Faces of Texas

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"Well, there's me, my wife, my son, my daughter. Four."

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- Joe Martinez, owner and operator of Smoking Joe's BBQ, on the population of El Zacatal. I met 75% of the community on a hot, humid South Texas day. The kids and the family's several dogs were playing in a boat while Joe was working his barbeque stand. I hadn't really considered getting anything hot, but Joe was a friendly, talkative salesperson who convinced me to go for a brisket sandwich. While I ate my mouthwatering meal, we chatted, and I found that his children are the family's fourth generation at that very location. Joe told me that there were supposedly three wagons of gold buried somewhere on his property, a treasure tale passed down from the early days of El Zacatal. He smiled and assured me that he hadn't spent any time looking for them. "This is my gold mine," he said, gesturing to his barbeque wagon. After watching several customers come and go and polishing off my own sandwich, I knew he wasn't exaggerating.

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El Zacatal (east of Progreso), Texas

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"I'm blessed to have a great wife, wonderful sons, and a job in which I've accomplished most of my career goals."

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- Dr. Manual Medrano, standing next to his wife Chavela and sons Estevan (left) and Daniel (right), on a life lived almost entirely in the Rio Grande Valley. A history professor at the University of Texas at Brownsville, Dr. Medrano was kind enough to open his doors to me and give me a tour of campus and town. His knowledge of the area was vast, and he seemed familiar with just about every subject I could think to talk about. Aside from teaching at the university, Dr. Medrano has also published half a dozen books in ten years, the most recent about friend and colleague Americo Paredes. When I asked him if Brownsville had treated him well, he was quick to cite family as his first proof, then his job as his second. It's a telling detail. As many hours as Dr. Medrano has put into his career, he defines himself first and foremost as a husband and father, as someone surrounded by love.

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Brownsville, Texas

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"Anyone can put themselves out there, but you have to make a special effort to stand out against the crowd."
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- Producer/Reporter/Cameraman Joseph Fenity on the competition in his field. Based out of Austin, Joseph has worked in broadcasting since he was a teen. He contacted me several months back, and during the hike, he interviewed me twice by phone. Determined to get video footage, he drove down to South Padre and met me going north. Armed with an assortment of gadgets, Joseph managed to get over an hour's worth of footage and audio. He is in the process of creating the first few episodes of a homegrown news program, due out in September, and is excited about starting something different. His attitude was pure positivity and optimism. He added, "Hey, if Oprah can do it, why can't I?"
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South Padre Island, Texas
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"Three weeks. That totally sucked."

- Jordan Thompson on his former girlfriend's inability to break up in a timely manner. A recent college grad traveling the country from temp job to temp job, Jordan took one look at me and Raisin at the Padre Island National Seashore Headquarters and knew that we were hurting. Though he saw us eating, he offered up the second half of his own meal. When I declined, he offered up his story which I gladly accepted. We spent the next few hours in happy conversation, trading backgrounds and girlfriend woes. In the above story, he mentioned how his girlfriend had traveled abroad to study and how he had remained faithful during the six months apart. In the final month, she broke off the relationship, leaving Jordan feeling like he'd just got back from a five-and-a-half month visit to the cleaners. He made light of it, though, and what's more, it made for a good lesson in life.

North Padre Island, Padre Island National Seashore, Texas

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Faces of Texas

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"It was 40 miles of tarantulas. I've never seen anything like it."

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- Robert H. Lee on riding a motorcycle in West Texas after a heavy rain. I met Robert on the Terlingua porch in the middle of one of his motorcycle roadtrips. Originally from Texas, he told of a heavy rain that slowed down a bike trip for him and his buddies. When they finally resumed the ride, they discovered that the road from Presidio to Marfa was inundated with tarantulas trying to stay away from the heavy water. With nowhere to go but onward, they drove the spider-filled road for an hour, covering their wheels with a thick layer of smelly arachnid guts.

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Terlingua Ghost Town, Texas

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"I still log on about six hours a month, say hi to people, shoot some fireballs, gain some experience, whatever."

