Wednesday, 4 November 2020
Last night's campground in Amarillo had some odd features. When I first got there, an employee led me to our campsite, and then leaned into the driver's side through the window to tell me things about the park. I still had my seatbelt on and leaned as far away from him as I could, thankful I hadn't taken my mask off after being in the campground office. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why he thought being in my face - even without the virus - would make me feel welcome.
And I barely got any sleep during the night both because of lots of lights in the campground, and because of lots of noise. I've been in plenty of campgrounds right by highways and railroad tracks, but in this one the noise was somehow amplified. Usually I find the background noise almost soothing, but here it was pounding in my ears so I couldn't sleep. I finally got up early and took the dogs out.
Actually, the noise and lights were only the reason I first woke up. What kept me awake was wondering who'd won the election last night. I was awake by midnight and up before 1:00, which was when I learned we were still a long way from knowing who won. I watched NBC's broadcast of election returns, with breaks for walking the dogs, until it was time to get back on the road.
Having spent several years as an election judge in my precinct in Austin, I have a pretty good idea of the kinds of procedures and safeguards that are being followed in all these states, trying to deal with a mountain of absentee ballots. I know the kinds of pressures I got from disgruntled voters, and it sounds like those were dust bunnies compared to what election workers are having to deal with now. My hat's off in appreciation of their dedication and hard work to complete the vote count for the country.
On the other hand, there was a beautiful sunrise.
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| today's route |
On the road
As I was leaving Amarillo, I passed a large plant labeled Asarco Grupo Mexico - Amarillo Copper Refinery. I hadn't realized Texas had copper deposits so I looked it up and learned that there was a lot of copper mining from the late 1800s until 1947. Almost all of that was in the Van Horn area, though, out in west Texas, rather than in the Panhandle. Now Texas processes the copper that's still mined in other states, with refineries here and in El Paso. Grupo Mexico is one of the world's major copper producers. So now I know.
As I drove north, the land stopped being flat and I started seeing hills and arroyos.
More strong wind today - so strong, in fact, I was driving 62 in a 75-mph zone, moving over to let people go around me, being thankful I was back in a state where drivers actually would go around me. It's not just altruism: it relieves my guilt at going so slowly and it gets them off my tail so I don't have to keep a close eye on them.
Alibates Flint Quarries National Monument
This was another locale I found on the AAA map, not having heard of it before. I found you don't have to be a geologist to find it interesting, though at least a smidge of background in geology would help, and I didn't have even a smidge.
This is the country it lies in.
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You may not be able to see it in these photos, but the soil here is the red dirt I found in Oklahoma and southern Colorado - no coincidence, though, since here we're not far from the borders with both states.
This monument was created in 1966 and was Texas's first - and for many years Texas's only - national monument. It protects this area where a unique kind of flint was mined in prehistoric times, and for many years afterwards. It also protects the remains of housing some of those who lived here established.
The exhibits at the visitor center were clearly geared for younger people, but they're still somewhat informative.
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| (pronounced to rhyme with the Bates in Bates Motel) |
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Alibates flint was prized partly for its beauty, but mainly because it was unusually hard so could cut through bison skin more easily and make more useful tools. Its crystal structure can't be seen under a microscope. Only expert craftsmen can "read" a piece of flint to know how to cut it to produce tools.
The flint lies in a 6'-thick ridge just below the earth's surface. Scientists assume early people were able to collect flint from veins exposed by erosion, so they didn't have to dig. More than 700 quarries have been found so far in this protected area, and they're all 5' - 25' wide and 4' - 7' deep.
The visitor center also had an interesting video, but unfortunately I didn't take a notebook with me and instantly forgot everything it said.
I tried to walk the dogs around the area but we found a great many stickers, and I got tired of taking them out of the dogs' feet so called a halt to that. (Sometimes that sticker-removal process ends with them stuck in me, and they hurt.)
Back on the road
I crossed the Canadian River and saw this information-packed historical marker about it.
This entire area is covered in red dirt with many canyons in sight.
I ended up behind 2 huge cargo trucks full of cotton. Not baled cotton, just cotton as it comes off the plant. And I passed major fields with cotton, and fields with those round cotton bales sitting where cotton was still growing. I hadn't figured the Panhandle as a cotton-growing region, but it clearly is.
And on into Dalhart, pop. 7,930. I wanted to come here because I've heard this name all my life but never been here. I'll be staying 2 nights.
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