ways institutions have of foiling the public's
insatiable desire for toilet paper, I've seen bunwad
as thin as tissue paper and as narrow as the width of
4 fingers. I've seen dispensers that forced Rosemary
Woods style contortions to retrieve. Today, at
Seminole Canyon State Park in the great state of Texas
I think I've found the world champion. The paper is
as delicate as gold leaf and about the width of a
dollar bill. But the real genius is the delivery
system. The roll doesn't have a cardboard core. It
has been slid onto an oversized arm that deforms the
whole cylinder and doesn't allow it to rotate, even
using two hands. And with a full roll there is
almost no room to slide the paper backwards over
itself. Another of the top ten reasons Texas should
be sold back to Mexico.
Woke up to the worst weather yet, cold, rainy, windy.
Couldn't keep the stove lit for the wind so I drove
over to the visitor center that was a little out of
the breeze. Had my coffee and waited for the rangers
to decide if there was going to be a morning tour of
the cave drawings. The walk was cancelled so I headed
west. Stopped at a high bridge over the Pecos River.
It was magnificent. To the south I could see where it
emptied into the Rio Grande and to the north the river
ran through a very high canyon.
I drove on to Langtry and the combination tourist info
center and Judge Roy Beane Museum. He was the "law
west of the Pecos" in the late 1800's. A saloon owner
deputized as a judge to bring law and order to the
instant towns created by the workers building the new
railroad. He held court in the saloon and the actual
building is still there.
The weather was getting better as the morning
progressed so I turned around and headed back to
Seminole Canyon State Park to see about the afternoon
tour. We walked down into the canyon and along the
solid rock river bed. Then climbed stairs to the Fate
Bell Cave (Fate Bell was the landowner who sold the
property to the state). About 4000 years ago a
nomadic group of people lived in the area and spent a
significant amount of time in this well protected,
enormous overhang of rock. The paintings stretch for
about 100 yards along the back wall. There's even
some graffiti from the railroad workers who had a camp
nearby in the 1880's. No one knows what happened to
this group. An anthropologist, specifically a
coprologist (one who specializes in the study of
coprolites or petrified poop) studied their shit and
published a diet book based upon what he felt was
their very healthy regimen.
Talked to my first left winger on the trip. A
grandfather camping out for the weekend with his two
grandsons. He has a 1958 trailer that he refinished,
shaped like a teardrop but just big enough to stand up
in. He lives in San Antonio and really likes Pat
Leahy, gives money to him and is on the special donors
email list. He's annoyed with Pat because,
apparently, the senate just passed Bush's intelligence
bill. I've got to find a newspaper.
The wind has come up very strongly again. But it is
clear and a beautiful sunset. I've got the Toaster
door open with the Coleman lantern swinging on a
hanger I concocted to provide light when there's no electricity.
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