STICKY DOORKNOBS

Desert Candle: When no news is bad news

So, I pick up my "Desert Candle" today, turn to Page 3 and learn that this is it. No more. The newspaper/ magazine that has covered Big Bend and delivered well written features and great photography is no more after this issue. So ... what say we go in together to keep it going? I'll do the moving-to-Big-Bend and writing parts, I just need someone to handle the funding :)

"Desert Candle" will be missed by the folks in the region and anyone who has a love for Big Bend and Far West Texas.

Thanks for the memories ...

Sterling City Sunset. June 3.

Las Vegas. San Francisco. The Berkshires. Fredericksburg. Fredericksburg?

Believe it: The New York Times has named The Texas Hill Country as the No. 1 vacation destination in its list of top "31 Places to Go This Summer." The article is featured in the June 1 Travel section.

The list contains only North American tourist spots and includes places as far-ranging as the Pacific Northwest, Florida Keys, Telluride and the glaciers of Alaska. Behind Fredericksburg in the Top 5 are New Hampshire, Las Vegas, Philadelphia and "A Western Road Trip," which includes the Grand Canyon.

I'm a huge fan of Fredericksburg. Huge. A walk inside St. Mary's Church is reason enough to visit. But No. 1? Ahead of the Grand Canyon? Oregon's Highway 101?

In its mention of the Hill Country, the Times travel writer said,

"The Texas Hill Country might be the next best thing to crossing the Atlantic. The region is lush, colorful and, unlike much of the pancake-flat state, dotted with beautiful green hills that are evocative of Tuscany or the South of France. Towns like Fredericksburg offer a taste of the Old World with German style biergartens and schnitzelhauser."

Those New Yorkers. They're so last decade. We Texans have known all this for generations, a' course. It's like we've been saying all along: Texas IS like a whole 'nother country. Apparently the civilized world is finally catchin' on.

'Course you know what this all means: The Hill Country will be full of liberals this summer. I mean, y'know, more so than usual.

A Dozen Places in Texas Meme

I've never created or tried to start a meme before. There may be an application process, I don't know. I may need to get approval on meme creation from other bloggers. One thing I'd hate to be is a rogue memer.

Nevertheless, it occurred to me that an interesting meme would be to find out from as many bloggers as possible just where they'd like to be in the state of Texas if they could choose A Dozen Places. Six of those would be places they've been before; six would be places they've never been.

I'll start. And you chime in with your own. I guess at this point, it is my duty to inform everyone that I'll be tagging Cowtown Pattie, Eric, Jeff, Rob , Janie and just for grins, Jim in Pennsylvania.

This is by no means one of those lists where we are looking for people to admit they are unhappy about their very existence (i.e., If you could be anyone in the world, who would it be?) This is just an I Love Texas meme.

6 places I've been in Texas (where I wish I could be again right now)

• The house I grew up in, in Irving
• The Window Trail, Chisos Mountains
• On top of Guadalupe Peak
• Anywhere in the Hill Country.
• On a porch at the Limpia Hotel
• Jones SBC Stadium on an October Saturday evening watching a lopsided route of the Aggies, OU or UT.

6 places I've never been in Texas (where I wish I could be right now)

• 14 miles down the Dog Canyon Trail from Pine Springs Campground, Guadalupe Natl Park.
• Hiking the perimeter of White Rock Lake, Dallas
• On top of Enchanted Rock
• At the end of the Lighthouse Trail, Palo Duro Canyon
• The SE Rim, Chisos Mountains
• The Ballpark in Arlington. Game 7 of the World Series. (So yeah, this is a fantasy meme, too).

Where cars spring up from wheat fields

We can thank eccentric millionaire Stanley Marsh 3 for this.

Thank you, Stanley.

I liked Cadillac Ranch so much when I visited two weekends ago that I actually went back last weekend. OK, I was in the neighborhood, so it wasn't like I drove 250 miles JUST to see a bunch of Cadillacs growing from the Panhandle wheat fields.

The good news is that Cadillac Ranch is one of those true pieces of odd, uniquely Americana attractions. Created in 1974, Marsh 's artwork has been sung about by Bruce Springsteen ("Cadillac Ranch") and most recently it was actually moved, two miles down I-40 to compensate for urban sprawl as Amarillo marches westward.

