OXFORD & BULLHEAD: The first photo is of downtown
Oxford. Across the street is the cemetery and historical marker. The cow pic is just
to remind everyone you'll likely come across a situation like this. Don't honk to
scare them away. They'll think it's dinner time and you'll draw the rest of the
heard. The last two pics were taken several years ago from Bullhead Mountain --
Enchanted Rock can be seen in the background.
Finding Myself In Lost Hollow
Story & Photos by IRA KENNEDY
After moving back to my old stomping grounds in Llano
I was a strapped for tourin' time, so I headed out from my place
in Lost Hollow in a valley whose name is Legion to get reacquainted
with some of my favorite haunts.
iding shotgun was John Mulhollan, an old friend and
camping buddy who explored Enchanted Rock with me back in the early 70s. You may
remember him from the last issue. He's the one pictured swatting golf balls into the
cedar brake like it was normal. Then again, if he wasn't just a little odd I don't
know if he'd tolerate me.
With the temperature at a balmy 105 in the shade we
crossed No Name Creek on our way to Oxford (est. 1880) -- one of those places that still
lingers on the map for no good reason. Well, once, many years ago they boasted a school house, general store and gas station. Nothing
much remains -- apart from the cemetery, the long abandoned gas station and a historical
marker. If you're looking for entertainment, read the marker.
I might as well fess up to something here and now.
I've done short road trips and long road trips, but
this is the first time I repeated the same trip three times in one week.
First, the planned trip with Mulhollan; then a
spontaneous trip to check out Bullhead Mountain with friend and neighbor Cork Morris; and
finally another time around to round up some photos. Let me explain...
Seems while I was busy trying to clear out writer's
block the phone rang. The phone was one of those with the curlicue cord
that bunches up in a tight wad so that when you answer the contraption the receiver comes
right along, momentarily, then crashes to the floor -- if you're lucky.
Reckon I'm fresh out of that commodity cause on its
way to the floor the receiver hooked up with a hot bowl of tomato soup tossing part of it
on my arm, then down my leg, plus everything else within two feet of the splashdown zone
including a stack of floppies with the most of photos I took on the two previous trips.
The caller heard the whole event including my brief
but explicit expletive.
"I'm sorry mam, but you'll have to call back.
I'm in the middle of lunch."
Imagine. I'm sitting there trying to be
professional-like with red soup clinging to me like a giant leach that crossbred with a
habanero chili. All the while I'm staring at what looked like a crime scene from
Anyway, back to the road trip(s). I'm gonna have a
little difficulty trying to wrap my geezer brain around this one. It took on the
qualities of a parallel universe at
best. Or, what I'm most accustomed to, a schizophrenic episode. Actually,
there's nothing wrong with that so long as you don't forget who (and where) you are
at the time.
While John and I were on our way to Enchanted Rock, Cork and I were headed for Bullhead Mountain.
A few years back I lived close to Bullhead
Mountain (photo left) while publishing Enchanted Rock Magazine. One day a
local realtor, Jim Inks, suggested we check out the story and straighten out some of the
local rumors surrounding events that transpired there a few years earlier. At the time the
property was for sale and Mr. Inks, being the realtor and previous owner, took us there
for a close up look. Cork wrote a partly-truth and partly-fiction piece, Jupiter Stair,
which (for some folks) needs a disclaimer. Cork didn't trespass and Scully of the
Xfiles wasn't ever along for the adventure.
As a result of that experience Cork and I have become
quantum physics dilettantes and Hal Puthoff groupies. Having written about this in a previous installment I'll move on.
We didn't actually go up there on this trip what with
the first of two gates being locked, but we had to make a little pilgrimage for old time sake.
Meanwhile, John and I were coming within sight of
PAGE 1: FROM LOST HOLLOW
/ PAGE 2: ENCHANTED
PAGE 3: CRABAPPLE COMMUNITY / PAGE 4: WILLOW CITY
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