#3: [07-Mar-15]

#2: [08-Aug-08]

#1: [04-Mar-01]

28-Apr-2025 --

On this late April afternoon I had an opportunity to partake in two of my favorite pastimes, confluence hunting and storm chasing. I obviously wasn't doing both at the same time, as perfectly ridiculous as that would've been (although I'd ought to try some day). Today I planned to arrive near my 'target region' for storms a couple hours early to visit 34N 99W, which seemed fairly accessible and hadn't been documented in ten years. Ideally, I'd be able to check out the confluence in the 3 PM hour and be back on the north side of the Red River before 5 PM, hopefully in time for a pretty show.

During the hour preceding my arrival to 34N 99W's field, I drove through a thoroughly soaked southwest Oklahoma — heavy rains over the last several days had caused significant flooding along creeks and rivers between Lawton and Wichita Falls TX. I passed a couple of farm fields that were underwater, as well as some virtually impassable dirt-turned-mud roads. April is normally one of the wettest months of the year, but this month had been undoubtedly anamalous even by those standards. Crossing into Texas on I-44, I saw that the Red River was quite elevated itself (though just below the official 'flood stage', per river gauge data from that afternoon). Once in Texas, I headed west from Burkburnett along TX 240, then south on TX 25 to the town of Electra (the nearest to the confluence). At the southern edge of town, I located Farm to Market (FM) Road 1811 — a good quality paved road that led almost directly to the day's goal.

At the first bend in FM 1811 (which had been pencil straight up until then), I turned right onto Harrold Lane, a mixed dirt/gravel road that was happily not a major mud hazard (like some of the aforementioned roads in the general region). An unmarked gate was located here, about 130 meters off the FM road; this was the start of two paths, one of which leads fairly close to 34N 99W. I pulled over and parked the car before setting off along the less direct path (inadvertantly), with a fairly brief stroll ahead (just under 600 meters). Within moments of starting, I deduced that this plot of land is home to numerous animals, based on the amount of varying-sized landmines (i.e., poop) I had to avoid. I quickly opted to split left from the east-northeasterly path and commenced a straight line bushwhack toward the confluence because (1) the paths today were fairly muddy (and sometimes waterlogged), and (2) I'd spotted some cows hanging out further down the trail. In retrospect, no complaints — I would've eventually figured out that I wasn't taking the most efficient route anyway. There were still patches of mud and shallow standing water off the path, but nothing outright impassable. The copious amount of water was working wonders for the vegetation, almost uniformly a shade of vibrant, healthy green (a marked departure from the drier-looking surrounds encountered by previous visitors).

The distance to the confluence had fallen to 150 meters as I emerged from a patch of mesquite trees, meeting with the other (more direct) path. The landscape was relatively open in the direction of my goal, and I easily spotted a (previously noted) fire hydrant-looking object in the grass to the northeast. Having not thoroughly scrutinized Joseph Kerski's 2015 visit report, I initially thought it could've been a confluence marker! But I found myself drawn by the GPS coordinates to a spot slightly further north, 60 meters east of a picturesque pond that I briefly admired. Almost certainly manmade based on its peculiarly smooth shoreline, one of several dotted throughout the vicinity on satellite imagery.

Only about ten minutes having passed since leaving my car, I commenced and duly completed the GPS zeroes shuffle — I had arrived at 34N 99W, my first Texas confluence! The air was warm and muggy under an assortment of clouds, with a constant southerly breeze; the temperature was about 80°F (27°C) with a dew point of 70°F (21°C), the latter noteworthy because it contributed to a relative humidity of 70%. Very spring-like, conditions that often precede stormy evenings in April and May. All directional views consisted of some combination of mesquite trees and grass (with distant powerlines in the west), a nice taste of an (uncultivated) north-central Texas landscape. Although not visible in the photos, the road was close enough that passing vehicles were clearly audible; on this Monday afternoon, I heard one every few minutes. As nice as it would've been to linger for a few moments, I started my walk back as soon as I got the pictures. For the return, I paralleled the confluence-adjacent path (the more northern of the pair that forked where I'd come in).

As I was approaching the gate (probably no more than 100 meters away), a truck drove by on the now-visible FM 1811, slowed down, and turned around — they'd definitely seen me. Crazy timing, but fortunate that I could immediately meet them at the road (no yelling required to get my attention or anything). The driver was understandably curious what I'd been doing; he worked for the Waggoner Ranch, on whose land 34N 99W apparently falls. (Some interesting tidbits I learned later: the ranch's website describes it as the "largest ranch under one fence" in Texas, and it's about half the size of the state of Rhode Island.) I briefly explained confluence hunting as best as I could in about 30 seconds, e.g., I visit and photograph the location of latitude/longitude degree intersection points, as a personal hobby. He respectfully informed me that I'd been walking on private property: in other words, my unexpected visit was not welcome (and had risked a trespassing ticket). With this information in mind, I feel obligated to strongly advise that prospective future visitors obtain explicit permission from the landowners; their website is linked here. As it turns out, a lack of identifying signage doesn't always mean that a piece of land is freely walkable.

The ranch worker left on good terms and after changing out of my boots (which were thankfully not too muddy), I returned toward Electra. With the confluence completed, it was time to get caught up on the weather situation before starting what would ultimately be a very brief storm chase in the remaining hours of daylight. I didn't end up catching anything interesting storm-wise (just one brief supercell that fizzled shortly before the sun went down), but I can't complain — it was an afternoon well-spent!