Natural Falls and the Grounds of Gilcrease

Gilcrease (click image for slideshow)

On this overcast November day gun-toting hunters across Oklahoma began deer season, so I knew I should hike at a state park to avoid the fate of Bambi’s mom. I perused my Oklahoma and Kansas maps for a destination not too far away and opted for Natural Falls State Park on US 412 near the Arkansas border. I’d been there once before but had not hiked the small trail system.

Breakfast was a sausage and egg McMuffin and the clouds east of US 75 were quite beautiful as I made my way south, a drive to Tulsa and then east on US 412 which was all too familiar after recent runs to Devil’s Den and Hawksbill Crag. So I tried changing it up by following “Scenic” 412 rather than taking the Cherokee Turnpike, but all I gained was 15 minutes more driving time since that drive was anything but scenic. I pulled into Natural Falls State Park for my hike. The park is unusual in that they charge $4 for day use. Perhaps it is a reminder that this was once a private park and the area is known to locals as Dripping Springs. The state took over the operation a few decades ago and already had a Dripping Springs State Park, so they opted for the rather boring new moniker. I greatly prefer the original.

Near the parking area was a rather ungainly fountain and I climbed down to a remembered overlook where I could tell that the main 77 foot fall was only a drip today but the smaller lower falls were running well. I walked down for a closer look and shot some video.

Then I clambered back up past the crumbling rocks to cross the high bridge for the Ghost Coon Trail. The bridge had annoying high side rails making photography difficult and bless their hearts, they tried to make a trail over there but the track is easily lost and the several of the signs are too small and obscure to be of much help. The ghostly trail ran by the sides of the creek with odd outcroppings and then sauntered around some open fields with an ugly burn pile.

I was relieved to be rid of the Ghost Coon Trail and transfer back to the Dripping Springs Trail, which led down to a low dam creating a fishing area. I crossed the creek on some loose rocks to transfer to the Fox Den Trail, which was my favorite by far. It was quite steep and tricky in spots and led down to a large overhang where a now-dry stream had carved out a channel in a high bluff.

I trail climbed up the hill and wandered past the camping area, taking a side trail that turned out to lead right back down to the bluff overhang. I returned up top and crossed over to the Bear Trail, which led back down to the falls. Along the way I passed some children with “Bad Dad”, my name for their father, who was always yelling at his kids about this and that. He evidently had gotten mixed up and lost the trail, for he was leading a small boy on a log over a stream and yelling at him for being justifiably frightened. That kid may never like day hiking!

I clambered back up past the high bridge and returned to my car. I’d hiked 3.5 miles and it wasn’t yet noon. So I raced back down the Cherokee Turnpike for a tasty lunch at El Chico in Tulsa and then drove over to the northwest edge of town and through the gates to explore the grounds of the Gilcrease Museum.

I’ve been to the museum many times but had never properly explored its environs. I first admired Above It All, a huge sculpture by Sandy Scott of an eagle about to land. Then I descended into Stuart Park and walked over to the pondside gazebo with its nifty supports. A big turtle was perched on a log out in the pond and I wondered if it was just another sculpture until it slipped into the water. Across the way was Large Heron Pair by Walter T. Matia. They looked even better with the gazebo as a backdrop.

Farther into the park I found Twins by Forest Hart, a bit much on this first day of deer season. I shot Plains Grizzly by Jim Agius as a silhouette against the cloudy sky. I liked how Frontier Woman by Jay O’Meilia was interesting from the back with her round hat, and wondered what she was thinking.

The sky was filled with cotton clouds as I tromped past the developed portion of the park to a large clearing where I found an old abandoned road leading up the hillside past large sandstone bluffs and boulders. It dropped me onto an abandoned driveway leading out onto Newton Street west of the museum. I walked back onto the grounds to visit Crisita by Doug Hyde and admire her slim profile from multiple angles. I’m not a fan of the Gilcrease home, but found an angle on it that made it seem less awful than it is.

I passed the interesting white tree trunk sculpture with the Gilcrease mausoleum in the background. On the rear of the mausoleum I found his epitaph:

At the feet of the rolling Osage Hills will I work and think until my troubled and worn body shall be called.

