Palo Duro Canyon

Ah, Palo Duro Canyon! Roy and I have had reservations for some time now. No, not the 'doubting' kind of reservations. I mean the can't-wait-to-get-there and we-have-a-cabin-reserved kind of reservations. Cow Cabin #3 would be ours for two nights! After a busy work week, I know I was ready for a break.

I should tell you now that I took, literally, dozens of photos of this trip. But within minutes of arriving home, I had deleted every last one of them. Of course, it was Roy's fault, entirely!
You see, while I struggled through school, I crashed computer after computer with frightening regularity. Roy would rebuild them with spare parts, MacGyver style, over and over again. Crawling under my desk, a hand would emerge, fingers snapping, "I need a 20-inch shoelace and a large paper clip". Sparks and cursing would ensue, but to his credit, each time I would end up with a working computer. Unfortunately, every time I came upon a glitch, guess who I phoned?

"Roooooy, there's something wrong with this damned free computer," I would whine ungratefully. Silence. "Roy, are you there?"
A long frustrated sigh. "Yeah, I'm here."
"Well, I just don't understand what happened. This screen came up and it said whatever you do, don't blah,blah,blah, so of course I blah, blah, blah'd,........and then it just crashed, out of nowhere, totally unexpected! I was just sitting here minding my own business. I just don't understand why this keeps happening to me. Am I cursed?" By now, the whine in my voice would peak somewhere beyond irritating and just short of nagging.

Another sigh, as if Roy knew who was cursed, and it wasn't me. "I'll come by tomorrow after working all day, then taking care of my parents, but before working on my house. Who cares if I don't have running water. I live to serve." Sometimes, if I really listen, I can almost detect a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
After the latest computer crash, he made a brilliant, if somewhat self-serving, suggestion.
"Hey, now that you have a real job," he proposed, "why don't you buy a real computer?"
Since I am not one to ignore faint hints of possible upcoming violence, I allowed him help me choose a new computer. This one has all the bells and whistles. One of those whistles allows me to insert my memory card directly into the computer. Unfortunately, instead of uploading the photos to my hard drive, I only viewed them. By the time I finished looking, I forgot that I was just viewing them, so when I reinserted the card into my camera, I cleared it.

Yikes! That means that Roy's photos are the only photographic evidence of the entire trip. And, as I've said countless time before, I never actually get to see Roy's photos. Besides, he doesn't like to photograph people, especially me. He has promised to send them...we'll see. Anyway, back to my story.

We left for the canyon immediately after work on Thursday, driving to Sherman, Texas, where we spent the night. We enjoyed a decadent IHOP breakfast since we are beginning a grueling winter workout schedule and diet once we returned home.

Really!

It was still a long drive to Palo Duro Canyon. After a brief stop at the gate to get maps and retrieve our keys, we drove straight down to the cabin to unload our gear. As I pulled my lawn chair from the bed of the pickup, it fell open to reveal a tiny, frozen lizard. He fell to the sidewalk, belly up, looking miserable - and dead. I was pretty sure he was dead.
"Oh, he must have been hiding in my lawn chair and he froze to death on the way here!"
I bent down to examine him and thought I saw him twitch. I picked him up and carried him inside to lay him on the mantle.
"Maybe he'll warm up slowly." He did eventually warm up and, by evening, had disappeared into the nether regions of the cabin, never to be seen again. However, we did hear some late night paper-rattling that he could have been responsible for.

I prefer to think is was him.

Roy had stocked up on chocolate, graham crackers, and mini-marshmallows. He was determined to construct Smores. I, personally, have never seen or tasted a successful Smore. Oh, I've heard the stories - mythical, magical Smore stories of graham crackers, melted chocolate, and gooey marshmallow goodness. Tall tales from seemingly credible witnesses. I've witnessed several unsuccessful attempts at making Smores. Like ghosts, the Loch Ness monster, and Bigfoot, I will remain forever doubtful about the delectability of Smores until I can experience it for myself.

We built a Smores fire in the fireplace, which immediately belched smoke and set off the smoke alarm. Evidently, the fireplace does not include a damper of any kind, nor does it draw very well. After dismantling the fire alarm, we managed to control the smoke by using the open door as a damper. The freezing wind rushed in, defeating the purpose of a fire, but it certainly looked cozy.

We allowed the fire to burn down to Smore-melting coals while watching "A Very Sunny Christmas" on the laptop. Laptops do not seem to have great sound volume, so we were forced to turn off the heater in order to hear the movie. That, in addition to the open door, made for a very chilly movie hour. And a word of warning here: Do not watch 'A Sunny Christmas' if you're looking for that Norman Rockwell kind of Christmas movie. This was Sunny Philadelphia at its sickest...and funniest.

