12-Sep-1999 -- A day when you learn nothing is a day wasted. If that's
not an old, wise quote, it should be. On September 12 my
learning included two facts which I already suspected to be
true: 1) Just because a map shows a road doesn't mean that
the road exists, and 2) Just because a road exists doesn't
mean it was designed for passenger automobiles.
Edward had just had his gall bladder removed, but, having
inherited a good bit of his father's craziness, was perfectly
happy to make a mild detour going back to Lubbock in order
to see a confluence. It was a nice, cool day for September,
so we enjoyed the ride through the wide open spaces of Borden
(yes, named for the condensed milk guy) County westward
toward our goal. The maps indicated that the confluence was
up on the Llano Estacado, the amazingly big and flat plains
of Panhandle Texas and south. The map off MapsOnUs even
showed a road to within a few feet of the spot. Hmmm.
We found the right N-S road leading to the confluence
easily enough. I wheeled right in, just like I knew what
I was doing. The "road" was actually the east edge of a
cotton field, with a tall dirt terrace on one side and 160
acres of cotton on the other. The road surface, after the
first hundred yards or so, was plowed sandy soil which,
fortunately, had beed used by a tractor and/or truck a few
times. We slowed to a brisk crawl and wallowed around the
ruts for a half mile to the turn that led to the confluence
itself. The "road" then deteriorated to plowed sand with no
prior traffic. Then it ended. The farmer, not having
consulted MapsOnUs, had cotton planted from almost exactly
102W on west for another half mile. I stopped, naturally,
and determined that we were maybe 100 feet or so from 33N
102W, based on the map wiggle that was also there as a
road wiggle.
Obviously, it was photo time.Picture #1 shows the view
southwest from the confluence, across plains that I like to
think looked about the same when Coronado gave them their
Spanish name. (The white dot in the middle is not a UFO-
more a WalMart film processing goof.) Picture #2 looks
north across the aforementioned cotton, and shows Sonya
and Edward smiling despite their doubts on my chances of
driving them back out to real pavement. But I got lucky
and did, only having to go about a quarter-mile in reverse
before the track was wide and firm enough to turn around.
Much relieved, we went on to New Moore. On the way, I
stopped for Photo #3, a trap set to lure romantically
inclined boll weevils to an early demise. Finally, Picture
#4 shows the city limit sign, as well as the entire town,
of New Moore. We had to travel on in search of a coke- New
Moore is closed on Sundays.