Texas & Cowboys

"The country's so flat, you can see for two days" - and that's no lie - it IS flat. I've seen more cows here on one piece of land than I saw in my whole life, and even some buffalo's hiding in the shade.

The Route 66 in TX spans the Texas Panhandle like an endless airport runway. You see cars disapearing into infinity as you pull over to pour some gass. We're in the high plains, and although the road is pretty boring and straight on, we see the faces of some nice little towns along the way. The Panhandle is the land of giants, the haven of cowboys, oil-field roughnecks, and self-made millionaires.

In the mid- to late 1800s, trail riders pushed big herds of cows through the Panhandle, in search of the promised land their Mexican Compadres had told them about - a place with sweet water and high grass. The Palo Duro Canyon gave them this promised paradise, so cattle barons claimed the land, drove out the indians, killed off the buffalo, and raised enough beefsteak to feed the nation. Great.

In my mind this was the picture I had of Texas, and at first sight, it's pretty much right.

We meet cattlemen with big hats, high boots, and high jeans with their dusty shirts stuffed in. We see a lot of beef - both dead and alive - and the grasslands are huuuuuge.

The swampy Missouri heat is replaced by a more tolerable, dry heat.

After we saw the Cadillac Ranch in Armadillo, we got to meet some great people, who completely altered the vision I had in mind of Texan people. They ride a crazy double-high bike, have hairless skin-cats, smoke pot, make 'smores' by a camp fire and sing the most beautiful local songs, completed by high worn socks and twinkling eyes. It was an amazing night.