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- Brian Alexander on his post-"everything's about my on-line adventure game" life. I met Brian at the La Loma del Chivo hostel in Marathon while he was visiting his friend Ali. We worked together building a goat shed, volunteered for the fire department chief, judged the chili cook-off. After my week there, Brian walked with me for a few miles and talked about his former intense obsession with Everquest, an on-line adventure game. He was years into it when he realized that it might be better to branch out. His visit to Marathon only served to reinforce the decision he had made several years prior, but he still makes time to dish out the occasional fireball.

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Marathon, Texas

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"So is this some kind of free-loving hippy place?"
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- Dan, a cross-country bicyclist, on the hostel La Loma del Chivo. Dan only stayed one night in Marathon, but we had a couple of long conversations before calling it a day. He was recently out of a career, a marriage, and a subsequent relationship, and was literally rebuilding himself as he biked across America. Dan confessed that he had never experienced the kind of intensity of the road that allowed total strangers to become close in a relatively short period of time. When the hostel caretaker told him that bikers weren't required to pay, Dan couldn't believe it and spouted the above question. He followed that with, "Hey, this is all new to me."
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Marathon, Texas
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"From the courthouse [in Sanderson], the nearest traffic signal is 65 miles."

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- Mike Millican on the remoteness of the entire region. I met Mike in Dryden over dinner at the grocery store (we were both invitees). His friends in Marfa had told him I was coming some time ago, so he wasn't surprised at all by my arrival and invited me to crash on his couch. During the evening and following morning, he told me about his plans to create a primitive bicycle campground, something that would break up a 150-mile stretch of Adventure Cycling's southern route. He even had a name picked out: El Escondido. With nothing in all directions, "The Hideout" seems like a perfect fit.

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Dryden, Texas

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"When I'm here, you know they can't find anybody else."

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- Keith Mann on working at the Lillie Langtry gift shop. Looking at the picture, it might not seem like Keith was working, but he most certainly was. Sitting comfortably on the porch and facing the not-so-busy Judge Roy Bean museum, he only went inside when there was a customer or two, which on this particular day happened at a rate of once per two hours. Keith lamented not being able to work on his porch on an overcast day, but there were moments playing his music when he didn't seem to mind. "This is my little Spanish guitar," he told me. Then he'd gently play another tune, looking off to see who might be blowing through his lonely West Texas town.

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Langtry, Texas

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"My son said, 'Daddy, who's that girl over there in the purple dress?'"

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- Jesse Gonzalez on his son's witnessing an apparition in his home. Jesse lives in Casa Ortiz, a historic house in downtown Laredo. One of the first questions I asked him was if it was haunted, and he answered 'yes.' Stories, we agreed, usually have a logical explanation, but there was no explaining his son seeing another person in an otherwise empty house. Jesse gave me and Becky Garcia a tour of the house, going through all the rooms with extra history thrown in for fun, but I didn't see any girls in purple and didn't feel the air go cold. Of course, I wasn't there at night.

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Laredo, Texas

Faces of Texas

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"After the Beatles, everything changed. And the war."

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- Lorenzo, pictured with his grandson, on life in the United States in the 60s. I met Lorenzo in Clint, and while his grandson played in the parking lot, we chatted. He recalled the sort of cultural revolution that occurred in the states, led, he believed, by the popular music quartet. Later, Lorenzo was drafted, like many others, and did a tour in Vietnam. When he came back, he recalled the looks that people gave him in uniform, like he was a baby-killer, scum of the earth, and he shriveled inside. Lorenzo got quiet for a moment, remembering those stares of hatred, shaking his head. The memories still burned.

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Clint, Texas

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"Does the border look secure to you?"

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- Mary Miller, seated next to husband Craige, on the security of the region. The couple gave me a night's stay at their place in Fort Hancock, and we talked for an hour before going to bed. A huge hole in the border used to exist directly behind their land, a mere stone's throw away. Illegal migrants used to cross right by their home at all times of the day. They would call the border patrol who often came too late to apprehend the crossers, long gone in a vehicle.

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A fence has since been erected south of Fort Hancock, but it is not continuous. A gaping hole now exists several miles to the west, forcing the same problems on those closest to the gap.

