Autumn at Elk City Lake (click image for slideshow)
I hiked the Table Mound Trail at Elk City Lake near Independence, KS in December 2009 and May 2010 but had not seen it with autumn colors. So I took advantage of a warm fall afternoon and hiked six miles there on November 6, 2011 and feasted my eyes on the leaves, lake, and a lovely sunset.
Okmulgee Lake (click image for slideshow)
I was awakened by a small earthquake early this morning, with it rattling the chest of drawers beside my bed. I did not feel anything more until I was writing this post late that night, with an aftershock making my computer desk wiggle about. But those weren’t the highlights of my day.
It was another autumn weekend, so another day hike was in store for me. But first came lunch in Broken Arrow with old friends. After we parted I drove an hour south from there on US 75 to the Oak Leaf Trail at Okmulgee Lake, built by the city in 1926 for a water supply. Okmulgee has been the capital of the Muscogee (Creek) Indian Nation since the Civil War after the tribe was forced from its homelands east of the Mississippi River. My drive home through downtown Okmulgee showed it was once a thriving city, but is suffering greatly with a high poverty rate and many closed buildings. I see that its population dwindled five percent in the past decade.
But the lake is nice and while my entire trek today only amounted to 3.5 miles, the trail had some nice big steps here and there carved and placed by CCC boys. I parked at the trailhead and descended a long curving flight of steps to the lake shore. It hardly seemed like a real hike since I did not carry my pack nor poles and was wearing tennis shoes. But the trail did not disappoint, winding through huge boulders amidst fall colors alongside the lake shore. I found a side trail which led up the slope and across the road, taking me through the woods to a glimpse of the lake from higher up.
The trail descended and I followed a road over to the Blackjack Area, crossing a stream and then finding another trail segment leading up to the top of a long bluff. I clambered down for a self-portrait against the rocks and could see the scenic overlook ahead. The view was good and I took a couple of semi-neglected high trails over to the Red Oak Area, climbing up to a shelter where a fat squirrel kept an eye on me as I admired the setting with its colorful trees.
Returning on the main trail I found steps and a steep trail leading up to the overlook, where a father and his children were exploring. I reached the overhang and spotted him stepping over to the edge above me, scanning about. He told the children he heard an animal rustling about below, but could not see it. Well, I was that animal and decided to stay out of sight. They moved on and I clambered on up. Soon I found a companion trail leading back down to the main trail and backtracked under a gloomy sky toward the trailhead with trees bending overhead.
I drove over to the adjacent Dripping Springs Lake, but it was not at all photogenic and I returned to the first lake, spying some fishermen out on the water. Back at the overlook I awaited the sunset, but then a teenage couple pulled up and, while they were polite and stayed at a distance, I knew they needed that sunset spot more than I did. So I abandoned my post and noticed that as soon as I was dropping out of sight along the trail they made a beeline for the overlook. I’m sure they were grateful that old guy in the hat was leaving them to their business.
Down by the shore I caught a tree enjoying the golden hour and the shore was bathed in the light. As I walked about looking for a view, I started a huge blue heron but of course didn’t have the camera ready. As the sun set over the lake, the fishermen hove into view and then buzzed away as the sun sank from sight.
I am so grateful to Reid Gower. He’s in his mid-20s up in Victoria, Canada and he is busily bringing two of my dead heroes back to life. Reid is creating a fantastic series of short videos using the words of Carl Sagan and Richard Feynman. They are available on YouTube (always watch them in high-def!) and there is a Facebook group for The Sagan Series.
Combining superb high-definition video clips, music, and the powerful messages Carl and Richard left behind, Reid allows them to reach out to new generations in promoting our future in space, a more erudite understanding of our universe and our place in it, and of the urgency of dealing honestly with the environmental challenges we face. In an era where far too many Americans are woefully and intentionally ignorant of scientific truths, happily misled by mendacious politicians and narrow-minded preachers, he is doing a tremendous public service.
Curiosity fabulously illustrates Richard Feynman’s words as he explains his enthusiasm for how the simplicity of physics leads towards the tremendous complexity of life.
