Always bring a backpack - or - Can't nobody break wind like yours truly

Indentured servitude - er - at-will employment took me past Lawton, Oklahoma last week, and as I was burning rubber heading south on I-44 I nearly jumped out of my seat belt when a huge, looming mountain was suddenly on top of me.

Mountains? In Oklahoma? and right smack dab in the middle of the freeway?

Well, the mountains weren't an optical illusion, if their placement was. Some trick of the eye made it appear that the Wichita Mountains were about to land on me. But sure enough, there they were, off to the west, inviting me out for a looksee.

I stopped for a visit on my way home. I started at the Post Oak Lake trailhead, hiked 2.5 miles north to Sunset Pool, then up to the summit of Elk Mountain another 1.2 miles. I scouted for a possible route down the west side of Elk Mt., but turned back after realizing I was out of my bouldering league. With wandering, scrambling, bouldering, and getting lost all combined, I probably walked about 8 miles.

I neglected to bring my standard daypack kit on my business trip, and thus had to make due with supplies and equipment on hand. I did go to Walmart for a cheap backpack (which, incidentally, broke a zipper at the trailhead and will be returned for a refund post haste). The midday high was seasonably on the warm side, but the morning was chilly and breezy. I improvised a windbreaker by cutting some holes in a black trash bag. Worked like a charm. Nobody breaks wind like your humble bloggist.

The scenery was spectacular. What looked like nondescript (if huge) hills from I-44 was actually meticulously sculpted granite, strewn about with convenience-store-sized boulders and cut with small streams and pools. Midwestern winter brown was the dominating color, punched with prickly pear green and a deep blue cloudless sky.

The trails were busy, especially Elk Mountain, traffic for which I was glad: I believe I spent more time off-trail than on. The trails are completely unblazed and unsigned, and at times cross bald rock, making them very difficult to follow. I don't know why the trails weren't blazed, though I suspect a radical wilderness ethic is at work. But blazes do not mar the scenery unduly. Anyway, I was glad for trail company, for as I stumbled my way through the Charon Gardens Wilderness, I was glad to hear distant conversations, reassuring me that I must not be too far off course. This ends my only gripe. Blaze the trails, WMNWR.

I saw longhorns and bison on my drive to the trailhead, but was pleased to encounter them on the trail, too. Just nifty.

Here's the pictures to prove I was there (and that I wore a trash bag as a jacket):