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Fort Hancock, Texas

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"I couldn't destroy something beautiful to accommodate mediocrity."

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- Former teacher Carmen Ganser on her teaching curriculum. A six-year LA veteran, Carmen developed a multi-media course to engage an apathetic classroom. When new requirements adopted by the district became mandatory, she elected to get out. It was too much to redesign her class, to throw out everything she had worked years to create. She went on what she calls "a working vacation," joined her father in Terlingua, and though he went back north for the summer, has lived in Terlingua ever since.

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Terlingua, Texas

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"Life. Ain't it beautiful?"
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- Jean, an Appalachian Trail thru-hiker, on our serendipitous encounter. I was sitting at the Study Butte grocery store, waiting for the heat to die down before going into Big Bend National Park, when Jean pulled up. I wouldn't have seen the Appalachian Trail decals on the back his vehicle, but he parked backwards and went in. When he came out, I asked him if he had hiked or worked on the A.T. He said one word: "Ballpahk." I stood up, mouth gaping.
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I met Jean in 2003 when he gave me a ride to Trail Days, an Appalachian Trail festival for hikers. He had hiked the A.T. in 2002 under the trailname "Ballpahk" (he's a baseball fan from Boston, MA). Jean later picked me up in Maine and treated me to a meal and conversation.
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After he said his trailname, I said mine: "Rubberband Man." Smiles all around. We gave each other a big hug and caught up on our lives.
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Study Butte, Texas
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"I didn't urinate for three days."
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- Brennan Black, a Big Bend seasonal employee, on the aftermath of his first case of heat exhaustion. Brennan, who is approaching his last semester of college at Ohio State University, wanted a break from all the people, so he opted to live and work in Big Bend National Park, one of the most remote places in the lower forty-eight.
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A serious runner, he never ran with more than a liter back in Ohio, one of the coldest, snowiest places in the USA. After moving to West Texas, he hadn't considered changing the practice and took off for an 8-mile run with his usual liter. The run went by without a hitch, but shortly after getting into his car and driving off, he started halucinating and shaking. Brennan saw the world change shape, spoke with friends and family that he knew weren't there, and started losing muscle control in his arms and hands. He pulled over to the side of the road, tried to take in more liquids, vomited, then ripped out an emergency IV (he had previously received EMT training), and hooked himself up (he missed his artery the first two times because of the shaking and involuntary muscle movements). For the next eight hours, he would stay in his car by the side of the road, waiting for the symptoms to subside.
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As you can see, Brennan's made a full recovery.
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Pather Junction, Big Bend National Park, Texas
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Faces of Texas

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"I'm going to be your mom for a minute. Go sleep at Annette's place."

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- Magann Rennels, and her son Gil, giving advice to me in the evening. Magann and Gil run a local news program and were tipped off by Annette Orozco that I had come to town. They came by and did a quick five minute interview. Magann didn't use notes, yet her questions came rapid fire. At the end, she still made a minute to be my mom.

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Muleshoe, Texas

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"I told Roper to come over for an interview, and he said, 'But I won't miss any school for this.'"
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- Terry Brewster of the Muleshoe Journal, pictured with Roper Kerby, a high schooler, on being shadowed by a student. The interview (arranged by Annette below) occurred during the evening, outside of school hours, so Roper had to sacrifice his own time. The pair were a fun team and the only double interview of my entire trip.
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Muleshoe, Texas
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"Everybody else has internet. We have An-nette."

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- Cliff Crabtree on the interconnectedness of the family. Cliff's sister Joyce is the one that arranged our meeting. She called Annette who organized dinner and everything else and told all the key players. Cliff's remark was right on, but he also had a great sense of humor. On the day I left, he drove out ten miles to see how I was doing. He stopped smack in the middle of the road, partway on both sides, and we had ourselves a conversation. Without even trying, he was making me smile.

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Muleshoe, Texas

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"He came up to me before bed and asked, 'Mom, could you learn how to play chess?'"

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Annette Orozco, pictured with son Reese, on her son's interest in chess. Annette and her husband Rudy invited me to couchsurf at their house before I continued hiking in the morning. I gave Reese his first chess lesson and later told Annette how well he did. Already calculating that he needed a chess partner, Reese roped his mom in before going to bed.

