Yesterday, I left bright and early for Carlsbad Caverns National Park. I have wanted to visit this Unesco World Heritage Site for a very long time, and was excited to have the opportunity to spend a very special day there.

The drive from Las Cruces is around 3 hours. The sky was full of big fluffy clouds, with larger masses of condensation hovering at the tops of the mountains. When I got to El Paso, my route took me up through these mountains. The wind was whipping so strongly, I almost lost my car door when I got out at an overlook. Beautiful view, but probably not worth losing something that vital to my travels!

I continued on to the Texas Mountain Trail. After making my way through a Border Control Checkpoint, a sign informed me that there were no services (gas, restrooms, etc.) for 110 miles. With a quarter tank of gas, I was forced to turn around and drive 20 miles back to the nearest station. Suggestion: put that sign a little closer to the actual last amenities!

The scenery was beautiful along the way, but after losing nearly an hour on my gasoline excursion, I didn't stop to get any photos (I returned another day - read about it here). It went from desert landscape up into the mountains, through Guadalupe Mountains National Park. In the mountains, I was literally in the clouds, with drizzle and fog shrouding my way.

Carlsbad Caverns is inside one of those beautiful mountains. I took the natural entrance, hiking down, down, down. The smell of bat guano at the entrance was pretty staggering, although I believe the creatures just left for winter vacation in Mexico.

This cave is mammoth, but nothing like Mammoth Cave. The formations are unbelievable in both scale and quantity. Gigantic stalagmites, giant chandeliers of stalagmites, ceilings full of soda straws - no photo could possibly do their scale or beauty justice. I spent four hours wandering, photographing, and gazing. Then, it was time to wait for my big treat.

Months ago, I happened to see on Facebook that November 5 was a special day at Carlsbad Caverns. In celebration of the National Parks Service's centennial, they were hosting a string quartet from the New Mexico Philharmonic at the Top of the Cross section of the cavern's Big Room. The lucky first callers on the day they became available were rewarded with a free ticket to this once-in-a-lifetime event.

I was one of them!

The crowd at the rest area portion of the cave slowly grew, as most people filed in eight at a time through the venue's two elevators. Finally, we were led back 1/2 mile to the Top of the Cross. This concert was the first of its kind in 83 years, and it did not disappoint. For the next hour, the beautiful sounds echoed across the cavern to a hushed and delighted crowd of around 200 attendees. We were quizzed between one of the numbers, and I was privileged to be one of the only people there from the Eastern United States.

Three hours back through darkness, fog, rain, and mountains, I was exhausted, but still grateful to have been given such a wonderful treat. Happy birthday, National Parks Service!

Leaving Tahlequah, I headed west across Oklahoma. As I followed the sun, the ground flattened and the trees dispersed. Cows studded the landscape. The wind whipped, blowing bits of vegetation across the highway and stirring the water in ponds and lakes into choppy waves. I passed through Tulsa, dropped some quarters in a few toll booths, and began to near my destination.

I was a little nervous, and spent some time rehearsing what I would say. Surely a serial killer wouldn't greet me, but who would?

Just two left turns off the main highway through Enid, Oklahoma, and I was prepared to find out.

I walked up to the door at 2302 Kiowa Street and rang the doorbell. After waiting a few minutes, I started to feel sure that either no one was home, or the doorbell did not work. Should I knock? I decided to ring it one more time. A few moments later, I heard some rumblings from behind me in the carport, so I headed in that direction.

My family in front of the house in 1976, and me in the same spot in 2016

I greeted the gray-haired man who emerged, and said I was sorry to bother him, but that I wanted to see if it was ok for me to take a few photos outside his home. You see, my family lived in it for the first two years of my life and I had thought it would be fun to return for the first time in 38 years.

Mitch responded casually as if he had been half expecting me to arrive all day, and ushered me right into the house, immediately beginning a tour. He and his wife Pam had purchased the property from my parents in 1978 and even remembered their names. Over the years, they had made many improvements, alterations, and additions, and Mitch was eager to show them all to me. We walked into the family room (an addition) after a few moments of touring, and Pam greeted me in much the same way as Mitch, warm and friendly, and seemingly not terribly surprised.

We chatted for a while, and I snapped photos of the yard, the interior, and the exterior. I had showed them an old family photo taken in front of the house, and Mitch insisted on taking a photo of me to echo that one. I got the rundown of who still lived on the street from my parents' era, what houses were selling for in the area, and what had changed (or mostly hadn't) in Enid. They were incredibly kind, down-to-earth, and just plain nice people. I'm pretty sure they weren't serial killers. :-)

If they were, I got away.

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