Finally, the coals were glowing - time to create our supposed treats. Roy layered the necessary ingredients, then realized there was nowhere to place them over the fire. He managed to prop the foil package against the front of the fire grate. "I figure about five minutes and we'll be in Smore Heaven!" he exclaimed gleefully. I didn't vocalize my doubts. Or maybe I did.
In five minutes we unwrapped the eagerly awaited treat. It looked that same as before, maybe felt a bit warmer.
"It just needs to be closer to the fire," Roy assured me.
We raked some coals out and lay the foil-wrapped Smore-to-be on top. We waited. Soon a distinct smell emerged.
"I think something's burning," I said.
Roy quickly retrieved the foil and unwrapped his smoldering creation. By now, the bottom cracker had turned black, infusing the entire gustatory arrangement with the pungent taste of smoke. The chocolate had melted only slightly, and the marshmallows remained doughy little balls under the graham cracker roof. Roy ate it anyway. I tried a bite. It tasted like burnt chocolate on burnt cardboard with a whiff of smoky marshmallow.

"It still tastes good," he tried to convince me as he swallowed the last of it. Even Roy, as badly as he wanted to believe, couldn't pull it off. "OK, I think that was the wrong kind of chocolate. But tomorrow night..."
Ah, Roy! Ever hopeful Roy...

After a good night's sleep, we had a Pop-Tart breakfast and then headed out on our hike. We would start on the South end of the canyon, follow the Juniper Cliffside trail up, then head back down on the other side. I wanted to get a feel of the trails for possible mountain biking later. The forecast had been for extreme cold, so we didn't bring the bikes. Within a half mile of the beginning of the trail, I was peeling off clothing layers and mentally kicking myself. I've never seen more perfectly beautiful trails or weather for mountain biking! Hiking them was great, but riding them would have been even greater! Curses!!

The trail maintenance on these trails is awesome. In an area created by erosion, they have managed to build trails that blend in without washing away. We crossed numerous bridges, always in great repair. Roy hiked ahead, crossing a beautiful bridge with the canyon walls behind him. An immense clump of golden grass next to the bridge completed the picture. As I said, I lost my photos, but my photo looked something like this:

We hiked all of Juniper Cliffside, Rojo Grande, Sunflowers, and Juniper Riverside trails. We observed all kinds of wildlife tracks left behind in the trail after the last rain. Some of them looked pretty big. We had been warned of mountain lions by some guys in a passing truck earlier in the day. And everyone knows that some guys in a truck are experts on mountain lions. But here were these big tracks...

I decided to use my friend Kyle's logic. They're just unicorn tracks. Yes, unicorns and bunny rabbits!

By the time we returned to the cabin, we had walked about seven miles. Time for lunch! We drove up to the Trading Post which featured a sign out front, bragging of the World Famous Hamburgers. We were so hungry by then that even a cardboard cutout of a hamburger would have tasted great - if you threw a little salt on it. But truly, I think that even if I hadn't been starving, that was one great hamburger! The fries and coke weren't bad either. Did I mention the diet and exercise program we're starting when we return?

Next on our list was a hike out to the Lighthouse, a towering rock formation that can only be reached by a hiking (or biking!) trail. Once again, the trail work was impeccable. Well maintained, although I could see that in wet weather, this entire canyon would become a red clay nightmare. In two steps, your boots would become thick, red clay-encrusted, Herman Munster boots!

And let me tell you, I took some great photos of this spot. Legendary photos! You would have to see them to believe them. These were National Geographic good. But, alas, I can't prove it...
By the time we finished this adventure, we had hiked a total of about 13-14 miles. My feet were aching! Time to kick back and watch another great movie. This time it was Tropic Thunder, as hilarious as the first time I watched it.
And, of course, Roy still believed the great Smore gods would bless us. He built a fire outside in the grill this time.
"This way we won't have the smoke inside and we'll have a place to put the Smore," he explained logically. He had purchased two Hershey's chocolate bars to replace the baking chocolate from the previous night. After the movie, we tried to create the perfect Smore once again.
"But if this first one doesn't work, I'm not wasting a second, perfectly good candy bar on this experiment," I informed him righteously. Sacrificing good chocolate to a lost cause is not something I'm willing to do. It's immoral. And maybe illegal, I'm not sure.

I'll admit that the result was better this time. No burned taste, to be sure. But maybe I just don't get the whole Smores thing. Why would you waste perfectly good chocolate and marshmallows by squeezing them between two hard graham crackers? It defies the laws of nature. Everyone knows that the minute you bite into it, the chocolate and marshmallows (the best part) are going to squish out of the sides, leaving only two layers of messy, chocolate-tinted graham cracker behind.
I ate the other candy bar before it could be sacrificed.

This trip was short and sweet, but I will definitely be going back - preferable with the road and/or mountain bike. Or both! We stopped in Sherman again on the way back. This time for Johnny Carino's. Yum!

Oh yeah, did I mention that workout and diet we're starting when we get back?

Also, I’ll post those pictures when Roy sends them. After all, I know they exist. Just like unicorns and the perfect Smore!

UPDATE: They are real! Photos from Roy…

I found my photos!!! Yippee! I'm not a complete idiot!