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Muleshoe, Texas

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"You ever heard a rattlesnake scream?"

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- Rudy Orozco on his extreme encounter with a rattler. Rudy and Cliff were riling me up with rattlesnake tales, but this one was different. Rudy had been out on a hike with his son Reese and had stepped around the edge of a rock. He unwittingly stepped right on a snake, which then screamed. Rudy had stepped far enough up on the snake that the reptile couldn't reach back to bite him, though it repeatedly tried. He pivoted, took one big step with his other foot, and ran.

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Muleshoe, Texas

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"Get over here, Mary Jane. He wants something he can throw sticks at."

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- Red Ryder, pictured with wife Mary Jane, on the photo I was about to take of them. I met the couple and their daughter Leona at Meme's restaurant in Denver City. We talked the entire meal, of Red's West Virginia origins, of Leona's music degree and subsequent year on the east coast trying to jumpstart a career. I enjoyed their descriptions of east coast life, relating to the Texan point of view entirely. Though this was not the most profound thing Red said, it made me laugh and put me in a good mood for days.

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Denver City, Texas

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"People that ask that don't understand what you're doing."

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- John Reed, owner and operator of The Winkler Post, the area's online news source (http://winklerpost.com/), on the question 'What have you learned?' John and I had a great conversation and interview, and when it came to a close, I mentioned that several interviewers had asked me what I had learned. He took offense to the question. John later met me in Orla and informed me that he had left three quarts of water along my path. His interest in and comprehension of my project made him a real pleasure to work with.

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Kermit, Texas

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"The barbecue is my life; the kids is my joy."

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- Christine, owner of Christine's Blues-N-BBQ, on work and family. I had the pleasure of meeting Christine and her partner Thomas (he doesn't do pictures) while eating at the family business. Thomas handled the barbecue preparation while Christine did customer service. The records and album covers hanging up all over the restaurant belonged to Thomas who took the time to tell me about the music he grew up with and its history. Then Christine told me about their three kids and seven grandbabies. They're not babies anymore, corrected Thomas. Christine agreed, but you could tell, she still thought of them as her babies.

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Kermit, Texas

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"There's not a coyote, rabbit, or rattlesnake that moves that I don't know about."

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- Ben Klein, a retired navy medic, on the happenings in the area. Ben lives by himself on a long stretch of desert between Mentone and Orla and runs a little shop he calls K&K. I stopped by his shop of odds and ends, looked at the hundreds of signatures that visitors had left on the porch of the building, and perused his used books, models, and trinkets. Ben liked to say he knew everyone for fifty miles around. Before nightfall, we checked up on a driver whose vehicle had broken down not far from K&K. He and the tower were a little surprised to see us, but Ben treated them like they were old friends.

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Hwy 285, Texas

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"That is a good man."

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- Jeanette Scott, postmaster of Orla, on her husband Ronnie. When Jeanette showed up to the post office in the morning, I was already there. She screamed. Jeanette quickly realized who I was (she had been receiving mail for me for some time), and she and I had a running conversation throughout the day. Jeanette introduced me to every customer that came in, told me about her family, recounted the loss of a daughter, asked about my trip. She also called her husband and asked him to bring me a couple of cedar posts for walking sticks, which he did. A quiet man, Ronnie asked just enough to be polite, then headed off to work. Jeanette watched the door close and spoke as much to me as to herself when she said the words above. It was my favorite moment of the morning.

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Orla, Texas

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"That's a Texas Horned Toad. We used to play with them as kids."

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- Deputy Sheriff Chris of Mentone on an unidentified picture I showed him on my camera. I had met Chris just as I was leaving Mentone, and he hooked me up with internet at the courthouse and let me stay the night there, too. (Locals later told me that thought he was locking me up.) When I saw Chris this day, I was just past Orla (about 30 miles from Mentone), and he was checking up on me. When I asked about the picture, he told me that he and his friends used to stage massive battles with little green army men, then introduce a Texas Horned Toad as an attacking dinosaur. He hadn't seen one in a long time.