There are no distinguishing marks, no welcome sign, exit sign of the interstate or even a sign designating what it is; it's very easy to miss tooling down the interstate at 70. Only a sign that has been painted over with spray paint adorns a gate that ushers visitors down a quarter-mile path to the  garden.

Which leads to the bad news: graffiti is welcomed, even encouraged, but with graffiti comes the careless, rude discarding of empty cans of spray paint. It has become unsightly and the area could use a good docent to tend to the place on a regular basis.

Still, the Cadillac Ranch is worth stopping for a few minutes if you're in the area.

Notes from 39,000 feet...

SOMEWHERE OVER THE SOUTH -- Great quote from a Japanese philosopher: 'We must embrace all pain and burn it as fuel for our journey."

-- Do people still listen to the "important pre-flight safety information" anymore on airplanes? I frankly let someone else worry about it these days. Someone younger who thinks clearer and moves faster.

-- And what about those people who sit in the emergency exit aisles? Now the flight attendants ASK them -- in front of the entire loaded airplane -- if they think they are capable of discharging their duties as an emergency aisle sitter in the event of a sudden, y'know, disaster. You wanna talk pressure. I remember the good old days when the flight crew was in charge of everything. Cutbacks ... They must be affecting us all.

-- In the one year or since I last flew, the reading of the pre-flight emergency instructions has been changed from a live flight attendant to a pre-recorded voice. Nothing is personal anymore.

-- Someone needs to fix the automatic faucets and soap dispensers at Midland International: not nearly enough soap comes out and the water shuts off when you're halfway through the soapin'-up cycle. Very annoying.

Travels with dad, a tank of gas and Rand McNally have made me what I am today

A friend of mine called last week. He and I are planning to get  together for an upcoming Colorado Rockies baseball game, which would require me to drive about 650-700 miles one way. No sense in asking the whole team to drive down here. Probably wouldn't happen anyway. So, drive to Denver, I must.

He offered me a couple of suggestions on how to make the trip easier: I could fly ... or maybe consider swinging over to I-25 to avoid the two-lane roads prevalent for a little over a hundred miles of the trip. He's a big-city boy from Denver by way of Dallas and Hartford, my friend, and he just doesn't understand the attraction of two-lane strips of roadway that spread like ribbons across West Texas. Who needs an interstate? Give me black-topped, shoulderless roads spider-webbed with asphalt to hide time-worn cracks baked in by summer sun and pounding frack tank trucks. If West Texas' little roads lead somewhere, then they're worth driving on. And they most all lead somewhere.

Which leads me down this avenue: I thank my father for my love of driving. Born with a sense of exploration and adventure, Dad taught me if there was a road, it really should be taken. Most people think driving is boring. I long for it. How far do I got? I use a highlighter to keep track of the roadways I've been down. Helps me appreciate where I've been able to go.

For me at least, to find my way somewhere I've never been on a road I've never traveled is one of life's highlights. Tuesday night I went to a Mass at Lake Ivie, 185 miles to the southeast of here. My only directions were that it was down FM 1929, 20 miles East of Hwy 83, south of Ballinger in Runnels County. The road leading from Sterling City to Ballinger is really beautiful by West Texas standards. The rolling hills and small towns; it's Americana and an up-close look into God's handiwork. You might have to look a little harder out here, but the beauty is there. And the simple act of going someplace you've never been, how can someone not enjoy that? I realize it doesn't appeal to everyone, but this method of getting somewhere is the very definition of "stop and smell the roses." In fact, getting in the car and heading someplace new, or anyplace -- new or old -- that's how I relax.

Besides, what good is living life if you can't get out and see this land of ours? So much of it is going to waste; to live and not see as much of this place as we can is, I think, something that will lessen our experience here.

Anyway I told my friend in Denver that the strip of roadway from Amarillo to I-25, through Dumas and Dalhart, Clayton and Raton, and finally to near Trinidad, Colo., is a road I can't wait to drive. I was on it four years ago and again probably 34 years ago, but I look forward to another trip down it.

As a child, my father took us everywhere. From our home in Irving, we made summer treks to the Smokey Mountains, the Rocky Mountains, the Grand Canyon, Bryce and Zion, too. We trekked across Kansas (OK, maybe there is a road not as grand as some others), and went to Tucson, Little Rock, St. Louis, Kentucky, Kansas City, Alabama, Mississippi. I was fortunate enough to see the wooded stretches of roadway outside Seattle and even the drive into Tijuana from San Diego. We've driven from Honolulu to the north side of Oahu and it is breathtaking in more ways than one. And then there were our frequent treks from Dallas to Tulsa, over that proverbial hill to Gaga's house we'd go. I was only a child, but we made that drive so many times through eastern Oklahoma -- McAlester, Muskogee and Stringtown (a place that always scared me as a child because of the prison just off the highway) -- that I could probably drive it even today with my eyes closed.

