One of my Canyon High School classmates, Marcella, posted a link on her Facebook to these beautiful pictures of Palo Duro Canyon. It all brings back so many memories of Palo Duro Canyon.
When people find out I’m from Canyon they always ask if I spent a lot of time in the Canyon itself. I feel like I didn’t. I never camped and wasn’t a hiker or outdoorswoman, and there were probably whole years that went by without a single trip into the Canyon, but, compared to most of the world, yes, I’ve spent a lot of time in the Canyon.
On the pictures on that slide show there are many photos of a flood we experienced in May of 1978. I did not see the Canyon during that time (that would have been foolish) and I experienced enough of the flood up on higher ground.
We had many family trips to the Palo Duro Canyon, usually when there was company in town. That was the place to go to “do” something. My cousins Bobby and Marshall would come up and camp and I remember when they were once “caught behind a water crossing” in their camper for a few days. That was always the worry if you went to the Canyon where there was a possibility or rain upriver–that the Prairie Dog Fork of the Red River would rise and you’d get trapped in the Canyon. You could still be on relatively high ground, but just not be able to get out for a while.
I loved the watercrossings in the Park. Of course, our family, always conscious of the weather, would comment on the depth of the water and whether there had been any rain or whether it was a good or a bad year. There were always people wading along the water crossings as we drove across. We stopped and waded many times ourselves. The sand there was softer and squishier than any beach sand I’ve ever encountered. It was like liquid satin between your toes.
I never was caught by a flooded watercrossing, but I think there were times that we couldn’t go past the first watercrossing because it was flooded, so we were trapped out instead of in. Big logs of trees would go flying past and the river rolled. The same river that on the previous visit was barely over the concrete of the road (or not at all).
Many visits to see the play “TEXAS,” which is still going on and is still worth a trip if you haven’t seen it. We even saw “Sounds of the Thundering West” (I think that was the name) in the very first season of a play in the Canyon. We went with our friends Bob and Marge Mathias, who were visiting from Oklahoma. I was about 6 or 7 and there was a little girl about that age dancing in the show, too. Marge kept pointing her out to me, I suppose because she thought I would be more interested if I could relate to a character on stage.
We went, at least once, for the sunrise Easter service in Palo Duro. Believe me, that is getting up early to make it all the way down for that. I remember being curled up in the COLD backseat of the car, nibbling on a chocolate bunny in the dark. I used to think that the amphitheater faced the wrong way since you were facing away from the sunrise for the service, but now that I look back and know how the Canyon looks at different times of the day, that is probably perfect…. the sun coming up behind you makes the colors on the Canyon wall on the opposite side, in front of you, come alive. I don’t really remember the message that Sunday morning, but I remember the COLD. That is still wintertime in the Panhandle.
When I turned 17, my friends and I went to Palo Duro Canyon to celebrate my birthday. My birthday (March 15) always fell during Spring Break, so I was lucky to have friends even around on my birthday. Cassi, Bryan, Carol, Brenda, Raymond, and I went to the Canyon in Cassi’s station wagon. Trouble was, it was freezing cold. Like I said, March and April are still winter months in the Panhandle. I can’t remember if we attempted a fire and hot dogs or not. I know they had a bakery cake with a shamrock on it for my birthday and we all squished into the back of the station wagon to eat it and then hurried home to warm up.
Since we’ve been married (and just before), Mark and I have gone to the Canyon several times, never for a good lengthy visit, though. I have a great picture on my bulletin board right here by my desk with him in the Canyon from 1992 or maybe 1993. I love that picture. When we went home for my 20th high school reunion, I made him go to the Canyon to see “TEXAS,” too, just so he would know what I was talking about.
When my cousin Judy died in 2007, we left her funeral late that afternoon and made a quick stop in the Canyon on our way back to Austin. We got there just before the sun started down, so there was only time for a few quick shots, but Mark, my personal photographer, got some great pictures. In fact, this is one of my favorite photos of me:
Here are just the beautiful colors of the eastern rim as the sun set…
And this was the highlight of the drive. We were almost alone in the Canyon. It was minutes before the park was going to close and it is a few days before Christmas on a weekday, so not many visitors at that time of year. Mark looked up and saw this:
Mark’s first reaction was “Is that real?” and then the realization that, yes, we are out in nature and he is real! We stopped beside the road and he was just above us and quite undisturbed. Another truck pulled up behind us and marvelled, too, at a buck of this size just being out in the open where we could see him. It was beatuful.
Many happy memories of Palo Duro Canyon. I am going back to the Panhandle next week for Independence Day, which is my aunt Dorothy’s birthday, but I don’t expect a trip to the Canyon. Holiday weekend crowds and the heat don’t make for a good trip down. It is a marvel of the government programs under FDR and I’m glad it was created.
