Back to Pauls Valley

I'd like to start out by saying that it absolutely drives this grammar Nazi insane that Pauls Valley doesn't have an apostrophe. Like you have no idea! Did Paul not know how to spell?!?

After all that crazy tornado producing humid nastiness, Oklahoma graced us with a gorgeous day to go riding. Not only that, but life graced me with three riders who wanted to go riding (and actually showed up). If that's not a blessing, I don't know what is. Not that having no one to ride with has ever stopped me before. It is, however, nice to ride in good company. Being that I usually ride solo, I tend to forget to give people a decent heads up before doing something. Of course, I'm usually looking at everything and anything, so I barely give myself enough heads up before randomly squeezing the brake levers. Sometimes, I do believe my hand has a mind of its own. Okay, not true. The camera has been awfully chatty with my hand. The two of which are now ganging up on my riding plans. 

So on the anniversary of the disastrous Riders in Oklahoma meet and greet, I found Blueberry and myself mozying on over to Porter Hill, Oklahoma. I tend to be a little late when the meeting location is Porter Hill because I have to stop to see if the camel is out enjoying some luscious OK greens. That and I want a picture. I want a picture of Blueberry with the camel in the background. Preferably with a nice Middle Eastern veil or five draped over the camel. Maybe with some Middle Eastern music floating in the background. Not that the music could be seen in the picture, but to create that dreamy ambiance. That's not too much to ask for, is it? It must be my luck that when I have time to chill out and scan the pasture with my camel radar on that the camel is nowhere to be seen.

Of course, all but one Lawton rider bailed on the opportunity to go on a ride that was more than 25 miles. Their loss. The official meet up restaurant in Chickasha was determined shortly before I inflated Blue's tires. Who doesn't love spontaneity? We cruised past the macho man fence (go check it out, there's a helmet on nearly every t-post) near Cement to coast down Main Street where we met the top dog. Quite literally. The beagle was not too excited about these two strange vehicles browsing down Main Street. After some tire sniffing, his droopy eyes showed the willingness to let our disruption slide this once. He'll probably round up the posse next time. High Noon in Cement. 

Time was on our side, which meant that we had enough time to take a detour through Ninnekah. Not that I think we found Ninnekah, but it's the thought that counts. In the middle of nowhere at t-intersection a sign appears relaying to travelers that city hall is to the left and the school is to the right. A look to the left reveals nothing. No main street, no town-like buildings. A look to the right provides the wide expansive view of even less plus a tumble weed blowing down the road. To the left it was. Eventually we did pass a small metal shack with a sign claiming it was city hall. Of course, it could have just as easily been a prank to lure unsuspecting souls into the script of a horror movie.

Time wasn't as much on our side as I thought. Blueberry's clock is slow. Who can blame it? We generally just ride to school these days. Neither of us wants to get there too soon. The restaurant, if one can call it that, was really a hole in the wall. Well, more like a hole in the street. It's so un-restaurant like that I've never noticed it before. And, it turns out that I've driven by it enough this past year that I can recite the street names from I-44 to HWY 9 from memory. Being as I didn't see it, we had to circle the block and try again. The riders from OKC pull into the parking lot shortly after us, and we embark into the simple, shady, tinted window building where the locals are mingling at the water hole. If there's one thing I would have never, ever, ever expected to see in this itty-bitty little diner, it would be exactly what we saw; wait staff taking orders on Ipads. Or e-readers. Or tablet computers. Which they were, I do not know. Beyond my technology level so such information/product classification is typically ignored.

After the slowest person finished her meal we were able to leave. As I was settling my check I was still trying to figure out where to stuff the rest of my french fries. If there's one thing I'm probably known for amongst those who ride with me, it's probably that I like to slam on my brakes to stop for a picture session. That's right: no warning stopping. Leaving those behind me confused, frustrated, and zooming by Blueberry because their reaction just isn't quite like mine and their mind reading abilities suck (...no offense, guys...). And, so we came to stop in the small town of Alex, OK. It always amazes me how a town so tiny can still have a flower shop. It may have nothing else (except for 5 million churches and a volunteer fire department), but it has a flower shop. Do the men of small towns piss off their significant others on such a regular basis? It would appears so. 