So, a little two-lane strip through the Texas Panhandle and NE New Mexico -- a beautiful canyon-y area along the Canadian in Texas and the picturesque, mysterious Mt. Capulin in New Mexico along the way -- I think I can handle that. And love every minute along the way. Thanks to Dad.

Happy Fathers Day, Daddy ...

It looked like they were sun tanning

I've got plenty to learn still in this life, and this one spooked me because I have no clue and it was kind of a scary site, actually.

I snapped this picture just north of Balmorhea Sunday afternoon and it's of a tree full of vultures (I think), and they were all perched in limbs with their wings spread wide. They're just sitting there not moving. It was like they were auditioning for American Idol or something. It was plain freaky.

Anyone out there know what these birds are doing?

Inept drivers abound

I don't know if this happens to you like it happens to me, but it seems that on some days, there are more stupid drivers on the road than on other days. Today is one of those days. There will no doubt be residual ignorance tomorrow, so beware and set your phasers on stun.

What I Like About Texas

Having just returned from a week's vacation at Padre, I was prompted to create a list of my favorite places in Texas. And, ummm, Padre and Corpus just don't make the list. I mean, they're fine places, I'm sure. Sitting in Doc's Seafood Restaurant at the base of the causeway while watching the sun set as a bar musician sings Gordon Lightfoot's "Sundown" while nailing the last note to coincide with the disappearance of the sun was unique, and I like the surf and the sand and the smell of an ocean breeze, but a 115-degree heat index ain't the stuff of which dreams are made. And almost a week after our return, every time I put on my cap (which was lost in the ocean surf for 24-hours before finally reappearing on shore 500-yards away) I am still depositing sand in my hair ... and frankly, you can have that.

So what's on my list? My Top 10 Texas places, in no particular order, include:

• Standing at the base of Santa Elena Canyon, Big Bend National Park, looking up. There may be no more daunting site in the world. If there is a place where you feel smaller or can better witness the magnitude of God's creation, I'd like to see it.
• Lajitas. OK, it's really only for the filthy rich, and I'm neither. But standing outside the Badlands Hotel and feeling you're on the set of a Clint Eastwood or Gary Cooper western while looking south into Mexico across a beautiful golf course is hard to top. And yeah, it's 115 there, too, but it's a dry heat.
• Fort Davis/Davis Mountains State Park. The state park is the place of which memories are made for little boys who enjoy camping expeditions, and panoramic mountain top views of Texas can't possibly get much better than southward from the peak at McDonald's Observatory. The town itself is a quaint throwback, largely undiscovered by "them" (those people east of I-35). My fear is that they'll learn about us, and all hell will break loose in this cozy little place that encompasses the uniqueness of West Texas.
• Sixth Street, Austin. We don't have a Beale Street in Texas, so this'll have to do.
• Grande Stadium, Midland, Friday Nights in the Fall. There may be no place more Texan, more home-towny, than any seat in this high school football shrine.
• Most anywhere in the Hill Country. While Big Bend has the majesty, the Hill Country has the simple beauty, the slow rolling hills and the bluebonnets in the spring and it is a slice of heaven. If you don't mind the overdose of humanity that can mightily test your patience.
• McKittrick Canyon. Think the foliage isn't spectacular in Texas? You haven't been to McKittrick in October.
• The Ballpark in Arlington/Citibank Ballpark in Midland. The best of both worlds. The Ballpark (nope, I will not call it Ameriquest Field) is pure eye candy and an immaculate major league ballwatching experience (save for the unrelenting heat and total lack of breeze in the upper home run porch); Citibank in Midland has to be the best place to watch a minor league baseball game.
• Luckenbach. It took me over a year and two trips to finally find this place; it borders on being too commercial, but on a Saturday morning in July, it's one of the most peaceful places you can visit. Thanks, Willie.
• Llano. A gorgeous little town with just a hint of New England and the best BBQ (Cooper's) you will ever eat. Guaranteed.