And I’ve previously posted a couple of the Sagan Series clips on my blog, so here’s the latest. The Gift of Apollo helps answer the valid question I get from the students of today: “What did we get out of going to the moon?”
Some of these videos are so beautiful in their presentation and so powerful in their message that I get misty-eyed watching them. And that is a great excuse to watch them again!
Today my favorite active musical group, Pink Martini, released two albums. One is literally a retrospective album with some of their best songs and a few oddities, while the other, 1969, is performed with the Japanese singer Saori Yuki filling in for the usual lead singer, China Forbes, who is recovering from throat surgery. I bought all of the new songs on iTunes and started playing them.
There are some truly beautiful songs on offer, such as Du Soleil Plein Les Yeux (Eyes Full of Sun).
But near the end of the album I found myself haunted by Wasuretainoni. Its beautiful melody was so familiar yet I could not place it. It must have been a big hit around 1969 for somebody…
I was being haunted by a specter…make that Spector. The very troubled Phil Spector produced some truly great and truly awful music. He invented the “Wall of Sound” with dense multitracking and echo which propelled many hits a half century ago, and I like some of the songs produced in this manner. But much of his oeuvre sounds dated and predictable to me, and I hate his take on the Beatles’ Let It Be album with the choirs and strings smothering the tunes, preferring the version McCartney released over three decades later, Let It Be… Naked, which finally stripped away much of Spector’s overlays.
But Spector was in top form when he produced two big hits for the Righteous Brothers, Unchained Melody and You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’. And I even like some Spector oddities, such as his bizarre version of Zip-A-Dee Doo-Dah. For some reason I actually like the controversial album Death of a Ladies’ Man he created with the wonderfully morose poet and songwriter Leonard Cohen. The Wall of Sound is quite evident in Memories and, while it doesn’t at all fit Cohen’s style, the weird result is fascinating.
A little web research reminded me that the song haunting me via Wasuretainoni was I Love How You Love Me, a top ten hit for Bobby Vinton back in 1968. But the song was originally a hit for the Paris Sisters in 1961 on a record produced by, you guessed it, Phil Spector. In that 1961 hit his use of strings was beautiful, not overwhelming.
Old simple songs like this are monuments to the Brill Building era. And as I scoured the web for versions of the song I came across my favorite version of the song, a failed single recorded 13 years after the original, by Priscilla Paris without her sisters. She’d grown up and both her and the song had improved with age. What a shame this beautiful version isn’t for sale at Amazon or iTunes.
I love how your eyes close whenever you kiss me
And when I’m away from you I love how you miss me
I love the way you always treat me tenderly
But, darling, most of all I love how you love me
(Love how you love me)I love how your heart beats whenever I hold you
I love how you think of me without being told to
I love the way your touch is always heavenly
But, darling, most of all I love how you love me
(Love how you love me)[Spoken:]
(I love how your eyes close whenever you kiss me)
(And when I’m away from you I love how you miss me)
I love the way your touch is always heavenly
But, darling, most of all I love how you love me
(Love how you love me)I love how you hug me (love how you hug me)
I love how you squeeze me, tease me, please me
Love how you love me
I love how you love meI love how you want me
Ooo, never stop loving me
Oh, no, I love how you love me
I love how you want me
Ooo, I love you, I want you
I love how you love me
Holt Ridge Lookout (click image for slideshow)
The weekend before Halloween 2011 was appropriately spent, with me spending much of Saturday visiting Neewollah up in Independence, KS with friends and then driving to Devil’s Den on Sunday. I first visited this state park in northwest Arkansas the prior November, hiking about seven miles on the main trails with a sweeping eastward view of the Lee Creek valley. For this trip I studied the various park trails and decided to concentrate on the “strenuous” Vista Point bridle trail with a brief side excursion on the Butterfield Hiking Trail to Quaill Valley.
I’m always leery of bridle trails since the animal waste and churned mud are annoying, but the Vista Point trail promised two lookouts and I recalled the panoramic view from Yellow Rock last year and hoped for something similar this time with more fall color. I found a trailhead where both hiking and bridle trails intersected the main road and gave Trixie the GPS the coordinates. We arrived around 11 a.m.