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Ranch Road 652, Texas

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"But I don't wanna be the dinosaur!"

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- The Texas Horned Toad (or Lizard) on playing war with little boys. Though I didn't touch it or place it amidst several platoons of green army men, I later read that when threatened the Texas Horned Toad can squirt blood out of the corners of its eyes or mouth up to five feet away.

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Ranch Road 652, Texas

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"Everyone I know who has stuck with what they wanted to do -- art, music, writing, etc. -- is doing it."

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- Kevin Wass, Associate Professor of Music at Texas Tech University, on staying true to your dreams. I met Kevin at the Tejas Campground on the Tejas Trail at Guadalupe Mountains National Park. He explained that he had gotten his Doctorate of Music Arts with a specialization in the tuba. All sorts of people tried to dissuade him, but with support from his wife and mother, Kevin went back to school for a degree that would qualify him for one of about sixty positions across the United States. After graduation, he got one of them.

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Guadalupe Mountains National Park, Texas

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Faces of Texas

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"Take care of the land, and it will take care of you."

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- Minnie Lou Bradley, owner and operator of Bradley 3 Ranch in the Memphis area north of the Red River, on her general philosophy of cattle ranching. It was recommended that I go visit Mrs. Bradley by Cody Bell of Turkey, so when I was in the area, I looked her up. She spoke to me of her business, which started in 1955, of the ways ranching has changed in modern days, of the Land Stewardship and Environmental Award that the ranch won recently for the Texas-Oklahoma-Arkansas region. Mrs. Bradley was passionate about her work, and it was wonderful to hear her perspective. She was also a gracious host. While speaking of the cattle industry, she gave me a bowl of beans and crackers before sending me on my way.

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Memphis, Texas

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"My rearview mirror wouldn't stay on. My system was awesome."

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- Reynaldo "Ray" Villalon, a park maintenance worker north of Wellington, on the sound system that he and his family installed in his car. I met Ray at the park after I pulled off the road to use the restroom and clean up. We talked about the weather, his family, and my trip, probably for a good two hours. When Ray spoke about his car, he beamed with pride. He said when he cranked it that the change would bounce out of the ashtray, and on one long trip, the screws on his friend's shades came up, causing the lenses to pop out.

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Hwy 83 North of Wellington, Texas
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"I've got too much invested in my cars to go walking."
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- Lonnie Cox, standing next to wife Sue, on his capacity to do what I was doing. I met Sue in the previous morning at the Citadelle, Canadian's art gallery, where she works as a volunteer. In the evening as I was approaching Marvin Lake, a car slowed down, and lo and behold, it was Sue! She invited me to stay the night in she and Lonnie's home, and I accepted, grateful to get out of the wind. Lonnie is a cut-up, and we spent the evening watching "The Marriage Ref." In the morning, Lonnie squeezed in one last joke.
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Marvin Lake, Texas
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"It's a different kind of dancing. You have to pick up your feet."
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- Debby Opdyke, owner of Naturally Yours Gallery and Dance Platform, on how to dance on a wooden platform of this kind. Debby explained to me that when settlers were moving out here and building structures, that people would hold impromptu dances on the lumber before the erection of their homes and churches. She tried to recreate the experience with Naturally Yours. For fifteen years, she's held summer dances in Lipscomb, one per month, that extend well into the evening. This is their last year, and if I can get myself to Corpus in a timely manner, I intend to go. June 19th, July 17th, August 21st, September 18th, at around 7pm. Don't forget to pick up your feet.
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Lipscomb, Texas
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"I'll say, 'Hey, I gotta text somebody. Meet me at 'Service.''"

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- Landry Caldwell, a Follett Junior, on the difficulties of getting cell phone reception in the area. Landry explained to me that there was a single hill near town whose elevation was such that cell service was good. As befitting, all the students dubbed the hill "Service."

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Follett, Texas

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"Sasha could get anything, so about a year into my [Peace Corps] service, I said, 'Sasha, I want Dr. Pepper.' And Sasha said, 'No problem.'"

