Caprock Canyons - Quitaque, TX

"The only blues a lady needs are Lavender and Tiffany Blue."

 -The only bet I'll make with the Devil (coming soon)

I had Big Plans™ to camp in Palo Duro Canyon and take some free advertising shots of the GFC.

(To share pictures of what I spent my "rewards for being useful" on, in an attempt to convince other people to spend their usefulness rewards on the same utility I've appreciated spending my free time being a tourist in.)

Driving to Palo Duro, I make a last minute switch and head South on 27 to Caprock Canyons. Palo isn’t answering the phone and I don’t want to deal with tourism and capitalism this weekend.

After fueling up and filling the cooler with water and beer in Tulia, I head East. 

There’s new ponds in the fields and the farm animals are enjoying the recent 3 inches of rain I brought from Houston. 

At one point, with the sun starting to get low in the sky and the clouds still swirling, I spot a pond surrounded by purple flowers with birds sitting on the surface. 

After screaming something obscene, I stop and turn around to take some pictures.

The birds must have heard me, as they are now doing reconnaissance overhead to decide whether I am a part of dove season or just a loudmouth idiot with a camera. 

I decide the best way to convince them I’m "cool" is to playfully ignore them while getting closer, peak their curiosity.

Eventually they start coming by, 5-6 at a time. 

They decide it’s alright to go back to the water, but settle on the other side of the pond.

I’ll never be able to show you how they looked on the water, floating slowly on the surface.
Like paddle boats with wings.

They were afraid of being seen like that, or at least wanted someone to work harder for it.

That's ok, though. 
They are better birds than boats.

It isn't much further to the park, and after leaving $20 at the mailbox, I start down the road to the furthest camping site. 

Totally Corolla-friendly, but no trailers over 15’ past a certain dip in the road. 

I am welcomed to nature by the rare Sunset Rainbow. 

It goes all the way...

(I don’t know if it’s actually rare at all... but it sounds fancy)

I accidentally bump my camera into manual focus and don't notice... leaving me with mostly blurry photographs from about 30 minutes of awestruck, ignorant bliss.

I’m trying to accept my mistake, but I am also trying to accept the part of myself that wants to delete the pictures and move on.
Not to act as though they never happened, but to fix the mistake and save myself the recurring reminder.

Still, part of me enjoys re-living when I caught the mistake and switched the camera back into focus.
Sadly, it was too late for this shot. So I have the memory, and no proof.

I park next to some retired #vanlife -ers, with their requisite sun-shades-at-night, and pop top.

After a short walk (restroom break) I head back to the truck for dinner.

Sandwiches and beer. 

I’ll need the fuel for the morning bike ride.

Breakfast is coffee and a banana.

Mr. Park Ranger stops by to make sure I have paid my use-tax. 

I ask him about the trails and after eyeing my road bike he tells me that I’m welcome to try but after the rain they’ve had it’s pretty sloppy. 

“We are going to have to fix all the washouts anyway.” 

Challenge accepted.

I’m about a mile in when I realize he was pretty right. 

Sloppy.
Even the GT-1 has issues.

Un-Clip. 

Walk-Peddle 15 feet. 

Try to clip-in.

400w of mud caked everywhere. 

Un-clip. 

Dismount. 

Walk in the grass next to the mud.

Downhill.

Can’t clip-in. Damn road cleats.

Nearly die. 

Dismount.

I finally make it the 2 miles back to the road and decide that’s the end of mud for the day. I’m going to find an abandoned railroad tunnel I’ve been told about, South of town.

North Texas winds push me all the way to the road I’m supposed to turn on. 

I’m used to their trick now, so I soft-peddle when I realize I will be traveling half-speed on the way back with twice the effort. 

Knowing that I've saved myself for The Hard Ride Back™ lessens my heartbreak when I see that the road I had planned to take has been completely covered in about a foot of earth.

The rain that creates ponds ruins roads.

By the time I get back, I’m ready to sit and read in the shade. Luckily the GFC is a great canopy, and lucky for capitalism, I'm tired of fighting things.

After a few chapters of I Wear the Black Hat, I head to the showers... and after a stop at the sandwich shop, I hit the road. 

It was a quick trip, but enough for now.

Other people tell me they are amazed that I made such an effort for just one night.

This strikes me as a familiar conversation, but I'm not prepared to unpack it fully just yet.

I must be getting something worthwhile out of it?

My dreams are more vivid away from civilization.

They reach further.

Something about the sound of wind blowing through trees.

It’s the best noise machine.

Maybe it's the easy, symbiotic relationship with the trees that does it for me.

They breathe what I exhale.

They feed me in return.

Nothing more is promised.