A big sign correctly warned that the many trails would be confusing without a map, a point immediately driven home when two joggers ran up from the highway asking directions. I showed them my maps and they headed off down the paved road while I perambulated up the gravel Holt Ridge road to pass the Butterfield Hiking Trail, which would periodically intersect or briefly join up with my trail throughout the day. That rare loop backpacking trail follows part of the route of the Butterfield Stage of 1858-1861.
But I ignored the blue diamond blazons of the Butterfield trail, instead seeking the far less conspicuous green horseshoe blazons of the Vista Point trail. The trail maps were unclear if the bridle trail followed the road itself or ran parallel to it and hiking the road was so fast I overshot my first target: the Holt Ridge Lookout. I turned off to parallel the road on a bridle trail, but an old sign wasn’t very helpful and I walked south along the ridge until I realized my mistake, clambered back up to the road and reversed course, then cut down again. This time I followed the bridle trails northward to where the trees finally thinned and I could see the Ellis Branch entering Lee Creek below. I shot a panorama and worked awhile to capture a shot of one of three turkey buzzards circling the area.
Then I circled back to follow the Vista Point blazons over to the east side of Holt Ridge. I saw a couple walking some yapping weiner dogs as I approached one of the old quarries where CCC boys extracted rock for the park buildings. I let the weiners run on ahead while I clambered about the boulder field of a very rough creek intersection. If there’d been water for the falls, it would have been quite nice. Resuming the trail, I descended to the edge of an 80-foot high bluff over Quaill Valley leading into the larger valley of Blackburn Creek.
Along the way I encountered two trail riders, one astride a mule and another a horse. I strode off-trail to give them clearance and they stopped to chat for a bit and then moseyed on towards the horse camp over in Lee Creek valley.
I stopped to pose at a dry streambed, wearing my orange vest in case of any happy hunters although I never heard a shot all day. My trail linked up with the Butterfield and I followed it over to the entrance to Quaill Valley. Here a large section of Mount Olive broke free and slid about 100 feet into the valley, forming a high bluff and immense rock chambers. I followed the Butterfield trail down into the valley and went over to the big bluff to give it some scale. A rock pile told of a past fall as I walked the rift, creating a hemispherical photosynth of my surroundings at a blockade.
I then climbed back up to the bridle trail, which made a rough climb so it could run along the edge of the bluff. A tree had grown up several stories from the floor below to where I could grasp a limb and make the entire tree rock back and forth. Farther along the bluff I plopped down at a scenic spot to enjoy my QuikTrip turkey sandwich.
Not much farther was the wide eponymous Vista Point itself, which was a disappointment since the trees below had grown so high they blocked the view of the Blackburn Creek valley. I saw few flowers along the trail all day except for asters. A break in the trees finally afforded a small panorama of the ridge beyond and in the far distance I could see the top of a house poking up out of the fall colors.
The trail turned into an old road and I passed tall trees on my trek circling Mount Olive back toward the car. A side road caught my eye and although Trixie did not know about it, my MotionX app’s terrain map showed it led down the mountainside all of the way to Blackburn Creek. That I wanted to see.
Blackburn Creek
So I began the descent down the very rocky road. It was just as well that Trixie did not show the road, as it was thoroughly washed out in spots, although I was surprised to see two trucks back in the woods along the passable old roads this day.
I descended 440 feet to finally reach the creek bed where the drought had stilled its flow into large pools. I decided the long climb back out of this hole would be worthwhile as the creek bed was quite scenic. Downstream I found a large rock which resembled a bed, and stretched out on my bedrock to relax before climbing back up.
I then sweated my way back up to the road and followed it to Highway 74 where I followed a side trail past a memento left on a tree by a forest princess to what I presume were the foundation stones for the old Mount Olive School. Not wanting to return to the car quite yet, I followed the bridle trail back to the southwest to climb Mount Olive and then followed the Butterfield Trail back to the highway.
I’d stretched the trail out to a 10.5 mile hike with my little sidetrips and was ready to head home. Big I-540 shot me northward through the hills past Fayetteville and along Highway 412 into the setting sun.
Meador Manor 