Nature ... (Goulet)
Despite some intense St. Patrick's Day revelry with my brother Brian, I managed to take my day trip today. I guzzled what seemed like 4 quarts of strong tea, showered, donned my obscenely ugly but exceptionally comfortable walking shoes and hit the road. Destination: the Arbuckle Mountains.
I stopped once near Gainsville for some coffee and a huge, fatty and immensely satisfying oatmeal cookie. After chatting for a while with a nice teacher from Ardmore, Okla., who'd just had four crowns put on her back teeth (she too chose an oatmeal cookie for its glorious, pillowy softness), I got back on the road and proceeded to hit the LONGEST TRAFFIC JAM IN HISTORY. Even after circumventing a few miles of congested highway via the access road, it took me roughly one hour to travel 10 miles. Once clear of the mess -- and by the way, annoying Echo driver, the courteous thing to do when driving very slowly in one-lane traffic is to guide your vehicle to the right (that's the hand that forms the backwards L) so that more efficient travelers can pass -- I was on my way, and I'm delighted to report I didn't get pulled over.
In no time I'd reached my exit and decided to take the Arbuckle Mountains wildlife access road. After driving several minutes on this, I'd seen only some deer behind a fence and several birds. A Suburban driven by a woman in her 50's or 60's happened by, and when I asked her where I could find the best spot to explore the Arbuckles she told me sort of brusquely to turn around and follow her. So I did. We took a winding road up a hill, and at its pinnacle was a place to park and view the scenery. We both parked, and she got out and proceeded to help me open my car door. "This is a good place to have a look," she said. I asked her if she was from that area. "Born and raised," she said. I asked her name, and she replied, "JoAnne Gutsch [I'm guessing on the spelling, and I'm probably getting it all wrong]. I'm from here. Right where you found me." I thanked her for helping me, and she said, "you take care of yourself," and then she hugged me! I can't begin to describe how warm and wonderful that made me feel.
SO, I took in the view for a while and talked to this nice family from McKinney, and then I drove back down the hill to the Turner Falls park. This, readers, is a truly lovely place. A gorgeous, green-and-rust-bottomed creek runs through the hills, which are thick with trees and rock formations. The park is dotted with little houses, some of which belong to private owners (the others you can rent for a night or more). Some of the campers had already settled for the night, and their fires filled the air with a smell of, well, burning wood.
I set out on foot toward the main falls. Along the path and up the hill were a couple of abandoned homes that were pretty well preserved. I didn't explore them, however, because the sun was about to set, and I wanted to get a good look at the waterfall. Lord was it beautiful! I climbed this giant boulder and just basked in it. Sadly, the park closes at 7 p.m. on weeknights, so I had to leave before I'd soaked up as much of my surroundings as I'd have liked.
And then, back to Dallas. Sigh. Next time I visit Turner Falls, I'm watching the sun rise, too.
