Climbing Glass (Gloss) Mountain

by Ken Brown

Springfield, MO

My blogs seem to be turning into set-ups for full blown stories that need to be written. "Lacey's Quonset Hut," which was introduced to my readers a few of days ago deserves more than a blog entry. When finished, the story will be shared with my readers. The same is for the person I'm about to introduce you to, Elder Isaac Brown.

On mid-Friday afternoon (May 28), I finished my research on a great-uncle, "Elder" Isaac Brown, in Woodward County, Oklahoma. Woodward County lies south and a little east of Dodge City, Kansas, and cattle drives passed through the area. During the western expansion, Fort Supply was built in the area, and it supplied Sheridan and Custer for their excursions further west.

Woodward County OK sits on land that was parceled out during the 1893 Cherokee Strip Land Race. Well, my Great-Uncle Isaac was there long before the land race. He took his family and left Ozark County MO in the early 1880s as a missionary for the General Baptist Church. So I'm setting up and adding another article to my writing agenda about Elder Isaac Brown. A Civil War veteran also, Isaac is a fascinating character to me as he now is to Ian Swart, the Curator of the Pioneer Museum in Woodward.

Well, I left Ian Swart's Pioneer Museum in Woodward around 2 p.m. Friday and headed back east on U.S. Highway 412. Some news from home had been unsettling to me, and I felt the need to be there. My reaction to the news told me that my 2010 Road Trip had cleared my mind and restored my body but I was still ME -- I still have this impulse to run to the aid of family members when they really don't need it.

Twenty miles east of Woodward on U.S. 412, I passed for a final time Union (aka Brown) Cemetery where Isaac and his wife were buried, and the surrounding land that they had homesteaded. The area seemed to me to be the most worthless parcel of land in the whole county. But the area is now dotted with oil derricks of the Cabot Oil Co. It would seem, from my land records research (my latest passion) that Isaac's family seemed to have sold out and left the area just before the oil boom.

Well, my driving goal for the day was to pick up U.S. 60 west of Enid OK and follow it all the way to Springfield while stopping for the night somewhere in between. As my drive continued, the land seemed to get more worthless yet more beautiful. Large buttes of land rose up showing the vividly red clay for which Oklahoma is famous.

My "Official Oklahoma State Map" told me that the Gloss Mountain State Park lay directly ahead. I couldn't miss the turn off because a State Trooper with flashing lights had a vehicle cornered in the entrance. I weaved around the vehicles and drove down a lane into the parking lot hidden from the road's view.

It was a lonesome place with only a picnic pavilion and a port-a-potty along with signs warning of rattlesnakes. Next to the parking lot was a mountain and I made out a trail that led to the base of the mountain and then sections of stairs zig-zagged up to the mountain top. It was a hot afternoon with no one around, but I decided I was going to see how far up the mountain I could climb. A little common sense prevailed, however. I went over by the port-a-potty and relieved myself at its side after checking for wind direction -- a lesson learned during my windy 1993 Kansas Lonesome Road Trip.

Grabbing a bottle of water and my camera from the Escape, I approached the mountain and started to climb. At several intervals up the mountain, benches were placed for resting, and I used every one of them. With each glance back, the little Ford Escape looked smaller and smaller. As I neared the top, the stairs disappeared, and I had to climb across craggy rocks the remaining distance. Once at the top, I turned to see an old pickup pull in the parking lot. My distrustful nature first caused me to imagine the little Ford being violated but I soon sensed it was just a family wanting to enjoy the area like myself. Part of me was glad to have human company and another part of me was disappointed that I was no longer truly alone.

The top of the mountain (or butte) was flat and was made up of rock that had glassy particles in it (thus the name of the mountain). About a dozen black hawk-like birds were my constant companion from that point on. (I forget what I've read about buzzards and vultures -- one comes at you after you're dead and the other joins you when it senses death is imminent).

A trail led back farther than I could see and although already quite tired, I started to follow it. Stops were made often to look out in the distance or over an edge of the butte. After what seemed like a half-mile, I came to a fenced lookout point at the end of the butte. Across the valley was another butte called "Lone Peak." It was here that I made a self-portrait with the peak behind me. I felt an incredible sense of accomplishment and spiritual awareness. This moment had become pinnacle of my 2010 Lonesome Road Trip.

Occasionally worry crept into my mind about the return trip down the stairs (my knee surgeries tend to talk to me now and then). As I turned to leave I could see in the distance a couple of people coming up the trail stopping to throw rocks off the edges. Eventually we met, and they were two young teenagers who looked like their trek up the butte caused them no sweat whatsoever. Oh, the vim and vigor of youth. We spoke for a moment--no one passes Ken Brown on a mountain top without at least a short visit. One said he'd been up on the butte before and he was bringing the other for the first time.

About half way back on the trail, I felt the need to share my quest with some one I love -- I tried to call Joy but no answer there. Then I called my son, Kelly and told him to Google "Gloss Mountain", and that was where my call was coming from. His reply was "I didn't know Oklahoma had a mountain!" Anyway, he found it on the Internet, we talked a few moments more mostly planning our golf outing for when I returned.

Once back to the place where the descent was to commence, I looked out toward the highway, and it reminded me so much of that romantic scene in the movie, "Cars", where Sally and Lightning McQueen look out over the landscape to where the interstate's construction caused the ruin of Radiator Springs. I thought of Joy and wished I could share the moment with her.

As I descended the mountain, I was very careful on the craggy rock section that led to the safe staircases. Halfway down, I met the parents accompanying the teenagers. They were lounging on a bench and enjoying the sun, the wind and the scenery. Apparently locals, they were at their favorite place.

Once back at the Ford Escape and preparing to leave, I saw the two teenagers had already scaled down the mountain and were skipping out across the base of the mountain off-trail and totally oblivious to the prospect of rattlesnakes. I though: "This country will be OK--its youth will respond to the challenges ahead of them--the human race is incredibly adaptable and probably evolutionary.

After getting back on the highway, I drove to Ponca City, Oklahoma where I decided to stay for the night. Ponca City is where Conoco-Phillips has a huge oil refinery and related facilities--possibly even its headquarters.

Ah, back to "civilization". Driving around the refinery, I detected that smell that emits from such facilities. Personally I prefer turkey farm odor to that made by refineries. The motels were hard to find in Ponca City, and a convenience store clerk had to give me directions after questioning the wisdom of even wanting to stay in what he considered to be a very undesirable place to live. He sold me a couple of 16-ounce beers that were on sale for $2.22 total, and I made my way to the not so Super 8 for my final night on my tour.