It's a little known fact about Pauls (grr!) Valley: It's the center of the universe. Or so its residents claim as witnessed by the plaque at the train station. Thank you, Mr. Clavin (think Cheers, y'all). If it weren't for plaques in odd places, I wouldn't know half the stuff I know. If there's one thing I like about Pauls...Valley, it's the fact that the downtown is still alive and thriving. I think if I'd been motivated to, I could have even tracked down a good cup of coffee. Seeing as I was already on a caffeine buzz, it probably wouldn't have been the best idea. I did however admire my favorite Maxwell ad for a bit. After an hour of ambling about the train station, and seeing half the crew asleep on the sidewalk, we split and went our separate ways.

My hope was to somehow make it to Davis. It wasn't some unreasonable hope; I had a pretty good idea of where to go and which towns we'd pass through. It wasn't until we made it to a junction which looked pretty legitimate that I became a little confused. I've seen less legitimate junctions which were the right road to take. So this serious junction seemed to say "I'm it. Take me. I'll get you there." But, where was that one town we were supposed to disturb the Sunday peace at? I guess it wouldn't be the first time I made it to a junction without seeing the towns that were supposedly on the way. After all, it is Oklahoma. If you blink at the wrong moment you can miss many a town.

After a couple of miles I had the feeling I had been fooled by a serious-looking junction with misleading signs and that we were actually on our way to Elmore City. Now the proud home of Footloose (the original movie with Kevin Bacon). It was just a few years ago that the town appeared like a ghost town. Maybe that's what happens when you ban fun; Karma comes back and makes your town ghost-like. However, they now have a big banner stating that they are in fact home of Footloose (can one really be proud of that?) and mentioning something about a Footloose festival in April. I wonder if they reenact the movie. Guess I'll have to wait until 2014 to find out. I don't know if I'll be able to take the suspense of waiting so long.

It's a little known fact (a true one this time. Sorry, Cliffy) that Elmore City was once called Rock Creek (yet they didn't like rock later on...) and was settled around the 1880s. Unfortunately, that and the movie are about the most interesting things that have happened to Elmore City. Please do correct me if I'm wrong. No complaints from this rider since I was surprised to find a high-octane fuel in Elmore City...with a pump accepting credit cards. So maybe there are other unexpected surprises to be found in E.C. Soooooo who's gonna go check out the Footloose festival? You know you want to!

Detours really are awesome. Especially when you have a full tank of fuel and no concerns about time. Those two factors really contribute to detour enjoyment. Coasting around the many lakes in the Duncan area on the way home, I found someone after my own heart who had made an awesome trinket gate. I do believe that unexpected u-turn was worth it.

Picture album will be posted on Facebook soon.

Cold Springs...sort of.

It was a cold, dreary January day. Not even the sun felt like making an appearance. It was a day to spend on the couch next to a warm fire while reading a book and sipping coffee out of a 44oz cup. That's the kind of day it was. Of course, one can spend a day reading any day. The opportunity to go out on a small adventure presented itself (and with a partner in crime, at that) so I thanked Serendipity and took it.

It's funny how when there's no rush and no specific plan that things just tend to work better than when a lot of planning is put into a trip. We left Stone Turtle Ranch at leisure and no designated time. Blueberry, unfortunately, was left in the warm garage. I can't expect Blueberry to always want to go ride when I do. Vain of me, isn't it?

I thought it couldn't hurt to swing over to the Narrows in the Wichita Mountains Wildlife refuge since I had a hunch the climbers I missed yesterday may try their luck there if they hadn't frozen to their sleeping bags the night before. I, of course, had to stop (yes, again) to take some pictures of some buffalo relaxing along the side of the road into the Narrows. As we approach the parking area, I spot the bright yellow car I left a note on yesterday. Was my hunch dead-on or what? I think I've still got some intuitions to gain before I apply to a sleuthing school. And, wouldn't you know, Serendipity was still with me because just as we got closer to the car, one of the climbers came back to his car. We had managed to catch them just as they started out to find the trail.