A bit of a gloomy gus, but he did go broke in the 1950s and Tulsa citizens ponied up $2.25 million for his extensive collection of artworks and artifacts of the American West, and the epitaph reminds me that he moved to this hilltop site after his attempt at a museum in San Antonio flopped. Gilcrease died in 1962 but had dedicated oil properties to repay the bond, which was finally accomplished by 1985.

The cloudy skies provided a dramatic backdrop for Simón Bolívar by Silvestre Chacén. It is somewhat out of place at Gilcrease, but I like it anyway. More in spirit with the collection is Strength of the Maker by Denny Haskew. I love the different tones in the bronze and the dramatic pose which conveys the strain against the bow.

The overcast day was bookended with pretty skies, this time the clouds and sun posing on the west side of US 75 as I headed home. Next week I hope to spend Black Friday not at the stores but hiking in southwestern Oklahoma, making use of my parents’ hospitality in Oklahoma City.

Click here for a slideshow from these day hikes

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Blowing the Bugle at Osage Hills

Sand Creek (click image for slideshow)

I last walked the Bugle Trail at Osage Hills State Park about three months ago and decided to spend a warm overcast Sunday afternoon blowing it up. By that I mean that I repeatedly strayed off the trail, taking roads and bushwhacks and unofficial trails to expand it, visiting a few places I’d never been before and finding a few recently cut alternate trails.

I parked near the park office and took the Tower Trail up the hill to the observation tower where I surveyed the empty picnic grounds, closed for the winter. I then deviated onto the old road along the park boundary heading straight north to the remains of the CCC camp, passing the husk of a tree and enjoying the fall colors before the rest of the leaves let go. At the CCC camp chimney I turned west rather than east and followed a gravel road around to the oil well and then bushwhacking from there past a small dry feeder fall over to the shore of Lookout Lake. As I bushwhacked along the western shore I passed a tree which had grown so it looked like its base had melted over the rocks and at another small feeder fall a tree looked like it was propping up the rock beds.

I bushwhacked my way along the southern shore over to the dam and followed the Lookout Lake road until I reached the pipeline right-of-way and followed it southwest and then bushwhacked up the ridge until I could see the various park buildings hidden on the private drive. I then bushwhacked down to the dry creek leading south from Lookout Lake through the big CCC stone culvert. I made my way over to the big culvert, walking through it and then posing to provide scale.

I then walked along the creek bed, winding past both ends of the bike trails and following the dryer-than-normal bed almost all of the way to Sand Creek itself. I then had to scramble my way up the steep muddy bank, fighting a nasty thorny vine which left several souvenir cuts on my right hand. I was very glad to finally make it up to the flat field near the bike trails and found a new dirt trail which led from behind the metal building over to the previously known “wrong way” trail leading down the east bank of a side creek toward Sand Creek itself. It was clear some bikes had been taking this new cutoff.

I followed the dry creek bed down to the park’s “other bluffs”, lying along the north shore of Sand Creek where it makes its sharp bend. Then I returned to the regular Lake Trail and followed it south onto the Cabin Trail. As I passed the lagoon I was surprised to see another new dirt trail to the west, paralleling the regular trail southward. This trail would eventually cross the real one and I followed it, recognizing this portion as a bushwhacking trail I’d discovered previously that led into the picnic area north of the pool. I’m not sure why these trails have been cleared for easy passage, but I welcomed the variation.

Nature called as I walked through the picnic area. Since the new restrooms were closed for the season, I crossed the road to the big old CCC restroom with its huge rock overhangs, now sadly stripped and abandoned. After marking my territory I took the Falls Trail down to the dried-out main falls area and then climbed up the Cabin Trail, passing the lovely stone stairs leading upward to the cabins. I crossed over to the Creek Trail and was glad the overcast briefly parted for a sliver of blue sky as I made my way to the main bluffs on Sand Creek.