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- Michael Ladd, a returned Peace Corps Volunteer in both Kyrgyzstan and Ecuador, on his service in the former. As an RPCV myself, I thoroughly enjoyed swapping stories with Mike, which we did for several hours over the course of my two-night visit. In the above story, Mike asked his friend to get him some Dr. Pepper. His friend then contacted his sister in Moscow, Russia who bought said drink and put it on a train south. Sasha met up with the train and brought the Dr. Pepper to Mike in the middle of nowhere. Mike then asked Sasha for an entire statue of Lenin, some of which are still standing around the country. Sasha's still working on that one.

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Waka, Texas

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"He's had five bypasses, two congenital heart failures, and one stroke, but he's doing just fine."

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Phyllis Atwood, owner of El Vaquero in Gruver, on her husband Harvey. Phyllis was warned that I was coming by the above Michael Ladd. She stopped in front of me on my way into town and introduced herself. I made it to her restaurant and had a plate of good homecooked food. While I was eating, she entertained all her clients by sitting down and swapping stories, and when Harvey came by after the lunch rush, she sat next to him as he ate. Sweet as pudding, she made me feel right at home.

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Gruver, Texas

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"You're in the middle of freakin' nowhere is where you're at."

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- Walter M., panhandle rancher, on my exact position in the world. While I was hiking north toward Texhoma, Walter had to stop and meet the lone walker trudging through his heartland. About the only hippie rancher around, Walter sounded like 'The Dude' out of Big Lebowski. He said that I could reach either Canada or the west coast from where we where before I could reach Brownsville. Google maps disagrees, but I will say this: we were in the middle of freakin' nowhere.

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FM 1262 southeast of Texhoma, Texas

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Faces of Texas: Caprock Canyons State Park & Trailway

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"These are the kinds of hikes I like, the ones where you get off the beaten path."

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- Donald Beard, Manager of Caprock Canyons State Park & Trailway, commenting on the joys of bushwhacking. Donald, park host Dave Foley, and I meandered through the Holmes Creek Canyon for several hours, spying wild pigs, deer, and several birds. Not normally encouraged, the off-trail hike was considered official business.

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Quitaque, Texas

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"The open road."

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- Dave Foley, Caprock Canyons State Park Host and Volunteer, on his upcoming plans. Dave's been hosting at the park for approximately 9 months now. When campers have immediate concerns, he's the go-to guy. He loves the hikes, the views, and the pure air, but he's been feeling the itch to hit the road. Dave doesn't know where he's going yet, but I believe he has a plan nonetheless. When he says "the open road," he almost bellows it, hitting his high on the word "open," coming down again on "road." He repeats it again when we hit a lull in our conversation. It's a three-word song that fills the silence.

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Quitaque, Texas

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"My dad's family had a trooper in Colonel Mackenzie's army in the Battle of Palo Duro Canyon, and my mom's family had a member in the village that was attacked."
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- Rebecca Miller, Caprock Canyons State Park Ranger, on her family's history in the region. Before serving at Caprock Canyons, Rebecca put in a few years at Palo Duro but eventually left for this quieter setting. "We're more of a family here," she tells me of the staff, "because we have the time to be." In a land her distant relatives had once claimed as their own, Rebecca sees herself, until the end of her days.
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Quitaque, Texas
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"My mother is almost 99 years old. She still has a garden and works the yard. She still mows the lawn."

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- Joyce Price, Caprock Canyons State Park Clerk, on her mother's health. Joyce moved back to the area to be close to her mother in her old age, but acknowledges that her mother has been living the same way her entire life. Joyce found the clerk job a few years ago, which was almost too good to be true, jobs being hard come to by in this part of the state, and prides herself that she beat out the competition at age 68. It appears that the work ethic didn't fall too far from the tree.

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Quitaque, Texas

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Faces of Texas

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"One second. My whole life changed."

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- Abdul Saleem, owner of a convenience store called The Panther Pit, talking about the death of his son. Abdul had had a successful wholesale business in Pakistan but left everything behind when a local doctor told him his son needed treatment outside of the country. He brought his son to the United States for medical treatment, but shortly after arriving his son died. With a few thousand dollars in pocket money, he remade his life here, refusing to return to a country and a life that would remind him of his son.

