodding westward. Just past Springfield, Missouri, I rejoined the original Route 66. I stopped briefly to check if my car would fit under a “Low Clearance” bridge—always an important moment of suspense. Glad I had filled up in Springfield, too, because the gas station just past the bridge? Long abandoned.

 

Will I clear the "Low Clearance"?

No Gas Here.  Lucky I filled up in Springfield

This stretch of Route 66 is pure vintage—the 1926 version of the road, untouched by time (or road maintenance, it seems). It’s also home to some of the most interesting people on the route. Many have been here for decades, living off the land and their wits, choosing the simple life over the rush of modern highways.

Not too far past the bridge, I stumbled upon some real gems—not literal ones, but even better. Gene and Patricia were hard at work in their garden when I spotted them. They’ve lived here for 40 years, long after Route 66’s heyday faded, building a life for themselves in a place most would have left behind.

Gene in the garden

 

Patricia and Gene in their Garden

Patricia was hesitant at first when I asked for a photo. “I’m covered in dirt,” she said. But I told her that made it even better—she looked authentic. She laughed, and soon both she and Gene were happily chatting with me. I was mesmerized by Patricia’s hands—caked in soil from gardening, yet still wearing her engagement ring.

 

Patricia's hands

These are the kinds of people who keep Route 66 alive. This is exactly what I was hoping to find.

A little further down the road, just outside of Galena, Kansas, I found a set of deserted railway tracks. Something about the scene struck me. The tracks—sturdy and well-built—yet no longer needed, no longer used. A perfect metaphor for what has happened to so many places along Route 66. But I’ll let you form your own thoughts.

With the weather turning dark and grey, I pushed on to Tulsa for the night, ready to see what tomorrow brings.

More......

What you don’t expect can sneak up on you

The first two days on the road were exactly as expected—long, brain-numbing miles, one after the other.

But today, things got interesting.

I rolled out of my lovely motel (tongue firmly in cheek) just east of St. Louis and headed for Missouri. Not long after crossing the state line, I found my way onto Historic Route 66.

Now, at this point, there’s not much left of the Mother Road—very few people travel it, and it mostly winds through lush green vegetation, occasionally revealing an abandoned gas station or a house that’s seen better decades. Some folks do have, uh, interesting front lawns, though.

A front yard to die for!

Compared to the high-speed madness of I-44, Route 66 is a slow, quiet strip of beaten-up asphalt, with speed limits ranging from 35 to 55 mph. People often ask what use Route 66 has in today’s world of high-octane interstates. Well, about an hour into Missouri, I got my answer.

I came upon a massive transport truck that had not had a good day. It had veered off I-44 and—rather than simply dumping its cargo—seemed to have exploded it across the road.

Lifting the carcass

 

Cleanup crews were struggling to scrape together what was left of the truck, and eastbound traffic on I-44 was backed up for miles. But those of us cruising along Route 66? We just whizzed right by. So much for the Mother Road being useless.

Route 66 clear and free

   

About 40 miles southwest of Cuba (not the island) is a tiny place called Plato (not the philosopher). Just outside of town sits what’s left of a grand, plantation-style house, built around 1840. It’s in its final death throes and won’t be standing much longer, so naturally, I had to check it out.

The Bates-Geers house

 

Getting to Plato was an adventure in itself. For reasons known only to the GPS gods, my navigation system decided the best route involved a dirt road.

 

A lovely drive, ending in water

Twenty minutes in, I arrived at a flat cement bridge… with a fast-running river flowing right over it. A helpful sign at the bridge entrance read: “Non-navigable during high water.” I had serious doubts that most folks in these parts knew what non-navigable meant, much less that they’d stop to read it. Guess who the stupid one was!

Looks can be deceiving

If you’ve ever driven across the Spanish Town Road Bridge in Jamaica, you know exactly what I’m talking about—submerged roads where you cross at your own peril. I got out, assessed the situation, and figured I probably wouldn’t float away. Gunned it.

Turns out, the water was deeper than it looked. The car did a brief nose dive, dipped underwater for a second, then triumphantly popped out the other side. Success!

Moral of the story? Always roll up your driver’s side window before attempting this.

Eventually, I made it to Slabtown Road near Plato and found the beautiful, crumbling old house. After photographing the Bates-Geers house, I returned to my car and—of course—found my rear tire completely flat.

Rats.

So much for Ford’s tire sensors. The thing only started dinging as I got out of the car, and I just assumed it was scolding me for leaving the keys in the ignition. Nope—turns out it was actually useful this time.

 

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

Good thing for spare tires! The change would have been quicker, but I had to stop and chat with the friendly locals who kept checking if I needed help.

Made it to Lebanon (my intended stop all along), dropped the tire off at Sawyer Tire, and they’ll have it ready by 8 AM tomorrow.

Now, time to find a motel and relax.

Hello Boys, I'mmmmm Back

Apologies to Randy Quaid and Independence Day—no alien invasions here (that I know of).

Once again, I’m venturing into the lost world of Route 66. Last year’s trip showed me that this legendary road still has plenty of secrets, side roads, and quirky roadside attractions left to explore.

There’s something mesmerizing about the deserts of the American Southwest and the people who call it home. For me, it’s like the Sirens’ song from The Odyssey (the one by Homer, not Homer Simpson). The landscape may look barren, but scratch the surface, and you’ll find it teeming with life—and some truly unexpected oddities.

This time around, my blogs won’t be as lengthy as before. Too much time spent writing means missing out on more important things—like actually experiencing the road. I’ll let you fill in the blanks.

So here goes. 

More to come…