I stretched out, doffed my Tilley hat, and enjoyed my snacks, assessing the minor damage from my earlier bushwhack and admiring the creek. Then I bushwhacked across a side creek over to the Creek Trail Loop, following it clockwise and enjoying the peaceful solitude of the trees sprouting from the yellowed groundcover. When the trail began to head east, I bushwhacked my way north up the side of the ridge to the big boulders I recalled along the upper edge from an earlier struggle through this undeveloped portion of the park. From the top I could look out westward across the valley carved by Sand Creek and see a neighboring cattle operation.

I struggled eastward along the park’s fence line, looking mournfully across the barbed wire at the easy going on the neighboring property’s fenceline path. But I resisted the temptation to cross for most of the way, even negotiating a steep dropoff, but took a brief excursion across the wire for a bit when the going got too tough. Back on the proper side I finally reached a large fire ring and knew I must be approaching the camping area. I was finally rewarded for my bushwhacks by spotting some deer across the line, with one pausing to stare me down.

I returned to the car, having hiked 6.7 miles and satisfied that I’d blown out the Bugle Trail far enough. This bushwhacker was more than ready for a hot shower!

Click here for a slideshow from this day hike

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Chaplin Nature Center

Chaplin Nature Center (click image for slideshow)

On Saturday I drove over to Arkansas City, Kansas (popularly known as Ark City) to walk the trails at the Wichita Audubon Society’s Chaplin Nature Center. It is a few miles west of town along the Arkansas River.

I’d planned to have lunch in Ark City, but none of the restaurants there struck my fancy and I knew that I was only a half hour away from a delicious Mexican lunch at Enrique’s at the Ponca City Airport. So I detoured south for that and then returned to Ark City and negotiated a couple of miles of gravel road to reach the center.

It was warm for November but very windy and I had to wear the straps on my Tilley hat to keep it in place. After signing in at the register in the center I walked straight out through the back of the building to reach the Bluff Trail and follow it east along a bluff above the Arkansas River bottomlands. All of the trails had beautiful limestone markers and trailside nature signs. One said to look for plants with various characteristics which I thought I was more likely to notice about fellow walkers: which ones were smooth, hairy, prickly, slippery, etc. I’m pretty prickly at times myself.

Soon I turned onto the river trail, which led past a large tree and had a bridge over Spring Creek and then passed another tree which dwarfed its neighbors. There were few red autumn colors at the center, but some trees sported yellow. Here I was reminded of Tulsa’s Oxley Nature Center at Mohawk Park and how the peaceful surroundings are marred by the sound of aircraft landing nearby. For next door to the Chaplin center is some sort of dirt bike tracks and I could hear the sound of motors revving. Not the ideal neighbors.

I followed the Sandbar Trail over to the Arkansas River where I saw more trees with yellow bunting across the way. The wind whipped my hat off at one point, but I retrieved it and walked over to the shore for a closer look at a bird making calls from across the river. I then walked through a very minor sandstorm (which had me rubbing sand off my forehead later that day) to see a big tree along the shore.

I then returned to the River Trail and upon discovering a huge chair in the woods I clambered up for a portrait. Then I crossed a large prairie restoration area where various tall grasses had been seeded. I followed the Spring Creek Trail and posed in the very low crook of a tree before passing a fallen log sporting very large white mushrooms. The Lost Prairie Trail had Honey Locust trees with vicious thorns and I wrapped up my 2.5 mile walk at a large set of stairs on the bluff.

I left a donation and drove back through Ark City where I had to stop at the busts and other statuary in Ranney Park, which seemed very out of place in the Kansas plains. While it wasn’t a long nor a particularly pretty walk today and I’m no birder, I did enjoy the Audubon trails of Ark City.

Click here for a slideshow from this day hike

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Childhood Impressions

It is rare that an illustration for a technology article arrests my attention through its art, but this one sure did.

Already a nerd at age ten

Not only is it a great sketch, but that kid looks a lot like I did in fifth grade. At that age 35 years ago I had to content myself with a pad of paper, not a technological marvel like the iPad. I was using my fingers to bang out class “newspapers” with ditto masters on a manual typewriter, not exploring space or examining elements or using other fantastic tools. What will kids be using 35 years from today?