Since Serendipity had been so kind to me today, I had absolutely no concerns about being able to take the time to share the beauty of my stomping grounds with the climbers. Since my adventurous partner in crime had no qualms with taking a short spontaneous walk into the Narrows, off we went. I was a little surprised to find the water in West Cache Creek was still frozen. Had I known, I could have brought some ice skates since Lawton is not up to speed when it comes to winter activities.We let the climbers start climbing and started on our way back to the car. Not much was seen on the way out of the refuge, just the three buffalo who I captured on film. Because captured on SD card just doesn't  sound as good.

The general idea was to find a little abandoned mining town called Cold Springs. But, since Roosevelt and Mountain Park were in that area, we were in a car, and Serendipity was being so good to us, we cruised the streets/junk yards.  Roosevelt is filled with junk yards. If you have a project vehicle and need parts, try going there. I'm sure you'll find what you need. The old Arts and Crafts building is crammed with bumpers, hoods, doors, etc. The old high school (built in 1930) across the street from the Arts and Crafts building is surprisingly big for a rural school built in 1930. Found the old, old school house, too. We found a small cafe which was currently open and closed. Both signs were hanging in the window. Since there were no lights, we figured it was currently using the closed sign. I thought I had a post with some Roosevelt/Mt. Park history, but I couldn't find anything. So look back for another post soon!

Found at Roosevelt's bar.

After checking out Roosevelt's Cemetery and driving by a haunted house (or so it was labeled), we made our way south. I was very excited to go looking for Cold Springs along the north shore of Tom Steed Reservoir. Now, I'll admit some of my appeal for Cold Springs comes from the legend that the stolen loot of a stage coach headed to Fort Sill circa 1885 is rumored to be buried on the banks of Otter Creek. I counted county roads utterly confused when 1530 came after 2320 only to find out that Cold Springs has a gigantic sign along the highway. We turned onto the dirt road and started driving towards the reservoir. There's a tiny community back there and no more signs to be found. There was a road crossing over the railroad in two spots, but since someone forgot to bring a map, we weren't sure if that was a good idea since two locals had just ambled back over the tracks. I always think that in places like Roosevelt and the country surrounding it, they'd never find the bodies. Keeps me from places I probably shouldn't be exploring...sometimes. Since we were running out of daylight hours, we called it good for the day, and started looking for the Gold Belle Mine. 

The remnants of the old mine are right off the highway and easy to find if you're driving north on HWY 183. As far as I was able to find, this smelter was part of an illegal miner camp, Wildman, established in 1901 which was destroyed by Fort Sill's soldiers. The only things left to see of the cyanide ore mill (which never processed ore) are the cooling tower and the concrete foundations. It looks to be the local hangout judging by the trash at the bottom of the old cooling tower. 

After efficiently braking for the first historical marker once I had the notion I wanted to see the marker, I had my buddy holding on to the handle next to the passenger seat for the rest of the ride along with the comment "Jesus! You need a bumper sticker that reads I brake for historical markers." Well, I think I need a bumper sticker that reads I randomly decide to brake for weird things whenever I please.

Before turning around, we cruised through the six or so streets that make up Mountain Park. They have a post office, a bank, a small park, and a closed cafe (surprise, surprise). Mountain Park never experienced the glory it could have since the guy who was supposed to sell his land to the railroad back in the day thought he could get more than $6,000 and demanded more money. The railroad altered its plans, left Mountain Park in the dust, and made Snyder fit into the plan instead. All but seven of the businesses which had been established in Mountain Park then moved to Snyder. A lesson about the effects of greed.

For pictures from this adventure please check out the Facebook album.
This blog is brought to you by the lovely (biased opinion, we know) Stone Turtle – Lodging, a small family owned and operated hotel / lodging business near Lawton, Oklahoma, Fort Sill,  the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge, Meers and Medicine Park. Yeah, that’s right we’re a small lodging business close to all the awesomeness Oklahoma has to offer!!