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Saint Jo, Texas

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"It's mainly just remembering to feed him and run him on the weekends."

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- Twelve-year-old Austyn J., a Clay County Junior Livestock Show 2nd & 3rd place winner, on the secret of his success. I ran into Austyn in the animal corral section which was situated behind a large auditorium filled with people. He was in line to show his animal up front where locals and business owners would bid a premium on the animals, the proceeds of which went directly to the animal raiser.

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Henrietta, Texas

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"That's him! The guy on the front page of the paper!"

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- Couchsurfing host Katrina Morgan pointing me out to other customers in a convenience store. Katrina and her roommate hosted me for two days, introducing me to friends and giving me much-appreciated access to a computer. When I learned that a local interview had been published, Katrina and I went to a nearby store to pick up a copy. Katrina's excitement at seeing the story on the front page rose to an unanticipated level.
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Wichita Falls, Texas

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"I came here as a little girl with my father. I remember thinking how much fun it would be to rollerskate on the second floor. For some reason he didn't think too much of my idea."
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- Gayle Cleghorn, library assistant at the Tom Burnett Memorial Library in Iowa Park, on an early experience with the building. The library is a beautiful two-story renovated home in the center of an entire city block sharing the land with only two other buildings, all of which had belonged to Tom Burnett. The building was later donated to the city for the explicit purpose of being the library.
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Iowa Park, Texas
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"I had my husband dig out the barbecue pit from the snow and set it up in the laundry room, so I could make Christmas Eve supper."

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- Ardis Jensen with husband Roger on how they handled the blizzard that hit North Texas around Christmas 2009. The snow came down so heavily it eventually led authorities to close down a stretch of the highway. Many travelers had to spend the night in their vehicles, arriving on or after Christmas to their destinations. Several inches came down and power went down in parts of the entire Wichita Falls and surrounding area. Undeterred, Ardis employed a very Texan solution to address the problem.

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Iowa Park, Texas

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"I thought it'd be real casual. Maybe a customer or two.

I'd make their food. We'd talk."

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- Kerry Pruitt, owner of K&R Kitchen in Quanah, on his expectations before the business opened. Both he and his dad were laid off from the oil industry and decided to try their chances in food service. On the first day, there were so many people that the wait was upwards of an hour. Kerry and his family treated me to a steak dinner after they heard I was passing through town. It was the best steak I've ever had. The restaurant was busy, and I watched Kerry bouncing from table to table like the General Lee on the dirt roads of Hazzard. What's more, he still made time to talk.

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Quanah, Texas

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. . .

"Every town is 30 miles away. It's the distance a wagon could do in a day.

At least, that's what the old-timers say."

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- William Reece Manuel, convenience store owner, on the layout of the land. When I first came in, he said, "It's our highway skier," a reference to my use of hiking sticks. Right off, Reece told me that he wasn't put off by my pack and that he knew I was out here hiking on purpose. This understanding gave way to a great conversation that ranged from the local economy to local history. We chatted for over an hour.

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Estelline, Texas

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. . .

"We're as local as you can get."

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- Dale Redd, owner of the This "N" That convenience store, to me when I expressed an interest in shopping local. His store contained a wide variety of things from glass collectibles to hot Mexican candy. I bought graham crackers.

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Turkey, Texas

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. . .

"Here, everybody knows everybody, and they all look out for each other. That's why we stayed."

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- Marsha Valdez, manager of the Turkey Hotel, on the advantages of small town life. I stayed at the hotel which was built in 1927 and hung out mainly with her father-in-law Albert who sent me on my way back to the Caprock Canyons Trailway with a sack lunch of biscuits, sausage, and bacon.

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Turkey, Texas

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. . .

"People have asked me about encounters with wolves and what it is really like, and I have answered honestly that it is an unique experience but the sort of thing that gets less surprising each time."

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- Charles Goodnight on his experiences in the wild. Often referred to as the "father of the Texas Panhandle," he was a legend in his own time and the inspiration for Captain Call in Lonesome Dove. Goodnight managed the JA Ranch, part of which later became Caprock Canyons State Park.

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Quitaque, Texas

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