When I was ten years old I loved Star Trek and The Six Million Dollar Man, fascinated by the technology and heavily influenced by their technological optimism as well as the moral messages communicated in one episode after another. Both shows stressed morality, honor, and problem solving in a science fiction setting that viewed technological progress with great optimism and celebration. Yet both also showed humans struggling to adapt to technological change and repeatedly warned of the dangers of technology unbound by human moral codes.

The Six Million Dollar Man was about an astronaut who crashes a test plane and his legs, an arm, and an eye are replaced by electromechanical implants. For years I could only find the fantastic credits sequence for The Six Million Dollar Man online, and could only get a few bootleg episodes on VHS tape via eBay. But last year TimeLife finally cleared the rights and released a massive box set. I pre-ordered it and am halfway through the second season. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed rewatching episodes burned into my childhood memory like Day of the Robot and will no doubt celebrate once again viewing the wonderful John Houseman as Dr. Franklin with his Fembots. These were like cotton candy for a smaller-than-average kid with an active imagination, agile mind, and no athletic prowess.

But from the start the show made it clear that Steve Austin struggled with his sense of identity and self-worth as a cyborg. In the pilot movie he attempted suicide after learning of his catastrophic injuries, and I remember my own sense of shock when he rescues a boy trapped in a car, injures his arm, and the boy’s mother treats him like a monster when she sees electronics poking out of a damaged portion of Austin’s arm. “What are you?” she screams, a question that will always haunt our hero.

Second star to the right...

There were several morally instructive episodes which made a lasting impression on me. Straight On ‘Til Morning, written by Star Trek’s D.C. Fontana, showed humans justifiably frightened by aliens whose inherent radioactivity is quite deadly. A sheriff is trying to protect citizens from what appear to be hostile killers, and Steve and Oscar have to oppose him and even sabotage a costly space mission in order to save the last of the peaceful aliens and sneak her home.

Steve: Was your ship launched from a planet or a larger spaceship?
Minonee: A large spaceship.
Steve: Where?
Minonee: Out there, near Pluto’s orbit. (points to the sky with two fingers)
Steve: (quoting J.M. Barrie) Second star to the right, straight on ’til morning.

The Coward

The Coward was a powerful and emotional episode in which Steve visits the recently discovered wreckage of his father’s plane in the Himalayas to try and show whether or not his father bailed out, abandoning the other crew members. George Montgomery and Lee Majors play against each other wonderfully, and there is a nice plot twist at the conclusion. One cannot help but empathize with Steve as he struggles with the possibility that he has discovered his long-lost father. If he’s right, this man abandoned him as a baby just as he abandoned his fellow servicemen. It taught me that people can make poor decisions yet learn from them and their later actions can be truly redemptive.

The 1970s were when public schools were mandated to serve children with special needs. That era of progress in how we treat the disabled was reflected in Stranger in Broken Fork, when Steve helps protect a convalescent home for mental patients from frightened locals. I’m reminded of recent controversies in Tulsa and the many misconceptions the public holds about everything from serial killers to sex offenders.

Jody: Mister, are you crazy too?
Steve: Well, that’s a mighty big word for such a little girl.
Jody: Mama says everybody here is.
Steve: Well, I bet if your mom tried real hard, she could find another word to use.

It is touching and quite realistic that it is that little girl who takes the first step in finding common ground.

Steve: I think you know by now that the people who have been living in this house don’t want anything from anybody, except friendship. Will one person in this town take a chance and be a friend?

For young people are often more accepting, both out of love and naivety. I was struck this week by an article in Time highlighting findings in an immense Pew Research Center study about generational differences in America, something I delve into in a later post.

I hardly watch any television any more, so I don’t know how much of this sort of uplifting and morally instructive entertainment is watched by the children of today. My impression is that shows like these are few and far between in our cynical age. Can such tales thrive in this era? What is that kid watching on his iPad?

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Autumn Colors at Elk City Lake

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.

Click here for a slideshow from this day hike

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